Although the sedative and pain medications should have helped him rest, it felt as if his eyelids were a lot heavier and his body less inclined to pull itself up from the cozy mattress. He willed his muscles to move, to lie on his back as the painkiller was wearing off and there was a dull ache from his side, but to his surprise there was resistance. Something warm and soft was preventing him. And just because of that, Luke’s eyes were suddenly wide open. Where was he? Who did he go home with last night? His pulse thundered in his ears, while his mind raced for reasons to conceal another potential scandal. It should not reach the palace. He should be home before the queen asked for him. 

Then again, the panic dissipated as his eyes fell on the tanned complexion and her black hair. The prince sighed audibly. Slowly, fragments of memories were released into his consciousness to answer questions he had not yet thought of. They were in the mountains. He handed her the keys to the SUV. There was an accident, except that it was not an accident. The rebellion had attempted to take Rhiane’s life again, but failed thanks to the timeliness of the royal guards’ arrival. Yesterday, they heard from the members of the rebellion their intent to end the life of the princess elect. It was good information, but what’s most unfortunate about the ordeal was that Rhiane had to believe that the death of the rebels was her fault. 

Carefully, he untangled himself from their shared embrace. It was very comfortable, though he would not admit it out loud, and he wanted nothing more than to stay where they were and fall asleep again. But there were duties to be fulfilled and a schedule to beat. Despite the bitter taste in his mouth and the dry feeling in his throat, Luke managed to free himself without rousing the woman. To be honest, because he felt more tired than he did yesterday, it was too tempting to lie back down beside her. 

Before he even considered doing so, the prince left the bed and went straight to the bathroom. A cold shower was what he needed to clear his head, and it was what he got. A shower, but not a clear head. The injury on his thigh was almost fully healed, his forehead didn’t seem as if it was nicked, only the bones on his chest reminded him of the near tragedy the day before. But what about the night that came with it? What about the words that slipped off his tongue – some of which he remembered, while some were already lost. What about the feelings that lingered?

Luke stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed but not at all satisfied. He donned a cotton long sleeved white shirt from their luggage that was arranged inside their temporary closet and stuck with the gray pajamas he wore to bed the night before. Rhiane was still asleep when he emerged from the closet, so he took the opportunity to march to the door and order for something to eat. She will be hungry when she woke up, knowing that they both exchanged dinner for sleep. 

After everything had been settled, Luke picked up the computer from the desk and brought it to bed. The physical keyboard had been detached, making it seem more of a tablet. He propped himself against a pillow and was about to start reading through communications that might need his urgent attention when he remembered the strangled voice of the farmer pleading to the unreal assailants living in her head. She was so confident and strong when she stood in front of his mother, when she conversed intelligently with a CEO, when she addressed children and the artisans. He knew he could rely on her to take some of the weight off his shoulder temporarily, but it was asking too much of her to casually brush off a traumatic incident. He had been in her shoes a long time ago. Though there were doctors who helped him through the trauma, he somehow understood the ghosts that she was fighting against. 
Maybe it was just that he sympathizes with her. Maybe the emotion he was holding back was neither a crush nor an infatuation, but a new-found sympathy for the woman he had previously judged to be as far from his status than the earth was to the sun. Maybe his previously thought truths about the difference in their status, that there was nothing that was no common ground to be found, was not entirely true. That he asked her to stay was against his principles. But what’s worse was that he fell asleep with her cuddled in his arms. 

“Itinerary for the day,” said the title of the message from Ms. Viscomi. Meaning to stir away from further exploring the past, he chose to open the mail and read the letter.