Hashih

Amberclad Index - Something evil is coming.

Me too

The Betrothed

Isaac Gulsvig was the third son of the late Anton Gulsvig III, Baron Coblanza, who was most notable for his research in the integration of technology with biology. In other words, his lifework brought into the world the first ever successful mechanical substitution of an organ, exchanging flesh with silicones and the occasional metals. Theirs was a family of physicians and scientists, dedicated in advancing the medical field to allow the citizens of the kingdom to live more.

Unlike his father, Isaac pursued the study of human genetics and how the source code of human life held the key to further advances in the field of medicine. Both his namesake and his stellar academic records had made him eligible for the position of the attending physician of the royal family. He had been taking on the role as long as Luce Viscomi had. His position made him privy to the personal concerns of the royal family. If there was anybody in the kingdom who knew exactly what the weaknesses of the queen and her bloodline was, it was this doctor.

“Give us twenty minutes at most, Madam,” the doctor reassured the visibly rattled Ms. Viscomi as he obeyed his prince’s request.

Rhiane’s appeals fell on deaf ears. Luke shook his head and kept his hand at the small of her back, gently pushing her forward as he himself followed the doctor into the bedroom. “This is not about revenge,” he whispered back. “We will talk about this irrational fear of men in white suits later on, but right now I need to make sure that you are well enough to go through the interview.”

The prince recalled her shivering body against him, her chattering teeth, and the almost incoherent speech of the princess elect. He would have to disclose, without giving away too many details, what happened on that island. Without a medical degree, his best guess was that a case of mild hypothermia afflicted the woman earlier that evening. It was generally not a life-threatening condition, but he was no doctor to say for sure how the drop in her core temperature could have affected her body, especially her brain.

“Please make yourself comfortable, Ms. Black. By the way, so as to not be rude, let me formally introduce myself. I am Doctor Isaac Gulsvig, your fiance’s personal physician, and from now on, also yours.”

The doctor had placed the gray case he was carrying on a desk resting against the wall of the bedroom while the prince guided the princess elect to her bed. “This will not be a thorough consultation as we are pressed for time, but I need you to tell me what exactly happened.” He retrieved a tablet from the case as he was speaking, flicking the screen left and right as he browsed through the centralized medical files where Rhiane’s was kept, because she was a commoner. It was a different case for the royal family though, because access to their personal files were highly classified information that can only be released with express consent from the member of the royal family who owned the record. For instance, if the doctor needed to check Luke’s file, he would have to ask the crown prince himself to key in his code.

Isaac found the princess elect’s file quite easily especially because she had been to the infirmary the night before. The doctor took note of the medications that were prescribed to her to ease the inflammation and the pain. Instinctively, his eyes moved to her ankle with the silicone brace, appraising from afar if it was swollen, then it moved to the towering presence of Luke who was standing with his arms crossed at the foot of the bed.
“Lucius, you don’t have to be—Oh wait, I think I understand why.” A slow smile lit up the doctor’s face. “She did it, didn’t she? And here I was wondering why all of a sudden the queen had found interest in military-grade torture devices.”

Luke shrugged. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

The doctor’s eyes lit up, his curiosity getting the best of him yet again. Although nanotechnology in medicine was not his field of study, the natural interest in contributing to science got his heart racing. “Does it have a noticeable effect on your mental faculties, your hand-eye coordination, or your motor skills? Does it trigger your migraine?”

“I will answer your questions in due time, doctor. Right now, please focus your attention to Ms. Black.” He gestured to the woman sitting on the bed. “This afternoon, I think she was exposed to too much of the cold weather resulting to mild hypothermia. Rhiane can continue in detail how she felt.”

The Betrothed

“Maids gossiping inside the castle is different from the PR staff propagating the rumor using every possible channel.” It was a scandal that his mother would be happy to hear about for sure. She might confirm it herself in a statement together with the pronouncement that she was delighted with Rhiane Black’s influence on her son, insinuating the successful integration of a commoner into the royal family. The commoners who identified themselves with Rhiane would be charmed by the news that the untouchable Prince Alessandro was smitten by a lowborn woman. It signified hope that one of their own would be sitting on the throne beside their king, close enough to whisper their pleas to his ear. The engaged couple’s fanbase would grow, and the queen’s agenda of derailing the momentum of the rebellion would come closer to fruition.

The farmer girl’s move was genius at least, but her future husband happened to have a reputation to uphold. He was not at all pleased with the turns of events. To him, the common people were not the only ones to satisfy. The noble houses, for instance, whose support to the reigning house kept the dynasty running generation after generation, would not be too happy to know that their future king’s will was easily swayed by the charisma of an unschooled commoner. A different kind of rumor would find its way in the ever present gossip circles of the court, one that involved the heir’s lack of conviction and his judgment being clouded by his blossoming feelings for the commoner.

“No, I’m done.” Luke got to his feet, pushing his chair back as he pushed his thoughts aside. Rhiane, in the meantime, might have been contemplating on ways how to phrase her request to move the dining table close to the bathroom. It would have sounded absurd regardless of the excuse her creative mind had conjured. Pity though, because much as he would have liked to hear the extent of his fiancée’s ingenious reasoning, he could not jeopardize their situation without expecting a corresponding disciplinary action from the queen. Besides, he had enough food to appease his stomach. The dish was delightful, but to him it was nothing special, and she too would soon get used to the extravagance.

He chose to make himself comfortable on the edge of the sofa, leaning against the thick and soft hand rest, because it was the closest to the bathroom. There was no way to find out if it was close enough until the princess elect actually stepped into the shower. Before then, all he and Rhiane had was a thin strand of hope that everything would work out fine.

The image manager’s mention of the medical staff caught his attention. Rhiane was halfway to the bathroom door when Ms. Viscomi brought it up and at the princess elect's outright refusal, the crown prince met Ms. Viscomi’s bewildered stare. Luke did not have time to intervene though as a knock sounded on the main door the same time he parted his lips to say something.

A servant instantly attended to the wordless summon. She cracked the door and addressed the person at the other end before turning back to her audience inside the room. “Your highness,” the maid started, bowing to the prince from her waist down. “Doctor Isaac Gulsvig is here as per Ms. Viscomi’s request.”

The crown prince sought to catch his fiancée’s gaze before ordering, “Let the doctor in.” In other words, there was no way to refuse the appointment. He wanted to say as much, but he thought she understood as much. “Thank you for doing your job so effectively, Luce,” he added without taking his eyes off Rhiane.

Doctor Isaac Gulsvig entered the chambers in all his white doctor’s coat glory. He was a tall gentleman with graying shoulder length hair that was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his skull. The years had been kind to him though, because other than the sparse gray strands that stood out against a background of black, there was no other sign of aging on his face. He neither smiled nor frowned when he stepped into the threshold, but he bowed his head when his brown eyes found Luke. “Your highness.”

“Doctor Isaac,” Luke rose to his full height and acknowledged the older gentleman. “It has been a while since our paths crossed.”

“I consider it good news, your highness, that there is no need for us to regularly meet.” The doctor turned his attention to the princess elect, frowning maybe because of her appearance at that moment, which was far from the dolled-up woman presented the night before at the ball. However, before he could raise a comment, Luke had walked up to Rhiane and snaked an arm around her waist.

“This way, Doctor.” Luke motioned towards the bedroom so that they may have privacy while they consult with the physician. “It wouldn’t take long,” he whispered, leaning against her ear, before ushering her to the room.

The Betrothed

Of course, he used her first name. There was no point in antagonizing his fiancée when in an hour she would have it in her hands the power to either keep his secret or divulge it to the kingdom. Not that he would let her get away with it if she did spill the beans but disclosing the whereabouts of his secret hideaway would cause an irreparable damage to both the island and his relationship with the princess elect.

The crown prince paused midway in chewing the lobster he popped in his mouth to stare at the princess elect after short but rather effective reasoning that involved filling the gaps and triggering romantic fantasies. It just didn’t match. The woman who had blatantly disregarded the most basic of table manners was the same person as the princess who talked to him about how she planned to manipulate the public. If he did not know better, he would have thought that she was one of the noble born ladies who were informally schooled in the art of deceit.

He only resumed eating after she was done talking about her less than malicious plan and motioned for Luce Viscomi to come closer. There might be merits in humoring the princess elect once in a while, Luke thought. For instance, when they were not fighting, he noticed that she seemed more inclined to perform her job as the ‘brand ambassador’ of the crown. Like when she singlehandedly started a rumor, which was not really a rumor, about the engaged couple already sharing the crown prince’s suite. He very nearly choked on a strand of linguini. Thankfully, there was a glass of water within reach.

Narrowing his eyes at Rhiane, he added without looking at Ms. Viscomi, “While you’re at it, Ms. Manager, I need fresh change of clothes to be brought here. I’m using your shower, Rhiane.” Emphasis was placed on her name.

Ms. Viscomi’s eyes couldn’t have gone any wider or rounder. The woman had been working with the queen’s PR team for almost seven years. Before that opportunity arose, she was part of the royal court, being of noble birth as most of the trusted staff were. Needless to say, she had witnessed the crown prince’s development from the sweet little boy to the rebellious teenager up until the court nurtured in him an arrogant, self-absorbed, royal who saw himself above everyone else especially the commoners. Therefore, it didn’t surprise her that he left the royal engagement ball with his rumored favorite lover, nor was she shocked to find an irritated Luke when she first met with the newly engaged couple that morning. But after spending a day together, she wondered what was so special with this peasant that after only a day, she had made the crown prince decide that he was better off sharing his personal space with her.

Still, she complied without voicing her questions. It was a material she could use anyway, which made her job a lot less stressful. At least the crown prince seemed to be cooperating.

“Are you sure that you are a farmer? No, the more appropriate question is: are farmers in New Rome this shrewd?” Luke was saying in a quiet voice as the maidservants led by Ms. Viscomi prepared to transfer Rhiane’s clothes to Luke’s suite. “I don’t recall giving you permission to make our sleeping arrangement public. Requesting your maid servants to transfer your belongings discretely to my room is one thing, but declaring it to Luce Viscomi is insane.” The whole kingdom – his peers, his advisers, his so-called friends, his lady friends, Sophia – would know of it for sure. Ms. Viscomi would personally see that nobody would be ignorant of the blooming relationship between the prince and the peasant. “I will appreciate it if you will inform me about your plans before you execute. Especially in matters that has to do with my life.”

He placed his utensils down beside the unfinished plate of pasta and waited for her to leave the table before he would do so himself.

The Betrothed

Rhiane was correct, he did not read her file, nor did he care to get to know any of the contestants. Actually, the prince avoided the contest, which he thought was the biggest sham in the history of the earth, as much as he could. He did make appearances occasionally as was pre-planned during the pre-production meetings where his involvement was more of as an actor being briefed by the directors and producers of the show than an actual contributor. Although it may seem that the heir to the throne had a hand in selecting his future bride, it was not so. On the contrary, the queen, the prince consort, and their host of noble advisors made up the selection committee, believing that involving the heir to the decision making would only introduce bias. During his appearances, the prince was asked to recite rehearsed lines, much like what Luce Viscomi was asking of Rhiane.

“I am sorry for your family’s loss,” Luke offered, because it was the polite thing to say. He heard it from enough people that sometimes the sentence was an automatic response when somebody mentions a deceased loved one. “However, I was not informed that hypothermia is a contagious disease.” His face had grown serious at the topic of her immediate health condition. They both knew what she had went through out there in the island, how her body was battered to its limits by the cold autumn winds that she had lost the capacity to control her muscles. He had not forgotten how she limped her way back to the hovercraft, how she almost stumbled more than once, and how cold her skin felt against him. They were lucky that it seemed like nothing serious came out of it, but he would not take any chances. “After you’re done with your interview, we are going to a trip to the infirmary. Exciting, isn’t it? And you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go on without sleep for more than forty-eight hours and, for an even longer period with very little rest. No, I won’t fall asleep while listening to the host flatter you.”

A lot of women he was acquainted with would love the flattery. It was the fastest way to their hearts, and he understood as much because he had found the secret passage himself. The twins, Nico and Philip, who looked up to him, though their collective pride would never admit it, had found a different method, which was to use their older brother as bait. Anyway, he was expecting an interview that was full of meaningless flattery – the interviewer flattering Rhiane then Rhiane flinging sweet words at the crown. He wondered how the princess elect would take it, how a person who had nothing most of her life would react to suddenly being idolized by the general public.

“If it gets too boring though,” he contemplated after finishing his sandwich and getting back to his pasta. “I might consider collapsing just to add spice to the broadcast. Imagine how they will all react to that.”

But, of course he would do no such thing. If he hid a very common ailment such as a migraine from almost everyone, there was no way he would show weakness expressly on a live broadcast. What he told her that morning was true – any form of weakness was not taken kindly by the court. An appointment that either the queen or his heir missed due to health problems would spark a rumor among the noble houses. Any malicious mind could conclude that the ruler was not fit to lead the kingdom if the ruler had issues with his or her health. It was the rationale behind the contests, to select the best genepool for the royal lineage to maintain its supremacy over all other noble houses. It was also the reason why neither Philip nor Nico were not in line for the throne.

“Before I forget, Rhiane. After you mentioned our ‘impromptu date’ to our Ms. Manager, she might have told it to your interviewer as the reason for our tardiness. It may be raised during the interview. In case that happens, don’t even say a hint where we’ve been this afternoon. Understood?”

The Betrothed

The area that half his sandwich had vacated was no sooner filled by the half of Luke’s pasta dish. He took care not to spill any strand on the table, but not too careful as to plate the pasta in a manner as presentable as the kitchen staff or any professional chef would. It ended up a pile of noodles, tomatoes, with the lobster sitting on top. It was the taste that she enjoyed anyway, not the presentation.

The image manager, her expressive face had closed off after hearing the princess elect’s proposal. Luke couldn’t have guessed what exactly Ms. Viscomi was thinking of at that moment, which side of the argument was winning. On one hand, Rhiane had a point. Her natural charisma and easy sense of humor was what won the public over. On the other hand, if she failed to deliver the impression of the royal family that the queen expected of her during the first public broadcast as the princess elect and officially the crown prince’s future bride, it would take the campaign back to square one. In short, in the event that Rhiane Black failed, Luce Viscomi’s work load would be doubled. He understood her hesitation, but Luke consented his fiancee's idea anyway.

With the half of Rhiane’s sandwich in one hand, he addressed the appointed image manager. “I do not see any problem with it. Teleprompters will be switched on regardless, am I right?”

“Yes, your highness.” She was clutching her tablet close to her chest as if it was where she was getting all her reassurances from. “We have prepared a set of answers for every question that was enumerated by the interviewer. Of course, every statement was in line with the vision of her majesty, Queen Camilla. Ms. Black, I was meaning to run the pre-approved statements through with you for your personal comments. Rest assured, the intention of the crown is not to feed the words to your lips, but to make sure that the public is not misguided.”

The public was being misguided by near lies and almost truths anyway. It didn’t matter if the pre-approved script would be used or not, Rhiane knew how to push a message across her audience. She had, in his opinion, no intention of maligning the image of her benefactor, especially not on the first day of her engagement with Luke. “Here’s what you will do, Ms. Manager,” Luke started. “Leave your script on the teleprompters as if Ms. Black has every intention of reading it. She will not be expected to recite it for the camera, but it will stay nonetheless as a back-up in case she finds herself at a loss of words. It should arrest your worries about her looking silly.” Which he doubted. If anything, his very opinionated future wife had a lot to say about matters in general.

“Will that be okay with you?” He turned to Rhiane, smiling. Though it was not clear if it was because of the confidence she had displayed going against protocol, or because he was imagining her screaming her lungs out and regretting the night she brought the idea up to Luke. “Needless to say, I accept. You will have your fair share of adrenaline rush with or without Ms. Viscomi’s consent. That is, if the queen will not have your head after tonight.”

“Or her tongue,” Ms. Viscomi chimed in. “Ms. Black’s head is much too pretty to waste.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement. Rollercoasters and sky diving, he thought as he bit into the juicy bit of meat of the sandwich, what had he turned this woman into? Could their little daredevil act in the island woken up the thrill-seeker that had long slept within her? Establishing to the public that she enjoyed those kinds of activities would only make it easier to weave a story around the accident that would eliminate her from the royal line. Mistakes were not uncommon even when a rollercoaster or a parachute was properly maintained.

“I’m sure you can manage the interview without the palace staff’s help,” he said in a much lower tone. “Without any doctor examining you and giving his clearance, I’m more concerned about your body’s capacity to finish the interview. I don’t want you collapsing during live broadcast, so tell me right at this moment if you are still feeling ill.”

Spiritum - Reborn

Kitty felt it as much as every other squad member did as they approached the site and Setzer turned off the engine, deciding that it was safer to walk. She had never been close enough to a damaged mist reactor so there was no telling, at least for her, if the pressure was normal or not. All she knew was based on what she felt – it was suffocating and irritating at the same time. She wanted to pull on the mist and flush it out somewhere else like a mist pump, if there existed such a thing, to alleviate the pressure.

Standing on the truck bed behind the open window, she reached inside the cabin slowly to the two other squad members sitting inside. Her fingers forming claws, Kitty raked her nails at the back of her squad mate’s necks, flexing her fingers as she whispered in her creepy impression voice, “Lorrriiiii… Leeeeee…” Before giggling and leaping off the truck bed away from their reach. “That’s how it feels for me,” she called back to her squad mates. Then added, “Lee, stay close!”

Why did they even choose to stay the night at Sappl Springs? They should have just listened to Gideon and camped in the mountains to roast snakes and get bitten by mosquitos. Even with itchy bumps on their skin, at least they would have spent the night without a crash site to worry about.

Without drawing her weapon like both Setzer and Gideon, and with her thumb and pointing finger pinching her nose, she put her game face on. “They’re here to crash the party, obviously,” Kitty answered dryly. It was not a drill, she kept reminding herself. She took note of the situation as reported by her squad mates. A Vangar airship with the Captain of the Royal Guards as a passenger was gunned down on Rassvet territory. The news on the radio that Galahad was listening to. No, it was too farfetched.

While the others investigated the site, she kept her attention on the surroundings, watching the sky and the outcropping rock and pillars of flames around them for any threat. Whatever punched those holes onto the side of the airship could come at any moment to do a thorough sweep and ensure that the mission was a success, assuming it was not an accident, or Rassvet military attacking a trespassing aircraft. A voice at the back of her head hoped it was neither an accident nor Rassvet, but the voice of reason said she was an idiot. “This is callsign ‘SSOZ’ saying nothing,” she commented absently as she squinted her eyes to the pod.

Note: SSOZ- Stop showing-off, Zimmy

The Betrothed

When she asked him if he was sure, Luke almost frowned and snapped at her for doubting his offer. Yet when he saw the look on her face, the excitement that reached her eyes and the faint blush across her cheeks, the irritable beast in him shied away and the prince nodded in encouragement. “How was it?”

Her immediate response was not composed of words, but an unschooled reaction of a human being appreciating the culinary gift bestowed by the kitchen gods. He couldn’t help but be affected by the purity of the pleasure that a single bite of the dish brought. For Luke, it was a common meal served sometimes during dinner and sometimes during lunch. Nothing special. It was not even his favorite dish, but the kitchen had known him enough to understand how to satisfy his cravings, thus it was correct to assume that he enjoyed every strand of the pasta. The experience must be different for her. For a whole lot of different reasons, it was different for him too.

No mockery, no judgment, just a genuine smile that reached his eyes as he too tasted the familiar dish, expecting the burst of flavor in his mouth, but somehow it tasted better than he remembered. “You’ll get used to it after a while,” he assured her when she asked if he was used to eating the kind of dish. Then, he used his fork to draw a line across the plate, cutting the linguini, the tomatoes, and the lobster in an estimate half like he used to do when his sister was younger and would not stop pestering him until he gave her a share of his food. The maidservants and Ms. Viscomi seemed to have been deleted from the picture. It felt like a private dinner, or a first date. Her telling him about her life and him willing to listen, as if he was not the crown prince and she was not a former farmer. As if they finally found a common ground.

“Then you’re a good cook if you have had that much practice?” Luke asked, still not looking at her, but busied himself in pushing the pasta to one side of the plate. “I can cook…egg.” He can burn an egg, to be honest. He did so on several occasions when he was in the mood to make breakfast for his overnight guests, but ended up deferring to the expertise of the kitchen staff. “My father taught me how to cook when he was – when I was younger. Him and me, we prepared a private feast for mother’s birthday once.” He lifted his eyes from the plate. The smile never left his lips, but it did diminish in brightness as if he was remembering a memory that both made him happy and sad. “It was grand. Supposed to be grand, but then I poured too much salt into the cake batter. Salt instead of sugar. They looked the same to me, they still do. Mother had no idea, I had no idea until she sliced the cake then tasted it. Imagine the look on her face.”

“Anyway,” Luke sighed, before he lost too much of himself in their little conversation. “I propose a trade. Your half of the sandwich to half of my pasta. Plus, cook for me one of these days.” If there was one thing he learned about drafting trade agreements, it was that his side should gain the most benefit out of the treaty.

Before Rhiane could answer, though, their appointed image manager bravely cleared her throat and checked her watch. She wouldn’t have done so if she had a choice, even regretted it the moment she did. “Without meaning to disturb your pleasant evening, your highness,” she chimed in, her voice was uncertain. “We are behind schedule. Ms. Black, have you?” she gestured towards the paper containing the expected questions ranging from a short description of her family and home town, why did she choose to enter the contest and did she ever dreamt as a girl that one day she would be a princess. Other questions also asked for details about her first day at the palace, the royal family, her accommodations and how generous was the crown as a host. Those were part of the introduction. The meat of the interview tackled her current relationship with the crown prince like, what was her first impression, what was he really like, even touching the issue about their engagement ball. Of course, in all those questions lined up for her, she was expected to answer in a manner that would place the royal family in a good light.

“I know, but the queen says you can wait,” he answered lazily.

The Betrothed

“There’s no need to apologize,” Luke stated as she took her seat across him. As for the prince, he had seated himself without waiting for his fiancée. The impatience of a man who was used to having his every whim handed over to him in a silver platter surfacing. At least, he was able to withhold himself from starting without her. “I did cancel the interview ahead of time, but the queen would not have it. Let her production bear the consequences.” Luke shrugged, freeing the garlicky aroma of his meal from its glass enclosure. His stomach yearned for the starchy carbohydrates in the strands of those linguini, while his taste buds craved for the taste of the creamy lobster meat.

However, her mention of their “impromptu date” made him tense. He instantly shot a warning glare at his fiancée. Surely, he was clear enough about keeping his secret getaway a secret. Should she mention even a hint of it during her interview – because after admitting that they were spending a hypothetical quality time with each other, the interviewer would surely be curious where a crown prince would take his fiancée on a romantic afternoon date – Luke would find it extremely difficult to even pretend to trust her. But it was already said, and the diligent image manager had already keyed in the contents of her apology to the broadcast host. He wanted to call-off the message on the account that neither him nor his future bride would issue an apology, but he believed in how the misleading imagery would work to their advantage. Specifically, less work for him. So long as she would keep his secret place to herself, they would be fine.

Therefore, he kept his lips sealed and instead attacked the soup, which was unfortunately a little cold for his liking. It was his stomach protesting that made him think twice about rejecting the bowls. Instead, he let the reminiscent of heat chase away the cold in his gut, while he watched Rhiane smiling as the aroma of her perfectly cooked meat wafted. There was something rather fascinating in observing a woman pleased with simple things such as a sandwich. Perhaps it was because of her having nothing to lose poverty thing that a box of cannoli and a sandwich was enough to earn a smile that came from deep within her soul, not at all the fake ones that she so easily tossed around.

Luke only realized that he was staring when she spoke up, and he dipped his spoon into the thick tomato soup just for the sake of doing something else. “We have to assume that she will not consider disabling it.” He took another sip, avoiding eye contact. The queen knew her first born enough to know that Luke would take the opportunity to fly away in the middle of the night and possibly get himself into another scandal. “It will be better, for now, if you will ask your belongings to be transferred to my room. I don’t think anybody will question it. I have asked for a change of clothes to be brought to your room as well. If you don’t mind I would like to shower befo--”

Luke lifted his eyes just in time to witness one of the most savage manner a woman had bitten into a sandwich. Granted that the women he had the pleasure of dining with were conscious about gaining weight and normally shy away from a monster of a sandwich, but Rhiane made him speechless. Unreasonable as it may seem, he felt a little bit proud and a little bit amused at how she had attacked her food. Cally would gasp, the queen would immediately require the princess elect to be tutored in proper dining etiquette, but Luke was glad to have dined with a woman who placed the food at higher regard than her poise.

“Goodness!” He faked a gasp, imitated his little sister, but the prince was smiling cheekily at her. “You must be really hungry.” By that time, they had the attention of the other occupants of the room, although perhaps they were trying to be discrete about it. Luke stabbed a chunk of lobster meat, then twirled the pasta around his fork. “Your name should have been Godzilla. I should have asked for two sandwiches, or an extra steak. Here, try this.” He brought the fork with the pasta close enough to her lips, but not too close for her to decline the offer should she want to. “If you like the taste, we can ask the kitchen for another serving after the interview.”

Without him noticing, the image manager’s mobile camera was pointed to their direction, freely snapping candid images of the couple to be sent to the interviewer for a juicier scoop.

The Betrothed

A sandwich? Luke had turned his face to her long enough for his stare to be interpreted as judgmental. And maybe he was being judgmental. To think that she had barely eaten anything the whole day and had still requested something as simple as a sandwich for perhaps her only real meal that day. Was it a mandate by a dietician so as to preserve the princess elect’s desirable figure? Nonetheless, he would make sure the food would be enough to sustain her. It had been admittedly a long day for both of them, but it was far from over. Therefore, he placed an advance request for steak sandwich for her and something seafood for him. Luke trusted the kitchen staff knew what they were doing and that he didn’t need to specify what exactly it was that he wanted to eat. Because, honestly although he was in the mood for seafood, he could not be bothered to think how said seafood would be cooked. It was the kitchen’s job. It was a different story for Rhiane, because she was a new customer, so to speak.

After an uneventful flight and some curious stares from the palace staff and officials who they passed by on various corridors, the couple made it back to Rhiane’s suite’s door. Pacing in front of it, with a mobile phone pressed to her ear, was Luce Viscomi. If she had appeared pleasantly confident during their first meeting that morning, it seemed as if stress was gnawing at her poise that night. Why wouldn’t it? The queen ensured that the interview would push through even when, at the time of her majesty’s personal call, the princess elect and her husband to be was nowhere to be found. On one hand, the interviewer was professional enough to show up thirty minutes before the agreed call time, her manager demanding Ms. Viscomi for definite answer as to when the princess elect would be ready. On the other hand, however, the princess was –

“There you are, Ms. Black, your highess.” Her face lit up visibly when she lifted her head and found the two walking towards her direction. Not at all presentable, both of them, but present nonetheless. The relief that washed over her features was quick to transform into a whole new form of stress. Needless to say, she kept a polite and enthusiastic smile on her face, opening the door of the suite for them, and dared not to raise any questions.

“I requested for dinner, has it been served?” Luke asked without any hint of apology or explanation as to why they were late and looking un-royalty like.

The inside of suite was the same as when they left that morning with the addition of the maid servants waiting to fix Rhiane up. All where quite stunned as the two entered looking like they did, but none was brave enough to voice out their comment.

Ms. Viscomi followed them in. “Y-yes, your highness, but I’m afraid we are pressed for time. The filming will be but an hour.” She glanced at her watch. It was almost eight in the evening, meaning the broadcast was almost an hour late. Assuming Rhiane still had to at least shower before they can prep her, it would take at least another hour before she would be ready. Dinner was off the table, for the time being. “Ms. Black can have dinner after the filming. You don’t have to be present, your highness. I’m sure that you have more important things to look after.” Knowing that the crown prince would not listen to her reasoning despite her weak attempt to complement his ego, the manager’s eyes implored the princess elect to consider the proposition. “By the way, Ms. Black, here is the list of questions that may be asked during the interview. Please review the questions and we’ll go through them ” She handed a piece of paper to Rhiane before Luke could even protest.

“Dinner. Dress-up. Interview.” Luke walked straight into the mini dining area where he assumed his dinner was waiting for him. “In that order, Ms. Viscomi. Rhiane, join me.”

On the table were two trays covered with a glass dome. Inside was what looked like a tomato soup with cheese tortellini, their preferred main course – which was sandwich for Rhiane and linguini with lobster and chunky tomato in a garlicky sauce for Luke – and finally pannacotta with fresh berries and chocolate toppings.