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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Hashih
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As far as he was concerned, a plaster cast was used to encase a broken or fractured limb to restrict its movement therefore encouraging the bones to heal precisely as it should. It was a common method of treatment before the war wiped out more than half the global population, although other materials were developed to address the weight and discomfort that a plaster cast brought the patient. Needless to say, it was an ancient technology that was no longer practiced in the capital.

Luke had paused upon hearing the alternative proposed by the doctor. If a part of him believed that this man, who has the accent of one born and raised in the capital, was properly educated, such faith wavered when the doctor brought up the use of a plaster cast. He could not blame Rhiane for declining such procedure, nor for not trusting the doctor. “Which university did you get your medical degree from?” He did not mean to sound like he was belittling the doctor’s capabilities, but it might have sounded that way. What the prince wanted was to establish the doctor’s credibility if he was, by chance, an alumna of one of the prestigious medical colleges in the kingdom.

“I have no interest in the medical field, but even I am aware that medications far superior than a plaster cast have been developed in the last few decades. Flexegard is one example. It is relatively cheap and quick to be administered by a professional like yourself.” The most common remedy to a fractured bone, at least as Luke believed, was a serum injected as close as possible to the damaged bones. The fluid would then act as a binding compound that would restrict the movement of the affected area until it healed. Of course, it needed to be aligned in the proper position before the treatment was deployed. A modified silicone brace, much like the brace that supported Rhiane’s sprained ankle, would also be prescribed as an added protection to the affected area. “But if you have not had experience with medical devices like Flexegard, a sling will do.”

He was not surprised to hear that his fiancée declined medical treatment on the grounds that someone else might need it. She was the one who needed it at the moment. Should anybody else would later on, then the facility could provide for them. There was an allocated annual budget under the Health Ministry for the operations and maintenance of the government-owned hospitals and satellite medical facilities. Every year, the amount increased because of the growth of the population, inflation, and research funding. It held a significant chunk of the kingdom’s annual budget, especially after the plague that devastated the land. He should know, because although the queen’s signature and seal were the prerequisite for the approval of the annual budget, Luke actively participated during the budget hearing.

Unless the doctor told Rhiane that it was the last set of splint, of bandages, or of the sling, she should not be worried that the next patient would be left with nothing. In fact, if the person running the facility was more aware of the developments in the medical field, then the team should not be relying on outdated methods. Then again, Rhiane had always shown how little she thought of herself, as if she deserved only hardships and not the comforts that the world could offer. Luke had tried to talk her out of that mindset, but each time that he brought the issue up, the couple ended up debating on the topic of poverty and privileges.

“Go on. Nobody needs to talk to her if your team will do it while she’s asleep,” Luke prodded the doctor. “I’ll make sure that she doesn’t take off the sling until she gets proper medical attention. She might accidentally hurt herself if her movement is not restricted.” He remembered her efforts to nurse the gash on his thigh or how she must have been in pain as she popped the child-resistant cap off the bottle of pills. “But before you go, I need to borrow a mobile device.”
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Syrenrei
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At first the doctor looked legitimately baffled when Luke so casually brought up the alternative treatments available. While he was intimately aware of the difference between the capital and the villages littering the outskirts of the country, it was becoming quickly apparent his prince was not. The physician had assumed the visual clues and his earlier allusions would have led the heir to the natural conclusion there were limitations caused by the local populace's poverty. What he failed to anticipate was how relatively sheltered Luke had been. That was not to say he had not endured hardship, or had been coddled inside the palace, but rather he had not felt the very real pains of going without provisions that could greatly impact the quality of life. Every member of the living world had challenges regardless of their position in the social strata. Whether or not he could impart understanding of the plight of the poor specifically remained to be seen.

"It is not a lack of training, your highness," the doctor replied briskly with slight offense. "This particular medical facility has a smaller budget than what you may be used to," he tried to diplomatically and tactfully explain. There were only so many polite ways to say that the health of the affluent and city dwellers was valued more highly than the citizens that toiled the field. "I am familiar with Flexegard but, with the number of injuries we treat and what is distributed to us by the capitol, plaster casts are what we can provide. You are welcome to review our orders and shipments yourself; it is a matter of public record."

No bureaucrat bothered themselves with worrying over individual clinics and practices. Requests were submitted to the committee, clerks slashed numbers as they saw fit, sent their analysis upward, and government funds were distributed accordingly. Luke operated on the premise that everyone under him had a similar code of ethics and would not have a bias that impacted their work. The sad reality was that they did; accounting was tweaked to benefit the municipalities that had more political sway, to the detriment of outlying communities that had much less voice. Queen Camilla and her subordinates weren't calling on individuals to spot check the accuracy. This doctor and his patient were just nameless, faceless numbers, easily ignored, easily dismissed.

"One of my nurses was dead on her feet and had to be sent home. The other is with an expectant mother at the moment," the man explained again. "We are the only three staff here," he said as he stood. Cold calculations had determined only three were absolutely 'necessary' upon review. Once when he had first moved to the village he had protested this apparent madness but had been unable to convince anyone to give him payroll for another person. The figurative pencil pusher alleged he had everything required to meet the needs of the local residents. Of course the person that sent the formal refusal had not once set foot anywhere near the town.

"I'll apply the sling," the doctor agreed with Luke's reassurance he could keep Rhiane from ripping it off at the first opportunity. "Please excuse me while I find it among the supplies. You can use my mobile but the storm," he gestured vaguely towards the covered window, "may interrupt connectivity. We do not have the best of reception on days with poor weather." It was a vast understatement but he didn't have the patience to describe the technological pitfalls in the area as well. A more petty streak in him wanted the crown prince who thought so highly of himself, who took his privilege for granted, to experience a small sampling of their frustrations. He dug a device out of his pocket that was several years old and handed it over casually before strolling out of the room to both give privacy and seek the sling in question.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Hashih
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The sun was shining cheerfully over the capital as if it existed in a different world from the mountains where Luke and his future bride found themselves on. Without a gray overcast and sharp lightning bolts, blue skies stretched on for forever with but a few thin clouds breaking the monotony. None of the howling wind and angry gusts threatened the busy streets around the palace or the central business district. The temperature foretold the coming of winter, but not of a storm.

“How am I supposed to stop worrying about my son?” The queen snapped. It had been a couple of hours since the emergency signal was detected by the Royal Guards and yet nobody had confirmed the whereabouts of the crown prince. There was a report from a small medical facility that Luke and his fiancee was brought in by a concerned citizen, but the storm affecting the area had prevented the local security team from confirming the said report. Besides, the quality of the call was not good enough to extract satisfactory information. Telling her to stop worrying was like ordering a puppy to sit for the first time and expecting it to know what to do.

The prince consort may have been her source of comfort many times and in many ways, but even his reassurances would not sway the queen that day. Prince Damien patiently set down his cup of coffee. “We have been in this situation over and over again. It’s not like this is the first time he went missing. Remember how Lucius managed to get home safely every single time.” There was nothing he could say to calm the woman pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass. There was a threat to the life of the princess elect. Queen Camilla should have been relieved that her children were not the target, but her son was too close to Rhiane for his own safety. She knew Lucius. He may be an elitist and had little regard to those not belonging to the same class as himself, but the prince had an annoying fixation to winning in every situation. Because he knew that his enemies sought to take his betrothed from him, it would push him to keep her to himself, exercising every power he had in his disposal to make sure that they would not succeed in whatever scheme they were planning.

“Every single time in the past was a near-miss.” She turned her back at the bright blue sky and the city of New Florence. “I nearly lost my son. This kingdom nearly lost its future king. One day we might not be as lucky, then I will not be able to live with myself, Damien.”

Prince Damien turned his attention to the screen showing feed from several pinned news outlets. “Today is not the day we lose favor from lady luck. Lucius will call you when he can. Worry about how to manage the rumors.” The delay in the arrival of the couple had inspired speculations from the media team camped at the venue.

The queen frowned. “I should have listened to Luke. I should postpone the tour while the investigations are on-going. It can--”

“None sense!”

Just then, a message popped-up on the screen showing a call notification. “A call from an unknown source, your majesty,” said the queen’s virtual assistant. If at any other time she would have hesitated to answer a phone call from an unknown caller, that day Camilla was too eager to hear who was on the other end of the line.
“Mother, it’s Luke.”

The queen’s breath caught in his throat. Her eyes widened and she rushed to the communicator on her office desk. She picked the device up and took the conversation privately as her husband sipped his coffee. “Where are you exactly?” But static answered her question, followed by fragmented sounds of what could have been a sentence. “Luke?”




“Mum,” Luke was frowning at the ceiling. He lifted the mobile device over his head, put the call on speaker and tried to make sense of what his mother had said. But there was only static and unintelligible sound. Outside the facility, the storm still raged on, possibly messing up the signal. Or perhaps it was already messed up to begin with. He tried again and again, but the more he tried, the more frustrated he became. It was impossible to communicate under such conditions. Luke hit the cancel button and instinctively tossed the phone to the bed out of frustration before he remembered that it was not actually his.

He picked the device up and placed it on the bedside table. He did not like how vulnerable the they were. The facility was manned by only the doctor. Perhaps it had no security personnel, but even if it did would it protect Rhiane or side with the enemy?

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The doctor walked back in a couple minutes after Luke had set down the device in frustration. He did not offer any condolences or sympathy for the dropped call as he made his way over to the slumbering princess elect. Needless to say he surmised what had occurred to the heir to the throne. On the best of days connections to the nation's network were difficult to maintain and the storm raging outside had failed to abate in a show of cooperation for the residents of the village. Not only had he anticipated this would occur, Luke would have still been engaged in a conversation if he had reached the person whom he was trying to call upon. Once his back was turned he couldn't help but allow a smile to alight on his features as he leaned over his patient. It was nice to see that nature did have the favoritism of modern society.

"I don't have as many options as I am sure you are used to," the physician explained as he carefully lifted Rhiane's head to thread a strap of the sling behind her, "but there is some pain medication for both of you. Some was already administered to you on your arrival, but the appropriate dosage varies from one individual from the next. Let me know if you are uncomfortable," he said, distracted as he carefully manipulated Rhiane's injured arm into the woven sling. It was of sturdier construction than the emergency kit but it was far from luxurious. Because a sling was reusable, most of the ones the facility had were returned once the person that had needed them was healed. He was certain if Luke discovered this recycling was common practice he would be aghast.

"Should only be a few more minutes until she wakes," he said as he straightened and moved towards the window. He pushed aside some of the clean, yet frayed and faded, linen curtains. It was impossible to see more than a few inches beyond the pane because of fierce the wind and rain remained. It was fortunate that they had found the royal couple when they had. Being stranded in a damaged SUV would not offer them much protection for any length of time nor would it be beneficial to their condition.

"No... no... I don't want..." Rhiane breathed with her eyes still closed. The doctor turned and swiftly made his way back over to her bed. It was drowsy rambling rather than cries of anguish. Sedation wore off incrementally and it took the mind several minutes, sometimes longer, to process that it was coming back to reality. The princess elect moved as if to turn on her side but her attendant gently pressed down on her good shoulder to prevent the movement as she awoke. "I said..." she sighed with annoyance in her drowsy voice. She was recalling her frustrations in discovering that Luke had tricked her and that the staff of the clinic wasn't going to let her refuse every treatment option.

"You... " she finally said as her eyes fluttered open. The doctor tried to smile but also grimaced slightly. Rhiane hadn't been conscious long in his presence before they had forced her into the realm of dreams for the purposes of recovery and preventing further harm to herself, but he was acquainted with her fierce opposition to any sensible medical suggestion. He had no illusions about her peacefully accepting that he had placed her fractured arm in a sling.

"Your security force has already been advised you're here and are en route," the doctor said, cutting her off preemptively. "Prince Luke is awake. He gave me authorization to place your arm in a sling. I am going to get some drinks for you," he said meaningfully, "and give you a chance to talk. If you need me there are small buttons beside your bed that will ring the other rooms to let me know you need assistance."

"I don't need any of this!" Rhiane protested but the taller, older man had already decided to give Luke an opportunity to persuade his fiance and left through one of the two doors to the room; the other was a bathroom. If the former farmer became too agitated he'd intervene and tend to her but she wasn't in any imminent danger as of yet. If they were really an engaged pair in love surely Luke would deliver on his casual promises to keep her calm and relatively complacent.
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What was the point in carrying a mobile device around when it could barely make a call? Luke glared at the outdated model he gingerly placed on the bedside table. The old piece of technology could be blamed for not being able to effectively catch the signal. Or it could be the receiver was broken, which explained the static. Nevertheless, the failed attempt to make contact with the queen left Luke with nothing to do but study the opposite bed as Rhiane was being tended to by the doctor.

After he had time to re-evaluate the room, it was difficult to deny that it was indeed not at par with the hospitals he’d been to. That one had Smaller budget, perhaps, but maybe it was because the facility was not catering to a city as populated as the capital. The budget was rationed based on the population density that a facility was expected to service. While it might be true that he should not be expecting the same sophistication as the Medical Tower back at his home, the budget should have been enough to provide the same treatments that was available in the capital. He was not looking for a state-of-the-art facility anyway, just a relatively practical treatment that was nothing revolutionary at that time. To hear from the only medical professional in the room that it was impossible to dream of having close to the same service level as the hospitals in New Florence was disturbing.

The field of medicine may not interest him, but the well-being of the people was his business. The right to the highest attainable level of health was among the first of the many human rights re-established after the war. It made the state responsible for the quality of living of its people as well as making sure that healthcare services were accessible to all and was provided without discrimination. Such was part of the mission statement of the Ministry of Health. Was it wrong to trust the reports and study the figures? Had there been a problem that was a threat to the kingdom, Luke would have paid more attention into the industry. Then again, the Ministry of Health seemed to be doing its job well such that there was no more outbreak of diseases, no more repeat of the plague, it also supported innovative researches in the field of medicine.

Luke wanted to know more, to interview the man while the prince had nothing better to do than stare at the walls and listen to the whistling wind, but Rhiane stirred and talked. Her voice might be laced with sleepiness and confusion, but it did not lack character.

Tentatively, he tested the mobility of his upper body given the brace that was supposed to keep him from placing pressure on the cracked bones in his chest. When it didn’t hurt due to either the pain killer or the brace, the prince carefully sat on the side of the bed before his foot touched the floor. The nurses had dressed him with the shirt he lent Rhiane and strapped the brace over it. The doctor would have something to say if he saw the patient getting on his feet, but since the doctor left the room, nobody stopped Luke. He dragged his injured limb with him across the room and into Rhiane’s bedside.

A chair beside her bed became Luke’s next base. He lowered himself onto the cushion, finding the right angle for his back to rest comfortably. “Rhiane,” the name was tested on his tongue. Would she remember what happened inside the SUV? That he tricked her into taking the sedative? That she had admitted some things to him? “You’re wrong. You need all of those.” It was difficult to understand how she thought she did not need help to feel better after she fractured her arm.

Luke touched his free hand on her uninjured upper arm, a gentle pressure to remind her to stay in bed. She may argue that he should be lying down as well, but if he did not rush to her side then he was almost certain that the princess elect would rip the sling apart and demand to find the road to call for help. “You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you insist on taking it off. Leave it while we wait for the boys.”

The rain would not pause. He looked away from her face and away from the memory of the backseat. The heavy rains deprived him from the view outside. The loud pounding noise, stopped his ears from hearing the sound of an approaching vehicle. The doctor may have said that the boys were on their way, but the weather seemed impossible to cross.
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"I don't need them," she simmered and sulked with a defiant indignation. As much as she wanted to rip off the IV to prove her point she was unable to do so. The sling effectively immobilized her arm; she was too injured to be able to accomplish much movement when the limb was free and now that it was restrained it was nearly impossible to do anything more significant than wiggle her fingers. The needle providing her a steady dose of fluid and medication was carefully taped to the back of her right hand. Technically it was accessible to her left hand, despite the sling, but she wasn't able to angle and use sufficient force to pull out the instrument. Rhiane was so furious at the small tube she almost forgot about the event that led to her current predicament.

"I won't hurt myself more," she insisted though she did not fight against the gentle pressure he exercised to keep her laying down. Had she thought she had even a chance to resist she would have seized the opportunity. Even injured, however, Luke could handily overpower her with ease. Broadcast loved to portray him like a modern day Casanova, effortlessly oozing charm and sex appeal, but she knew that he was not as willowy as some of the models that graced advertisements with their dazzling smiles. The heir to the throne had been in the military of his own accord. Rhiane could have rumbled with a man who didn't exercise, was on an extreme diet, and had never been in a fight before, but there would have to be far more going in her favor before she could best Luke physically.

"You're worse than Sebastian," the princess elect mumbled under her breath. She fidgeted as her anger began to ebb and her memories began to replay the accident. As Luke's eyes drifted towards the window she recalled the weightless sensation of rolling in the SUV as her seat belt strained to hold her in place, the deathly quiet as the vehicle struck the fallen tree trunk and came to a rest, the sickening realization that she had indirectly harmed Luke, and how he grimaced with each breath. Emotions played against her features as she clearly felt paralyzing guilt towards the crown prince for the part she played in causing him to limp and need a brace to stabilize his torso.

Rhiane involuntarily flushed as the kiss was brought to the forefront of his mind. Obviously he had wanted her to take the sedative, possibly to make her quiet since all they did was argue, but she couldn't understand her fiance's motivations. He had gone from being wholly apathetic to her at the engagement ball to so concerned about her health he justified a kiss. What happened after she swallowed the pill was hazy. Faintly she thought they might have kissed longer than was strictly necessary or excusable, but everything immediately afterwards was a gaping void. She tried as hard as she could to conjure even an expression he had before she drifted up but her psyche did not answer her summons. Perhaps nothing more occurred, she reasoned, although she somehow knew that was not true. Questioning Luke would do her no good. Neither of them wanted to have a messy romantic entanglement so it seemed it was better to avoid the topic altogether.

"I can talk to the farmers alone," she said after clearing her throat. "I'm sure the last thing you want to do now is share more time together in the hot spring," she ventured. Rhiane's voice wavered slightly. He knew, even if he did not admit it himself, that the brunette asserting herself only a couple feet away liked him in some capacity. She covered her feelings well in public but the artificial distance she kept erecting between them made all that much more sense now- she was trying to keep things professional. The kingdom's bachelorettes envied her with an intensity that bordered on hatred, yet she refused him repeatedly, and was determined not to let a natural love be nurtured.

"I'm sure Tobias can go with me," Rhiane continued. "I'll come up with an excuse why you're not there. Assuming your mother even lets me make the appearance on our behalf once she discovers I was driving," she sighed. Luke had wanted her awake but this added the complication that she wouldn't cooperate with his plan to allege he was the daredevil manning the wheel. The princess elect wanted to be punished for her perceived crimes and was fixated on trying make this wish come to fruition. "Maybe it can be my penance for everything..." she whispered more to herself than to him.
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Luke could try to contact the palace again. It did not appear as if the storm was about to ebb soon, and though there was little comfort with the thought that no sane person would brave such a weather, he could not be sure how safe it was to stay in the medical facility. The doctor may not have shown them any sign of ill intent, but he could be a sympathizer of the rebellion who might have given a tip to the crown’s enemy about the whereabouts of the royal couple. Until proven otherwise, Luke would find reasons to doubt the intentions of strangers around him.

“The doctor said you need it, so it stays where it is.” His eyes were still wandering, trying to figure out what was beyond the walls and behind the windows. Was the building surrounded by a village, was it in the middle of the woods? Unless he knew enough, it was difficult to plan an escape route. Absently, he reached for his wrist expecting to feel the smooth and relatively cold surface of the device, but instead soft flesh met his touch. “Our medical team will be able to fix you better. Until then, bear with the sling.” He absently touched the strap over his chest which held the brace in place. It was uncomfortable, but at least it fulfilled its intended purpose of restricting his movements. The same could be said about the sling. He imagined that it too was an uncomfortable contraption, but it was the best that the facility could offer.

He ignored her comment about him being worse that Sebastian. The latter was known to the prince only through a brief phone conversation therefore he would not decide whether it was a complement. All he knew was that Sebastian meant a lot to Rhiane, and she to him. Did she liken him to somebody she considers as her brother? Maybe it was what she meant when she said that she liked him. Suddenly the memory of her lips, the manner in which she responded to his otherwise emotionless gesture, shot up to the forefront of his mind and effectively shut down other thoughts. No, she did not think of him as a brother.

“I don’t suppose a mediocre kiss is enough to get inside a person’s head and presume to understand how he thinks.” Luke stretched his legs before him. He didn’t notice earlier, but the medical staff cut the right leg of his pants while he was sleeping, possibly for ease of access to the injury above his knee. The alteration could have been better if the other pant leg was trimmed off as well. Besides, the doctor might not be aware, but the article of clothing they ruined was probably more expensive than the doctor’s mobile phone. “But if you wish to speak to the farmers yourself, then by all means meet with them. I do not have the time to listen to grown men and women whining about their situation. I will tell my mother that I was the one driving the SUV so that there is nothing to discover, nothing stopping you from dragging my cousin with you to a room full of farmers.”

He kept his gaze away from her, as if the faded curtains and cracked tiles were more interesting to watch than the play of emotions on his fiancee’s face. She mentioned Tobias again as if the guard had earned her trust more than him. As if the guard was able to offer more than what the prince offered her. He would not pretend to understand the logic behind it, the reasoning of a peasant woman who rather picked a barely noble man to a future king. Anyway, if it was what she wanted, then there was no reason for him not to ask Tobias to stick by her side. Allow her to indulge in the presence of one who was lacking so that she could appreciate what she stood to lose.

“You do not want to know how my mother will treat you and your family if she finds out that you are partially responsible for what happened.” The queen had always thought that Rhiane was replaceable. It would entail additional work, but it would ensure that the future mother of her grandchildren would not incite rebellious thoughts into her grandchildren. “Remember how they are the reas--”

Muffled voices from beyond the room cut through his train of thoughts. Luke paused, frowning. It sounded like an argument though he could not make out any word.
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Rhiane clenched her jaw as Luke dealt the verbal blow of calling the kiss they shared 'mediocre.' It had been admittedly foolish of her to expect, even passively, that her fiance would provide reassurance that she was wanted or liked when he had failed to do so many times before. The accident had left her feeling like a monster wearing only the costume of a human being. Perhaps the vehicle had been sabotaged but her guilt for the responsibility she bore as driver, for the liability she held in not mitigating the damage better, weighed so heavily on her that she did not now how she would ever escape its pressure. This overwhelming emotion clouded her judgment and made her desperate for any beacon of light to pierce the self-loathing.

The princess elect did not recognize he was punishing her for her self-depreciation. All she could hear was his continued condescension of commoners, of farmers who were her peers not so long ago, how easily he would abdicate his duty of accompanying her to Tobias as she had proposed. For the briefest moment she felt as if she was suffocating. Everything felt wrong. She was injured and being treated against her will, Luke had been severely wounded, the queen would destroy her family if she discovered the truth, she had been rejected as she had feared, and the only person who she knew cared about her without any anger or resentment was in love with her brother, a man who did not need her friendship, who would endure were she gone from this world.

With a burst of anger she sat up in her bed and yanked her good hand with enough force in the opposite direction that the metal stand to which her IV was attached toppled to the floor. Rhiane swung her legs over the side of the bed opposite Luke and pulled again. There was enough leverage now that the needle taped into place onto her hand was freed. She wouldn't die without medication or intravaneous hydration. The stubborn brunette would be in more pain certainly, and it would have been better if she rested to expedite her recovery, but she had slept so much under the influence of sedatives that she wasn't jeopardizing her health. Had the doctor been in room he would have strongly disapproved and cautioned this was the lack of cooperation he was trying to avoid.

But now they could hear yelling on the other side of the door. A body collided with the door, there was the sound of a locking mechanism, and then shouting about a cause. The princess elect let her feet touch the floor and boldly walked towards the sounds. When Luke had been gentle with her he had earned her compliance. Now that they had returned to their more typical hostile exchanges she would not be as easily swayed to heed his directions. She was curious, worried about what was transpired, and if the aggravating physician had new patients that were fighting one another.

A hand tried the door but it did not yield. Rhiane crept closer still until she was only a meter from it, enough that if it swung inward she would not be struck, but near enough she could more clearly hear whatever exchange was taking place. This turned out to be wholly unnecessary. The rebels on the other side had struck the doctor after he had engaged the emergency lock on the door, dragged him into a closet, and were in the process of gagging him and locking him inside. One of them had been treated by him years before and brought back from the precipice of death by his compassion, so they weren't going to kill him. Their target was a sultry vixen ignorant of their intentions.

"Princess!" one of them yelled. Technically she was only a princess elect, not a princess, but they didn't need to be precise to get their message across to their tiny audience. "We know you're in there! Open the door, princess! We can save you!" the voice promised. The only people that would have known they were there beside the palace guards were the would-be assassins. These were the same people that Luke knew, through emails, believed that they could save Rhiane, as well as the country, by murder.

"You don't have to suffer with him any longer," another deeper voice rang out. "We'll take care of your family, princess, you just have to open the door!" This man sounded much more authoritative than the first. The timbre of his voice resonated with an almost paternal tone as if he regularly knew how to appeal to the emotions of others. And it was working. Rhiane was wavering. Rationally she knew from the sounds of altercation that these were not nice people that had come bearing down upon the clinic, but she ached for understanding, for sympathy, for praise. She had not realized how hollow its absence had made her feel.

"Princess, we haven't got much time," a woman called to her. "We promise if you let us in you'll never have to worry about the royal family again!" Because she would be a corpse. But Rhiane didn't know she was their target. They were singing a siren song of escape, of relief from her burdens, of a chance at happiness. She had no reason to suspect they had weapons aimed at the door in anticipation of blasting through it and carrying her to the afterlife for their cause. Because she was so tortured, so frustrated, so tired, she genuinely thought saviors had arrived to whisk her away to a place of security and acceptance.
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The wind rattling window against its frame and the continuous prattling of rain against the roof prevented him from hearing enough of the conversation. However, raised voices and sound of forceful entry alarmed the heir. He was unarmed and though he might have a slight chance at a hand-to-hand fight, he doubted that anybody with the intent to accomplish what the SUV and the treacherous mountain path should have would come at them with nothing but their bare hands. “We have to --”

The metal pole crashing on the floor rang above the wind and the rain. He whipped his head to the direction of the sound in time to see the effects of his fiancee’s pig-headedness. Barefoot and resolved with what she had to do, Rhiane went around the bed and to the door that was forced shut. Luke pushed himself to his feet. Thank the painkillers and adrenaline he moved, rather limped, relatively faster than he thought he could and was able to place himself between the princess and the door.

The thin barrier failed to keep the sound of raised voices addressing Rhiane, trying to reach out to her under the pretense that they understood how she was suffering in the hands of the royal family. They positioned themselves to sound as the savior she was longing for, even if she did not need one. “Don’t even think about it,” Luke said calmly when it appeared to him as if she was about to reach for the latch and yield to the appeals of the people from the other side. Having been able to observe her around peasants, he thought that she was the kind who would readily place her trust on people with kind words for her. He remembered the cannoli from their first unofficial date, the artisans, the educators, her maids, strangers who were invited to share a moment with her. It was not healthy, especially when there were people who sought to forever silence her in the name of the cause they believed was for the betterment of the kingdom.

Luke took a step closer to her, forcing her to take a step back, but he held her in place with his hands on both her upper arms. “Listen to me, Rhiane.” Behind them, the rebels banged on the door with their fists or the butt of their guns. It would not hold long enough for their rescue to arrive, especially if anybody in the group would lose patience and shoot the locks or the hinges. They had to do something. He glimpsed past her to a window, which then shut the storm out of the room, a door that he thought would lead to a bathroom, and what he guessed was a janitor’s closet. “Evolab and the breaks on the SUV. Those were not meant for me.” He did not want to make her worry by letting her know the real situation, but if he continued to keep it to himself, Luke doubted that the farmer would listen to him. “The rebellion wants you dead. Tobias knows about it. I can explain everything later or you can ask him, but I can’t let them have what they want. We need to move now.”

He grabbed the wrist of her good arm, intending to pull her away from the door. The truth about their present circumstance, how her life was in more danger than his, should have convinced her to heed him. What Luke forgot was how the woman had little regard to her health and general safety. Perhaps she believed in the cries of the assassins at the other side of the door, or perhaps it was because she hated him with everything that she was that despite hearing his side of the story, she chose to plant her feet firmly on the ground. If he could, or if it would not make him look foolish, he would have swept her off her feet and carried her where he intended to go, but his injuries would only get worse. Instead, the prince tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled her.

His other hand dragged a chair by its backrest. The metal screeched against the tiles as he crossed the room with it. Without regard for the noise, or maybe he wanted to create such a commotion, he swung the chair as hard as he could on the window. Its metal legs smashed the glass, but he used his body to shield Rhiane from the shards that could unfortunately find her. Shouts emanated from where the rebels waited. Commands were thrown into the air. He couldn’t clearly hear what was being said, but he hoped it was to pursue the couple outside the facility. The window was large enough to fit an adult. They could use it as an escape route, but the prince was bold in his choices. He dragged Rhiane and a metal stool into the bathroom. That time, the stool was carried without making the scraping noise.

The door shut behind them just in time as a sound of a gunshot resonated followed by the door banging against the wall. Luke pushed Rhiane inside one of the cubicles and pressed a hand against her mouth in case she thought it was a good idea to scream.

“Fuck! The bitch escaped!” The voice was muffled but audible.

Another person cursed. “What are you waiting for? Follow them!”

The hand remained clamped on her mouth, his body covering hers inside the cramped space. There was no space for air to be between them, and honestly personal space was the last thing on his mind. His heart pounded in his chest as they listened in the semi-silence for voices or footsteps, any hint that somebody thought about searching the bathroom. He would not give the rebels what they wanted even if it meant being her shield. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier about --” Luke whispered to her ear but couldn’t finish the statement. If she could see his face, it was a wonder how the overconfident playboy blushed at the thought of what happened inside the SUV, especially at a time when both their lives were in danger. But if either or both died that day, then he or his ghost would forever regret not telling her. “It’s not mediocre and I don’t want you to go with Tobias.” The words were said in rapid succession, as if he would not be able to say it if he gave his mind enough time to think. “I’ll take my hand off, please don’t make a noise.”
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When Luke first circled around Rhiane and warned her to not even think about opening the door for the people calling to her from the other side she had stared at him in open defiance. Earlier in the SUV she had implicitly trusted him because he had proven himself to care about her health- from carrying her upon their exit from the pizzeria when it was evident her ankle was stiff, to bundling her when the frigid air of his remote island made her fingers frozen, to staying by her side in the royal clinic when she was so weak and ill she had been a thoroughly unappealing sight. But the crown prince had shown himself to not have the same care and consideration towards her mental or emotional state. In that pivotal moment when she was being serenaded by promises of a reprieve from the constant criticism of the palace she thought he was stubbornly denying her escape because he enjoyed having her as a novel toy to lord over.

That he didn't want her to go was perplexing, aggravating, and so contrary to their history together she had frowned at him in exasperation. From the moment they met he had made it clear the the engagement was a machination of his mother that he despised with every fiber of his being. It had been similarly transparent when they had spells of privacy that she lacked the traits he might want or expect in a fiance; if she had any doubt, the jarring differences between herself and Sofia drove home he'd be eager to replace her. Going with the rebels on its face seemed to solve their conjoined problems. Luke would be free to find a compliant admirer who would swoon at his wealth, prestige, and physical attributes, and would not mind being second in his heart to the actress across the ocean. The resistance could potentially give her family financial security or shelter, rid her of the conflict in having unrequited feelings, and rescue her from the deep-seated fear she had of romantic affection.

She was numb at the declaration she, the interloper to the royal family that had no influence over any policy, had been the target of the attacks. Her eyes went wide and she had kept her feet planted not because she meant to create another obstacle, but because she was struggling to process that anyone wanted her dead, much less the people she was trying so ardently to represent. Rhiane stumbled as he pulled her along, oblivious to the chair scraping along the floor or the thudding that shook the door on its hinges, her mind whirling over the revelation. She desperately wanted it to not be true but she did not think that Luke was deceiving her. There was sincerity in his words and actions. The princess elect didn't have the luxury of piecing together the puzzle but she could understand why her bodyguards had multiplied, why her food had nearly murdered her at EvoLab while no one else was affected, why no one had been fretting over the heir to the throne and instead watched her with careful concern.

"No, no, no," Rhiane whispered before he covered her mouth with his hand. The hostility she had been clinging onto, so as not to fall into despair over her situation, had melted away. Her protests were not at Luke's clever strategy to elude the assassins but at a world in which she had been reduced to such a pitiable pawn. Outside the bathroom there were the hurried movements of armed people rushing to follow the false trail. She inhaled sharply to try to keep tears from falling at being called a bitch and her survival cursed. This was not what she had anticipated when she had entered the contest to become the temporary spouse to the monarchy's most eligible bachelor. The farmer had known that the aristocracy would hate her, that the queen would treat her as an employee whose livelihood depended on performance, but she had honestly thought the service she could bring to the public would earn her their gratitude and praise. These rebels were not necessarily symbolic of the masses- she didn't think that her fans were faked or she would have been dismissed by Queen Camilla already for her failure- but that she had failed them stung.

She slumped against the wall she had been pressed against. Luke was doing his best to be a proverbial knight in shining armor but wasn't enamored with his efforts. He was at war against the coup- of course he'd do his best to keep her out of their grasp. What mattered to him, she presumed, was victory against his enemies, keeping their prize out of reach, and securing his succession so that one day he might be a king whose reign was long and revered. Rhiane was taller than most of her female counterparts but she felt small. It was as if she had been reduced to a powerful weapon that both sides of a disagreement coveted.

The space was horribly cramped. Rhiane started past his shoulder, lost in her thoughts, when he leaned forward and began to whisper in her ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine and she fidgeted with an impulse to distance herself lest she be drawn further into wanting the man that couldn't possibly love her. And it was then, in the darkness, he confessed that the kiss had not been mediocre and he didn't want her to attend the meeting with the farmers with Tobias. There was an implication of jealousy, of possessiveness, but Rhiane was reluctant to believe that the man of highest birth in all the nation would stoop so low as to want a peasant. It was unthinkable. It was taboo despite their engagement and impending marriage. This was supposed to be an arrangement of convenience.

Luke removed his hand and she, not thinking of the consequences, leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in reply. No one had to know what transpired in the bathroom where they were both vulnerable. Rhiane didn't think anything good could come out of her indulgence- she'd just yearn for more until they were twisted in the sheets and making a mess of every aspect of their lives- but this kiss could give her some reassurance that she was not alone for the few minutes they were in hiding. It could impart on her the strength she so sorely needed before she was forced to acknowledge that her destiny was a tragedy.
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It could be confusing sometimes when the pulse raced, and the temperature rose when he thought he had everything under control. His actions, even the words he chose, were calculated. Those were meant to accomplish a goal, yet oddly he felt blood rushing to his face in split the second between releasing her and she leaning onto him.

Her lips were soft, but very much sure. It wasted no time and waited not for a sign that the man she poured her affection to would be capable of returning even a fracture of it. Sometime, somewhere during the past few days that they were forced to be together, something must have clicked inside her complex and confusing mind. Chemical reactions might have happened at the right place and at the right time, producing a state that was perceived by the woman’s consciousness as perhaps a crush or an infatuation.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you,” her voice floated in his subconscious, a memory from a not so distant past.

Maybe it was the same for the proud crown prince. His heart knocked so hard in his chest at the feeling that her gentle lips and honest feelings brought. She might even feel it as his arms went around her to pull her as close as he could against him without hurting her arm or his injuries. Without hesitation, without thinking of what could come out of the thoughtless indulgence, he returned the favor. There was no hurry in the way he kissed her back, as if their life was not in peril and they had all the time in the world. He did not want to scare her away by rushing her into giving into his demands. Instead, where their lips met, there were gentleness and patience. And even if they did not have the time, they at least had that moment.

But the sound of heavy footsteps and cursing pulled Luke back into reality. As if a spell was broken, he jerked his head up to listen. In between the dwindling drops of the tiring storm were voices and orders barked. Somebody must have seen through their deception. He did not expect it to mislead them for long anyway, but he did not expect himself to be distracted as well.

“You must get away,” he commanded Rhiane rather than asked it of her. Outside the cubicle was a small sink and a wall with an exhaust window. It was just large enough for Rhiane to crawl into. The stool he carried should help her climb towards freedom.

Luke pushed the cubicle door open, then led Rhiane out. He grabbed the stool and positioned it on the far end of the bathroom, opposite the door. “Go on. I’ll follow after you.”

Then again, before she could either argue against it or nod in agreement, a sound like an explosion disturbed the pretense of peace. The bathroom door swung open revealing a rain-drenched man armed with a rifle poised at the couple. Behind him was another man, younger, but with the same look of triumph in his eyes. “There you are, princess.” The man with the rifle cooed as Luke stepped between Rhiane and the gunpoint. “For a while, we thought that we had lost you, but you were right up our noses all this time. Clever trick.”

He took one step, then another, but the third was punctuated with a gunshot followed by a heavy thud. The rebel outside the door was on the floor, convulsing as blood pooled from his mouth and his eyes stared into Rhiane. The one with the rifle’s eyes widened in surprise. He spun around and raised the weapon to defend himself, but the royal guards were trained to be quick. A bullet had buried into the assassin’s forehead before he could even touch the trigger of his weapon. The man fell like a log, and as he cleared the view, the couple would see Tobias sanding at the doorway.
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Since their first fateful meeting Rhiane hadn't thought of Luke as someone she would label as tender. He was proud, arrogant, quick-witted, stubborn, condescending, confident, handsome, fearless, patient, intelligent, and thoughtful, but he did not let his emotions be swayed by softer things unless it was in face of his sister. The princess elect had come to care for him regardless, but she had dampened her expectations he would be gentle, and yet in the last few hours he had proved such attributes did make up his character, he just withheld them from most. The way he reciprocated her kiss was sweet. It spoke to her of silent vulnerability, of acceptance, of caring for her in a romantic way. It was true that he had been more compassionate in the face of her injuries and illness, but she still attributed that to being invested in his territory in a war. This kiss couldn't be interpreted any other way than what it was. Somewhere deep down the heir to the throne actually felt a hint of something for the lowly peasant farmer.

She hadn't noticed the way she melted into his arms until the sounds outside the bathroom jolted her out of her reverie. Rhiane had let her mind be pulled into the clouds but now she had been cruelly yanked back their present reality. Standing there stunned, trying still to grasp that people wanted her dead, she watched as Luke carried a stool towards the window commanding her. It was almost refreshing to see that streak of lording authority. Of course she had no intention in leaving fist and risk having him fall victim to the rebels when they breached through the door. Her tongue rose to the top of her mouth as she mentally prepared an argument for why the royal ought to go first as the future leader of the country.

They had run out of time.

Color bled out of her face as Rhiane was finally confronted with a man with a rifle that had burst through the door. It was somehow easier to dismiss the attempts on her life when she did not see the offender eyeing her like a prize trophy. As cavalier as she had been about death it had not pointing a weapon at her as it gloated over a surefire victory. She had frozen in place until Luke stepped between her and the criminal. Seeing him put himself in the line of fire was sufficient to incite her protective instincts. With her good hand she pulled on his arm, reaching for his shoulder, trying to coax him to stand to the side. While she did not want to die she wanted him to die even less. Rhiane had a passive sort of valor, the sort that would have made her a fine fireman had she the training, because her impulse was so strongly skewed to save another over herself.

With each step she knew they were doomed. There wasn't an escape. They were unarmed and wounded. She was about to make a desperate plea to let Luke be saved- even though there was no hope she could persuade the villain- and then a gunshot thundered on the edge of the room. Rhiane had never heard one fire before this close. It was deafening yet she didn't hear it crack the second time. Her gaze was fixated on the young man who had stared at her, blood erupting from the point of contact, his eyes glassy as his soul departed its mortal shell. Fortunately the one who had more directly taunted them had his back turned when he was struck down, though there was a fine mist of red that sprayed into the air.

Rhiane didn't hear herself scream as she shrank back in horror. Tobias had been looking down with grim determination, confirming his enemies were deceased, when the shrill sound rang through the air. Even Queen Camilla couldn't hold this against her. Soldiers trained for combat often had the same sort of visceral reaction when they say their first comrade collapse next to them or had the gravity of their first kill sink into their psyche. Everyone processed it in different ways but it was never easy except for psychopaths. None of the other candidates that had been selected for competition for Luke's hand in marriage could have endured the poisoning and been ready for travel the next day, persevered through a sabotaged vehicle collision and kept their wits about them while they tended to someone else's ailments, and then been unaffected by being confronted by assassins. That she had made it this far was miraculous.

"Nolan," Tobias called over his shoulder as he holstered his weapon. "See if anyone can find something for the princess elect. We need to get her calm enough to travel. We're not secure here even with the threat eliminated," he assessed before taking a step into the bathroom over the corpses. Luke was in his way but he regrettably had to wait for permission to pass. No matter how much his heart might yearn for the circumstances to be different, the terrified brunette crouching down behind the prince his his fiancee, not Tobias's.
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The raw emotions bundled in the terrifying sound of her scream frightened him more than the gunshot that echoed inside the small space. His ears were still ringing and his brain was absorbing the reality that the bullet was neither meant for him nor did it find him. For a second, a thought crossed his mind that Rhiane was shot, that the assassins had succeeded. But Tobias was standing a step away from the door frame. His cold emotionless eyes stared back at the prince, before seeking after the face he came for.

Luke saw it, the slight widening of his cousin’s eyes and the tight leash he placed around his emotions if only to stop him from shoving the heir to the throne aside to get to the woman and tell her that everything was alright. The rumors had a few bits of truth in it. If he had not heard the female guards talking about it, Luke might have missed the subtle change in attitude of his cousin where Rhiane was involved. For some unknown reason, it annoyed the prince.

“Tobias, take her. We’re leaving,” he ordered.

If it had been just the two of them – Luke and Rhiane – he might have given into the tiny voice at the back of his head telling him that his arms should comfort her and not his cousin’s, that whispered words looking to calm her should be his and not the guard’s. But the decisions he easily made, the consequences he easily damned, seemed uncomplicated when it was just him and her. Having other pairs of eyes trained on him, waiting for his next mistake, made it difficult. Turning into the callous, stuck-up, royal was easier.

He walked over the corpse of the rebel and knelt on one knee. Tobias took the opportunity and went to the princess elect. Luke could have watched the two from the corner of his eyes, but he purposefully trained them elsewhere. The rifle, for instance, was interesting. “Nolan,” he raised his voice. “There is a doctor somewhere in the building. Take him with us.”

“You mean this one?” The older bodyguard followed the doctor into the bathroom. A bruise was starting to show on his jaw as well as his cheek. The rebels may have spared him, but they did not pass the opportunity to hurt him in order for him to yield to their demands. Luke raised his head from the rifle he was examining, then nodded once.

“There are more than two, correct?”

The doctor nodded. “I do not encourage violence in my clinic. Especially when high profile people are involved. There are at least five of them. I would appreciate if the fighting will be taken elsewhere.”

Luke got to his feet with the help of the sink. There was evidence that the exertion did no good to the gash on his thigh, the fresh adhesive bandage had blotches of red, while the side of his torso was starting to feel the pain when breathing. “There will be no fighting if we can help it.” The rifle was slung over his shoulder as he limped towards the exit. “We’re leaving. Treat Rhiane while inside the vehicle.” He would not risk staying longer knowing that the two that they had dispatched had allies out there who probably heard the gunshot.

Nolan obeyed without question, keeping his weapon drawn as he led them out the building. If the royal guard had anything to say about the prince’s injuries, his mismatched pants, and his seeming protectiveness over the princess elect, he held her tongue for later. Yet his eyes wandered to the rifle slung over the prince’s shoulder. Luke also noticed it, that the piece of equipment was not an ordinary rifle. It was not inexpensive to be owned by peasants who supported the rebellion. “Give me your earpiece, Nolan. I need to make calls.”
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Without Luke blocking his way Tobias quickly crossed the room and knelt down next to Rhiane. The princess elect had ceased screaming but now her voice had apparently left her completely which worried him exponentially more. He was not aware how obstinate and quick she was to argue with her fiance, talking perhaps to excess, but he knew her to be very sociable, eloquent, and gregarious, and seeing her reduced to staring blankly was more disconcerting than if she had continued to mindlessly shriek. In the past he had been chastised for his withdrawn stoic nature. It felt like karmic retribution that he would be so tortured by another silence's when he had been accused of doing the same to so many others.

"We need to leave," Tobias told her in a more gentle voice than he had ever used with anyone before. Rhiane failed to acknowledge she had heard him at all as her gaze remained fixated on the spot where he had dropped the first rebel. Experience taught him she was reliving it in repetition; her mind was not in the present. The royal bodyguard could not take back the shot, the scene of blood and death, or the trauma it had caused. In truth he would not even if it was a possibility. He had done his duty and executed a threat to both his cousin and the woman of which he was most fond, which ought to have given him a sense of pride, and yet he only felt remorse for the pain it had brought her.

Rhiane did not deserve this. He had joined the revolution in secret to try to prevent this wretched violence, to perpetuate a more peaceful transition of power, to save people from what he believed was the inherent cruelty of the current monarchy. To see his former compatriots make themselves into monsters no better than the queen's most fervent supporters sickened him. The ends did not justify the means. Sacrificing one innocent life would not make them more righteous, only stained and corrupted. Tobias sighed heavily. Carefully and cautiously he scooped Rhiane up into her arms.

"Doctor, bring me one of the blankets," he called out as he lifted his charge up from the floor. Her legs drooped over one arm while his other arm supported her shoulders. Tobias shifted her weight to distribute it as evenly as possible. While he could not deny he had hoped to one day cradle her in a warm embrace, this was not how he imagined her to be in his visions, injured and numb to the world, tormented by problems he could not solve. Rhiane's head rested against his chest as he carried her out into the medical room that was in disarray from the ambush.

"The car is just outside. Is there anything you have that might help?" the prince's cousin inquired.

The doctor shook his head as he bundled the blanket in his arms and followed Tobias out of the clinic. Truthfully he didn't want to be taken along in the envoy to wherever they might be headed, but he doubted Luke would heed his wishes, and only the royal could rescind the order. As the single village physician he had a duty to his assigned population- and if he left for any lengthy period of time there would be only two nurses left to tend to all the residents. "Let's get her in the car and then we can talk," he suggested.

They walked to the SUV that had been designated the transport vehicle for the prince and his princess elect. Given her left arm was broken they set her inside the right rear side of the car so that there were no concerns about her accidentally bumping the limb. The doctor secured her seat belt, draped over her blanket, and tried to help her make her as comfortable as he could without feedback from his patient. Rhiane slumped against the window and stared into the distance. The pair of men closed the doors to afford themselves a brief moment of privacy.

"Until you get her somewhere where there are better supplies available there isn't much I can do for her physically," the doctor told Tobias. "As far as her mental state... you are a man who has obviously seen situations like this unfold before. You likely know what to expect. She will simply need some time to digest. When she was found she was already sedated, and I had to sedate her again, but I still prescribe rest. I strongly recommend sleeping aids and someone in her room if possible to help ward off nightmares- enough interruptions during the night and it will be worse than if she stayed awake. I'm sure you have some female bodyguards that could be assigned accordingly. Keep her busy and distracted. I'm not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but I can tell you that all the men and women I've seen go through this have an easier time if the have other things occupying their time."

"Is there something we should administer now?" Tobias asked with forced detachment.

"I'll get a couple things for the ride just in case," the doctor answered, "but I'd wait until you- well, we I suppose- arrive and it's necessary. I don't believe she'll remain this calm once there's a large needle being presented for injection into her arm," he deduced based on how emphatically she had been against every and any treatment option he provided, no matter how reasonable. Her fear and distrust of his profession might be the only thing, he wagered, that would throw her out of the prison her psyche was trapped in. With a respectful nod to Tobias, the doctor went back into his clinic to gather a few items while Luke finished his phone calls.
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The problem was not that the mobile device of the doctor was already phased out, it was just the royal guards used a different communication frequency which was not accessible for the general public, nor the military. It allowed for a secured and reliable communication among themselves and the palace. It explained how Luke contacted the palace when he asked Nolan to connect him to his mother.

Queen Camilla answered the call on the first ring. She had cancelled every appointment that day and was actively monitoring the situation with her husband. Just like Luke would not get used to attempts on his life, the queen could not say that she would ever be at peace with the fact that her children’s lives were at a risk because of the enemies she made. It triggered her maternal instincts to be pushed to the surface and then she would gather her children back to the nest, which was supposed to be the safest place for them. Her daughter, for instance, was escorted back to the palace from an event that she attended as the guest of honor. If the twins were not out of the country, they would have had the same fate as their sister.

“I will write a detailed report for you before the day ends,” Luke was saying while he crouched over the dead body outside the bathroom to inspect the rebel’s rifle. “It’s just not safe to speak at length right now.” Nolan and Tobias might have eliminated two of the threats, but there were three more rebels that they knew of while an unknown number could be hiding in the village. It was not safe to linger, also not safe to speak freely with the doctor – somebody he did not trust – around.

Tobias stepped out of the bathroom with the princess elect in his arms. The guard’s long strides and purposeful steps cried for the prince’s attention and meaningful glare. Had he not been injured, he would have been the one to carry the princess elect to their vehicle as a prince charming would do for her princess. But Luke was not so big a fool as to try to lift a tall woman considering the status of his health. Besides, what did he hope to gain by continuously being considerate for the farmer? The kiss was just a kiss, he reasoned with himself. It was a natural reaction of a man who was trapped in a cramped space with a beautiful woman who presented herself willingly to him. If he could turn back time, he would take a bit of rationality with him and choose against what feels was right, because she was a peasant. He may have gotten used to her, even enjoyed her company, but between him and her was a thousand reasons why they should not be together.

Yet, as Tobias passed by, Luke could not take his eyes off the woman that was carefully cradled in his arms. It should have satisfied the royal to see the farmer and the almost-nobleman sharing the same space, with the cousin he loved as a child, who was a cold and emotionless loyal servant, seemingly finding his match in the farmer. But for some reasons, it provoked an unwanted emotion within the royal. Maybe because of what he heard at the airplane and what he saw in Rhiane when she was with Tobias, Luke did not want Tobias to touch his fiancee.

“Luke, are you still there?”

The worry in the queen’s voice saved the prince from exploring the conflicting emotions within him. As if Queen Camilla’s presence reminded Luke that he was the next ruler of the kingdom, that he should not be distracted by menial things such as his emotions, wants and desires. It would not benefit New Rome, therefore it was not his concern. “I’m sorry, mother. I was curious about the rifles. Allow me to discretely open an investigation with the Defense Ministry.” The discussion between mother and son continued, wavering between passing information to personal thoughts about the well-being of the other. Luke gestured for Nolan to take the dead man’s rifle then followed Tobias out the door. The queen may have told her son that the link between him and his fiancee shut off automatically on such emergency situations, but he was used to keeping her in sight. He stood a few meters from the vehicle, watching from the corner of his eyes as the doctor and his cousin assumed seats at the back of the vehicle with his fiancee. The conversation with the monarch was cut short after the rifles were loaded inside the compartment. He promised to call back when they reached the villa.

The rear driver’s door was not locked when he pulled it open. As soon as he did, he met the doctor’s slightly round brown eyes then followed by his cousin’s. The latter’s instincts kicked in such that his hand reached for the standard issued pistol, but stopped upon recognizing who was the intruder. The guard’s eyes softened a little, but his stare did not waver. As if he was asking what Luke was doing standing by the door and making himself an easy target to any sniper nearby. Though Nolan was standing guard behind Luke, the prince should know better since it was not the first time he was caught in an ambush. The guard opened his mouth to say something, perhaps appeal to his royal cousin’s rationality, but the latter beat him to it.

“We need to get moving.”

The doctor raised his hand tentatively. “Uh… There are medical supplies that I need to get from the clinic. May I…”

Luke nodded, though he did not spare the doctor a glance. He was silently questioning Tobias, and what annoyed Luke was the truth that his cousin didn’t seem to have a clue what those blue eyes meant to say. “Tobias,” he started as the doctor alighted from the vehicle and hurriedly went back inside the building.

“Your highness.” Tobias’ head bowed just a little.

“Who was driving this vehicle?”

Realization dawned on the guard. It was visible in the slight widening of his eyes and the wavering of his confident posture. One corner of his lips twitched a little in a smirk or a scowl, Luke wasn’t sure. “I was,” he admitted. His royal cousin was trained to deliver messages clearly through his lengthy speeches, but sometimes the simplest of instructions were difficult to verbalize. Tobias reluctantly left the princess elect’s side to assume his position at the driver’s seat.

They were on the road in no time. Luke was back on the phone. Nolan had tossed the device to the prince after getting annoyed at his endless command to call this person or that person. He had instructed one of his staff to request a meeting with the Minister of Defense, and another to the Minister of Health. Responses from both were expected within the hour so he could verbalize his request. Another staff was called to personally give instructions to send a medical team, detailing the needs of the couple. He was not done yet, because right after that, was a call from the palace. The palace intelligence was supposed to confirm the location and the couple’s status with Nolan and was surprised to hear a different person at the other end of the line. A conversation about the barricades and checkpoints to be setup was inevitable. Luke unconsciously rested his hand on his fiancee’s knee as if to reassure her or himself.

It was then that the doctor reminded leaned forward and quietly repeated his advice that the princess elect should not be left alone even at night. “I will personally see to it, doctor. I can watch over her tonight,” was Tobias’ casual reply.

Hearing the short exchange prompted Luke to pull the earpiece from an ear, disregarding the previous conversation. “There is no need. We share the same room. I will call for help if needed.” He regarded Tobias who was quietly looking back at him from the rearview mirror. “You and Nolan had a long day today. Rest for the night. I need you both alert tomorrow.”

Nolan smirked. They had worked together long enough to understand what the prince was trying to do. Tobias nodded grimly and proceeded to drive in silence. Luke went back to his conversation and by the time they arrived in town, he had returned both the mobile device and earpiece to his personal bodyguard.

As expected, cameras and media personnel were camped on the village, waiting for the arrival of the couple, hungry for a juicy scoop. Their arrival had been delayed for over half a day and the itinerary for the day was still in question. Thankfully, the windows were tinted so no photo with their faces on in were taken. The ground security made way for the vehicle so that Tobias could drive them to the villa constructed for the couple’s comfort.

“Where here,” he whispered to Rhiane. She was conscious but unreactive. Witnessing a man shot dead right in front of her must be traumatizing. What the princess elect needed was proper counseling and perhaps something to calm her nerves. He knew because he was only ten years old when he was caught in a crossfire and had been forced to watch a man shot dead right in front of his innocent blue eyes. The person who shot the would-be assassin was the late prince consort, Luke’s father.

Luke freed her from the seatbelt, then reached for the latch to open the door. The painkiller’s effect had diminished by then and the act of bending his torso to reach for something shot a sharp pain from his side. He bit back the sound trying to escape his lips, but the sudden pain showed briefly on his face. He would have to let his cousin take her from him again.
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For many years Rhiane had been required to be strong. As Luke could almost certainly sympathize, had she ever brought up the topic with him and discussed it at length, being required to have emotional fortitude was a heavier burden than simply possessing it alone. An individual with aforementioned strength still had the freedom to have times of weakness without worrying about the devastating consequences about their lapses. They didn't have the pressure of supporting others indefinitely and maintaining a disposition without relief. As a child the princess elect had been opinionated, stubborn, and assertive, but the times she had come home crying when she was hurt, or when she had a fight with a friend, or been simply having a frustrating week that left her upset had not been earth-shattering. Violet Black, who laughed at her own married name, would hug her and sit with her on the front steps of their home while encouraging her to physically and figuratively lean on her. Gerard for all his faults would go out of his way to be nicer as well. Edwin would smile at her and kiss her forehead. Her father would tell her horrible jokes to try to make her laugh.

But those days were long gone. From the moment her mother fell ill Rhiane had become 'the strong one' out of necessity. Neither her father nor Gerard could handle tending to the sick and dying figures of the family matriarch and middle son. The former farmer had taken on more and more responsibilities. First she was a nurse cooking and cleaning for her patients, then an advocate trying to find a way for them to get life-saving medication, then their hospice that helped them to the bathroom, that sat by their beds watching them worsen, scrubbing away evidence of their failing bodies. Rhiane planned their burials, arranged for the simple headstones, and said a few words at the funeral because once again she was the only one that could bear it. When the farm started to fail she returned to staying up nights learning everything she could to take over management. She had confrontations with vendors and merchants, took control of very financial decision, and blazed the path back from the brink of bankruptcy, all while directing her father and eldest sibling and accommodating her needs.

It had been tiring but she did not resent them. Love had motivated her to participate in the contest for Luke's hand in marriage as it was the only way she could secure a future of stability for her remaining family. The tournament had demanded her strength to maintain her image, to succeed in the events, and to gain the favor and support of the public as well as the queen when she was victorious. She had not faltered. Rhiane had been proud of herself. Finally she could breathe a sigh of relief even if she had traded the yoke of the farm for that of being a princess elect, not having friends or confidants, not having any one that cared for her, with higher expectations, and everyone watching with baited breath for her to do anything wrong she could be severely punished for.

There was only so much anyone could take before breaking. Rhiane had to be strong so long that she had not felt the building tension as situations mounted growing tolls on her: the engagement ball's scandal with Sofia and twisted ankle, the pizza parlor's argument, the willful exposure to the cold on the private island, the device that kept her close to Luke, the poisoning, the implication she should make the prince follow the schedule, the feelings hidden in her chest, the sabotage and collision of their vehicle, and the ambush at the clinic. Watching the man die had been too much. The dead did not close their eyes as they shed their mortal coil. The lifeless stare of the would-be assassin as he fell to the floor had burned itself in her mind.

As Luke made his numerous phone calls she continued to gaze out with window without seeing the passing landscape. In her mind a film was playing in repeat without mercy. Two men rebels burst into the room, sneering and gloating, leveling their weapon at the couple as one of them advanced. A shot rang out as the younger of the two fell to the floor. Another took out the closer armed aggressor. There were sprays of blood from the high-velocity bullets striking their targets. Brain matter had splattered to one of the walls. Dark pools of dark red spread from the corpses. The silhouettes of Luke and Tobias faded from the recollections as she was left alone with the deceased, trapped, their presence haunting and torturing her in unspoken accusations. If Rhiane had never won the contest and ascended to her current position they would not have attacked, no one would have been in danger as she was their intended victim, and lives would not have met such a violent end.

The car rumbled to a rest and as Luke leaned across her to unfasten her seatbelt she belatedly realized they had traveled somewhere. Tobias had parked, shut off the engine, and made his way so quickly to her door that it stood out as strange past the fog of her detachment. Rhiane saw a pained expression erupt on Luke's face. It took her longer than it should have to process what had happened. The princess elect raised her hand and placed it on one of his shoulders briefly, an act of silent reassurance, before it limply fell back to her side.

"I'll take her inside, your highness," Tobias stated as he opened the door. Rhiane had visibly retreated back inside herself and did not respond to the offer. "The medical team is still en route but expected to arrive shortly. A room has been prepared in advance," he explained curtly. This was more for the benefit of his female charge than his cousin, but she did not acknowledge his presence, much less his words. The side of his mouth twitched slightly in concern and disappointment his efforts did not result in any change in Rhinae's affect.

Carefully and delicately Tobias scooped the princess elect up into his arms as he had done before, cradling her to his chest, before nodding to Luke politely. He was displaying proper etiquette but he was also a touch smug about this once not being compelled to give up a chance with Rhiane. The bodyguard may not be able to share a room with her, or wed her, but he still held hope things would change, and he savored each small win he had over the heir to the throne and his perceived indifference to his fiancee.

The villa was formally a part of a destination retreat for the wealthy nobility that wanted to 'escape' to an idyllic view of the mountains. Understandably the royals had commandeered the nicest and most lavish villa for their purposes and the company that owned it was compensated but not allowed on the premises for security reasons. The pair was escorted through the building, which was empty except for the arriving entourage, a single maid and a cook that had been cleared by the palace, to a sitting room. Furniture had been re-arranged, antique luxurious pieces strategically pushed towards the wall, and a single medical bed was now placed in the center. Two tables with plastic sheeting, meant to keep the surfaces sterile, were prepared for the supplies that were coming with the team that had been summoned to supplement the doctor.

"Your highness, I suggest that you are treated first," the doctor concluded. He knew Rhiane would be incredibly uncooperative, perhaps requiring sedation once again, and it was more effective to tackle the faster patient. There was also the slim chance that if the prince had his condition under control he might be able to prevent some of the hysterics and hostility that he had been unconscious for when the sling was first proposed.

Tobias started to lower Rhiane onto a nearby sofa. It didn't matter who went first; they still had to await the supplies and team en route that was at least another ten minutes away. Putting her somewhere comfortable seemed like the most kindness he could offer- and the best opportunity to keep her calm until the inevitable meltdown over the injections that would be forthcoming.
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What else could he do but agree to his cousin’s proposition, helplessly watch as the royal guard carried the farmer away, and silently question the unwanted emotion the prince could only guess was jealousy. But he had Sophia. And even if he did not, Luke could have any woman in the kingdom not from demanding submission from her, but out of her sheer will. The illusion of the prince charming that the media painted him to be – wealthy, powerful, intelligent, dependably strong, handsome – created a picture of perfection that most women would have wanted in a man. Even then, somebody else was touching, attempting to take away, what was rightfully his.

“Your highness.” Nolan was standing by the rear passenger door, calmly trying to figure out what his prince’s forlorn gaze was for. “The doctor already got off the SUV. It’s just you inside now.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Ah. I was just thinking.” And it was not a lie. He had been thinking about what had happened in the last few hours after he tossed the keys to Rhiane. The plan was to use her as some sort of a safety net that cushioned the loneliness that resulted from Sophia’s absence. What had happened?

Without saying anything more, he left the SUV himself with his bodyguard securing the rear. The villa’s security was expected to be thorough after what happened, but he needed to see for himself what had been done so far. “Are the lords and ladies of this region not going to be present to welcome us?”

“They were this morning, but they must be resting in the other villas as we speak. Should I request for their presence?”

Luke shook his head. “I do not wish to speak with anybody without an appointment.”

“Understood. I shall give out the order to the guards.” Two such uniformed palace guards were at the main entrance, holding the double doors open for the royal. The pair followed Tobias, the doctor, and the maid who ushered them to a makeshift clinic. Nolan shut the door behind him after politely dismissing the maid.

Luke inspected the room. There were two entry points, which were the door they used and a balcony. The latter was concealed from sight by floor to ceiling curtains. “There are guards outside,” Nolan offered the answer to the question lingering in his prince’s head.

“Cameras?”

“Twenty-four high definition cameras with heat sensors for when it gets dark. Each unit conforms to the palace security standards.”

The room was not where he expected he and Rhiane would be treated. It may have been transformed, to the best of the staff’s efforts, as a sterile room, but the sitting room was not a hospital. “We’ll get there, doctor. A painkiller will be most helpful at this time.” His eyes wandered to where Tobias had lain the princess elect, then frowned. Rhiane would only freak out when she realizes where she was, when the white linen and steel framing of medical bed registered in her head, when the scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils. It was not good for her present mental state to expose her to another stressor. “The medical team will take time,” he was telling his conclusion to the doctor. “May we wait in our room instead? It will be best for Rhiane to rest for now, but this environment is not helping.”

The doctor had witnessed the princess elect’s reaction to anything that had to do with the practice of medicine. He would have wanted to keep the patients inside the room to be able to monitor them and react accordingly should there be any emergencies, but the prince had a point. “Here, your highness,” the doctor offered a pill and a bottled water from the box of supplies he carried from the clinic. “I have nothing against your suggestion.” Though he thought the pain medication that was administered to the princess elect may have also lost its effect at that moment, but the woman either had a better pain tolerance than the prince or was stubborn enough to ask for help.

The couple moved to their room upon the prince’s request. Tobias carefully put Rhiane down to the bed then pulled the sheets over her without a word before exiting the suite only to stand guard outside the door. The doctor was the last to leave, making sure that the couple had means to call for help in case of emergency. “Doctor,” Luke stopped him halfway to the exit. “Why is there a makeshift clinic? Are there no clinics in this town?”

“The clinic you kidnapped me from,” the doctor answered in a low voice. “It is the only medical facility in this mountain.” And he was the only physician around. He wanted to verbalize it but didn’t.

“I did not kidnap you. I did not want them to vent out their frustrations on you, doctor, when they find out that we have escaped.” The doctor’s eyes widened in realization. Of course there was no more need for him once the royal medical team arrived, but he was dragged out of the clinic for other reasons. “Why they kept you alive is beyond me, but we cannot be sure as to the extent of their benevolence. That is all. I’ll call you when I need you.”

Luke watched the door close behind the doctor. The sound resonated in the silence of the room, so did his sigh. When they left the airstrip that morning, it did not cross his mind that it would be such an eventful day. He dragged a chair from the desk to Rhiane’s side of the bed. After what happened, he wasn’t so sure how she would react to his touch, so he gave her space. Luke sat languidly on the chair, staring at the door without saying anything for a long moment, until finally he found his voice.

“I was ten when I first witnessed a man killed in front of me.” He did not know what he was doing, and if it would do good rather than bad to her state, but the prince thought it would help if she could feel that she was not alone. Carefully, he reached under the covers to where he thought her hand was. His fingers carefully entwined with her even though he avoided her green eyes. “Seventeen when I first shot a man dead. He was about to attack my sister.” It was not easy dealing with the aftermath and the rationale was not important now. “If you would like some rest, to get away from the memory and this sorry reality, I can ask the doctor for a sedative. I know it may not help much, but the doctor will not allow strong liquor to be served even if I order him to.”
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For the first time since they had entered the villa the vacant gaze on Rhiane's visage shifted and she turned her head on the pillow to look at Luke. She had been passively aware of conversations and movement before that moment but nothing had been able to pull her out of her inward-facing attention. The princess elect was unaware of Tobias's secret affections, but even if she had been the way he embraced her, carrying her with a professional grace and dignity, did not create the same sparks as it did when Luke was her companion. The sitting room that had been repurposed for treatment posed no threat to her emotional state because there were no implements, no tools, no staff that would force her to undergo procedures. Nothing had mattered enough. The farmer could have spent hours being ignored, spoken over, and carted to destination after destination and she may not have reacted. A pervasive emptiness had a firm grip upon her psyche.

But Luke's words had shone through the intangible darkness. His hand slipped into hers and his fingers between her own as he continued to speak. Rationally Rhiane had known what she had seen was not a unique experience. Tobias, Nolan, and all the other bodyguards had higher body counts than they would ever disclose to her she was certain. The crown prince had told her before that attempts had been made on his life and it only stood to reason the would-be assassins had met bloody, violent ends. Hearing him talk about it, though, was reassuring in a way she had not anticipated. Even if she had not been alone in having this sort of trauma, the fact no one spoke of it, no one discussed it, no one recounted it made her feel just as alone as if she was the only one.

"I don't want to sleep," she finally said. "I see his face when I close my eyes," she whispered as she closed her eyes briefly. Luke felt her shiver under the covers and limply squeeze his hand as they fluttered open again. From the expression on her face it was clear she was speaking the truth. This was not an unusual occurrence; it was why the doctor had warned that she would be prone to nightmares in the immediate future until her brain could find other things compelling enough it would not be so singularly fixated. Time would help but so would distractions once the memory was not so fresh.

"It wasn't your fault," Rhiane added, referring to his confession about shooting a man dead to protect his sister. "But this was my fault." Her voice was low and raspy rather than her typically loud and assertive tone. "I failed them. If I hadn't they would never have come to the clinic, and you wouldn't have been in danger, and they... might still be alive."

Earlier Luke had revealed to his fiancee that she had been the intended target all along, not him, but he hadn't yet had an opportunity to elaborate on anything more. The natural conclusion she had arrived at was that the rebellion hated her sufficiently this had been their motivation for three attempts on her person: poisoning at the EvoLab event, sabotage of the SUV, and then the armed attack at the clinic. Had they reviled the princess elect they would not have ever tried to kill her. The revolution was less interested in the heir to the throne because while he was a charismatic leader, he had enough flaws, scandals, and figurative blemishes for them to capitalize upon. It was because Rhiane was such a galvanizing force, spreading an image of compassion, acceptance, and understanding, convincing the public that there was someone at the palace that cared for them and spoke for them, that they had felt the need to negate her impact. If left unchecked she could deliver a fatal blow to their recruitment. Deceased she could no longer polish the tarnished reputation of the queen's family. The dream of the coup had been a barely competent royal-to-be, a woman that would smile and wave but have no substance; instead they had been granted a farmer more adept than they had thought possible.

In short it was Rhiane's success, not her failure, that had led to their murderous fervor.

Classified assessments by the intelligence community were that the plan was ingenious- though that word was not used for fear of being reprimanded by the queen. In the event Rhiane died, regardless of circumstances, the monarchy would be blamed. The rebellion was using their history against them: everyone was quite aware that 'breeding spouses' had a definitive expiration date. This was tolerated, if not embraced, because the citizens believed the peasants who enjoyed the riches, the affection, the prestige, and all that went with their victory were properly compensated for an untimely death- and it was no secret to those that entered what would happen after a decade or so of marriage. If Rhiane died prematurely suspicion and scorn would follow, no matter what the mass media told them, and regardless of the truth of the matter. Luke could sincerely mourn her and only the diehard loyalists would believe in the honesty of his grief.

Similarly now it would be impossible to replace the princess elect. Queen Camilla refused to accept this reality but her rejection could not exact change. If she was killed the rebels would be able to parade around their martyr and build exponentially more momentum for the coup that sought to overthrow their cruel, callous overlords. If she was discharged they would not be able to muffle or silence what she could reveal to New Rome. Anyone Luke took next would be compared to Rhiane, the people would be reluctant to accept a replacement, those that had faith in the love story would be harder to persuade of its voracity, and those that thought it was a charade have more proof to drive them into the arms of the revolution.

The only way the throne could win was to use Rhiane as intended. So long as she was smiling, waving, pursuing her philanthropy goals, hanging off Luke's arm, and charming as she had been doing for a week, it would be detrimental to the civil war brewing. Were she to be stolen, kidnapped, or killed, it would benefit dissidents more than it could ever aid the rulers of the kingdom. That was why they were so desperate.

"Tell the doctor I'm fine with my sling," she breathed. It was not fear that prompted this implied refusal of medical intervention yet again- she felt guilty and diminished, unworthy of anything more than what was absolutely necessary by Luke's standards. His stubborn betrothed wanted to punish herself in the only way that was possible.
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Luke was not expecting her response, but he was glad that she did speak. Truth be told, he was not equipped to handle trauma patients. He wasn’t even qualified to tell her that he understood what she was going through, because in reality he barely remembered what it felt like to be in her shoes. To say that he was young when the tragedy hit him was not a lie, but for somebody like him who was born to royalty, there were means to skip the difficult part. The queen had made that decision for the traumatized boy who tried to keep a straight face but cried and screamed at night when he was trapped in his own nightmares. He thought that maybe talking about it would help her, admitting or even hinting that there was somebody else who had gone through the same pain might encourage her to heal.

The fingers he entwined with hers tightened as her loosened, as if telling her to hold on. With the brace restricting the mobility of his upper body, he turned just his face to her. “You failed them how? By not dying in that petty excuse for a clinic?” He frowned at her conclusion. She had no idea yet, because he had no time to tell her everything back at the clinic, but a faction of the rebellion was after the bad image her untimely demise would bring to the ruling house. The Palace Intelligence deducted that the premature elimination of the princess elect, after the masses’ warm reception of her, would not only hurt the palace’s capability to protect its people, but also reflect poorly on the crown prince who was known to have been in a relationship with the actress Sophia Keller.

Should he tell her everything? Half of him wanted her to know everything, because maybe it would ease the guilt that she was feeling, but the other half still wanted to keep her in the dark.

“If there is anybody you failed today, it will be your driving instructor.” The keep-her-in-the-dark half won. It was cruel to burden her with the thought that the people she thought she could save, held on to the hope that she would meet her end sooner than necessary, that these people would do anything in their power to accomplish the mission, that they saw her as a tool to reach a milestone – not even a goal – but a step towards the realization of one.

Luke kept his face solemn, though the corner of his lips twitched, and his eyes were a little brighter. He slightly bowed her head in mock reverence. “With all due respect, princess, you are a horrible, horrible driver. When I gave you the keys, I didn’t imagine that you will dash like the devil was on our heels.” The wind on his hair, the otherwise scenic route, were both overtaken by the fear that gripped his chest with the way she handled dangerous uphill curves and downhill descent. It was like riding a roller coaster without the reassurance of the rails and its periodic safety checks.

“Maybe it really is your fault,” Luke mused. He would give her what she wanted – his acknowledgment of her guilt. The same sentiment was repeated over and over again on different conversations at different places. It would not leave her alone or she did not want to let it go. She did not want to believe the many times he told her that she was not at fault. What better thing to do than acknowledge that everything that happened that morning was because of her. “Because of your horrible driving skills. If you had not let excitement rule over you, then we would not be in that clinic, we would not be in danger, and they might still be alive. Better yet, if you had picked the right pill and did not intentionally hope to sedate me, then we could have refused to be moved to that clinic and waited for rescue instead.”

A memory flashed in his mind – the storm pounding on the SUV’s roof, the tiny droplets doing their best to leap onto their skin and clothing, the lightning that lit the sky above the canopy of leaves, her blouse made translucent by the rain, her cold skin, and the urgency of her lips against his. The prince had to look away. The injured thigh was stretched before him, reminding him that he should ask for change of clothes before somebody else thought he was starting a fashion trend.

Mustering the confidence that came with the title, he cleared his throat. The next words he spoke were detached, as if he was truly pronouncing a court sentence. “Therefore, I shall not tell the doctor that you are fine with your sling. A punishment cannot be as merciful as that. You are to allow the doctors to do as they please, when they please, without physical or verbal protest. This serves as your punishment. Do you have any questions, princess?” He smiled for her a lopsided smile that had none of the seriousness of his tone. Luke figured that perhaps it would be effective to use her self-reproach against her irrational distrust to medical practitioners, thus appointing the impending procedure as a fitting punishment for the wrong she thought she did.
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Rhiane didn't elaborate when Luke queried her on how she had failed. Acknowledging it alone was painful; speaking of it aloud would be more torturous than she could currently endure. It had been clear from when they first met that the crown prince cared little to nothing when the general public thought of him. The frequent arguments that were had over whether the commoners were of any consequence had revealed his bias and outright dismissal of the peasantry; such bickering had even occurred earlier that same day. Despite all of this, Luke was an intelligent and perceptive man, and they both knew the only reason she had ever set foot in the palace was as a way to bolster the royal family's reputation among the populace. He had seen how much she cared about every 'beggar' and 'whiner' she came across. More than once he had tried to convince her that she was above associating with them now she was a princess elect. He had to know how the woman whose worth was coupled with the strength of her reception, who was an incessant bleeding heart that shared a meal with her maids, might internalize the rebellion's assault.

Silence fell between them as he squeezed her hand for reassurance and she turned her face away to try to hide her feelings. Rhiane hadn't expected him to understand how the assassination attempt rocked to her to very core of her being. It was the only thing she had left- her confidence in earning the lower class. The wealth, the stature, even her fiance were not hers, but trappings bestowed upon her by the monarchy so long as she perform for them, none of them permanent nor truly owned. Both her father and Gerard were obstinate enough to remain estranged indefinitely. Children were a hope for the future but not a reality. Her health had been heavily impacted such the night of the engagement ball. None of her endeavors were close to bearing the fruits of success so early in her political career. The smiles of the public had bolstered her, though, when the aristocracy scorned her. Now she was uncertain how pervasive this wish for her death was among those of her socioeconomic background.

The princess elect was visibly swallowing down the grief on her face when Luke made his commentary about her driving instructor. It was such a wild departure from the seriousness of their previous topic it jolted her out of her wallowing. There was a hint of a smile on her features at the playful accusation. It was perhaps her favorite part of Luke; his sense of humor, even when it was buried beneath a layer of cynicism and sarcasm. Idly she wondered if this was what had made Sofia attracted to him. A more petty part of her thought the actress craved the prince title more than the person, and that she was superior in the way she cared not an ounce about such things, but it was entirely possible his mischievous streak was what the other sex found so charming.

Amusement danced in her eyes as well as admiration for Luke. Rhiane did not know she had confessed her feelings to him when she was succumbing to sedation and she did not clearly recall the kiss they had shared at the clinic because it was sandwiched between the horror of being told she was a target and then being discovered moments later. She was ignorant to how well he could now interpret the subtleties of her countenance. Though she was not staring at him like a love-sick admirer, utterly starstruck by his presence, it was undeniable she gazed upon him more fondly than Tobias, than Nolan, than the doctor, or anyone else with whom she had regular contact.

Her progress away from crushing guilt was undone the instant Luke, albeit not with sincerity, concluded perhaps it was all her fault. Her betrothed's tone was too light to be truly damning but still dealt an invisible blow. If she hadn't taken the keys the men could still be alive. If she hadn't let the excitement go to her head and had instead been cautious with her driving the rebels the doctor might not have been assaulted. If she hadn't frozen at the sight of the deer they might not have gone careening off the road and left Luke with a sizeable gash and broken ribs. Her face became more pale under the lights of the bedroom and she briefly looked as if she might be violently ill. On another person his strategy might have worked- but as much as she was resistant to his stance she was not at fault, sharing her irrational views seemed to grow the negativity.

Rhiane did not return his grin as he announced his punishment. She was quiet, obviously wrestling with the rational request made, leveraging her self-inflicted shame against her distrust of medical professionals. The princess elect was wildly uncomfortable with the proposition but didn't feel she had the ability to reject him outright. She had to take responsibility for her sins and, even if he was teasing her, this might be the only way she could do her penance. After a prolonged pause she finally relented in an unusual way. "I want the doctor from the clinic," she insisted softly as if this were of dire importance. "I still don't like doctors, but I trust him. If others have to do the treatments I want to stay with me, and I'll only do it if you both insist I have to," she finally said.

It was the closest she had ever been to agreeable on the topic. "The ones at the palace are polite but.." she struggled for a second to articulate her thoughts clearly, "I feel like when he looks at me he sees me as a person and doesn't judge me for having poor parents. He understands why I dislike his profession." It was almost certainly true. The doctor might have been born in a major city, but Rhiane was not his first patient who had lost loved ones to disease, illness, or lack of proper care because laborers worked themselves to the bone before seeking medical attention. He had purposefully chosen the village as his assignment. The man had no airs and, arguably, more experience and empathy about her discomfort than the royal attendants who worked exclusively with people of privilege. It was still a concession Luke would have to make; however, were he to be agreeable, he might be able to utilize this doctor she slightly favored to inch her closer to cooperation without coercion.
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