Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Hashih
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The work he started on her nightgown, she finished with an unceremonious tug of her fingers. The fabric slid down her smooth skin, tracing her curves, before finding itself gathered at her waist. He told her that no man in his right mind would say no to her tempting offer, and he was exaggerating then. But even exaggerations were founded on truths. Unknown to her that when she tugged on that strap of her nightgown, she also tugged the last string of self-control that his better judgment was clinging to.

Luke answered without really answering. His eyes were a darker shade of blue as he watched her lips move. It invited him in, and it would be stupid not to say yes. Therefore, the prince shifted his weight, leaned forward and conquered her ruby lips. Both his hands tenderly touched her neck, guiding her chin to a tilt that would maximize the contact. He kissed her, teased her lips, stepped out of his comfort zone and into the territory of the enemy. She had reached out to him, enticed him with her beautiful face and body, until he was willing to forget who he was and who she was. Rhiane had told him that she liked Luke without the crown. If only for a few hours, she could have the Luke that was not the prince.

“I want you was enough,” he whispered to her ear as he moved his attention, not because he was tired of kissing her, but because there was a lot of her that he had to discover. He continued his exploration of her neck, while his hands lightly traced the curves of her waist, the softness of her feminine body, taking note of every gasp and every delightful sound she made.

It was too late to turn back. He was breathing hard, his heart drumming in his chest. The crown prince had tossed all his cares to the wind the same time that she did. The time they spent that morning being just Luke and just Rhiane was something he would come to regret in the days to come, but he did not care. When he met her, Luke was confident that he would be able to go through the breeding ritual without involving emotions. That she agreed that they would live separate lives except when their mutual duty to produce and raise an heir called, should have made being professional easier. What he did not expect was the force that attracted opposites to each other.

When his hand found the curve of her breast, he had to pull back to quickly pull his shirt over his head. The bruises on the side of his torso looked better than it did the previous day. The color had faded, and some had completely healed. When her eyes were lured to it, Luke cupped the side of her face and guided it so she would not stare. His thumb stroked her cheek tenderly. “It’s not your fault,” he grinned. “But if you feel guilty, you can make it up by kissing me again.”

His other hand continued to search for places that felt good for her. He liked the feeling of her heart beating frantically under the palm of his hand, how her breath occasionally caught on her throat. It was difficult to say the exact time when she started to matter to him, or when was the exact moment that he started to care for her. As much as he would want to clear their complicated relationship, he could not completely disentangle himself from his nature and his family’s tradition. He did not verbalize his answer, because he had no real answer for her. What he had was the present, where he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The future, however, was never certain.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Syrenrei
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For the first few moments, before he stopped to remove his shirt, Rhiane had been hesitant. She was very much like a child who got exactly what they asked for as a present on their birthday, after their parents told them 'No' many times, and they regarded the object of their desires with mixed excitement and disbelief. The princess elect had thought he might still be toying with her. As far as she could tell from their dip on the remote island he hadn't been particularly enthralled by her physique before. Sophia and her predecessors were all noblewomen that were ethereal beauties. While the farmer had been absolutely certain of her appeal to both the middle and lower class she thought perhaps she was too sensual, too vulgar, too far outside the norm for a prince to find physically enticing. She had braced herself for him to pull back from the kiss and make a joke. There was no mischievous laugh or cruel jab.

Had the whispers in her ear not convinced her of his sincerity then the way he no longer held himself back certainly did. With a leap of faith she met him with her lips and bare flesh. The last twenty-four hours had been harrowing. Since the moment that a creature stepped into the path of their vehicle and sent them careening into a ravine she had been a pale imitation of herself. Though she had not died it seemed as if the life had bled away from her soul. Gone was her stubborn zeal, her charismatic smile, her incredible pride, and her aura of confidence. The former farmer had been a hollow shell going through the motions with the hope imitation would be sufficient. Luke had breathed the smoldering intensity of her back into being when he had embraced her.

For two hours they explored one another on the lavish bed. Sheets had only gotten in their way and been discarded though the pillows had been allowed to stay. It was not like any experience Rhiane had before. She found herself aggressively greedy for him, enough she could not be content with a mere half an hour or even an hour, pulling him back or taking the initiative when he paused, possibly out of concern for her health. The room was filled with her gasps and her ecstatic cries. Luce Viscomi had thought to visit them when she had heard they had been served breakfast but quickly turned away once she heard the sounds carrying through the door. The walls muffled noise by design but no system was perfect, especially when someone was on the threshold, which she had been with her hand on the locked knob.

When they had first met Rhiane had quietly feared that they would not be compatible but she found reality to be quite the opposite; now that she had a taste of intimacy with Luke she could not imagine how she could not compare all others to him. She was surprised at her own enthusiasm and that she did not have to feign joy to protect his ego- something she had done before for a man that was inexperienced and arrogant. Each entanglement was thrilling, inviting, and hypnotizing, and made the personality flaws her partner held a more distant memory. Her only real frustration were the limitations of the arm on which she could not put any weight. Had they the time and privacy she might have kept her fiance captive the entire day. It was her fading strength, mitigated by restless sleep and lack of food, and the time constraints that made her reluctantly relent her grasp.

There was no denying the princess elect was a mess. She had rolled on her stomach, her hair damp and plastered to her back, and let out a low groan as she fought the temptation to go to sleep. Now that she had been thoroughly and completely distracted from her guilt she sleepy but also incredibly hungry. Her stomach growled for attention though she didn't move to heed its calls. Rhiane was loathe to do anything but bask in the glow of what had just happened. It was very possible that Luke would not indulge her as he did again, that his feelings would shift, that he would regret and do everything in his power from having history repeat itself. To concede they could not stay forever felt like surrender or defeat. Like a petulant child she wanted to shirk her responsibilities for personal gratification.

"I still need to wash my hair," she sighed miserably into the mattress. Of course it wasn't just bathing. To be a functional adult that wouldn't be executed by Queen Camilla for abdication of her duties she also had to eat, be examined by the doctors to make sure she was healing, review their schedule, have someone help her dress, and find a way to apply make-up with only one hand and no beautician in sight. None of this was made easier by the fact she couldn't expose herself to the royal bodyguards unless she wanted them to have them confirm with their eyes what suspicions they had about exactly what the betrothed couple did and how. Rhiane was not embarrassed but she was smug and wanted to keep all the details for herself. This was not a victory she was willing to share.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Hashih
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If they stayed inside the villa basking in the pale yellow glow of the lamps as they lie quietly beside each other, could they remain to be just a man and a woman struggling with the unwelcome emotions plaguing their chests? Could he strip off his birthright as easy as he did his shirt and pants, and waste the day away talking about nonsense, trying to get to know the girl he was going to marry at one point? Could they both forget their differences as they forget about how the world continued to move outside their villa?

Luke lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. At one point in the last hour, he accidentally kicked his computer out the bed where it stayed forgotten for the time being. He did it again. It was a major flaw in his character, how he was easily fooled by the chemical reactions in his brain telling him that he was attracted to another pretty face or a kind gesture. Then a new face would come along and the last woman would be a history to be written in the chronicles of Prince Alessandro’s conquest. Thus, the media often dubbed his women as the “flavor of the month” soon to be replaced by the lovely lady. Luke was knowledgeable in many things, but to say that he knew how to differentiate attraction from infatuation from love was a lie. He could hold himself well enough in a debate concerning love, but really it was abstract and ideal and something the prince had not yet experience in the fullest. Yes, he loved his sister and maybe his brothers and mother, but it was a familial kind of love borne from being of the same blood. To feel the same for a stranger was beyond him.

But love was not a prerequisite to be physical with the opposite sex. Her voice fluttered lazily in the space surrounding them. It pierced through the wall of thoughts where he was trying to reconcile with reality the fantasy that had just happened. “I’ll call Tobias to help you,” he joked, pushing himself to a sitting position.

The room was quiet enough to conceal the groans and protests of her stomach. Luke swung his legs to the edge of the bed. He picked more food from the cart and into the tray balanced on the nightstand. The juice for Rhiane was also loaded into it. “Here.” It was offered to possibly end the misery of the woman. He came to know how she loved to eat and loved sweets the most. “Eat then go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up once Tobias is ready for you.” He winked then went to pick the tablet from the floor. It displayed the number of failed attempts his sister had to contact him that morning until suddenly a window popped up with her name on it.

As soon as he received the call, the princess’ bored face filled the window. She was granted a split-second view of her brother’s face, but the latter quickly shut the cameras off. “Luke!” Calista squealed and whined the name at the same time. “I want to see that you’re okay! Why do I keep reaching Nolan when I call? He scares me.” Another party joined the call turning it to a mini conference before Luke could answer.

“Are we in? Cally?” Nico was sitting behind a desk while his twin crouched behind him.

Philip asked, “What are you pouting about? Where’s Luke?”

The eldest of the siblings sighed. Nolan did quite the job keeping his callers at bay, but Luke imagined that it was not easy, and the royal guard may not be happy with the prince at the moment. He rose to his full height, then walked straight to the bathroom to shower again without saying another word to Rhiane. “What do you three want?”
“Turn your camera on, brother.” Philip insisted. “We saw the news. How do we know that the terrorists did not replace you with an android?”

Luke frowned. He had no time to read or watch the news, didn’t even had time to talk to Luce Viscomi for an update. Whatever the palace released to the media might be controversial enough to reach overseas. But the palace was very cautious in protecting itself from potential scandals, it did not want the people to see the weaknesses of the royal house. “What did you see from the news?”

“See? It’s not Luke. Our brother knows everything that is happening in politics.”

“Shut up, Philip. Of course, it’s our brother. I shouldn’t have added you to the call.” The princess rolled her eyes. She was about to say something, when the tablet beeped and one of the twins said something about being done. In an instant, the cameras went back on and silence fell for a moment before all three younger ladies and gentlemen peered closer to the monitor as if doing so would make a difference.

Luke cursed his little brother. He was almost at the door of the bathroom then, but unfortunately was in a perfect angle so that Rhiane was visible on the frame. There was nothing left to do then but rush his steps and shut the door behind him. The tablet was placed flat on the counter so its cameras pointed either on the granite counter or the ceiling. “You little --”

“How dare you, Luke? While we were worried sick, you were taking your sweet time with a woman!”

“I’m more interested in who she is, Philip. That’s definitely not Sophia.”

“Wait, I have a screenshot,” Nico volunteered. The twins argued, while the princess joined them with the most obvious answer. The boys would not believe her, because the woman their brother was meant to marry was a lowly commoner. Luke would do no such thing, the twins argued, while Calista took to the defense of Rhiane telling the two boys that there was nothing wrong with being born a commoner. It was not Rhiane’s fault that she was not a lord’s daughter as much as it was not the twin’s choice to be born as princes. At one point, they insisted Luke to confirm the theory. He didn’t as much as say anything helpful.

The siblings’ conversations evolved from the woman on Luke’s bed to data privacy and their eldest brother’s right to keep his personal life private to the press release of the palace to testing that Luke was not an android. Simultaneously, the crown prince showered as to not waste time. When he was done, he told the younger siblings that he had a commitment to attend to, so they were all forced to end the call.

Putting on a robe after drying himself, Luke walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Syrenrei
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With another low groan Rhiane peeled herself off the mattress by first rolling to her good side and then sitting upright. Competing urges, needs, and desires left her indecisive about which she ought to appease first. Truth be told she was almost certainly just as insatiable, if not more, than her fiance when it came to the fulfillment of vulgar acts of the flesh. Entangling herself with Luke again was what at the forefront of her mind as she fervently wished for an encore yet it was not possible at present. The princess elect had been debating between sleeping or eating when the suggestion was made to have breakfast. The heir to the throne's words were all the encouragement she needed to be prompted into action rather than lamenting the options for which they had neither time nor energy.

It was perhaps the most consciously cooperative she had ever been with the crown prince. Stifling a yawn she moved closer to the nightstand and took a few generous gulps of the medicated orange juice without any protest. Rhiane plucked a pastry off the platter, ripped it in half, and shoved a large offering of flaky layers of croissant stuffed with apple jam into her mouth. The shift in her demeanor could be attributed to both his more considerate approach and the appeal to her natural inclinations, but it was undoubtedly also because she was still riding the highs of contentment from their romp. The former farmer was a complex individual but was not without her simple pleasures. She could not be bribed with wealth or impressed with stature, but she could be coaxed with sweets and affection from a suitable person.

Just as she was mulling over a snarky response to his joke about Tobias she watched as Luke picked up his tablet and answered a call. Though she did not mean to eavesdrop she could not help hearing the conversation. Callista, whom Rhiane regarded with a warm fondness, was worried about her brother. The princess elect reasoned this was because Queen Camilla had to divulge to Luke's siblings the events of the last day. Had she heard Gerald was in a similarly deadly incident she might have been similarly bombarding him with frantic calls and messages. Shrugging her shoulders silently she kept eating. It was what they said next that snapped her attention back to the discussion- the news. Rhiane was confused. None of what transpired should have reached the media unless the crown or rebellion leaked their version of the events.

She was still perched on the edge of the bed nude, completely exposed as she had no compelling motivation to cover herself with the soiled sheets, when the video connected. The twin princes, unless blocked by Luke's shoulder, would have a generous view of the peasant's assets that had catapulted her to becoming the victor of the the contest. Rhiane would not have been embarrassed had she known. In almost every circumstance she was very confident with her body. What would have concerned her is whether or not this might invite a complex situation later should either of her future brother-in-laws not be quite so faithful to the sanctimony of marriage. Women had certainly been a complication in the relationships between brothers before.

As her betrothed shower Rhiane turned on the screen in their room and selected the first station dedicated to news that she found. She continued to drink her orange juice and swallow down fruit and bread slathered with butter as she waited with fading patience for whatever headline the royals referenced. There was a short segment about fluctuations in stock prices and an update on an arson investigation of a baron's estate followed by breaking news: the palace had confirmed an attack on the recently engaged Princess Elect Rhiane and Prince Alessandro as the cause for their delay in their tour schedule.

The escapism provided by two hours filled with the release of sexual tension and lust had almost made her forget about her trauma. Her appetite began to fade as she watched the sensationalist piece speculate about the extent of the injuries, which were currently under wraps, and the true identities of the so-called revolutionaries. It was hard for her to not relive the panic she had felt when the SUV sailed through the air, when she had seen Luke gasping for breath beside her, when assassins had burst into the clinic bathroom with weapons and taunts. It was surprising that the monarchy had said anything but it was not at all shocking the coverage exclusively vilified the coup. Rhiane could understand why they had thought this might be a good strategy for dealing with the rebellion but she worried it might just incite them.

Naively Rhiane thought this could not get worse; however, the reporters knew what sold was capitalizing on tragedy. The screen shifted from a desk with two men and a woman debating military approaches to this threat, which they all predictably endorsed, to a sombre middle-aged lady in a tailored blouse and skirt suit. Behind her an oversized image of a woman with long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a charismatic smile emerged into view. Rhiane was mortified. For years she could not bring herself to look at a photograph of her deceased mother and now it had finally found its way to nation-wide broadcasting. Her bother and father would be enraged and horrified at the lack of respect being shown.

"As we all know, Princess Elect Rhiane Black is the daughter of the late Violet Black, a citizen of New Rome who lost her life in the plague of seven years ago. Miss Black also lost her brother..." it trailed on but Rhiane looked down rather than confront what would be the smiling handsome face of Edwin Black. It made sense. Sooner or later they would find a way to incorporate her past to help convince the masses how the rebellion was cruelly targeting someone that did not deserve their scorn. Rhiane was a much more compassionate figure than anyone else in the royal family with the exception of Callista, but the farmer was a pawn, and princess was a treasured daughter who wouldn't be used so callously.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Hashih
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Rhiane looked a lot like her mother. As Luke stared back at the photo of a woman projected on the screen, he could not help but wonder what could have happened if Violet Black and her son did not die from the plague. Would a world with her mother and beloved brother still compel her to join the contest that introduced them to each other, or would she rather live her simple life out in the farming village, tending to livestock and the crops? A glance sideways at his fiancee told him that years after years of living, breathing, and walking the earth without her mother and brother had done little to heal the gash that their parting had done to her. He would hold her, tell her that it was okay to cry if she was feeling sad, or maybe he would just shut his mouth and sit with her until the sadness faded, but he could do nothing.

Instead, he turned the television off and asked her to come with him, because he did not trust Tobias. It was rather odd how easily she nodded without an argument to the condescending way he offered his help to wash her hair. Not long after, they found themselves in the bathroom. He had kept the water running, neither hot nor cold, but warm enough not to chill her skin that cold autumn morning. It was half filled when they entered.

Quiet minutes passed without anybody offering to start a conversation, when only the sound of the shower and its splashes as the droplets bounced off her hair and skin filled the room. As he had promised, Luke helped her wash her hair. Nothing more. Either he was not comfortable with the awkward silence, or he was afraid that she would break the awkward silence and make their time more awkward. For whatever reason, he left her alone.

It was not long until someone was knocking at the door. Luke was behind the desk then, browsing through the mails from most of the attendees of the meeting he had the day before. Most were apologizing for pushing through with the meeting as the news about the incident had not yet reached the local media. As if it bothered him that he had to talk a handful of obnoxious leaders while on pain medication. Responding to the letters was the least of his concern, therefore he asked one of his staff to draft responses and have him read it before sending out the letters.

“Come in.”

The door welcomed Dr. Gulsvig. He had to do a quick routine check-up for his patients, though the doctor hinted knowing about what the couple were up to so early that morning. Luke shrugged it off, though he wondered how Rhiane, who was sitting on the bed in her robe, took it that rumors circulating about their intimacy. The appointment with the doctor did not last long, but so did the peace that came after his departure. As if hearing about the doctor’s positive review of Luke’s and Rhiane’s health, the prep team requested for permission to enter. On their heels was Ms. Luce Viscomi. The woman had her hair up in a bun atop her head. She looked confidence in her mid-length pale blue dress, but she looked away the first time she met Rhiane’s gaze.

The ladies started ordering the princess elect to sit where there was a mirror, set up proper lighting, and started their work on her face and her hair. Dark circles under Rhiane’s eyes were testimony of the rough night she had to endure, and the nightmares she had to contend with over and over again, but it was no match against the make-up artists’ concealer. In no time, Rhiane was looking fresh as when she was presented as the winner of the contest. Her hair was done next as Luke was advised to step away from his computer and start cooperating with the stylists. A glare from the future king was enough to force even the pushy Ms. Viscomi to take a step back. But then, she followed her statement through by telling him that the tour of the kingdom and appearing in public was a vital part of his responsibility given the unrest in his mother’s kingdom. The latter was mildly enough to convince Luke to sit back and cross his arms over his chest in silent defiance. He did not protest when a couple of women fixed his mussed hair into a more presentable style.

A light blue coat paired with pants of the same material and color was prepared for him. It was, of course, the latest fashion, and fit the prince so well he could be a subject of an editorial shoot right then and there. No one would have suspected that he was nursing a couple of cracked ribs if it was not for the news. For Rhiane, the stylists prepared a strappy beige cocktail dress whose V-shaped neckline dipped dangerously low. The A-line skirt of the dress barely brushed past her knees. Unlike Luke, the transparent silicone brace that kept her arm straight was on display and inviting questions.

While they were finishing preparation of the couple, Ms. Viscomi wasted no time in briefing them. She told her how their day would go – that they would be meeting with the nobility for lunch first, then they would tour the field and sample the crops, until finally they would dine with the farmers at around five in the afternoon. They were expected to finish by around eight in the evening. At that point, they were expected to travel back to the airstrip where their transport awaited for them to fly them to their next destination.

They were also told that the palace PR team had decided to inform the public the truth about the unfortunate delay in schedule. The accident due to the malfunction in the safety system of the vehicle, including the brakes, the condition of the crown prince and his fiancee, the unknown rescuers, and finally the attempted assassination in the clinic – the public was not spared. Ms. Viscomi might not have said the reasoning behind the unconventional move, but it was clear how they manipulated the general consciousness of the people to think that the rebellion’s cause was not as patriotic as they portrayed it. It would be something that he would have done, had he been in charge of appearances.

“In other words, nothing was dressed or sugarcoated. It was the truth that we fed to the public this time.” Luce Viscomi passed a piece of paper to Rhiane, while the stylists finished her hair. “’The rebellion will do anything to destabilize the government’ is what we are selling this time. The public has to understand the biases, the money that was involved behind the scenes of the rebellion, how some rich people benefit from the ‘donations’ they pledge to the movement, how the uplifting of the quality of life of the poor was not the rebels’ priority.”
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Syrenrei
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The princess elect was subdued and suspiciously compliant as Luke helped her wash her hair. It was a stark departure from either the vacant detachment she exhibited after the clinic or the aggressive independence she typically had in private. Once he had finished rinsing out both the shampoo and conditioner she had filled the tub with water and allowed herself a brief chance to soak. It proved to be more relaxing than tossing and turning in the bed trying to sleep when only nightmares plagued her. Rhiane slipped down into the water up to her neck, making certain her brace was kept dry and elevated as a precaution, and mulled over the news coverage.

Seeing her mother's face so brazenly plastered on the screen had been sobering after the highs of post-coital bliss. Luke might not completely understand the subtleties of her reaction but she doubted he would have been pleased if it was his deceased father being displayed as part of the nation's propaganda. The late Violet Black would not have objected to her image being used to bolster her daughter's reputation, especially after how much aforementioned daughter had suffered taking care of her during her decline, but she would have balked at being used in anything tangentially related to pro-monarchy rhetoric. And that was exactly what was being done. Rhiane's empathetic character was being capitalized upon so as to invoke compassion for her future spouse and in-laws and rage against those who had done her harm.

No sooner had she stepped out, wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, and shuffled into the bedroom still deep in thought than there was a knock at the door. With exhausted resignation she allowed herself to be examined by Dr. Gulsvig without protest so as to expedite the process. The older physician made a couple coy allusions to the couple's morning frolic but she wasn't embarrassed. Everyone had expected them to eventually have sex, or at least for her to fall prey to the crown's prince charms and be so smitten she couldn't control herself, and so she felt relatively little shame. She had not yet abandoned all hope they could return to a more professional version of their relationship eventually. Tangling themselves between the sheets did not change them into completely different people.

The stylists were less subtle in their piqued interest that suddenly Luke and Rhiane were confirmed lovers. More than once she caught them looking at each other over her hair with knowing smiles. There was something about romance, or the perception thereof, that made rational people behave like children. The princess elect stared at her reaction as she watched them erase all evidence of her fatigue, as they smoothed over the blemishes of turmoil with brushes and powder, as they painted her lips with a gloss as if the trauma could be covered physically and stifle the rest. This might be how they were used to coping with tragedy but her resolve to be defiantly different solidified the longer she was in the chair.

Rhiane's dark chocolate hair shone in the light as they finished coiling it into an intricate design where half was curled upon the crown of her head and the rest was left free. Yesterday it had been frazzled and tangled but today she appeared every inch a model for a luxury brand promising women could have a similarly idyllic mane. As she turned in her chair the dangling V-neck of the dress granted Luke, who was standing and had the advantage of height, a generous view of her cleavage. It was an overtly sensual garment and would make her fetching eye candy for the male aristocrats they would be meeting for lunch.

"Could we have the room?" she asked with a flashed brilliant smile to her attendants. It was the same expression she always had when she was charming the servants into compliance, but there was an edge of authority in her countenance as well. "There's a private matter I'd like to discuss," she explained lightly but there was a fire behind her green eyes her betrothed had seen before. Patiently she waited until they had all exited the room before she stood, slipping her feet into the precariously tall heels that had been selected to accentuate her shapely legs and compliment Luke's height.

"I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish, Ms. Viscomi," Rhiane began politely, "but I do not believe it would be appropriate for me to comment on the rebellion's motivations." What she hid was that she knew all too well that not every member of the revolution was an anarchist that hated the queen. While she did completely agree with their ideologies, the highborn that spoke with her seemed to think that she did not share some philosophical beliefs, and she was not going to feign that the peasants were living in a paradise when she had herself lost two members of her family to their passive negligence. Seeing the late Violet Black reminded her that the coup was violent and terrifying, but so too were loyalists of the kingdom.

Luce Viscomi was surprised by this sudden refusal. Until now Rhiane had been the cooperative half of the engaged couple, the icon that so easily adapted to their strategies, and she had been so agreeable this turnabout was unanticipated. She glanced towards Luke but the former farmer was not considering the matter up for discussion. "It would be out of character. The public sees me an object of great sympathy, who has been seriously harmed, who has a past of loss, who ought to be consumed with trying to cope. If I suddenly presented myself as an expert on the resistance the day after they will know I am only parroting what I've been told. I'll lose my credibility as genuine and relatable," she insisted. But Luke, who knew her better than Luce Viscomi, could surmise this was much deeper than what she said alone. Rhiane was angry, indignant, furious over something, and she had haphazardly funneled all her anxiety into this growing tide that bubbled beneath a composed exterior.

Fortunately Tobias knocked on the door a second later and entered with two boxes in his hand. "Pardon the interruption. Prince Luke's replacement device has arrived as well as Miss Black's device." Rhiane had not asked for such a thing but it was another accessory of the wealthy that they had been trying to persuade her to wear. At the very least it was a security measure. They could monitor the royal-to-be if she kept something on her person that had access to all her methods of communication. Tobias's eyes flickered over to Rhiane's ensemble and settled into a light frown of disapproval before he gave Luke his case.
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It did not make sense no matter which angle he tried to view it – the dress that the stylist picked for Rhiane was too revealing, too tempting, too much for him that he had to avert his eyes like a shy teenager. The door was a safe subject. Whatever comment he had for Luce Viscomi was overshadowed by the image of his fiancee’s kind smile, and of course the dress which was begging to be taken off her. Now that he knew what awaited him beneath the layer of clothing, it was not easy to look at her the same way he did the night they first met.

Luke leaned against the desk considering Rhiane’s position. It was better to study the engraved lines on the door than look at her face if he was going to make a rational argument about the situation. Because of this, he missed the look of concern that Luce Viscomi shot his way while the princess elect finished her piece. But before anybody could add or rebut anybody’s opinion, Tobias broke the building momentum by bringing with him the replacement device and a new one for Rhiane. Luke received both boxes, but not before noticing the slight frown on his cousin’s brow upon laying his eyes on the farmer. Tobias’ opinion, though he did not voice it out, was not warranted. Besides, Luke did not appreciate that his cousin might be having the same thoughts as Luke about that dress.

After dismissing the guard, right about when the door clicked shut, the tension escalated. Luce’s smile beamed at Rhiane’s mutinous speech. “On the contrary, Ms. Black, we prefer if you will not sound like an expert on the subject matter,” the noblewoman corrected. The tone insinuated more than the words would have told her. Rhiane might have won the title of princess and she might one day rule as queen, no matter how short her reign might be, but her title was meaningless to those who were born to noble houses. She was an outsider no matter what. It did not matter that the crown prince shared his bed with her or that he consented to be physically intimate. Rhiane Black was and will always be an uneducated farmer in the eyes of the nobility.

“It is more believable if his highness will talk about the details. He is, after all, the most well-informed of the subject than any of us in this room.” A coy smile played on her painted ruby lips. It was not meant as an insult. It could be a subtle warning, but not at all an insult to the farmer’s intellectual capacities. As if Luce Viscomi was telling Rhiane that having an intimate relationship with the crown prince did not change anything. “You may speak based on how you feel, or how it felt when you suspected that the car was sabotaged by people who seek to harm the peace that you are campaigning for. You do want peace for our nation, don’t you? Both you and I want to stop the uprisings, ambush, and terrorism.”

While the noblewoman was talking, Luke had started to configure the device for Rhiane. It was the same model as his, probably with the same features as well. His and Tobias’ were the only contacts pre-installed on the device’s contacts list. He made sure his was configured as the contact to be notified in case of any emergencies. Satisfied with his work, he changed all the generic preset passwords to “myfianceisawesome.”

“Your testimony is critical to the success of this campaign, Ms. Black. I’m sure that Queen Camilla will greatly appreciate your cooperation.”

“Don’t force her,” Luke finally lifted his eyes from the device. It was difficult to say if he was annoyed because of the unreadable expression on his face. “If it comes down questions about the incident yesterday, I can handle it better than her. To some, the intention of the people behind the failed assassination is clearly to destabilize the government for their own gain. But let’s face it, not everyone understands. Not everyone is willing to take the blinders off their eyes and turn their backs on false promises of prosperity, because it’s easier to blame the government for their living conditions rather than work harder for its improvement.” Luke pushed himself off the table, then snapped his device back to his wrist. He had not yet downloaded his data, and just like Rhiane’s its content was limited to a few contact numbers.

He suspected, though, that the sudden resistance to the plan of action had something to do with how the palace used her personal data to support the campaign against the rebels without even asking for Rhiane’s consent. It was public knowledge as soon as she won the contest, therefore there was nothing wrong with broadcasting it again. “We are wasting our time debating. If there’s anything else you would like to raise, Rhiane, say it. Otherwise, let’s be on our way.”
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When they had first been introduced the princess elect had liked Luce Viscomi even if she did not quite trust her; the shrewd farmer knew better than to put her faith in anyone except the man to whim her future was tied, and even then she held back, even then she kept secrets. Whatever accord the pair had reached over the last few days lay in tatters the moment the perfectly painted red lips so carelessly tried to remind her of her position. The noblewoman had not meant any harm but wishes and dreams did not reality make. In pushing the official palace agenda, in presuming the feelings of her charge while looking down upon her, and in casually utilizing her authority she had made herself an adversary. Rhiane did not say anything. The way she looked at the older female as evidence enough of the shift in demeanor. Her gaze was cold and hard as if the pressures of the last day had manifested in turning warm pools of green to emerald ice.

"How generous to afford me the chance to speak on my feelings; however, I believe there is a misunderstanding as to what impression I have been left with and what I might say given the opportunity to be honest with the people," she replied. Luce, and by extension Queen Camilla, had a certain expectation of what they might be able to reap in terms of public favor if they shoved a microphone in front of her. Perhaps they thought she would dutifully perform as she had done before but this time accentuate her words with tears instead of smiles. Truthfully she might have before, but they had lost their incentive the moment it became evident she had nothing to gain through the offerings of the palace. The rebellion had tried to kill her but so would her future mother-in-law. It was hard to find motivation to stand by the latter in defense against the former when she was not convinced the revolution was the greater evil.

"I think you would both agree that one of the fundamentals of business, and indeed this country, is exchange," she said slowly, forgoing addressing the flaws in their logic temporarily. "New Rome may not negotiate with terrorists but this course of action, I would caution, will incite them further. They will have absolutely no incentive to lay down their arms- there is no exchange, just a demand- and so it will provoke them into drastic action to prove themselves. But I am have no expertise on the rebellion," she added dryly. She had hedged on what knowledge she had of the group but now she gave Luke the distinct impression she knew more than she was disclosing. "I'm sure you know precisely what you are doing and are ready for the consequences," Rhiane shrugged while staring at Luce as if to impart any future blood spilled would be on her hands. And indeed it would be. Rhiane's conscience was clean.

Her words also suggested, however, how the royal family and staff had pushed their precious pawn into a corner. They were condescending, disparaging, dressing her without care for comfort or health, while expecting her to praise them, and offering nothing more than criticism regardless of how well she did with her tasks. There was no reward. Queen Camilla would not suddenly embrace her with open arms and reform the breeding program to not end in the termination of Rhiane's life. Not even the sultry brunette's mother was sacred and respected. Once the princess elect had cited to Luke that when the stick was used exclusively without a carrot then no progress would be made. They had picked up their sticks; if anyone was kindly extending a carrot it was not the crown.

"Regardless, everyone has been very recently reminded of my low birth and my injuries," she continued while Luce started to see that her attempts to humble and persuade Rhiane into compliance had gone horribly awry, "and this it would be inappropriate to be at a function with people of a certain stature. I will visit the local businesses with my bodyguards. It occurs to me I have been remiss in not purchasing something for my only female relative," Rhiane noted with reference to Callista. She was not seeking permission for this outing; she was stating what she was doing. "I am sure that will be more well-received by all parties."

She strode with purpose towards the door, foregoing the device that Luke had just tweaked the settings on, eager to escape. Tears of co-mingled frustration and fury sprang up in the corners of her eyes as she opened the door. They could threaten bodily harm but she had already endured worse psychological damage. Her brother and father were undoubtedly stewing in contempt for seeing Violet Black on their screens. The blood money from the throne could be replaced by others that would be sympathetic if something untoward happened to her. For a splint second she even doubted that Luke was capable of the redemption she had so quietly hoped she could bring about through a revelation about the true struggles of labourers.

Tobias was standing just outside. He looked down at Rhiane and then past Luce at Luke; it was only a matter of time before the peace was destroyed. The crown prince's royal cousin was surprised it had not been shattered sooner.
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Luke had written down the password he set for her accounts on the inner wall of the box before he pushed himself off the edge of the table. However, it was not expected that the communication device would be left alone on the table, inside the box that it came with. But he was not about to hand it to her like a peace offering. He was not interested in peace.

Rhiane’s replies triggered a fuse and he was not the type who would back down when challenged. “I am not asking them to lay down their arms,” he shot back. “Those who are sympathizing with the rebellion and the idealistic world it promises should know better than to put blind faith into an organization who had not yet proven itself, nor had shown any potential in fulfilling its promises. Your role today is simple enough. Use the credibility you say you have to influence the public – wake them up. Let the parents see the ugly truth about the rebellion so they could educate their children about it, likewise, let the children hear about the evil scheme of these so-called patriots so they could convince their parents to withdraw.” He may not fully agree with the methods employed by the team, but it was better than Rhiane’s implied course of action which was to sit back and do nothing. There was information that he could not share with her, like the model of the firearms he retrieved from the dead rebels and how it was the same as the firearms commissioned by the state specifically for certain ranks in the military. He suspected the rebellion was not as poor as it would like the public to believe, that it was not even made of the less fortunate members of the society. It was possible that the organization was backed by the very lords and ladies that it was calling tyrants.

“I refuse to be bullied by the rebellion.” And he also refused to allow them to continue hurting her. Luke would have said it aloud except that Rhiane already declared her intention to leave. The prince’s jaw was clenched as if stopping himself from calling her name and asking her to stay in the room, because they were not yet done talking. Convincing her to go through the day with him was already out of the question, besides he did not want to.

Ms. Viscomi, on the other hand, turned on her heels and went after the princess elect. “Ms. Black, wait.”

“Let her go, Luce,” the crown prince commanded as the door slammed close behind Rhiane.




But the itinerary would not be hindered by her absence. The crown prince himself made sure of it as he insisted to meet the lords and ladies of the land on his own. Because no nobleman had his residence built in that town, the private lunch party was held in a decent sized function hall not too far away from the villa that the couple occupied. As was the protocol, only selected media outlets were allowed to cover the event and none of the personnel was allowed to ask questions. Therefore, the media was left to speculate when the crown prince arrived alone.

The interior of the venue was decorated in finery reminiscent of the capital’s glory. Furniture and fixtures, the chandelier, and even the curtains, must have been shipped from the capital just for that very event. It was in stark contrast against the poor, desolate houses with mismatched window shutters and ill-fitting wooden door outside the property. He did not dream about experiencing living in one of those huts, but now that he had seen it, Luke was curious what it was like. How different was it from the concrete walls of his home.

Lords, ladies, and people of importance to the society loitered around the room. Their lively-colored dresses and coats complemented the purity of the white walls with its golden accent. He smiled almost automatically when the Baron Ferullo and his wife approached him. “My wife organized this party, my prince,” boasted the baron. Perhaps a dozen rich people were in attendance, their ages ranging from early twenties to about fifties. Admittedly, he did not know everyone in attendance, but he was sure that these were the people who were supposed to be looking after the people.

“Thank you, my lady, for a lovely party.” He was ushered deeper into the hall to be introduced and re-introduced to the other attendees. Of course, the moment he drew near, every person’s attention seemed to gravitate towards him. It was not everyday that they would get the chance to interact with the crown prince. Even the waiters and waitresses hired for the event were openly ogling the prince. Their town was too far away from the capital that nobody of significance barely visited the place.

Luke could handle the noblemen and women. They were moving in the same world anyway. He was fluent in speaking the language of the highborn, knew when to complement, when to smile, and when to say “with all due respect.” The lords talked to him about politics and economy, while the ladies were more openly interested in the status of his relationship with Sophia Keller now that he was engaged. None believed that Luke would choose a farmer over a successful actress/model.

“Speaking of which, where is this fiancee of yours?” asked a woman who he judged to be in her early fifties while they were in the middle of their meal. “She’s a beauty. I have seen her on television. I wonder how much of that beauty is thanks to talented make-up artists.”

The comment solicited a few giggles from around the table. Luke was tired in repeating himself, but for the sake of manners, he answered, “She wanted to walk around town, familiarize herself with the people and their craft, so I let her.”

“She does not belong here, anyway,” the lady laughed a dainty little laugh. “A farmer will remain to be a farmer no matter how expensive the clothes you put on her.”

Another added with mock sadness and an audible sigh, “I pity the clothing labels who are and will be associated with her name.”

Luke paused before placing down the utensils beside his plate, seemingly loosing appetite after talking to those people. One thing he forgot about the upper class was that they loved talking behind another person’s back.

“Hurry up and get her pregnant, your highness. Though if you will not mind, I can keep her company while you go about carrying out your duties.” The baron wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively, earning him a smack on the arm from his wife. “What?! She has a beautiful body. I will not mind that she is a commoner if she’ll consent.”
A few other men voiced the same sentiment, while the women kept to their stand that Rhiane did not belong with them. Luke tried to keep his temper in check, forcing a smile to humor them, but when somebody commented that he would probably enjoy his time with her except that he knew of prostitutes who were as shapely but more beautiful and with more breeding than Rhiane and that he could introduce a few to Luke if he wanted to, the prince snapped. “Enough.” A single word said in a quiet, but firm voice was enough to silence the laughter.

The baron smiled sheepishly at the younger man. “We were just joking around, your highness. Surely you find nothing wrong with --”

“I said that is enough.” The tone of his voice was raised a notch higher. Finally, he lifted his gaze from the handmade centerpiece to meet the eyes of the baron. “Nobody shall malign my fiancee while in my presence. Besides, slandering your future queen is synonymous to treason, did you know that, Lord Ferullo? Or are you one of those imbecile, who thinks that the expensive labels sewn into his clothes define the level of his intelligence.”

No wonder the towns he had visited in the area were not as progressive as the rest of the nation. Disappointed with one person entrusted to enact and implement laws, he shook his head and prepared to leave. However, as his gaze swept across the room, a certain familiar silhouette caught his attention. Her eyes met his as she stood by the doorway with her good hand on the frame.
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True to her word, the princess elect spent the afternoon visiting the local businesses and perusing their wares. The merchants were understandably surprised at her sudden appearance, some of them openly peering around her and past her three bodyguards for a glimpse of the crown prince, but they were not brave enough to question why she traveled alone. Any concerns about this unscheduled activity were discarded the moment they realized it was an impromptu shopping spree. Rhiane had no money of her own but she had Tobias, who was willing and able to pay for the purchases, especially in the absence of Luke. They both knew if he submitted receipts of the expenditures afterwards he would be reimbursed without hesitation so there was no inherent risk in 'lending' the funds as it were.

As usual, her natural charisma with the working class people was well-received. Perhaps this was what the former farmer truly needed- to smile broadly at people who understood her struggles intimately, who had been looked down upon by others for either being too successful or not born into the right family- and have them treat her kindly in return. There was something simple yet refreshing to see her charms having an effect on the common man. She was treated like a cherished customer as she complimented their work ethic, was praised for her taste, and made small talk about the idiosyncrasies of their village residents. Tobias at least was heartened to see her leaning on a counter trading anecdotes about buying shoes of poor quality that broke apart at critical moments.

For Callista she elected to make a customized basket. Rhiane suspected that her future sister-in-law could have anything she desired in an instant, but it was a gift that came from the heart, where someone had taken time and effort personally, that would be most rare. From one shop she acquired a large handmade basket, from another a scarf hand-dyed blue with delicate embroidery of flowers and leaves stitched around the edges, and from yet another she obtained decadent handmade soaps in a wide variety of colors, most with exotic flower oils and the like, that would have appealed to the most haughty woman of culture if she did not know their origin. From a pottery studio came a mug with masterwork glazes dripping in colors that looked like a night sky and from a carpenter was a polished wooden puzzle box that was the right size to carry little baubles or pieces of jewelry. The princess elect procured freshly made candy and chocolate and strategically placed it around the other items to make an aesthetically pleasing arrangement. Once she was satisifed she wrote on a small note card:

Dear Callista,

I apologize that I may have inadvertently caused you to worry about your brother. I've made this gift basket of things I found in town that might bring you joy. I'm told the scent of the soaps in particular might help you relax after all the anxiety we've caused. Should you ever need to reach me, and can not do so, please feel free to impose on Tobias if Nolan isn't being helpful in helping you reach Luke.

Yours sincerely,
Rhiane


The gift basket was sent with Lia and Octavia back to the villa where they would make certain it would be expedited on its journey to the palace. Although she could tell they were reluctant to leave Rhiane and Tobias alone together, neither woman the social standing to make an objection nor a logical argument to refuse the request. After a few minutes of logistical discussion about the shipment in question, the pair of noblewoman had departed, leaving Rhiane and Tobias in front of a row of derelict homes coincidentally in close proximity to the event hall where the lunch for the engaged couple was being held.

"I'm sorry they used your mother's image," Tobias interrupted the silence. "You are cold," he further observed as he shrugged off his overcoat. Traditional attire for all guards, regardless of sex, was a tailored suit, but in cold weather they also bore a thicker wool overcoat to help keep them warm and alert. While they were in the shops he could overlook how under-dressed the princess elect was for the climate, as all of the buildings were heated, but it was outside that he could see goosebumps rising on her flesh. Without leaving room for an objection he draped the garment over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said sheepishly, too chilled to argue. Rhiane pulled the collar up around her neck and crossed her arms to preserve her body heat. "Are you officially allowed to disapprove of Queen Camilla's strategy?" she teased lightly.

"Not officially, no, but every servant of the kingdom has their opinions," he admitted seriously. For a long moment Tobias stared at her and wondered at how well she had endured every trial thrust at her. His cousin failed to appreciate how spectacular a bride had had been handed. Even as she tried valiantly to suppress her shivers he knew that she did not blame Luke for his mother's callous propaganda as others would. Rhiane was fair and just, seeing the person in front of her for what they truly were, not what the world told her to believe. All his life he, like Luke, had been surrounded by people who saw the title and breeding before the individual.

"What strategy would you have for dealing with the rebellion?" he asked abruptly.

"It's not my decision to make," she said with a delicate side-step to the query. Rhiane remained calm but she was surprised Tobias had asked. For the past week everything had been dictated to her with little consideration for her preferences or thoughts: her attendants never once asked her favorite color when arranging her wardrobe. It had swiftly become commonplace to fight to have a voice in even the most mundane and trivial of affairs, much less the brewing war with the revolution.

"I did not say that it was, but I would like to know all the same," Tobias emphasized.

"I'd concede some of the points the rebellion raises in their chants, that there is inequity among the social classes, and resources could be distributed more fairly. By coming to the table willing to compromise it makes the rebellion their more moderate and casual supporters, and it forces them to take an extreme stance if they won't negotiate at all, thus further eroding their base. This wouldn't be approved by loyalists, but with the escalating violence and body count, if they vocally oppose they will make themselves targets. I would make certain they see things as they are is unsustainable long-term. Of course Luke would be... Luke would be the face of this meeting of minds," she finished softly. What she didn't touch on was that Queen Camilla herself was despised enough with some of the peasants it would be harder to sell her than the playboy heir to the throne. Rhiane sighed. "But it's not my decision to make," she concluded with a forced smile.

"Even after the clinic you care deeply about everyone in this country," he observed.

Rhiane smiled sadly but did not comment on his assessment, instead moving forward towards the hall in question. "I shouldn't leave him to meet the farmers alone," she told him as he jogged to catch up to her. "The farmers don't deserve that," she jested with a finger to her lips to indicate that joke should not be repeated.

Silently the beauty entered with her shadow trailing behind and slightly to the left. As they strode through the shadows they could hear a discussion about none other than the princess elect herself. Tobias stiffened at the exchange but watched helplessly as Rhiane chose not to interrupt and instead linger by the entrance with her eyes glued on her betrothed. Truthfully after their argument not even a few hours prior she had expected him to agree with every insult lodged at the faults he had already found with her. Her eyebrows rose incrementally as he rose to her defense. That the baron, his wife, and their lackeys were cruel did not injure her- the court had been just as hostile. It was only Luke's reaction that mattered.

As their gazes met the aristocrats belatedly followed his stare to the figure they had disparaged. Rhiane was still clad in the dress with the plunging neckline and skirt well above the knee, a tantalizing amount of skin still showing, instantly drawing the attention of the men in attendance. Tobias's coat hung loosely off of her but could not conceal the salacious image that made one particular scion fidget uncomfortably in her seat. Luce had capitalized on how sultry the princess elect could be and in that regard she was a resounding success. The coupling of the implied vulnerability of the cast with her apparel could have lured half the room to her quarters.

"My apologies, Prince Luke. I had assumed that your hosts and their guests would have been conducting themselves with an appropriate amount of dignity for their station. We did not mean to interrupt," Tobias intoned with a slight bow of reverence. This insult to the highborn was revenge for Rhiane though they could not have known this. In this singular instant the two male relatives were aligned in wishing to protect the object of their affection.
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“Anything you say about her reflects back to me,” Luke added, turning away. “No, Tobias. We are done talking.”

If his expression softened when he found Rhiane standing by the door, it swiftly reverted back to slight irritation when he discovered who escorted her there and whose coat was draped over her shoulder. At that point, it was difficult to tell which annoyed him more – the insulting comments of his peers or that while he was enduring the company of these people, she was having a date with his cousin. He almost regretted stopping Luce from doing whatever was necessary to stop Rhiane’s plan that morning. Of course, she would turn to Tobias. Had Luke been a little less mad at her, he could have decided using his brain and not his heart, and reasoned with Rhiane why it was not a good idea to visit the town without him. While he was a little grateful that the royal guard had the gall to speak up against ladies and gentlemen who outranked him, it did not change the fact that he was who Rhiane would default to, not Luke.

The room had fallen silent. Nobody had anticipated that the prince would come to her defense, more so that the princess elect herself would appear while they were carelessly tossing insults to the air. The sound of Luke’s chair scraping against the flooring as he pushed himself to his feet was the only sound in the room. The unexpected guests seemed to have paused, ashamed to make the cutlery clink against the porcelain plates. But the baron cleared his throat as if unable to contain his thoughts.

“Your highness, with all due respect,” he started. “It is not appropriate for a lowly guard to address the lords and ladies the way he did. If maligning your betrothed is synonymous to treason, then insulting a baron can be construed as insubordination. Or is my understanding flawed?”

Luke went around the table and was almost at the door when the baron made the analogy. It was tempting to give in, take the baron up on his word, and subject Tobias to disciplinary action, except that if he did that, then there would be no one else he trusted who could look after Rhiane. “Tobias Lavanchy is my cousin, my lord,” the prince admitted casually. He might have not said it, but his words implied that the man the baron was targeting was closer to the crown that the baron would ever be.

Not a single thank you was uttered for Tobias. Luke just nodded to the guard in acknowledgment and maybe a little silent complement, before dismissing him. To Rhiane, however, he offered his arm. There was a vacant chair across him where the plate and utensils were untouched. It would be awkward to ask anybody to move, so if she would calmly come with him, then he would put up an act that there was nothing wrong between them and civilly deposit her to the seat.

Though before doing so, there was one thing that he needed to settle. “Lords and Ladies, your attention please.” One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her so that the distance between the two of them was eliminated. He guided her such that the two of them were facing the table and the curious stares of its occupants. “Most of you did not make it to our engagement ball, but allow me to introduce my fiancee, Ms. Rhiane Black. I am expecting that everybody will extend to her the same respect and loyalty that you have all pledged to my mother and myself.”

Luke was not expecting a response, and the audience had none. After a short pause, he guided her to the empty chair then signaled for a waiter to bring her food. Hopefully there was something left.
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Secretly the princess elect had hoped that Luke, thoroughly frustrated by the nobility he had just harshly insulted, would have seized upon the unspoken opportunity to depart the lunch. When she had been touring the town she had spotted more than one local restaurant. None of the businesses had struck her as prepared for the delicate tastes of royalty, but then again she had seen her fiance wolf down pizza without complaint, so it was possible he might have enjoyed a non-gourmet experience. At the very least the atmosphere would have been better. Rhiane had no illusions that she was liked by her current companions. The women loathed her for being so attractive, the men were salivating over her as if she were a prostitute silently offering her wares with the revealing dress, and even Luke was undoubtedly still irritated with her over their argument.

Taking her seat she patiently waited for a plate to be brought to her. No one had known in advance she would be absent and thus the food for her dish had not yet been re-allocated. The aristocrats had not had a chance to request second servings or her untouched entree; they had been slowed and interrupted by the heir to the throne's reprimand. In the warmth of the building she folded Tobias's coat over the back of her chair. One of the men quietly shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the sight of her without the covering. Rhiane wondered if this had been a clever ploy of Luce; everyone in the palace must have known she would have been poorly received, but with a plunging neckline to accentuate her chest and a short hem that highlighted her long legs she would have pandered to weaknesses of the male elite.

"You have a lovely village," she said once it was clear no one else would instigate conversation. Turning her attention back to Luke she smiled, and although it looked genuine to their audience, it was not as bright as her paramour knew it would be if she was more earnestly delighted. "I sent my other bodyguards back to the villa shortly became I came here," she informed him, "as I wanted them to ensure my package made it back to the castle as soon as possible. I know you prefer me to keep them with me at all times, but I thought Tobias could escort me the short distance to the hall alone."

Her words made it sound like she was appeasing a concerned superior, which was reasonable given their highly publicized assassination attack, but she trusted that Luke would understand her motivation for this disclosure. Rhiane had not forgotten that he had questioned Tobias's intentions with her. To stave off the jealous beast- though it was fun to provoke him- she was attempting to make it clear she had not spent the entirety of the late morning walking arm in arm with his cousin. Not only that, by not outright declaring the nature of her package she made it sound much more important than a present for Callista after they had worried her by making Nolan take her calls for hours.

A waiter hurried over and put a platter down in front of the sultry brunette. She picked up her silverware and began to carefully cut her meal into small bites as would befit her elevated station. While she might not be able to win over their favor she was not going to give them any more ammunition to use against her. As she sliced into her meat she raised her eyes and met the baron's with an effortlessly charming smile upon her lips. "Lord Ferullo, thank you for arranging this luncheon," she said warmly as if she had not just caught them disparaging her moments before. By being polite she was taking the proverbial higher road and making them all that much worse. "I apologize for my tardiness. As you know yesterday we ran into a few... complications. If it would not be an imposition would you please indulge me as to what you consider to be the greatest pride of your holdings?" Rhiane was appealing to his ego; most lords and ladies were eager to boast about their possessions.
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Save for himself and Rhiane, nobody else knew about the true reason behind the said tardiness. Her words were taken at face value, though with much curiosity hiding behind a thin veil of silence. The ladies had more cynical minds than the lords evident in the subtle way their eyes shifted to find somebody else in the assembly seemingly sharing the same thought. The lords, on the other hand much to Luke’s displeasure, seemed to be smitten by the princess elect’s sultry charms. He understood the look in their eyes as the titled members of the nobility watched the commoner’s face smile up to him and pronounce the justification for coming in with just Tobias. They saw her as just a pretty object, a toy, whom they covet but couldn’t have. Perhaps when the prince was done with her, they could at least have a glimpse of the wonders she could bring to their aging bodies.

It was difficult to tell exactly how old the baron was, or anybody in the assembly for that matter. Thanks to medical enhancements, those who could afford were granted with a face and a body that appeared as young as they would prefer. Of course, the more years deducted from a person’s age, the more expensive the procedure was. The baron’s appearance was that of a middle-aged man, with a head full of gray hair brushed up and away from the smooth complexion of his face. His eyes were dark and piercing, watching Rhiane and her fiance who stood beside her unwilling to move until her food had been served.

Luke just nodded in response to the unwarranted explanation coming from Rhiane. He would not bring up an argument in front of the vultures who were waiting to pray on the imminent corpse of the love story the young couple was selling.

“We have heard about the unfortunate incident.” The baron resumed cutting the meat on his plate using a silver knife. His thin lips curved upwards appearing to smile. Luke eyed him warily as he made his way back to his seat. It would have been preferable if Rhiane sat next to the prince so he could easily signal her to shut her mouth if needed be. Nobody expected a farmer to be well-versed in the nuances of conversing with the upper class, not the least Luke. Therefore, he was afraid that she might embarrass herself and him too. “We have all been prepared to meet you since yesterday morning, Ms. Black. My wife and our friends from nearby territories had traveled a great distance, took time off our busy daily schedules, to behold the rumored beauty of our next queen. I am glad that you find this quaint little village lovely, after sightseeing on your own while,” he took a deep breath and sighed. “While your presence is missed by people who went to out of their ways in hopes to meet you in person.”

“Ah, but that’s all in the past,” declared his younger brother, who Luke knew as Anton. The younger Ferullo grinned at the princess elect. “Our family’s territory includes the towns of Arossa, Scavano, and Catarno.”

The baron next filled in the information being asked of him by the commoner, except that he was not inclined to give a straightforward answer to her simple question. He told her about the province of Salerno, its population and climate, the percentage of local produce it contributed to the economy each year, and how much of it was from the lands his family governed. He narrated how Arossa was an agricultural town, whose economy was heavily based on livestock and farming fruits and vegetables which were conducive to cold climates. “The per capita income is a little cheaper compared to the whole kingdom’s, but the cost of living in the mountains is a lot cheaper compared to our cites.” As if the lord was intent on placing the woman into her proper place not because she wronged him in any way, but because he would make a fool of himself if he attacked the crown prince.
“Despite how expensive ‘organic’ Arossa berries are in the market?” Luke frowned, thinking back to the sweetness of the dried fruits and the filling of the pastries he had that morning. Certain technology had minimized the effects of seasonality to farming provided that the location could maintain a temperature within a defined range, it enabled the farmers to grow seasonal crops all year long. Arossa was one of the first beneficiaries of the research, supposedly boosting the productivity of the land so long as the farmers cleverly planned the rotation of crops. He did not mention it, or how a percentage of the produce was purchased by the local government to be sold to the market at a competitive price to maintain the inflation rate at an acceptable level.

“Yes, actually there are some difficulties,” the baron said slowly. The conversation moved to a discussion about economics. A topic that might not be appreciated by the ladies, but something Rhiane was familiar with. Being a farmer herself, she had first-hand experience on how the invisible hand of the market worked. He wondered how her experiences would make her qualified to join the little debate.

The women looked borderline bored. Once in a while, he would steal a glance at Rhiane to check if she had the same sentiment as the ladies. No one dared to start a conversation with her, not the woman sitting to her left or the lord at her right. They addressed her out of necessity, only when they had to give a piece of their mind to an opinion she voiced out. But it did not escape Luke how some of the men stared at her face and then the tempting neckline of her dress. He did not like it. He did not like waiting for Rhiane to finish her meal before he could act, because by then the men might have already formed fantasies inside their heads with her as the subject.

“I have other matters to discuss with you, Lord Ferullo, but not in a crowd as this. Will you clear a few hours of your time for me? Not today, but soon.”

The baron nodded, sipping from the glass of local wine. “This has been wonderful,” Luke addressed the assembly when he thought Rhiane was finished eating. “But we have a schedule to keep track of. Regrettably, we shall excuse ourselves.”
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During the entirety of the economical conversation Rhiane listened with unwavering intensity. She kept her features placid, and her body language that of relaxed composure, but her piercing gaze was shrewdly dissecting the ventured opinions. Occasionally she would allow a bemused smile to alight upon her lips as if she found a particular statement to be quietly humorous. This perplexed the other aristocrats. They took great pains to avoid addressing her directly but they certainly noticed the changes in her expression that all but criticized their beliefs. Luke had already proved he would not be their ally in soliciting a verbal response from his fiancee, something they could belittle and chastise, and thus they were resigned to suffer under the occasional sign of her clever belittlement. What could they say? None could very well request she refrain from smiling.

From the moment that Anton Fuerello grinned at the princess elect, more eager to overlook her absence prior, she paid him slightly more favor than the rest. Most of the time she remained silent during the discussion. The few times she ventured to speak it was to give a nuanced commentary about something in which she was uniquely knowledgeable, such as the stock fluctuations of a company which she had followed closely, or the proclivities of farmers required to utilize regular crop rotation. She also also would nod her head in agreement with Luke when it suited her, or Anton, but none of the rest. By all appearances she ignored those in attendance of her same sex. Besides being women they had little in common; they had no interest in business and she did not care to participate in their petty games.

The topic was suitably distracting that Rhiane, who was not eating nearly as enthusiastically as she had in the past, took twice as long to finish her meal as she might otherwise. What she lacked in speed she made up with in table manners. The ladies watched her like predators eager to find a basis on which to criticize her etiquette. They found none which fouled their impression of her that much more. The peasant had prepared herself extensively for social situations such at these; at a minimum she knew how to keep herself from committing an offensive breach of protocol.

"Yes, we do have another pressing engagement," Rhiane confessed as a servant rushed over to pull out her chair for her. As she rose she leaned forward out of necessity ever so slightly, the elegant draping of the fabric gifting the male nobles an ever more tempting portrait of what they had arrogantly derided earlier. It was not a scandalous act, as she hadn't bent low enough to be overtly seductive, but it would breed jealousy for the crown prince that was whisking her away presumably to his bed that evening. Standing was not all that much better. Sitting for a prolonged period of time had caused her skirt to inch up her thighs until she smoothed it back down to its full length.

"Thank you again for your time. This has been a most enlightening day. I look forward to telling both the queen and our esteemed nation what has transpired," she said with a sweeping gaze. They weren't privy to the details of the arrangement with the queen and her future daughter-in-law. Not only was that private and personal, they were a far distance from the capital, and would have been one of the last to be brought into her inner circles. Nonetheless this made them all incredibly nervous. With Rhiane there was no guarantee she would not somehow let it 'slip' on broadcast they had ruthlessly disrespected her. Similarly they could not tell for certain if she would confide to their monarch how the queen's own judgment was questioned through her selection of her son's fiancee.

Their farewells had prompted the waiters to alert the bodyguards, whom had been waiting outside, to gather at the entrance for their charges. Tobias reappeared, as had Lia and Octavia now that the package had been sent in transit. Rhiane plucked Tobias's coat from the back of her chair, not wanting it to leave behind, and made her way towards the door unless otherwise halted during her procession. She longed to be rid of the pretentious squabbling highborn that thought their lives were filled with struggles. No life was completely free of stress, yet they continuously underestimated the pain of the lower class, and moaned with such sorrow while they had a great amount of control over their fate.

Now that she was on the precipice of going to the event she actively looked forward to she felt her arm began to throb. The changes in temperature had been unkind to the healing process and the pain medication from earlier, that she did not know Luke had mixed into her juice, had begun to wane in its strength. She sorely wished for a nap. It felt like a disservice to rush to the fields to tour the farms when she was exhausted. Fervently she wished there was magic in the world that would grant her refreshment without the time constraint or risk of nightmares. Perhaps there would be a way to coax Luke into a hot spring excursion later- not that she wanted to share a bath with the heir to the throne. Her anger from earlier had been diminished by his leap to his defense but not been erased. That had had called commoners lazy seared into her psyche. Rhiane felt positively compelled to exemplify just how hard-working and dedicated her peers were, even if meant foregoing more nourishment, medication, coats, and sleep. She would prove him wrong.
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It was colder in Aresso than it was in the capital understandably because of the high altitude. There was also something in the air in that place that was distinctly different from the cities. It was crisp and fresh and felt a lot more laid back. If she would be given some days off her hectic schedule, maybe Luce Viscomi would choose to spend a few days in that same town to shake off all her stressors and get in touch with her inner self.

That day was not her day, though. Following through with the crown prince’s decision to meet with his hosts, because she too did not want to face disappointed the lords and ladies who had already spent a full day in town, Luce did not protest, nor did she try to convince Ms. Black to reconsider her choices. She thought it would be disastrous to do so. The prince would not back Luce up and the princess elect would not be inclined to apologize to her fiance. There was no win-win situation and maybe the best option was to keep them from each other’s sight as to not further the damage in the pair’s fragile relationship. However, what the woman had failed to anticipate was that the queen would not be happy to hear from the news about the separate engagements that the couple attended to. The call she got was not at all friendly.

Therefore, Ms. Viscomi came rushing to the venue. Her heels formed a rhythmic clicking as it hit the wood panels of the second-floor balcony that it drew the attention of the tall gentleman standing by a post, watching the diminishing silhouette of the mountain ranges from afar. With not as much as surprise in his features, Tobias regarded Luce’s advancing form rather lazily though it was only to check if the clicking noise was a threat.

“Where is she?” The image manager demanded, almost out of breath.

Tobias kept his silence. The entrance to the hall was a few paces from where he stood. On each side of the double doors was a uniformed guard – not a member of the royal guards, but he was informed that these men were the baron’s men. An armed Nolan was standing a few paces to the other side of the door, with Luke’s other guards nearby. Lia and Octavia had just rejoined Tobias after finishing the errand that Rhiane had asked of them.

Frustrated, but still trying to keep her composure, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath then asked again, “Mr. Lavancy, may I know where she is right now? Is she inside?”

It was difficult to tell what was going on in his mind. Tobias Lavanchy was aloof. She heard rumors in the palace that the royal guard was not always that way, that he was a cheerful boy who used to play with Luke when they were kids. Looking at him now, it would be difficult to reconcile the cheerful kid with the stiff man with a frozen heart. No wonder his perceived warmth around the princess elect had elicited several versions of the same rumor inside the palace. “Who do you mean by she?” Tobias finally asked.

As if on cue, the double doors opened to welcome the princess elect into the cold autumn afternoon. It did not escape her how the prince’s cousin’s attention immediately gravitated towards the dark-haired beauty. He took a tentative step forward, but then the prince stepped out after Rhiane. Whether consciously or not, Luke had his hand at the small of her back as he leaned close and whispered to her ear.




“Aren’t you cold?” Luke whispered. It was a stupid question, and he knew that. He wasn’t really sure why he had to ask. Perhaps it was to test if she was still mad at him. Or it could be that he asked because it was the most sensible question that came to the forefront of his brain given that he had been distracted by how low the neckline of her dress was and how much skin it showed. He did not miss the moment when she had to bend her body a little, how the lords' eyes could have fallen off it sockets. His question subconsciously had a hidden message that, if she could read between the lines, would tell her how much he hated her dress. But even he knew that it was not entirely her fault.

Behind the couple was the baron and his wife. The younger Ferullo had chosen to stay behind to entertain the guests. Actually, the older couple would have chosen to do the same except that Luke insinuated how it would be impolite to leave him to mingle with the commoners when the caretaker of the territories would not. The statement had left them with no choice but lead the tour.
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"You know what I am," she whispered back. Their bodyguards had fallen behind and to the side as was standard protocol. Rhiane clenched her teeth against the shock of cold air that overwhelmed her warmed skin. Leaving the sanctuary of the meeting hall was torturous now that the baron and his wife were in tow. She was bound by certain rules of etiquette in the company of nobility under which she would not suffer had the audience been only peasants. No commoner would question whose coat she wore on her shoulders but the shrewd aristocrats would seize on the opportunity to insult her, impart the offense onto her royal fiance, and tarnish the image they had been ardently defending through lunch. With a pained smile she folded the wool garment in her hands and handed it over to Lia, the closest of her attendants, who then passed the covering back to a troubled Tobias.

"Earlier you asked me to 'wake up' the masses to the 'ugly truth about the rebellion' and declared you would not be bullied," she said with her voice so low he had to lean even closer to hear the words that escaped her lips. "Can you honestly tell me, after you have seen how they dressed me, that there are not other ugly truths that will be glimpsed on broadcasted recordings of this event? That the bully the farmers and their ilk will spurn will be those who put me in a cast only?" A breeze drifted through and past them as was typical given their elevation. Her dress fabric shimmered as it rippled with the wind and made goosebumps rise along the flesh of her arms. The palace had decided that it was more important to display the wound of the sabotage than consider the comfort of their prized possession.

Rhiane quickened her pace to put some artificial distance between herself and the two older individuals that had disparaged her earlier. She was not ready yet to forfeit the evening she had been looking forward to for days, but she was increasingly worried that Luke and his advisors were going to make this event an unmitigated disaster. At their best the elder Ferullos were unpalatable. At their worst they would actively hinder her efforts to form a rapport with their workers, as they would awkwardly be trying to avoid doing anything that might invoke his wrath later, and that trepidation would be visible on every screen. The more the princess elect pondered it the more perplexed she became. They had never tried to mix the highborn and lowborn and she feared that their love story would take a backseat to a visual representation of the very hierarchy that culminated in the coup.

"Ms. Viscomi," she greeted the anxious woman politely. "I would appreciate it if you could spare someone to fetch me a hot drink before we begin our tour," she requested. The tone of her voice was even and calm, lacking the congeniality of the days prior to this morning's disagreement, evidence that not everything had been so quickly forbidden. An outing to purchase trinkets and baubles would not erase the exchange that had deeply offended the brunette. She had resolved not to let her mother's memory be tainted and her life threatened not once but twice while she was still treated like a peon.

"Yes, of course," Luce nervously agreed. If it would placate the flaring temper of her charge it was the least she could do. Rhiane was being cooperative, going as far as to belatedly join the gathering she had originally planned not to attend, and so she was not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. She turned and keyed into her device an order for a hot tea from the villa staff. Delivery would take time but not so long it would be lukewarm on arrival.
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She only had to say a word and the stylist in charge of their outfits for the day would have no choice but reconsider the clothing which was selected for Rhiane. Nobody, not even Luke, had stopped her from verbalizing the thoughts, opinions, comments, and criticisms that ran rampant in her head. It was rather unfair, therefore, that she let go of the issue then and choose to vent out her frustrations at Luke when he hated the dress as much as she did. He hated it more because it gave Tobias a chance to be the kind, protective, and thoughtful man who was by her side at the right place and at the right time.

Luke quickened his pace to match hers. He would not be half the man that Tobias was to her if Luke was still frustrated over how tightly she had shut her mind on the evil deeds of the rebellion. How she did not fully grasp that this organization was not the messiah who will liberate the people from poverty and bring abundance into the land. No. While she chose to keep her silence, he would take up the fight and use her popularity to grab the attention of the masses. If not for the media surrounding the building, and the cameras pointed at their direction from the ground floor, he would have pulled Rhiane aside and demanded to settle the argument once and for all. Instead, he composed himself and followed her as she raised her request to Ms. Viscomi.

He used the slight pause to shrug off his coat, drape it over her shoulders, then afterwards pluck the one she cradled on her arms and extended his arm at his cousin. “It does look odd that one of you is not in uniform.” The chill was bearable given he was wearing long sleeve button-up shirt underneath the coat, but when the wind blew, it was like being embraced by a block of ice. Even he, who enjoyed the cold weather, shivered. The older couple was better dressed for the weather.

Not too long after, a couple of servants in their blue and white uniforms appeared with the tea that the princess elect ordered. One poured the warm liquid for Rhiane, then offered the same for the others. Luke declined, but the baron and baroness indulged the invitation. The warm liquid would help improve the body temperature before they went out into the open.

Luce Viscomi led the entourage once everybody was done with the short break. Cameras flashed as soon as the royalty appeared before the media people. Luke sported a schooled smile, but he forgot to remind his princess to do the same. The SUVs that would bring them to the fields that were due for inspection. One vehicle was assigned for Luke, Rhiane and their bodyguards, while another was assigned for the baron. As usual, Tobias volunteered to drive.

Once the engine had started, he warned her, “If you don’t plan on saying anything helpful, Rhiane, do not speak at all. Let me do the talking. I don’t need you to stand on my way.” He was referring about the rebellion and her misplaced compassion, or was it pity, for the organization. The message would be very straightforward. It would follow the same formula that catapulted the rebellion to fame. He would try to bend the people’s minds by utilizing their emotions. He would capitalize on the fame their fake love story had amassed and use it to sway the public against the evil intentions of the rebels. “If the rebels retaliate, as you fear, then it will only validate the message that we will impress upon the citizens – that the rebellion will do any means possible to destabilize the government. It doesn’t matter who they hurt or who they crush underfoot. It doesn’t even matter if the person they sacrifice is an advocate of the same ideals they say they are willing to die for.”

It was a short bumpy ride and soon the view of the mountainside with parallel lines of green leaves and purple and red fruits came into view. Luke had seen that photo a hundred times, but never had he been close to the real thing before.
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Tobias gripped the steering wheel more tightly as his gaze flickered to the rear view mirror. He had been intently watching Rhiane the moment she had stepped outside the meeting hall and subjected herself to the merciless cold mountain breezes. The smile that had alighted on her lips for the press was more reserved and strained to his trained eye and her posture more rigid. They had all assumed that when she had been pulled out of the clinic nearly catatonic that she had been broken. Now he was uncertain if they had misjudged, if she hadn't been in shock, and that the heartless projection of her mother's image on royal propaganda hadn't broken her. Whether or not Luke realized the mounting toll on his betrothed he was uncertain. His cousin wasn't acting as if he innately understood the situation, but that could be attributed to arrogance rather than ignorance.

In the years preceding the election of the princess he had become more heavily involved in the rebellion. His identity remained a secret to all but a few among the upper echelons of the resistance, and thus far his double life had yet to be exposed. The goal of the silent bodyguard was to spy upon the palace and, when the time arrived, help to extract whatever hapless girl was trapped by his ruthless aunt. Though his feelings for the sultry brunette had created new complications he was as of yet still devoted to his plan: he would spirit away Rhiane when the perfect opportunity final arose. The ambush of the extremists had nearly foiled him both by making his target a martyr and turning her against his organization completely, but the crown had failed to anticipate every factor properly, and now was veritably pushing the frustrated commoner back to a mental space where she could be rescued.

He shot a quick glance to Nolan who sat beside him. While no words were exchanged his tightly controlled expression still managed to convey that he knew there was an impending explosive response. Rhiane was fatigued, worn, under-dressed for the weather, discouraged, angry, in pain from her arm now that her medication had worn off, distressed at seeing her mother's photograph, and had just been granted two noble-born interlopers that had disparaged her openly on a visit to the people she called kindred spirits. She was a powder keg and the heir to the throne seemed determined to light the fuse and watch the destruction.

"You don't need me to stand in your way?" Rhiane asked incredulously. "What a splendid idea. If you are indeed that confident that you and your dear friends the baron and his wife can create a positive impression with the the masses, as you have proven to be so adept with in the past, then I will gladly request Ms. Viscomi coordinate a separate tour for myself. I certainly wouldn't want to impede your progress."

Her words seemed to echo in the SUV. They had been spoken pleasantly, as if with kindness, but there was no mistaking how deeply offended and irritated the princess elect was. She refused to openly discuss the issue of her philosophies and ideologies with Nolan and the other bodyguards present; short of the procession being stopped and everyone else exiting the car to grant the couple privacy it was not a matter that could be amicably resolved before their field inspection. Only encouragement, flattery, bribery, apologies, or some other empathetic appeal to Rhiane's emotions could smooth things over.

Of course the suggestion was a wretched idea. If the queen had been disapproving of her 'love story' splitting between two parts of the village she'd be apocalyptic about watching press coverage wherein Rhiane was once again missing and, instead of an endearing representative of the peasantry by her son's side, there were two aristocrats. Her absence would lend credence to the theories that the relationship was a farce. Having two highborn people would also, considering the political climate, emphasize the disparity between the farmers and their visitors. It would be nigh impossible to successfully cultivate sympathy. Their differences, the bias, and the favoritism between the classes would been transparent.

Rhiane leaned her head against the window as she stared at the landscape rolling by fixedly. Luke could try to pull rank; anyone could, really, as she had been reminded by Luce all that mattered was her birth. Ultimately she didn't care how they might punish her. Her life felt it had fallen to ruins and all she had control over now was not whether she died, for the reaper pursued her doggedly, but for whose cause she would be slain. At first she had thought it would be fine if she was the sacrificial lamb for the monarchy as she'd have children, and financial security for her family, but the culmination of the last week was filling her with doubts and worries. She wasn't even confident she and Luke were fit to be parents though she had dreamed of a family since she was young.
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There was finality in his tone when he quickly responded with, “You will do no such thing.”

Funny how the tides had shifted -- he was the one pinning his hopes on the success of the farce that was the love story between a somebody of his stature and a nobody of her stature. Before they were paraded around the kingdom and pressured into working together to fake an appearance of being two people who were madly in love, Luke would have agreed that it was a good idea for her to walk away and do whatever pleased her. He would have even raised the suggestion then punctuated it with the phrase “I don’t need you,” if only to make his point clear. However, such statement was not true given the situation they had found themselves trapped in. While he had no problem addressing his people, he needed her more than he thought he would. Rhiane’s part in the campaign against the rebels was one thing he miscalculated. Now that the rebellion had discovered her worth and how her presence could tip the scale, favoring a side in the otherwise deadlock struggle between the crown and its civilian opposition, he would be a fool to ignore her. He would be a bigger fool if he would decide against using her.

Much as he strived to prove otherwise, Lucius Alessandro was still his mother’s son. “When this vehicle stops, both you and I are going to pretend that this conversation did not happen. You will deliver your intended purpose – smile for the camera, flatter the people around you with flowery words, and pretend as if you do not find my presence abominable – and so will I.” It was too late to back down. The contest was already concluded and Rhiane Black was already named the princess elect. As the holder of such prestigious title, she was expected to fully support the ruling house that would one day adopt her as its child. Luke expected nothing less, because during the first few days they had known each other, she had made it clear that it was not ambition or infatuation that pushed her to forfeit her life for a chance to have a taste of royalty. Unlike the other candidates, Rhiane’s goal was to provide for her family, therefore he thought that she had more incentive to be on the queen’s good side.

Luke pressed his fingers on his left temple, massaging the spot as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Are we there yet?”

Discussions in the backseat between the prince and one or more of his subjects was not uncommon, but one involving a woman was. Usually, the ladies that went with his royal highness had far less sarcasm in their beings. Nolan cleared his throat. His eyes shifted to the mounted navigation then said, “We will arrive in a few minutes.” ‘Enough time to wrap-up your lovers’ quarrel’, he would like to add but then decided against it. “There are boots for you in the storage bin.”

“Good. I was just about to ask.” Luke opened his eyes, turning his attention back to the princess. His eyes were a little softer as was the general look on his face. If he was still mad at her, it was probably because she still refused to cooperate, but he also realized that being mean to her was already proven to be ineffective. “I am only telling you not to say anything that may be detrimental to what we are trying to accomplish. By no means did I mean to impress that the baron and his wife will do a better job than you. If I am going to mingle with the people, it is only fitting that the lord overseeing the land should head the tour, is it not?”

Lord Ferullo talked about the statistics of the towns, but those reports were undoubtedly generated by the statistics office. For somebody of his rank, it was not difficult to retrieve data and recite it as if he knew it by heart. It was nothing impressive. What Luke would like to understand was how well did the baron really know the towns and villages entrusted to his name. Was he even aware about the lack of medical facilities, the possible misappropriation of budget, or the possible growing population of the rebels in his area?

Tobias parked the vehicle on an empty lot. The uneven muddy terrain and deep holes forced the passengers to fight against the forces pushing them off balance. Trailing not far behind were the transport carrying the local nobles and Luce Viscomi.
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As Luke declared they would not arrange for a separate tour and she would perform exactly as had been planned, she did not respond. The princess elect's head remained pressed against the cold window pane with her gaze unwavering in its fixation on the landscape. Remaining quiet was its own form of protest. The crown boasted arguably the greatest resources in the nation yet it had its own inherent limitations. No amount of influence, coercion, and bribery could absolutely guarantee it would compel any singular citizen into a desired action. Had she not felt so fatigued and worn Rhiane might have found quiet amusement in this fact. Every royal and aristocrat could scream until they were hoarse but they could not puppet her into compliance. This could very well be the source of her betrothed's anger and frustration. He had grown used to the passive intimidation he held as an authority figure- yet it did not motivate her in the slightest.

What New Rome's sovereignty failed to acknowledge was that it had strong competition from the rebellion. While the revolution could not offer wealth to each of its members, it certainly could afford to financially secure the future of the Black family if Rhiane chose to pledge them her allegiance. Both factions wanted her dead- one immediately, the other after she had been bred- and so neither was persuasive in their alleged benevolence. The loyalists offered her marriage, a chance to bear children that would not die as tragically as her brother and mother had, but little else. Life was not easy nor convenient. The nobility disparaged her, she was treated like a pawn, there was an expectation that all her interactions would follow a script, and she was chained to their whims. The coup offered a chance for substantial political and cultural change, albeit at the cost of lives lost, though she would not enjoy it as she would be deceased.

What kept her tethered was Luke. It was admittedly idiotic. Were logic only to prevail she would have abandoned him and fled the country to take advantage of her stature. Others would leap at the chance to humiliate Queen Camilla, to posture themselves as superior, and to capitalize on a civil war that might culminate in opportunities for them to expand their borders. She had told Tobias she had some hope for a different resolution than everyone else imagined. If the universe might allow her to stay by his side, and for him to reciprocate a fraction of her feelings, they might be able to exact reforms that would benefit all and stamp out the violence before it exploded in every village.

"Tobias," she finally spoke once they were parked, "Will you please ask one of the female farmers if I could borrow some of their clothes for the tour? I know it's an imposition, but I can't imagine that wearing this dress will be productive," she added apologetically. "I'm happy to repay their generosity if anyone will oblige. I'll wait here in the car with Luke while you make the inquiry and he changes into his boots. Nolan, would you mind if we had a moment?" Her tone was even, calm, even considerate, lacking the venomous fury she had levied against her regal fiance earlier.

Nolan cast a glance back at Luke; since this was a request from the princess elect he was required to honor it unless the prince contradicted it with another order. If Tobias thought his task was odd it did not show. He did not hesitate to unbuckle his seat belt and exit the vehicle. Fortunately there was already a small gathering of some of the aforementioned farmers nearly in anticipation of their arrival. The bodyguard was taciturn but dedicated. When the situation called for it he could be almost congenial. From their shaded windows Rhiane could see how a few of the laborers near their age looked enamored at the handsome cousin addressing them directly. More reluctantly Nolan also exited the SUV though he stayed near the doors in silent watch.

"I don't want to make any statements about what happened yesterday," she disclosed once they were alone. "I'll tolerate the baron, who I assure you will hang himself with as much rope as you give him, and you have my word I will ensure this event is a success, but I don't want to discuss the rebellion. This morning my mother's image was used for the kingdom's propaganda. I want you to imagine how it would feel if it was your father's photo up there instead, if his memory was being hijacked for a cause. What if the rebellion was using it? I'm not convinced my mother would have sided with the monarchy, just like you probably suspect your father would. But you can make that up to me now by letting me have this. These are my people. I do not know them personally, and they do not know me, but I lived this life they do now. Let me prove to them that this isn't posturing or a publicity stunt. If you want to win them over I can promise you it can be done without proselytizing about the sanctity of government. If we show them we are listening, that we care, it will speak louder than any prepared statement Luce and her lackeys could ever write."

It was her one impassioned plea for him to understand her viewpoint and, for a singular night, let her take the reigns on this campaign. She had proven adept without directions; if one was to analyze all the footage of her from the past week it would reveal that when she was permitted improvisation she shone the brightest. She knew this was a large favor to ask of Luke but that did not make it any less necessary. This morning had been a breaking point. Either they took a small leap of faith and allowed her ideas to see the daylight, to let her exert the expertise that had won her this position, or they steered down a path alienating her further than they had already.
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