[IC] The Betrothed

[Hashih]

Well, that did not work out the way he imagined it would. His optimism wavered as did the smile on his face when silence followed his half-hearted suggestion of punishment. Of course, he did not believe that the unfortunate incident was her fault. It was the product of malicious minds, who hoped to unsettle the political balance of the kingdom for their own gain. But Luke’s concession that his fiancee was responsible for the eventful morning was only to oblige her to submit to the medical authorities. It was for her own sake anyway.

Then again, judging from the dullness in her eyes and the set of her lips, it perhaps upset her that another person accepted the validity of her confession that she was to blame. Luke believed the contrary. It was not her fault that the resistance had conspired to assassinate her. The vehicle she drove that morning was unfit for use and the rebels would come after them whether or not the couple survived the accident. The intention was to eliminate her, Luke was just a bonus. He could tell her that hoping to ease the anxiety his words brought to Rhiane, but doing so was like giving her a chance to retract her consent.

“Him?” They continued to discuss the terms of the princess elect though Luke’s grin was exchanged for a frown. “I asked him to come with us only because it is dangerous to be in that clinic if the rebels returned. Truth is, I don’t trust that man.”

He stretched his legs before him. The pain from the gash on his thigh had subsided as did the pain on his side. What remained though was how painfully unpleasant his pants looked like. Good thing the media was not able to snap a photo of him wearing such, else it might be interpreted that the crown prince was starting a revolution in fashion. Nothing was far from the truth than that conclusion.

“Don’t worry about the doctors from the palace, they are professionals who do not look into the status of a person before treating them.” But again, these were noble born professionals. Everybody was aware that there was no single noble who did not look down on the low-born peasants. Even the doctors who supervised her treatment from poison were sons and daughters of lords. “But if that is what will make you comfortable, then I can ask the doctor to stay a little longer.” It meant he was depriving the neighboring towns of the only medical professional in the area. Rhiane did not have to know about that.

Luke shifted his arm a bit and tried to find a more comfortable position. “I’d also stick around if you had asked me to, but…” He shrugged. “The medical team will take about three to four hours to get here. What do you want to do until then? We can order lunch if you’re feeling hungry.” She said she did not want to fall asleep, but it was inevitable if he left her alone to contemplate on the past events. He may not be experienced in trauma patients, but he had an understanding how the brain processes negative thoughts and emotions. It was always at the forefront of her mind, like a guard that would not let her pass. The worst part was when she was alone in her thoughts, because then she would have the chance to explore the what if’s and what could have been, which was the source of her guilt.

[Syrenrei]

"I trust him," Rhiane insisted. There was an uncharacteristic waiver in her voice, as if she wasn't quite ready to assert herself as aggressively as usual, but there also a the hint of the stubborn streak he had become all too familiar with over the course of the last week. "The rebellion..." she chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, trying to reason out the best way to approach the explanation. "In villages everyone knows someone who at least sympathizes with their views. You can't just avoid people because they don't like the monarchy- they are the grocer, the teachers, the nurses, the factory owners, the seed suppliers, people you interact with every day, and it's not like everyone who supports the rebellion is violent. I'm sure if the people that attacked lived nearby they knew the doctor and he might have known them, or their loved ones, and that makes it harder," she said a little more quietly. "It's harder to have a face to put to evil intentions."

The way in which she spoke suggested that it was not just the doctor that might be struggling with reconciling an individual, one that could be an unassuming neighbor or friendly passerby on the street, could be a cold-blooded goal assassin. For Luke supporters of the revolution were strangers. Dismissing an enemy combatant with which one had no association or similarities was infinitely easier than if they personally recognized or related to them. "And besides, I know the royal doctors treat me because they are ordered to, because I'm the princess elect. The doctor from the clinic would treat me even if I was still a farmer. That makes him more tolerable," she confirmed.

"You don't need to stay," she deflected, though Rhiane did cherish his comforting. It felt greedy to ask him to hold her hand through a procedure right after he had to endure his own. "I know you'll be tired," the prince elect said, ever the self-sacrificial martyr, "and I don't know long it will take them to fix my arm." She couldn't hide how much she dreaded the medical team arriving and being left a victim of their devices. It amazed her that Luke didn't seem bothered by the prospect of being poked and prodded.

Typically the brunette was a bottomless pit but she had no appetite. Her stomach was empty, she hadn't eaten in hours, and she knew she needed food to recover, but recent events had robbed her of the desire. It was bound to also be struggle to do basic things like cut her food, hold a sandwich, or lift a cup as these things required two hands. Though she quietly refused to acknowledge it the pain in her left arm was substantial. Rhiane couldn't even pretend she'd be able to defiantly utilize it to get through lunch or dinner, whatever the hour of the day it was now. She had lost track of time completely.

"You can lay here on the bed as well if it's more comfortable," she offered though it might seem slightly scandalous to a royal's sense of propriety. To emphasize her point she tried to shuffle herself to the side to create a vacancy. Beds in the palace were larger but this one could fit three large adults comfortably; they did, after all, have the most lavishly decorated villa as their accommodations for this leg of the trip.

"We can watch a movie," she suggested more thoughtfully, "if you don't need to caught up with work..." Luke seemed determined to stay by her side, which made her feel guilty, but not enough to ask him to leave. She worried for when she would fall asleep, as no matter how long she had been sedated and already slept, she knew she would grow tired more quickly with toll the trauma and injury put on her. Rhiane did not want to admit her weakness aloud but she felt safer knowing his presence might dispel nightmares if she succumbed.

[Hashih]

Luke shook his head. “Lying on my back will make it more difficult to breathe,” he admitted. The painkiller helped make the pain more tolerable and breathing a little less torturous. Except for the way he walked, it would appear that he was fine, because that was how the crown prince would like everyone to perceive his state of health, but the truth was that he had been enduring the consequences of his rash decision since that morning. It was true what he told her on the first day they met, that there was no room for weakness in the world he lived in. Therefore, he and his family had to conceal from the world the side of them that was human and make it seem as if they did not get hurt or bleed.

“Why do you say that?” Luke untangled his hand from hers. The curtains were drawn shut and the lighting inside the room was dim as if to inspire rest. Nothing had gone according to plan. Luce Viscomi’s schedule was as ruined as the schedule he planned out for himself that day. If there was anything good that came out of the morning, it was that he was too preoccupied in their survival to even think about the woman who was probably on her way across the continent to another country. But then again, there was this other woman who had made a surprise attack and unknowingly crawled her way into the dark recesses of his subconscious. A woman whose ideals did not match his but were oddly the same as his. Maybe because the two of them were alike in such an opposing way. In other words, if he was yin then she was yang - two opposing forces, but when together brought balance. “A doctor is a doctor no matter where he or she works. Or do you still judge the staff at the palace because they are not peasants?”

A knock sounded at the door before she could answer. As soon as Luke acknowledged it, Nolan entered the room with a slight frown on his brow and a straight set lips. “Nolan, could you call the maid? Ask about lunch and what kind of a vacation home does not have an entertainment system.”

“Certainly, your highness.” The guard bowed his head slightly as he stopped at the foot of the bed for a second before finding the pocked door hidden in one of the wall panels. It led to a walk-in closet where the couple’s clothes for that day’s event were temporarily stored. “But not before you get dressed. I simply cannot say no to your uncle anymore.”

“Which uncle? Why?” Luke got to his feet, but the guard had disappeared inside the small room.

“The one who was appointed by your mother to be the Minister of Defense,” Nolan called back from inside the closet. “You have a meeting with the heads of states of the Treaty in five minutes and unless you are a cold corpse, then there is no reason not to be present.” He emerged with an off-white coat, staring straight into the wide blue eyes before they blinked off the surprise. Well, he shouldn’t have been surprised if he was more focused on being the crown prince rather than playing a broken-hearted puppy. “His words, not mine.”

The prince would have wanted to move faster, but his human limbs prevented him. Even Nolan’s irritation seemed to decline at the sight of his boss limp. “Take off the back brace.” The guard helped Luke detach the bulky brace then carefully assisted him into the coat. Normally, the royal would just shrug it on, but it was clear that Nolan’s stubborn charge was taking caution more seriously that day. The resulting ensemble was odd, because the neatly pressed coat did not match the mismatched length of his pants and the stained shirt he wore. His hair was mussed and not in a fashionable way. “Your computer is right there.” Nolan pointed at the desk, then gave his earpiece to Luke.
The younger man, on the other hand, raked his hand on his hair, sweeping it on one side to a more formal style. “How do I look?” Luke turned to Rhiane to ask her a question that he knew Nolan would not honestly give response to. “This will not take long, I’ll join you when we’re done. Nolan, the maid so she can setup the movie for Rhiane.” He limped his way to the desk. It was positioned in such a way that he was facing the bed and a wall was behind him. The computer was turned on after verification of his fingerprint, retina, and passcode.

Nolan left the room and soon after a maid entered together with the appetizing aroma of lunch. Luke’s stomach rumbled despite himself and despite being questioned by other heads of states about New Rome’s show of forces along its borders and its commitment to the impoverished nations it flattened to the ground during the last great war. By the time he was done stating the stand of his nation, the maid had already setup a television that was apparently concealed inside a panel. It seemed to descend from the ceiling after she tapped a few buttons. She was standing in front of the desk with a tablet in hand, waiting for her prince to ask her to step forward. When he did, she showed the list of movies that were available. Unfortunately, streaming service was not reliable on the mountains. Luke picked something lighthearted for Rhiane then pressed mute. “Help her with her food, please. She only has one useful hand at the moment.”

Even after the meeting had ended, he stayed behind the desk contrary to what he told his fiancee. They had wasted a lot of time and there was work to be done. His lunch was barely touched, though he stabbed a piece of meat one after the other while he studied reports and affixed his electronic signature on others.

Time flew by without him noticing. The next knock at the door was a doctor he knew all his life. His aged face softened when he spotted his patients. “Must you deprive yourself rest, Luke? I was briefed about the situation on our way here.”

Luke smiled sheepishly though he did not lift his head from the report of the palace intelligence about any abnormal communication pattern from that morning. “Doctor Gulsvig, five more page and I’m done. Could you start with Rhiane?”

[Syrenrei]

Rhiane watched in silent disapproval as Nolan and Luke prepared for the meeting that could only have been delayed or cancelled, according to the guard, if the crown prince was a 'cold corpse.' She knew he was still in pain. No matter how hard he tried to hide it from her she had heard him ask for medication, had watched his stiff posture, witnessed him struggle to find a way to seat himself without exacerbating the injury. The ruthless monarchy continued to make demands upon the heir to the throne but they could not suppress her internal feelings on the matter. She knew the queen cared for her son but it appeared she had conditional consideration. It was not her place to say so, but the farmer believed the philosophies held by the royalty did more harm than good. Not only was it turning the people against them in greater numbers, because they perceived the aristocracy as inhuman, distant, and charlatans as a result of trying to be so perfect, it was unreasonable to not allow Luke a safe space to be vulnerable. Palace staff were masters of scheduling. Surely they could find pockets of time for respite and mental recovery.

"You look handsome," she said honestly when he inquired how he looked. This should have been enough of an answer but Rhiane was not quite herself, thus adhering to the strict rules of etiquette was beyond her capabilities. "You also look like you ought to have on your brace," she added meaningfully. He wouldn't heed her advice of course. Luke wanted to maintain his image and his clothing made it difficult to hide his impairment. Rhiane frowned to herself before turning on her side as he began his meeting. She had supported him returning to his work but now that he did so she felt as if she were an intruder on what ought to have been a confidential exchange. It was not possible for her to leave the room in her state but she could do her best to shut out the lights and sounds.

Her feeble attempts to seclude herself in the bed were stymied by the arrival of lunch. A maid occupied the chair in which Luke had recently sat as it would be inappropriate for her to be any closer. The kitchen had prepared an an appetizing entree with several sides to please the guests. Nothing could entice the princess elect. Out of obligation and an understanding eating was an absolute necessity she humored the maid and ate a few bites of her sandwich before she dismissed the servant. On her own she used a spoon to scoop up a portion of a fruit medley as well as a bread pudding that had been made specifically because of her fondness for the treat. Rhiane set aside the plate having eaten less than half.

The movie was her saving grace in the hours they waited for the palace medical team. All the characters of the lighthearted comedy were equally absurd. She did not laugh aloud but a grin alighted on her features for most of the film. It was impossible to be melancholy and depressed while watching them traipse around so foolishly. It was a trope that was overused but for someone who didn't often have a chance to watch any movies she could enjoy it more thoroughly than another who might have seen all its incantations: two members of law enforcement, one taking everything far too seriously and the other a hopeless mixture of enthusiasm and confusion. By the end of the feature she felt better than when it had started. For a couple hours she wasn't the target of a revolution but just an audience immersed in cinema.

Another had been queued, this time about a group of women who had exaggerated misunderstandings as they tried to work with another, but it didn't hold her attention quite as well. Rhiane began to drift a couple times before being jerked awake by her fears of what sleep might bring. Doctor Gulsvig's knocking interrupted an argument between the female leads about who was to blame for a recent setback on their project.

Just as she was opening her mouth to object to going first, or any treatment whatsoever, she remembered how she had agreed on it being her punishment for causing the collision. Her gaze flitted over to Luke and the place on his torso where she knew he was concealing broken ribs. "The doctor from the clinic," she said as she looked back to the physician. "I want him with me," she stated without any further explanation or demands. Though she had earlier alluded to wanting her fiance with her as well she wouldn't tear him away from his reports. He appeared to prefer them to her company- they did not cry, did not argue, did not frustrate him within an inch of his sanity she wagered.

"I greeted him on my way in- Dr. Ambrose Romanelli," Dr. Gulsvig nodded. It was an unusual request. Ordinarily he might be offended but, given the circumstances and Luke's passive approval by keeping the other doctor in the villa, he would not try dissuade the princess elect. She did not have the same rapport with him as he enjoyed with the rest of the royals. It was clear she did not trust anyone in his field; however, if one of his peers had made some headway in securing her cooperation he would take full advantage. "Very well. I'll have Tobias bring him in while I prepare for Ms. Black." He gave a small bow before excusing himself.

The clinic doctor, now identified as Dr. Romanelli, had showered and changed since they last saw him. "How are you feeling, Miss Black?" he asked congenially after nodding to Luke respectfully. He had been given a button up shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, a pair of grey slacks slightly large in the waist, and a belt. These gifts were not typical but neither was his attendance. There was a pragmatic need for new attire as his own clothing had been stained with blood. When Rhiane didn't give an immediate response Ambrose moved over to the bed and stood next to it as if they were only going to have a pleasant conversation.

"We have a couple options," he intoned softly with endless patience, "If you want to stay awake we can use something to help numb your arm while we inject a serum to help it heal and set it in a brace. If you don't think that's something you want to do we can put you under just long enough to finish the procedure. It's your choice," he emphasized.

There was an apparent lack of enthusiasm from Rhiane. Instead of answering with her preference she did something Luke would possibly find infuriating, the the doctor found shocking, but was predictable for those intimately familiar with her aberrant personality. "I'm sorry they hurt you," she murmured.

Ambrose Romanelli was quiet a moment before he knelt down and patted her hand reassuringly. "It is not your fault, Miss Black. I was just as surprised as you were that they broke into my practice with such ill intent. Most of the villagers adore you and two days ago I had a little girl announce she was going to be just like you when she got bigger. It is I who should be apologizing to you for failing to keep them from getting inside." His words were honest and seemed to placate the distraught woman. The doctor knew what she wanted to hear- perhaps needed to her- and was attending to not just her physical needs but the emotional ones as well. His bedside manner had been curated over years of attending to people going through the worst experiences of their lives. "What can I do to help you get better?"

"If... if you use the anesthesia, will you stay there the entire time?" she asked anxiously.

He nodded. "Yes, if you want me to. Do you want the prince there too?" he suggested carefully, "Maybe to hold your hand until you're under? Or when you wake up?"

"He's busy," Rhiane countered quickly, though Ambrose surmised by her choice of words was not that she didn't want Luke to be there, but rather she was afraid to ask. The brunette felt terrible that she was taking her turn first, that events under her control had left him with a backlog of responsibilities, that he had a limp caused by her actions, and she had convinced herself for these reasons she was unworthy of imposing her wishes. Besides, it was her that had drawn death to his doorstep, and now she was irrationally paranoid she might somehow infect him with the darkness that had targeted her earlier in the day.

[Hashih]

The departure of the princess elect and the doctor should have left the prince with nothing but silence to accompany him except that he could hear the voices of a couple of women arguing or maybe just discussing. Luke drowned the conversation out, but he kept the movie going. Idle noise from the television would not break into his concentration.

The reports were thorough, it captured every known communication frequency being used at present, except for the queen’s and her heir’s. Such information was promptly deleted from the archive upon his request. Ironic as it may seem, but the assassination attempt was the event that Luke was waiting for. It should have increased the utilization of the communication lines. It should have given them a hint who in the palace were serving a different master, who authorized the distribution of the military’s standard rifles to civilians and consequently the rebellion. But irregular frequencies were reported to be detected as seemingly just an impulse – an image like a ghost’s that was present and absent at the same time. Much as the team wanted to deny, but the fact remained that the rebellion, who were supposed to be the poor and the desolate, outsmarted them.

Luke sighed as he swiped back to the second page of the report. He would read and go through the charts again, because maybe he and the IT Team missed a detail. Absently, his free hand rubbed the side of his torso that was bruised. The wooden chair may be cushioned, but it was uncomfortable. He would rather prefer something that would allow him to lean back once in a while.

He hadn’t given up on the possibility that the accident could still accidentally uncover the people whose objective was to stab him in and his mother in the back. The work that the recently concluded meeting and the confirmation that the Defense and Health Ministries were waiting for could wait a little longer. But apparently Doctor Gulsvig couldn’t.

A sharp knock on the door stole his attention from the comparison of the frequency and time model he generated from the data, then filtered out all the known and used channels. There was a remote chance that the blinking signal was somehow a code. If it was, then he had the idea that the key to unmasking the code was to assume that the name of the clinic and/or the town it was situated were passed on secretly.

“Your highness,” Nolan allowed himself in without waiting for Luke’s permission. He pushed the door open wide to give way to the medical bed that was pushed inside the room. The furniture that made up the sitting area barricaded the path to the bed therefore a male nurse carefully lifted Rhiane’s unconscious body from the gurney to transfer her into the more comfortable bed.

Luke slowly got to his feet, keeping his eyes on the woman and the brace that would keep her from placing strain on her arm. It was lightweight and made of breathable silicone-like material. After being restrained by a sling, she would appreciate the advantages of her new cast. “Did she make any trouble?” he asked Dr. Romanelli, who shook his head. Tobias was also inside the room, hovering at a respectable distance from the bed while trying to keep a passive expression. “Tobias.”

The guard snapped into attention, as if the mention of his name had pulled him from a long thought or a daydream. By that time, the nurses and the doctor were exiting the room to grant the princess some privacy. “Look for Octavia and Lia and ask them to stay at Rhiane’s bedside,” Luke ordered much to his cousin’s dismay. Tobias had the notion that his royal cousin trusted him as Rhiane’s bodyguard, that babysitting the future queen was an endeavor that was only for Tobias to enjoy. Somehow he had forgotten that the charge that was given him was a woman – an engaged woman – and it was more appropriate if equally capable female members of the security team would watch over her. The prince’s request was only logical, but it was quite difficult to nod his head in obedience.

Shortly after the matter was settled, Luke was asked to sit on a wheel chair and escorted to the makeshift clinic. Waiting for him at the door were Doctor Gulsvig and Ms. Viscomi. “It cannot be allowed,” the doctor’s features were grim when he said it. Ms. Viscomi looked as if she had not yet ran out of arguments, but the doctor opened the door for the prince then shut it behind himself.

“Didn’t your mother call-off the tour after what happened?”

“She did,” was Luke’s immediate response. “I persuaded her not to.” He carefully stepped out of the chair and asked for help in taking off the coat. The doctor studied him for a moment before wordlessly turning away to do whatever preparations must be done.

---

The procedure did not last an hour. His ribs were fractured, but there was no need to cut him open to fix the damage. The serum and a more comfortable version of a brace was enough. If he would not do anything stupid, it should heal in a day or two.

Ms. Viscomi was waiting outside the door as the gurney was pushed through the corridor. “Doctor!” Her cheerfulness and hope were ever present even in the middle of another PR nightmare and possible change in schedules. She walked beside the older man. “It is four in the afternoon. We can still arrange for a dinner assembly meeting with the locals. At around what time is he going to wake up?”

Dr. Gulsvig shrugged. “As soon as he feels like waking up.” As Luke’s attending physician, the doctor was more concerned about the health of his patient than the strict schedule that was mapped out for him. Because of it, he might have utilized a more potent sedative for the prince. It was for Luke’s own good, because once left to his own devices, then there was no doubt that he would drag his future bride with him to fulfill his responsibilities.

Luce Viscomi and the doctor were left outside the room as the male nurses rearranged the furniture to be able to bring the patient as close to the bed as possible, then transferred him carefully. “You may try to wake him if you want to, but our crown prince needs as much rest as he can right now, so I gave him the opportunity to do so.”

The nurses and the royal guards soon left the couple to rest in their private room, with the doctors’ strict orders that nobody should disturb them. Sooner than later, though, Luke’s eyes fluttered open. It was odd seeing wood panels over his head bathed in a pale yellow glow. Where was he? Why were his eyelids so heavy? A shift in the mattress told him that somebody must be out there. “Sophie,” he whispered then slowly turned his head.

[Syrenrei]

In the intervening time between when Rhiane had stirred and when Luke had been transferred to the bedroom she had been re-dressed. Her bodyguards were confident, regardless of what Luce Viscomi had been angling for during the procedures, that the crown prince would not be letting his fiancee leave the premises for any engagement that evening. Her sullied clothing had been stripped off and a nightgown had been pulled out of the salvaged luggage for her to wear. At the time the princess elect had been too drowsy to do anything more than lift her good arm when they pulled it over her head but it had not mattered. This was a simple enough task that the strength and coordination of the two women responsible for tending to her needs easily removed and deposited her back into the bed. Instantly she felt better. There was something soothing about having freshly laundered linens and clean, soft nightwear.

Rhiane was still basking in comfort and silence when the sheets were drawn back, two men placed the heir to the throne onto the other side of the mattress, and then he was covered to rest peacefully while the sedative wore off. Glancing over she idly wondered if this would be the unlikely beginnings of them actually sharing quarters. Before now they had been able to avoid sharing the same bed. Either she dozed off while on a sofa or sitting in a chair reading while he stayed up late. The palace liked to keep up appearances so they did not seem to mind having a suite with more than one bedroom so as to pretend the 'lovebirds' were saving themselves for marriage- despite both having lost their virginity long ago. Eventually they'd have to share a bed more regularly, however. Once the couple were wed there would be new expectations placed upon them, not least of which was children, and that would make it impossible to explain away never sharing a room.

"Not Sofia," she said with more jealousy in her voice than she would have liked. Rhiane tried to force herself to not care about Luke's dalliance with the beautiful, famous, beloved actress that had stolen his heart since before they had met. It was hypocritical of her to have resolved not to be in a romantic relationship with him, to keep things purely physical and professional, and then covet the very feelings she was inwardly rejecting. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself as she stared up at the ceiling. Nothing was as easy as she had anticipated. Every shared moment made it harder to keep the man beside her at arm's length.

"You must really love her," the princess elect remarked in an even tone. "To miss her this much, and be thinking of her, you must really love her. Have you talked to her recently?" Rhiane asked as she kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. It was easier to mentally erect walls between them if she envisioned the other woman entwined with Luke. She could convince herself that he belonged to someone else, that she was unworthy, that she did not want the affections of a man who could not see and appreciate her, that it was better to casually converse than have passionately fueled arguments and kisses in the rain.

But it still felt dangerous to lay where she was. They were a single man and single woman, both incredibly lonely, thrown together by politics, with the freedom and time to do much more than wait for dinner. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she made a concerted effort not to look at him. Had it been easier to find another place to recover she might have risked the nightmares she knew would haunt her purely to avoid the temptation. Tonight she wasn't as composed as usual. Her willpower had been shredded by guilt, by fear, by trauma, by pain, until there were only thin strands left. In the morning hopefully she would be made better with the distractions of visiting the masses, making speeches, and shaking hands, but right now there was only Luke. Luke with his tousled blonde hair and his sleepy, twinkling blue eyes.

"Is that why you kissed me?" she asked, ever a glutton for punishment, "Because you were remembering her?" It was something she was afraid of him answering. It would probably provoke his anger if not his pride. Were he to respond it would be brutally honest, perhaps unkind, and not what she wanted to hear, but it could help be the final nail in the proverbial coffin of her infatuation. Rhiane couldn't afford an escalation. If Luke so much as maintained this new status quo she was utterly doomed- because she refused to abandon the belief that she was unable of a fairytale like her parents enjoyed and now Gerald and Sebastian destroyed. It was for her own good that she help him annihilate this crush. The fantasy of the media could not become reality.

[Hashih]

The truth was brutal. The truth hurts. The truth was not kind to those who chose to hide behind the shadow of a lie, a hope, a dream that the universe had denied. But often, the same pain that saw through flesh and bone will pave way from the dark alley of lies into the sun. Thus, it was said that the truth sets people free.

Caught in between the odd realm between a dream and consciousness, even with a peculiar taste in his mouth and the dryness he felt at his throat, Luke smiled at the face staring back at him. He wondered what that look was about. Did he say something wrong? He had not insulted her people and criticized her opinions yet, but Rhiane was looking at him as if he did something that had offended her. “I’m sorry.” The words dribbled slowly from the tip of his tongue. Speaking was weird. The sound of his voice sounded weird in his ears, a little husky and slow and sleepy. It was not him. It was not her Sophie.

He should be sad, but the boyish grin would not leave. If the cool and charming persona of the crown prince was perceived as the very qualities that made him desirable by the standards of the society, then it had not yet been exposed to an uninhibited version of his smile. None of the controlled flexing of facial muscles and curving of the lips, not even the bid for perfection that came with the royal title. That night, with the help of the pain medications and sedative, he found a space where there was nothing to guard against and nothing stopping him from expressing how he felt inside.

“And so kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
And tell me that I’ll see you again
'Cause I don’t know
If I can let you go…”

The following words of the song were lost in mumbling as he closed his tired eyes and rolled his head so as to look away from her judging gaze. A sober Luke would not have allowed himself to verbalize the lyrics of the song that came to mind. The tempo of the melody was deliberately slowed down, so it sounded more of a ballad than a pop punk song. His voice had always had that deep melodious tone, but only a few people knew that he could more than carry a tune, he could really sing.

Gradually, the humming from his chest faded as did the smile that lit his features. “I kissed you because you won’t listen to me even if I begged you to take pain meds.” That was all, he told himself. “And it is impolite to reject you or push you away.” He was thinking about the passionate kiss they shared inside a bathroom cubicle while the rebellion was plotting to kill them both. She may either understand what he was referring to or she may have not remembered that she initiated the contact, but Luke failed to elaborate.

“Do I love Sophia Keller? Do I miss her?” He lifted his right hand, palm down, over his face as if to inspect if it still had five fingers. The entirety of his body felt heavy and foreign, like his consciousness was transferred to an alien host. Even then, his mind did not feel right. Luke smiled as he added, “I do.” What he failed elaborate was which did his ‘I do’ answer. Then again, it may be because he too had no idea which his answer was for. “But love is… It is not real. To believe the impulses inside the brain when it does that funny chemical reactions is too costly. I can’t afford to love and hurt and be distracted.”

Luke let his hand rest on his stomach, but his stare remained fixed on the ceiling. “Love is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken,” he recited quietly from memory. Was he in love with Sophia? They had such a fluid relationship that it never occurred to him to consider the extent of the feelings he had for the actress. “I wish for her to be here with me right now, to hold my hand and sing to me. Then I can make her smile and laugh, make her mad at me for being silly.” He leaned his face on the pillow to look at his fiancee. It might be the medication, or it might be his callous self, but the words kept pouring out his mouth without filter. She asked him questions and he replied in all honesty. Because the truth was brutal.

“Maybe I miss her, but does that mean that I love her?” If he would use the ancient poet’s words as the benchmark of love, then he failed. It was because the poet described loved as an unmoving, unchanging, unshakable something. Luke’s gaze was grim, meaning every word he said when he added, “Tell me what you know about this concept of love? Because I don’t think that I’m doing this right.” Shadow fell on the planes of his seemingly chiseled features, softening it a little so he did not appear to be the same sharply dressed man who was obliged by society to be perfect.

[Syrenrei]

His apology had given her the slightest hint of hope, but it was quickly washed away the moment he opened his mouth and began to sing. She did not even need to hear the lyrics to confirm the lingering affections Luke held for the actress who had just flown overseas to another country. Rhiane was fairly certain there was no press coverage including the crown prince performing vocally, unless it was to deliver a speech to visiting dignitaries, and that just made it that much more apparent how special the other woman was. This ballad was not crooned for her benefit, but because another had uniquely inspired him, made his heart ache, made him express himself in such a beautiful and private way. If there had ever been a war she had surely lost it before she ever arrived at the castle. The farmer had briefly considered that the starlet was a fling, a relationship of convenience and mutual satisfaction, but now she realized it must have been much more to cause Luke sing.

Inwardly she tried to steady herself. This had been a poor topic of conversation. Now that he had spoken she could clearly recognize that Luke was still under the influence of medication that mitigated his inhibitions. There was no conscious softening of the blow as words flowed from his lips. He was being brutally honest with her and no matter how badly she believed she needed this rejection, that she deserved it, and it would be better for all if they kept an emotional distance, it hurt more than she had expected. Perhaps it was because he had that goofy, charming, captivating smile while his low voice perfectly accentuated the notes. In another life he could have been a musician.

And then came the outright assertion that the kiss they had shared in the SUV had been a method to overcome her stubborn defiance. At this claim she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes to prevent an overt reaction. Though she wished he had stopped there he did not and continued on to allude to the clinic's as one he had only politely humored. Sober Luke might have seen this as an act of kindness. He had been showing her consideration and respect by not pushing her away. Now they knew exactly where they stood with one another so there would be no delusions about the nature of their relationship.

Rhiane yearned for the simple village men of her home. True they were crass, more rugged than handsome, and their etiquette left something to be desired, but they found her attractive. Not once had a unattached man in which she had expressed interest ever criticized her family, her upbringing, how she compared to socialites of New Rome. It was silly to think about how sorely she missed the crude flirting and vulgar praise. There was something to be said for the validation of compliments; it was certainly better than confronting the impossible standards set by the women with which Luke had entanglements previously.

Quietly she listened as he proclaimed love to not be real, to be a distraction, that he missed Sophia and therefore might love her, and what mannerisms she had that he apparently adored. It was torture but she endured the confession silently without interruption. Just as she was planning how to extricate herself from the bedroom, or make Luke suddenly forget she was present, she saw that he had turned to look at her. The question he asked her made her expression turn from that of oppressive melancholy to surprise. Visually she searched his features for any sign this was a joke- but he was serious. Luke sincerely wanted her to tell him what love was.

She sighed. "I've never been in love, I only know what my mother and father were like, what Gerald and Sebastian are like," Rhiane explained so that he would not hold it against her later. "It's about knowing someone's flaws, recognizing them, and caring about them anyway, about wanting to tell them amazing thing that happens to you before anyone else, going out of your way to try to make them smile, and thinking about them whenever you're away. It makes you want to be a better person than you already are, sacrifice things just to share with them, and confide your darkest secrets because you trust them completely."

"If you woke up tomorrow and you were old, and you were no longer a prince and she was no longer an actress, and you were poor, and you were both ill, would you still want her with you? If tomorrow you quashed the rebellion, and secured new financing for all your pet projects, and had a new fighter plane to fly, who would you want to tell first? If you were stranded alone on an island and had to pick one person, who would you pick? I can tell you my mother and father would always chose each other, and Gerard and Sebastian always pick each other. It just... feels like you've found someone who understands you, and who compliments you, and who you can't imagine life without," she said with a wistful tone.

Rhiane cleared her throat and sat up, suddenly aware of how the discussion had derailed into dangerous territory, and how badly she didn't want to confirm with Luke whatever he had with Sofia. Life was hard enough for the princess elect without finding new ways in which to be depressed. "I'm sure you'd sleep better without me here," she abruptly stated. "I wouldn't want to force you to be polite when you're trying to rest. This villa must have another bedroom- I'll tell Tobias you need your space for recovery since we're not used to sharing quarters yet."

[Hashih]

Her words fluttered in his mind like a far away echo even when she was close enough for him to grab. Closer than what his sober self would have allowed. The pale glow from the bedside lamp was reflected on her green eyes, making it seem both mysterious and magical at the same time. It touched the smooth hair that framed her face and cascaded over her shoulder. The bare skin of her neck, her collar bone, her shoulder – she glowed like the moon reflecting the sun to bring light to darkness.

Luke blinked slowly. The rational side of him convinced the rest of his self that it was wrong to look at the farmer the way he looked at her that night. That the thoughts starting to form in his drug-muddled brain were nothing but hallucinations. Rhiane was beautiful. Rhiane was stubborn. Rhiane was patient. Rhiane was careless. Rhiane was… She was making it difficult to find answers to the questions which he could have easily responded to a few days back.

“Don’t.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pushing himself off the bed just as she did. The edges of the sedative were apparent through the uncontrolled force he exerted on her wrist and in getting up. Though he was content lying down and eventually succumbing to sleep, he did promise to stay with her that night. The sheet fell to his waist. His dirty shirt was stripped off him and in its place was nothing but a transparent brace around his midsection that supported the fractured ribs without making it more difficult for the wearer to breathe.

Gravity seemed to have strengthened its pull ever since he woke up. It made his head feel heavy so that he had no other choice but lean his forehead on her shoulder. “At this rate, we could be in the middle of a battlefield and I would still sleep better. Don’t go.” He was done with being left behind with a heart that was no longer whole. “I picked you, didn’t I?” The beautiful sunset view from his secret island came to mind, but he failed to elaborate. It was difficult to recall in his state if he already told her that she was the first person he brought there. She could argue that it was only because of the device implanted on the two of them, and that would be true, except that he had not told her that he would bring her with him again with or without the implant. Sophia was a city girl who loved the modern comforts of the concrete jungle. She would not appreciate the island. Luke doubted that Sophia would have the courage that Rhiane showed, or that Sophia would trust him – a total stranger – with her life.

“My mother did not choose my father,” he murmured, remembering how she drew her explanation of love from what she witnessed from her parents. “Even though he chose her every single day. My father told me that he loved mum from afar even before the contest was announced. He was a member of the royal guards and was assigned the security of then Princess Camilla. Much like Tobias is to you.”

Silence followed as Luke contemplated on the analogy he had drawn between his parents and his fiancee’s relation to Tobias. His hand let go of her wrist, but in its place was a movement from behind her. Luke wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind as he rested his cheek atop her head. “Do you feel for my cousin more than you do for me? Do you like him the same way you like me?” Because her smile was real when she was with him, her eyes were happy and not rolling out of frustration. She was more at ease, and it was easier for her to depend on Tobias than Luke. “If you say yes, then I am going to let you go.” His arms tightened, though not too tight to hurt her but just enough to make a point. If his cousin loved her the way his father loved the queen, then there was no point standing in their way.

[Syrenrei]

Rhiane's determination to leave the room withered and died the moment he grabbed her wrist. She ought to get away, she chastised herself, but it was impossible to leave Luke now that he was so open, vulnerable, and wanting of her presence. For the past week the princess elect had been trying to get her betrothed to be more forthcoming instead of being swept away by his pride and social bias. Admittedly she was just as guilty for keeping secrets, being unyielding, and refusing to compromise. Their heated arguments had stymied chances to be honest about their relationship, platonic or not, as well as their future. It felt like cheating, however, to have Luke finally reaching out to her emotionally and physically because he had been medically compromised.

Turning with the intention to tell her injured fiance he ought to lay back down, her eyes widened at the sight of him without a shirt. She had seen him in a state of undress before but it was this situation, with him looking at her so desperately, the two of them sharing a bed, that made her heart thunder in her chest. Rhiane had to look away from the tousled hair, the sharp angles of his silhouette, the curvature of his musculature, and the way the soft light made the linens glow. Hopefully he did not interpret this as a dismissal. She was determined not to take advantage no matter how tempting the circumstances might be. Ordinarily men did not evoke this response from her. In the past she would flirt if she felt attraction, get out her urges, and then part ways- but the heir to the throne was nothing if not different.

"You didn't pick me," she corrected gently, genuinely confused by his statement. Her face had flushed as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Rhiane decided to stare at a speck on the distant wall with intense scrutiny in order to center her thoughts and feelings. It wasn't distracting enough to make her forget she was only wearing a nightgown and a handsome man to whom she would be one day wed was giving his version of sweet nothings, but it was better than gazing upon the source of her internal conflict directly. "I won a contest; if anyone chose me it was your mother because I passed her tests with the highest scores." The unbidden image of the reigning monarch filled her mind briefly. Most women dreaded having a mother-in-law, but she doubted any had anyone quite so formidable as hers. Hopefully no other future bride had a relative waiting with great anticipation for reproductive duties to be fulfilled they could dispose of and replace the 'breeder.'

She had always assumed that the late king had a tragic love story. Hearing it explained put everything into more perspective. The uncontested best role model in Luke's life had been selfless, caring, and strong, enduring everything for someone who did not reciprocate the love he gave so freely. No one would blame Luke if was afraid to fall prey to the same tale. All his life he had not seen a healthy marriage flourishing under reciprocation and sharing. Rhiane knew it could exist, had seen it happen, but was instead terrified she'd suffer the same sort of loss that her father had when her mother was ripped from his side by disease.

"Tobias?" she squeaked as he embraced her from behind. Hopefully he was still drugged enough he wouldn't feel the pounding organ in her chest moments from explosion. Rhiane didn't know how to push him away to save herself from doing something foolish and not hurt his tender feelings. Obviously he was oblivious to how this intimacy affected her. The way his arms encircled and hugged her waist, how he was tall enough to rest his head upon hers, how he squeezed tightly made her feel like a precious person both treasured and desired. Her head was spinning. She ought to have taken a sedative to last the entire evening. "Tobias is a friend I can talk to," she remarked. "The rest of the staff are uncomfortable with me, but he will listen- really listen to me without any judgment. I think of him as my best friend at the palace but... I don't... harbor anything for him," she added with embarrassment.

"Luke," she began slowly, "I promise I won't leave but you should lay back down. You can take a nap until it's time for dinner," she suggested, "and I'll watch another another movie but keep it muted so you can rest." Her hands fell to where his were resting, clasping one another and keeping her a willing captive. "We shouldn't do anything you will regret once you're more yourself," Rhiane said more for her own benefit than for his. Already she had a suspicion that the crown prince would be denying this conversation ever took place and that what he had 'allegedly' professed was utter nonsense.

[Hashih]

His fickle heart might be his greatest flaw. It was no secret that the heir dallied with women who were born into the high society. The power and the good looks that he inherited from his bloodline made him the object of desire for many. Ever the person who would not waste an opportunity, the prince quickly learned of the effect he had to the opposite sex, therefore exploiting it to his gain. Soon, snapping a photo of him with a new woman hanging on his arm became a sport for the paparazzi. Needless to say, Luke was not content to stick with one woman, he did not believe in hailing a single individual as the queen of his life. Love was a senseless lie propagated by the media.

He felt it when her hand clasped his, linking her fingers with his, quietly giving into the demand that was masked as a request. Deep inside, he was happy to have won that battle. It was a victory for him to have been able to stop the princess elect from running to Tobias for rescue. Much as he would like to deny it, but the ugly monster called jealousy taunted him every time his fiancee and his cousin would spend time together. The emotion was neither logical nor beneficial, Luke knew that, but it was real. It was yet again another product of his fickle heart.

“No man is that friendly to a woman,” he murmured against her hair. His voice was soft like a gentle breeze on a summer day. “Take it from someone who knows how men approach women – from a certified player.” There was a hint of humor in his voice, as if he had accepted the portrait of him that the media had painted to entertain the whole kingdom. To be honest, it did not bother him the slightest, because it was true. He had broken hearts, played with emotions, left them hoping for something more than a casual encounter. He had caused the queen a great deal of trouble because of the alleged scandals and rumors about his behavior that was unbecoming of a future king.

Sophia Keller had known Luke for years. She was an acquaintance casually introduced to him by a common friend at an awarding ceremony. Perhaps his stature drew her to him, or maybe it was his charms, but the actress was quickly promoted from being and acquaintance to a rumored lover. Of course, Luke would not be Luke if he would stick to just one woman. There were others in between, when he was not too preoccupied with work or when Sophia had other things to do. What’s unique with the odd relationship between the two was that they always find their way back to each other. But was he in love with her? Once upon a time, he thought he was.

Then he met Rhiane. “You should confide in Lia and Octavia instead. You women have your own language, therefore it’s not wrong to assume that they will understand you better.” He paused, stifling a yawn. She could not see his face, but the sluggish speech must have hinted that his eyes were closed, and he was fighting with all that he had against the effects of the sedative. “Don’t be thick-headed. Tobias doesn’t look at you the way he looks at me or Lia or Octavia, Rhiane.”

His breathing had quieted down. He was no longer taking quick gasps of air, while being unable to breathe deeply, thanks to the painkillers. It allowed him to sleep on is back and for a while forget that he was injured. It made him comfortable enough as he leaned his weight against her and used the back of her head as his pillow. The next sound that escaped his lips were a jumble of murmured syllables. He was trying to tell her something else, but perhaps the realm of dreams had won the tug-of-war.

[Syrenrei]

Just as the pleasure of a woman's company was not foreign to Luke, so was a man's company not foreign to Rhiane. She had her own dalliances back in the village though with far less social games than the crown prince obviously enjoyed. Matters there were extraordinarily straight-forward. A drink would be shared, comments would be made about one another's physique, and after a brief period of flirting things would escalate quickly to intercourse. They'd romp one or twice before amicably and unceremoniously parting ways. Truth be told she had never dated or had want to do so. Life on the farm was complicated enough without the worries of a relationship to add another layer of complexity.

For these reasons she didn't need to question a man's intentions with her often. The two she spent the most time with were relatives but many men in the village were married or otherwise attached. Of those she interacted with that were bachelors she was always clear that she was emphatically disinterested in a relationship and they had either respected that or found themselves dealing with her surly brother Gerald instead of her. There had never been anyone like Tobias in her life. Sebastian and she were close but he was not attracted to her gender and in love with her sibling. The next most similar situation was a single farmer named Henry who had sought her advice over the years pursuing ladies with which she was familiar with and he had a difficult time relating to in conversation.

"I don't believe you," she said stubbornly. Until she had absolute evidence that Tobias wasn't satisfied with being her friend she was reluctant to refuse his company. Rhiane remained unconvinced that Luke was not just projecting his own bias onto his cousin. The heir to the throne might not be able to keep things platonic with a woman but that did not mean that every other male suffered the same predilection. "Lia and Octavia look down at me because of my birth. I can speak just as well with a man as a woman- either there's no secret language or I lost my chance to learn it growing up when my mother passed away. There's nothing about me they have any desire to understand," she insisted. It wasn't completely wrong. The noblewomen were professional and polite, but none of the staff had forgotten the princess elect was a commoner, and she had not yet built a strong enough rapport with any of them that they could be considered more than slight fond. It was still the queen's palace and so her prejudices trickled down to the lowest servant of the royalty. That Tobias was immune was the exception rather than the rule.

The slowing of his breath indicated that Luke was no longer awake enough to argue. She let out a sigh of relief that she had avoided being drawn into his arms more than their current embrace. As carefully as she was able she laid down with him still holding onto her. Laying on his back would have been the most comfortable position for him, but it was not tenable so long as he kept his grip around her waist, and so she laid on her side with her fiance behind her. Her own ailment meant she had to sleep on her right side instead of her left. Looking back she would laugh at how ridiculous they were; even sleeping had become unnecessarily complicated. Rhaine had thought once they were under the covers with their heads on the pillows he would be less distracting. For nearly half an hour she listened to his rhythmic breathing, felt the warmth of his exhale on her neck, and felt the comforting pressure of his arms on her midsection.

Almost an hour had passed before she succumbed to the land of dreams. During their short time together Luke had come to know that she slept very deeply and was hard to rouse. Unfortunately she did not have this benefit that night. Nightmares plagued her in constant, merciless cycles. Some merely replayed what she had seen while others had changes that made her role in the events more heinous than was the reality. Had it not been for the soothing presence seeping into her unconscious mind she might have awoken a dozen times over. As it was she would twitch or jerk lightly, Luke would instinctively hug her more firmly in response, and the visions would dissipate into nothingness for a time of restful repose.

Four times over the course of the night, however, she did start to emerge from slumber. The first she had murmured the word, 'No' in distress over and over. Luke had mumbled something about it not being morning into her hair, jolting her into the realization it had been a mere nightmare, and helping her quickly fall back to sleep. The second and third times she had made a noise in her throat that sounded like a strangled whimper and squirmed in his grasp, reacting to an advancing assassin of her imagination, but had been coaxed to relax when her betrothed sighed and squeezed her fingers. The last had been only a couple hours before dawn and been the worst, her voice struggling to voice apologies to the phantoms of her mind, but she had calmed when she heard a voice she recognized as Luke's whispering in to her ear. The words had been unintelligible under her distress and exhaustion, not because he had been incoherent, but because she was half under by the third syllable.

As morning finally broke Rhiane was still soundly asleep. Her hair, which had been braided by the nurses the day before, had come completely undone and was loosely tangled. Small bags were under her eyes but they were no worse than what anyone might have expected given the circumstances; make-up would easily cover the discoloration. Yesterday she had spent more of the day in a bed or chair unconscious than any other, but the interruptions caused by nightmares had left her with a lingering fatigue, much like when an ill patient would struggle with a persistent cough in the evening. Dr. Gulsvig and Dr. Romanelli had advised her to take some sort of medication that would guarantee a REM cycle without detrimental disruptions but she had predictably refused. The princess elected was entangled, latched onto Luke as he was her, not releasing her solitary lifeline from the darkness.

[Hashih]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Syrenrei]

While Luke was waiting on breakfast and reading his daily itinerary, an email marked 'URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL' arrived on his personal device from his primary contact in the palace's intelligence division. Attached to the message were transcripts of a flurry of correspondence that had occurred overnight and just been analyzed by the most senior people on the team with the highest level of clearance. The rebellion had internal disagreements over the recent events. An anonymous individual code-named 'Red' was chastising, insulting, and threatening the extremists that had almost taken the prince and princess elect's lives with their SUV tampering. He alluded to being a member of the royal staff and had claimed to hear rumors of what transpired. Red had told them killing Luke would only make them look guilty instead of adhering to their goal of blaming the monarchy. He also insisted that Rhiane was a precious opportunity for them who still had a 'clear chance of being turned to their cause.' No agreement was reached but the other parties in the exchange clearly treated Red with respect despite being belittled and called awful names- they either feared his wrath or he was high enough in their organization they couldn't argue with him freely.

There was a gentle rap on the door. The maid brought in a small cart with two trays and multiple plates with a spread of breakfast items. Tobias was close at her heels with a small cup in his hands. After rolling her cart directly next to the bed she stepped to the side, bowed, and exited to give the others their privacy. Luke's cousin glanced towards Rhiane, who was still asleep and breathing deeply, and explained himself. "The doctors have provided some pain medication in light of your schedule," he said quietly. "I've been instructed to advise you that the capsules can be opened and the powder put into a drink or mixed into a food if necessary." He set the cup down on the cart, directly next to the empty glasses and pitchers of juice, and departed briskly. The sight of the farmer curled up next to her fiance so peacefully had been vexing.

Two trays had been provided that would unfold allow the nation's most famous pair to dine in bed. None of the offerings were foreign but were perhaps less common in the capital. In total there were many types of sliced fruit preserved, pastries filled with cream and jam, granola and cluster grain cereals, a small loaf of barley bread, yogurt, rolls, a small board of sliced cheeses and cold cut meats, and hard-boiled eggs. For beverages there were was apple juice, grape juice, milk, water, and a small teapot still piping hot. Either the kitchen was afraid of underfeeding the guests that had skipped dinner or it was uncertain as to the preferences of their palettes.

The scent of food seemed to make Rhiane begin to rouse. She rolled over from her side onto her back as her body passively recognized that it could only go so far before pinning her broken arm underneath her. Dr. Gulsvig had greatly accelerated its healing but not to the point she should be testing its strength less than a day later. The woman opened her bleary eyes and, deciding against the world of the waking, closed them once again in protest. It was quiet and warm. With her good arm she pulled the sheets most of the way over her head until just the top of it was visible. Much as she'd rather drown in the nothingness of slumber it would be impossible now to fully fall back asleep. She was just being stubborn and, in the face of her trauma, hesitant to embrace the life that led her to the intense feelings of failure.

But it wouldn't be long before Luce was trying to push and pull her charges into the meetings for which she had made arrangements. The afternoon was for what little nobility the vicinity had, as well as people of higher standing than commoners but slightly below the aristocracy, such as rising businessmen and promising innovators. There would be a tour of the town before dinner, at which time they would great the farmers for dinner and discussion, as well as possibly visit the fields once they had been worked for the day. This had been a practical choice; it would be easier to prove the crown was thoughtful, understanding, and empathetic to laborers if they were mindful of their responsibilities before nightfall. Their morning had been made relatively free since Dr. Gulsvig had not been forthcoming about when his patients would be awake.

"Your turn for garden harvest," Rhiane mumbled beneath the blanket to her brother who, in addition to being hundreds of miles away, was not even on speaking terms with her. She shifted her weight on the mattress restlessly, moving her legs to try to make them find a position in which they might relax. "You better not..." she drifted off as she sighed in what sounded like disappointment at the mirage. There was a reason she had become Gerald and her father's manager, and it wasn't because they did spectacularly without her oversight.

[Hashih]

Luke placed a finger on his lips signaling his cousin to keep his voice low. The woman may still be unaware of the world around her, and she may be one of the most difficult people to rouse to wakefulness, but being by her side the whole night, he was one to know that it had not been kind to her. Demons plagued her dreams, chased her, and cornered her until she gasped for air with strangled words barely escaping her sweet sweet lips. If not for the medication unwillingly introduced into his bloodstream, Luke would have had a worse night than Rhiane. He was such a light sleeper and was prone to keeping awake the whole night. Thanks to the sedative, though, the crown prince managed to drift off to sleep easier with every event that his fiancee dragged him into the reality of the dimly lit room they shared.

Therefore, it was better to allow her to rest as much as she could. Still Tobias could have stayed a bit longer to take some instructions from him. Eliminating choices of a beverage could have made the task of giving her the painkiller infinitely easier. With a sigh, he crawled out of bed as she began to stir and mumble something about harvest. The tablet monitor glowed into life as it stared up at the wood panel ceiling. On it was the urgent communication that came from the palace. The report was a confirmation of the warning that Sebastian verbalized over the phone the night that Rhiane was poisoned.

As Luke poured orange juice into the empty glasses, he toyed with the idea of inviting Rhiane’s family to the palace. She said that they would not come even if she was dying, but perhaps the family would not deny a direct request from the crown. Another option was to visit her hometown. He forced a capsule open over the glass that was meant for her, then another on his own so that whichever she picked will contain the same dosage. To be honest, he was not keen on meeting and pretending to be pleasant to other commoners. He had enough encounter with their kind to last his lifetime. However, Sebastian knew something that would make the Intelligence group’s work much easier. It was worth the humiliation, because weeding out the enemies from the palace staff meant securing the lives of his family and Rhiane too.

With the glasses filled with orange juice and after attempting to stir the capsule contents into the liquid as quiet as he could, Luke carried the pitcher with apple juice and milk out the room. Both was handed over to Tobias who was alone in front of their door. “Please ask the maid to bring in some coffee.” The villa staff was thoughtful enough to produce what looked like a mini feast for the couple, except for one thing that his system was craving for that morning.

When he returned into bed, it was with a tray that he loaded with some pastries, bread, cold cuts, cheese, and egg. After missing out on dinner, his stomach would not settle for anything less. He was about to take his place above the covers when he paused. Only the top of her head was visible, but it was enough to bring back memories or maybe those were dreams. He had, on his own accord, held close her and rested his cheek against her hair. Words had escaped his lips faster than his mind could form filter. It was not easy to recall what he said that night, but he was sure that he said more than what he should have. Luke averted his gaze, thought twice about it, but ended up resuming his previous position on the bed.

“I can hear your stomach growling,” he commented as if to start a conversation, though if any, it was his stomach that was making the sound. The mattress shifted where he sat with his long legs stretched out under the wooden legs of the tray. He picked up his computer before leaning his back on the pillow and taking the first bite of the bread smeared with butter. With the bread trapped between his lips, he pushed the still damp fringes off his brow, only to fall back in place. He thoughtfully chewed as he browsed the report once again. When the rebellion found their whereabouts in that clinic, it had occurred to him that somebody in IT, the central communications, and the intelligence group had leaked the information. Not many would be informed about the distress signal and the succeeding report about where the prince and his fiancee were. These had to be people who would be involved in the extraction operation. But what bothered him was the one called “Red” and the authority he seemed to have over the extremists.

He would have to speak to Luce Viscomi about some alterations in the tour's itinerary. They had to visit her hometown and he had to speak privately with Sebastian.

[Syrenrei]

Luke's words pierced the drowsy haze of her mind. With a groan she pulled down the sheets and rubbed her eyes against the light that illuminated the room. It was still relatively dim, rather than brightly lit, but anything except complete darkness was currently unwelcome. "I didn't each much yesterday," she murmured with a stifled yawn. It was a vast understatement. Most of what had been brought to her before her surgery had been sent back to the kitchen not out of malice but because she had lost her appetite. The princess elect had eaten more when she had been served meals during the contest and immediately thereafter, when her caloric intake was actively limited by the crown to help mold her into the rail-thin shape viewed favorably by the higher class. Were she to continue on a path of such intense dieting she would almost definitely lose some of the exaggerated womanly curves that had defined her. Rhiane's life had given her an athletic build that was overtly sensual, but ladies of the court were more petite, adhering to an expectation that they would be delicate waifs rather than sultry vixens.

Waking was inevitable. Much as she'd like to hide from the world for days on end and drown in the nothingness that came when she was neither dreaming nor having nightmares, it was escapism, and Rhiane couldn't afford to be cowardly. Queen Camilla's dismissal no longer frightened her but rather she worried for who might replace her. The more she dwelt on the notion of another commoner taking her place the more convinced she was she must stay. Many of her fellow contestants had been intelligent but naive, strong but easily manipulated, kind but emotionally vulnerable. The palace would crush them underfoot. Like the martyr she was Rhiane would rather endure the death threats, the criticism of the aristocracy, and the knowledge she was only a pawn to the monarch than subject someone innocent that would be broken in short order by all the pressure.

And perhaps, deep in her heart, she had to concede she was greedy. There was not much she had coveted. As everyone had witnessed she did not care for the wealth her new lifestyle afforded, did not ask for ways to spend or make demands for personal items, and the gifts she had purchased in the first days of the journey were not for herself. Last night had given her an ounce of hope. Rhiane wanted to have Luke's hand in marriage. Perhaps his confession was drug-induced fallacy, and they'd never be more than professional companions, and he would have numerous affairs under her nose. What she did have, though, was the knowledge he couldn't and wouldn't take another wife until she was gone. The farmer had a chance. While she was still didn't completely believe in romantic love, and that she could have such a thing, she couldn't help but have moments of weakness where she wanted to try.

With great reluctance she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. The strap of her nightgown fell off her shoulder and she absently moved it back into place. She ought to get dressed for the day but she was in no rush. Luke had seen her in less and now that he had not shown any signs of being tempted to make her a conquest. Now that he appeared to be back in his right mind she could expect him to be just as detached, restrained, controlled, and disinterested. "When do we have to be ready?" she asked without making any sort of commitment to eating. Her stomach was growling but she stubbornly believed she could keep skipping meals if they were on a tight schedule. Rhiane didn't want anyone to impede the trip more than she already had with heir wild driving and subsequent crash. If she had to go hungry and suffer through a long day it was only right.

She ran her good hand through her hair and looked blearily past Luke towards the bathroom with a grimace. Although she had a wider range of movement and could now eat by herself, washing her long hair was a difficult task on the best of days, and it would be made harder if she didn't have her flexibility to stretch and reach around the back of her head. Dr. Gulsvig didn't work miracles. For today at least she'd have to call on a bodyguard to help her wash. It left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Rhiane didn't like having people serve her with tasks she knew brought them no joy- and it bothered her more when she knew she couldn't trust the people who provided assistance.

"He doesn't say no," she said abruptly as she stared at the distant door frame in contemplation. "It's nice to have someone listen, and agree with you, but it's not healthy. Someone who never agrees and someone who always agrees are never good for you. It's good to have someone who can tell you when you're wrong because then you can trust them to tell you when you're right too. No one's right all of the time." The person of whom she was speaking was, of course, Tobias. Luke could surmised their constant disagreements frustrated her just as much as they did him, but she appreciated his honestly, and that she did not view it as a completely negative aspect of their relationship. "I don't think he'd even say no if I asked him to help me wash my hair," she mused without seriously considering such an order.

[Hashih]

“Not in a few hours. You can do whatever you like until then, but I suggest that you prioritize breakfast.” Luke held the half-finished bread between his thumb and middle finger just long enough for him to finish the statement. Afterwards, it went straight back in between his lips, gradually being consumed bite after bite. Her voice had briefly caught his attention and he turned away from the tablet long enough to register how light the material of her night gown was. Though they may have spent an afternoon together wearing significantly less clothing, being alone with a with her inside a dimly lit room and under the same covers on the same bed was different. He had to force himself to look away and focus on something other than her.

A letter to Ms. Viscomi would be appropriate. He would ask her to revise the itinerary to include a short visit to Rhiane’s hometown, but the bread was finished so he fished for a pastry next. The sweetness filled his mouth as did her musings. Rhiane might not be talking to him and he might be but a convenient audience of the thoughts from her head, but her words were consciously considered and processed by his brain. He took another bite of the flaky crust. The third one finally reached the inner filling, which was equal parts sweet and sour. He thought she was talking about Tobias not saying no to her, wondered if she was absently comparing Luke to his cousin. If Tobias doesn’t say no, she may be saying that Luke doesn’t say yes. They argued a lot because their perspectives in life were very different. It was frustrating yet it was interesting to have somebody challenge his personal beliefs.

It was all fine. She was entitled to her judgment between the two men, but when she finished her statement, the crown prince might have forgotten how to properly chew and swallow food. The prince coughed, his knee jerked and bumped on the tray, knocking over a pastry or two while setting the egg in motion. “You – Him?” He gasped in between coughs. She was going to ask him to help her wash her hair? Rhiane was practically wearing nothing. In his imagination, he saw the scene unfolding – how she would sit on the edge of the tub wearing just her underwear if she was feeling modest, with Tobias positioned behind her holding the shower head, he was, of course, naked from the waste up, while holding a bottle shampoo.

Luke pounded his chest lightly as he willed the food to go down without fighting. Then when it seemed not to work, he reached to the cart for the glass of juice. Carefully, the liquid was poured down his throat. He plucked the pastry and the egg, which was overthrown from the tray, off the bed. His coughing had calmed down and though his throat felt raw, it was much better. A sideways glare was cast towards Rhiane, a glare that judged the woman’s better judgment. Using just one hand, he lifted the tray off the bed and the legs automatically folded underneath the metal sheet. He balanced it on the corner of the bedside table.

“Are you serious, woman?” His voice sounded raw and his eyes incredibly blue. Whatever sharp or sarcastic reply she might have constructed in her mind was hindered by next move. Luke’s motion was fluid. One moment he was sitting beside him, then the next he was straddling her with one hand on the headboard and his face close enough to stare into her eyes. “Of course, he will not say no. No man in his right mind will say no to a woman as yourself,” he blurted out in quick succession of words. Unless Luke was horribly busy, he would have a hard time saying no to such a tempting proposition. He was a single man and she was a truly attractive woman. A woman who was not shy to take off her clothes in front of him and then take a dip on a cold autumn afternoon the first day they met. It was not farfetched that she would really ask his cousin to wash her hair. But the thought irritated him.

Luke searched her eyes for fear, for the will to run away from him again like he did that night of the interview, but that morning seemed different. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be naïve.” A slow but cruel smile curved his lips. “No man without malicious intentions is that accommodating to a woman,” he finished. And perhaps to emphasize how easy it was to exploit her trusting nature, the prince leaned on her and gently placed a kiss on her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck. His free hand caressed the smooth skin of her good arm until it rested on her shoulder, teasing the strap of her nightgown. He held her all night with just that flimsy material standing in the way. “Ask me to stop, I dare you,” he whispered, his breath teasing the sensitive skin at the base of her neck.

The prince was too busy teaching her a lesson that he barely noticed the soft knock at the door. Without an acknowledgment from inside, Tobias stepped in. The second step faltered. He stood frozen for what felt like eternity rolled up in a fraction of a second. He considered himself immune to emotions such as love and jealousy, but finding his royal cousin and his fiancee as such woke up a part of him that he would rather seal beneath the deepest recesses of his mind. It invoked irrational anger that made him want to throw the hot beverage at the queen’s son’s blonde head.

The guard’s voice was louder and clearer than necessary, when he announced, “Your coffee, Prince Luke.”

The sound of cousin’s voice made Luke aware that he did not lock the door. How unfortunate. Smiling to himself, Luke paused in what he was doing and looked over his shoulder at his cousin who stiffly stood at the threshold. “You can have it,” he said lazily, then turned a meaningful look to Rhiane. “Lock the door when you leave.” Was his final instruction.

[Syrenrei]

Rhiane watched Luke's reaction to her suggestion that Tobias could wash her hair- which she had not considered seriously and had rather been the result of musing aloud- with detached confusion. The princess elect had only been speculating about how far the royal bodyguard might go in refusing to deny any of her requests. Had her proposal been serious she would not have subjected either one of them to the inherent temptation of being undressed together. She would have found a way to dress herself simply, perhaps with a towel over her shoulders to protect her clothes, and leaned over the side of the tub to allow Tobias to clean most efficiently. Because her imagination had not seized hold of the fantastical portrait of seduction that Luke's had, where two attractive people were nearly naked, she was somewhat baffled by the intensity of his response.

His next words inquiring if she was serious sounded more like an accusation than a question. Nevertheless, she had opened her mouth to try to explain herself when he had deftly set aside his tray and straddled her lap. Rhiane's breath caught in her throat at his proximity but she did not back away. The way he told her that no man 'in his right mind' would 'say no to a woman as yourself' was a sharp departure from the Luke of the engagement ball. He had been able to reject her many times. For as long as she lived she would not forget how easily he had been led away from the celebration by the actress. His disgust with the arrangement had been so profound Queen Camilla had to intervene and force him not to leave the farmer's side. Now, in spite of having taken more than one opportunity to show his bias towards the highborn ladies, he had declared her desirable. Less than twelve hours ago he had professed he had only indulged her kiss because it would be rude to do so.

Any moment now she was confident he would stop. She stared at him, unblinking, too emotionally exhausted to suss out what bizarre motivations and intentions possessed him, when he insulted her by calling her naive. Rhiane thought it was a ridiculous label considering her sordid past with the male sex but she had no opportunity to contradict. Luke's attack was no longer one spoken but of affectionate action. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she thought she too might have to seek treatment from Dr. Gulsvig for broken ribs. This was what she had wanted. She had wanted him to touch her, to caress her, to affirm her beauty as a woman. Perhaps it was because he was fulfilling her forbidden wishes that she did not dare to stop him as his fingers sought out the strap of the gown. With very little effort the flimsy piece of fabric dropped down dangerously low.

"It's not..." she tried to call out over Luke's shoulder but Tobias was already gone. The sight had been ultimately too much for him to bear. Rhiane knew there was little she could have said to put his mind at ease. Any excuse she had would have given would have been a total lie- it was exactly what it looked like and she did have feelings for her fiance. It shouldn't have bothered her yet it inexplicably did. The princess elect cared very deeply about her only friend in the palace viewed her; for once she was not content to let her reputation suffer under misunderstanding. Later she would seek him out and try to confirm that their relationship had not been irreparably damaged.

"I don't have to tell you to stop," Rhiane asserted softly. There were goosebumps still on her flesh from where he had let his warm breath linger tantalizingly. "Last night you said you only kissed me because I wouldn't have taken the medication otherwise, that you were only being polite by not pushing me away," she continued. Although this was a subject that brought pain to her voice it did not waver with emotion. Her inflection was calm, even, and confident, as if she were merely reciting facts instead of admitting the source of her heartache. "That's how I know you won't go any farther. You'll stop of your own accord unless I ask you not to, and I can only imagine then you'll say it was under duress, and against your better judgment, that you didn't want to be impolite."

But Rhiane could not pretend under the scrutiny of his crystalline blue gaze that she didn't want to shed their garments and explore their needs, the depths of their attraction, and if the lightning that crackled beneath the skin was a good omen of things yet to come. She had certainly slept with men as a matter of convenience that she found exponentially less enticing than the crown prince. His mischievous predatory gaze was alluring in ways the tabloids had failed to capture. Willpower alone kept her in place as she took heavy breaths that almost dislodged the single nightgown strap that kept her modest. She tried to steel herself for Luke to withdraw, to suddenly laugh and say a peasant didn't deserve a dance between the sheets, that he would only perform under obligation when they were instructed his mother to share a bed for the purposes of procreation.

"If he really likes me as you claim he does, this could be a way to free you from having to humor me," Rhiane continued. Despite herself she couldn't help but provoke the jealousy that had reared its ugly head. She had to watch as Sophia twice turned the head of Luke and so now it was only fair he suffer a taste of the same. "You can make it his duty to attend me so you don't have need to do so in private. We could keep everything professional." Technically the actress had been affair once the heir to the crown had become engaged. Perhaps Sophia had broken up with Luke but that did not mean that he was of a mind to stop pursuing others like her. What Rhiane alluded to was an arrangement where he could be a playboy in secret while his cousin was his stand in when the princess elect found herself yearning.

It wasn't what she wanted. Luke could almost certainly judge this for himself from the color of her cheeks as she watched him, from the way her body had become hot to the touch, from the way she did not withdraw but remained frozen in place, waiting anxiously for his reply, nervously anticipating a callous rebuff.

[Hashih]

What she said was so true it made Luke pause to think about which part of last night did he admit that he kissed her out of necessity than need, then out of courtesy. What else did he tell her that could have emboldened her enough to keep still while he teased her with gestures more intimate than a smack on the lips? Callista once said that her older brother was talkative when drunk. He could not recall being drunk, but perhaps the drugs meant to help him recover had a hand on the matter. His recollection of the night was very vague, as if he was dreaming and the dream had dissolved into reality as soon as he opened his eyes.

One memory was clear, though – a memory of her glowing complexion, how she tempted her like a flame tempted a moth, her warmth she shared with him after he gave into the flame. It felt like a dream, a manifestation of the desire he suppressed using his prejudices and biases. He was the queen’s son while she was a farmer. What she said was true, that she did not need to tell him to stop. He should know when to stop.

“I did it for your own good,” he admitted, sitting on his heels thus restoring the distance between the two of them. Did he also confess that he would do it again given the chance? That the touch of her lips, of her warmth, was something he looked forward to being with again?

But Luke had a reputation to uphold. He was born to be the next ruler, but before he could rule over his people, he needed to be able to rule his emotions. The noble houses did not associate themselves with peasants, because the peasants were uneducated, ungrateful, lazy, useless, full of complains, they would not survive without the lords and ladies governing over them. Rhiane Black was a peasant who was a product of the pointless breeding ritual of the royal family. She was supposed to be everything a peasant was, but the more time he spent with her the more he was convinced that she was different. Or maybe what he was taught was wrong.

Luke ran a hand through his damp hair. What would their political allies think of him when they found out about the thought he was considering right about now. The high society loved scandals. His secret affair with the actress entertained the lords, the ladies, their sons and their daughters much like his engagement to the peasant entertained the general public. The difference was that Sophia Keller was accepted by the upper class, while they look at Rhiane Black as nothing better than the mud stuck on the soles of their boots.

She sat before him, breathing heavily despite the calmness of the voice that escaped her lips. Her cheeks were lightly flushed and she was not running away. If it was not Rhiane who was in front of Luke, he would have taken the body language as a go signal from the woman. But Rhiane neither asked him to stop or asked him to proceed. She had ran away from his kiss only to initiate one days after. She was a living contradiction that sent mixed signal to Luke. Did she want him or did she want Tobias?

“Is that what you really want?” He asked, his voice low. Luke was many things, but he was not disrespectful to women. If she did not want him to touch her as much as he should not be wanting her, then he would not force himself onto her. There were others who would willingly give in, why would he bother with one who denied him? “I don’t want to make it his duty to ‘attend to your needs’ it doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. Besides, if you get pregnant by that man, there’s little I can do to save either of you. What is it that you want?”

[Syrenrei]

"We both know that Tobias is not what I want," she stated with frustration in her voice. Rhiane couldn't fault him entirely for being confused as to her desires. When they had met initially he had made it crystal clear that they were to lead separate lives. The princess elect had anticipated having a cordial relationship, one where they had sex but without any emotional attachment, but Luke had found her peasant birth so off-putting that she had resigned herself to wait until Queen Camilla forced their hands. Despite their differences she had begun to develop feelings for him but had rebuffed his advances; she was absolutely certain he was playing with her, toying with her as if she were no more than a pet or novelty, and that he would never sincerely reciprocate intimacy. He was the queen's son. Aristocrats were the only women he would have desire for and thus she fled rather than risk being rejected.

What neither of them could have predicted was the impact of traumatic events. Perhaps his only motivation had been to deliver medication to her with the deep kiss in the SUV but things had changed. Both then and when they were ambushed in the clinic she had seen her own mortality flash before her eyes as well as his. She did not fear death, not like most of the world did, but she had become equally terrified of opportunities lost. Rhiane wanted to die on her own terms and with no regrets. There may be no afterlife but if there was her spirit could not rest without knowing if she had squandered a chance for happiness with the unlikely match of the crown prince.

"I want you," she said more quietly, "but not because you feel obligated, because your mother told you that you had to, because you were trying to be polite." Such a concept was off-putting to them both almost certainly. With this confession Luke might be able to see how her perception had been colored by his words to the extent she sincerely could not discern his motivations. "But if you can't find it in yourself to want me as well then I don't want you to feel forced." It was hard to imagine which was the worse scenario: Luke ravaging her in the bedroom because she was no better than a prostitute purchased for his use or because she had unintentionally robbed him of choice.

"I'm going to die, Luke, either by the rebels or because I've outlived my use. My days are numbered," she admitted as she tugged the other strap off her shoulder. The nightgown's pale fabric fluttered down her chest before falling to her waist. Although she had been in a state of undress before she had never been as exposed as she was now. Nothing about her was like the fragile, delicate flowers of the highborn houses- her bosom was larger, her waist toned rather than starved to size, her skin bronzed by the sun, her hips and shoulders wider to create the hourglass figure that could have made her a model for a men's magazine.

The sight was a distraction but she was desperate for him to be honest with her. "You're right, I could get pregnant," she conceded, "and we're both injured. There are a million reasons we shouldn't but I don't care about a single one of them. Being responsible still almost ended with us both killed yesterday. What do you want, Luke? Do you want me or do you want to be free of me? Will you take me or send me to Tobias?" she queried breathlessly with her face still flushed with invitation for the prince to act upon every urge he possessed. There was no denying her attraction. The longer he looked at her the more glaringly apparent that it was that she a woman trying to uncover the mystery of whether or not she could be allowed the indulgence of her consort. He had been waiting for a sign of encouragement but so too had she been waiting for him- because as of yet he had made vague allusions through action but no earnest acknowledgment of his stance. He had to decide: would he embrace the commoner or spurn her.