Her confident stride in her stilettos would have been made a statement had there been a concrete floor beneath her shoes. Yet the compact soil and sprinkling of grass which a tarp flooring covered silenced her steps until hers were like a stealthy ninja which the crown prince barely noticed. Or perhaps it was because when Anelle stepped into the makeshift prep room, he was still on the phone with his sister discussing about the younger royal’s preference in men – a delightful topic, if Anelle had a say on the matter. 

The noble lady announced her presence by casually occupying an empty chair opposite Luke. She noticed his blue eyes flickered to her face just as soon as she was comfortably seated. Her wavy tresses was pulled away from her face through a voluminous braid that started at her crown, tracing the side of her face until it freely fell over a shoulder. Tendrils of red artistically escaped the braided masterpiece to carefully fall over her high cheekbones. She smiled as soon as she caught his gaze. 

Luke’s expression did not change, though he bid a quick farewell to his sister through a reminder that sounded a promise. 

“You are being too hard on your sister. She’s a grown woman with a rather unorthodox taste.” Anelle shrugged.

Her audience did not look happy. A flash of annoyance in those clear blue eyes was all the warning she’d receive, all that he was willing to grant before he called the guard. “Callista is seventeen.” There was exasperation in his tone as if Luke had repeated the sentence over and over only for it to fall on deaf ears. “Did you know about her and Aidan?”

The image manager shrugged again. Her eyes glided over the unfinished breakfast before finding the tailored coat at the far wall. “I’ve known for a while now. The queen does not disapprove yet. Maybe because she hasn’t found a better match for your sister. At least one of you might have a shot at love. So, Prince Alessandro.” Her eyes slowly slid back where she focused on his striking, though quite annoyed, face. “You wanted to see me?”

He did not. Luke almost spat the words and laughed. “Yes, actually.” He picked up his unfinished cup of coffee, leaning the cup against his lips, and frowned. The coffee had gone cold and useless, so he put it back on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about the visiting the resting place of Rhiane’s late mother and brother.”

“Hmm? What about it?”

“I don’t want any media presence inside the cemetery.”

If the proclamation surprised Anelle, it did not show on her face. Her eyes continued to watch the prince, her lips as relaxed as every muscle on her face. She blinked slowly then leaned forward. “We already talked about this, Luke. The more emotion we capture on camera, the better, right? Then your role is to be her knight in shining armor. Comfort her. Make the masses believe that a prince --”

“That’s not what I want.” Luke seemed to have lost interest on her face. He pulled up his present unopened mails and browsed through the subjects one by one. “No cameras, no media coverage. No guards. You may all wait for us at the exit.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It’s not possible. Everything is already set.”

Luke stared at her pointedly as if he did not understand word that she said. Maybe that was the case. Nobody told the crown prince’s demand was not possible, especially not right at his face. The two of them might have shared a common past, but she was not about to deny him his wishes. “Make it so, or I’ll do it myself.” He pushed his chair back and strode out of the tent forgetting his jacket, though not really. He expected somebody else to carry it for him, to bring him what he needed when he needed it. That was the spoiled prince everybody knew and Luke was acting the part pretty well. 

“The car is this way.” Nolan gestured to the same SUV that the prince and his betrothed rode to the bar the night before. Behind the royal, another gesture was made to tell one of the staff to bring his royal highness’ jacket to the car while Nolan opened the rear door for their royal guest.