Hashih

The Betrothed

“What am I doing now?” He cocked his head to one side, feigning an innocent look, which probably would not work because of the spark of mischief that brightened his eyes paired with a cheeky grin that would have melted a thousand women’s hearts.

Castillo di Firenze, in all its glory, had a vast amount of floor area that even when it employed hundreds of citizens and housed the queens most trusted nobles, it was never crowded. The hallway, for instance, was thankfully empty at that hour. The double doors remained shut as the production crew packed-up the equipment while the director, Jonas, and Ms. Viscomi were probably doing a post mortem of the broadcast. Luke doubted that his and the princess elect’s voices could penetrate the concrete walls. However, with the increasing volume of his fiancée’s voice, any curious passer-by would overhear the conversation. That somebody might be spying on them was not among his concerns that night.

When the princess elect forcefully tore her body away from its contact with Luke’s, the latter did not protest. Instead, he remained where he stood while amusing himself with the fruits of his actions flashing on the farmer girl’s face. Gone was the confidently charismatic woman in front of the cameras, who, in another life would have inadvertently caught the prince’s attention. In her place was a doppelganger that panicked at Luke’s half-hearted attempt at flirting. Her cheeks were bright pink, just a few shades lighter than the color of the roses she cradled on her chest. She was speaking in a voice which pitch had climbed a notch. Her feet were taking her farther and farther from him. Luke was not a sadist, but her obvious discomfort brought a cheeky grin on his face.

“For somebody who did not even bat an eyelash at the prospect of getting naked with a stranger, you are being prude, Ms. Black.” Luke unclasped his gadget from the wrist. He raised it to his face and perhaps she would be able to deduce, though no camera was visible at the back end of the device that faced her, that he had just snapped a photo of her crimson face. Satisfied, he placed the gadget back where it belonged. Then, with a few short gestures, an image of the stolen photograph was hovered a few inches above the black band for her to see. “Has anybody ever told you that you look lovelier when you blush?” Wooing, as she called whatever she thought he was doing, was more than just the touching of skin or lips. The most meaningful of relationships would always start with words, and if hew as not allowed to torment her with his body, then he would do so with his mind.

Therefore, he avoided taking the bait, refusing to acknowledge what he had been trying to accomplish since that morning, which was to make sure that she didn’t get the wrong idea. For the purpose of his petty revenge mission, he was willing to forego his values as a gentleman – whatever that meant. “If you are looking like that or acting like a lady worthy of my mother’s crown like you did earlier tonight, I cannot promise that I can hold myself back from wanting to be near you and kiss you.” He shrugged, tentatively taking a step towards her, like he was approaching a scared kitten. If she saw his advances as a threat and ran the opposite direction, they were both in trouble. “Hardly my fault, isn’t it?"

The Betrothed

Satisfaction filled his chest not because Luke enjoyed the stolen moment of intimacy with the princess elect, but because he felt her stiffen under his touch. Yes, muscles were prone to a momentary freeze due to a pleasant surprise, and she did seem surprised. Luke, however, had reasons to believe that it was not the pleasure of his romantic advances that had rendered the commoner both speechless and motionless. Rhiane, of all people, understood that that the crown prince was tolerating her presence only because staying with her was the least of all evils that the queen could unleash upon her heir. If she was being her charismatic self, she would have at least said or done something that would add to the story that they were making the public believe, but that she froze for the second time after he kissed her made the crown prince a little suspicious.

The double doors were opened and closed by the attendants and the couple stepped back out into the present. Gone were the meticulous golden details and judgmental stares of the men and women painted behind gilded frames. The well lit clean smooth lines of the modern world greeted them. Luke exhaled as if he was holding the air far too long in his chest. He never did like rooms in the castle that were decorated as such.

However, as soon as they were outside, Rhiane almost forcefully disentangled herself from him while at the same time questioning his actions. The force in her voice that sounded like anger stopped the crown prince. It was not the restrained or even thinly veiled anger, but it as the emotion in its purest form. If she were a different woman or that they were arguing under different circumstances, Luke would have felt offended by her reaction, but given that his objective was to torment her, he thought that everything was working to his favor. He was doing the right thing, pushing the correct buttons.

Despite the flash of anger on her pretty face, or maybe because of it, Luke harbored a baffled expression that was uncharacteristically him. He had always been confident even when he knew he was wrong. “What wasn’t necessary?” The crown prince asked, provoking her. Then, without giving her a chance to clarify herself, planted another stolen kiss on her temple. “This? Was this not necessary?” There was a playful grin on his face as he whispered the words, as he wrapped an arm around her mid section. He tried to walk her to the direction of the transport to their residence.

She was eager to show the kingdom that they were falling in love, wasn’t she? Well, Luke thought nobody would believe that the player Prince Alessandro would be satisfied in a relationship that was not at least physical.

The Betrothed

It was ironic how a person commanded authority over the fate of millions of subjects yet had little to none when it came to his personal life.

“Your highness?” The production staff was still holding the bouquet as the prince stepped to the right, reclaiming the momentarily lost view of his paramour. Behind him, the director had signaled the end of the live broadcast, eliciting a collective sigh from the tired staff and crew, just as the double doors closed behind Philip and Sofia. The harsh studio lighting was mercifully turned off. Suddenly, the room felt dark and he had the irrational craving for the brightness of the spotlights.

This was part of his job, the sole purpose of his existence. Reluctantly, the crown prince forced a smile and thanked the staff. He relieved her of the burden of holding the bouquet of fresh roses. The young woman thanked him back, bowed and joined the crew who had already started the post-broadcast work of dismantling the setup, pulling out plugs, and gathering cords into manageable circular coils.

This was all work, he told Sofia, and he was not lying. The engagement, his looming marriage to a commoner, and her bearing his future heir – all of it was part of the occupation he did not choose for himself. Even the act of being in love with a stranger was work. It had to be, otherwise he wouldn’t be carrying a perfectly arranged bunch of flowers with a heavy heart and a mind that would rather be elsewhere. But being good at what he does was one of his strong points, and no matter how much he sometimes opposed his mother and queen, the crown prince did care for the future of the dynasty and the kingdom that he would someday rule. Callista would be living in it anyway.

Pushing the memory of what Sofia’s soft voice aside, he took a deep breath and turned his back to the door. The host and Rhiane had both left the set. It was not difficult to find his fiancée because of her height and coloring, and perhaps it was not difficult to find him as well. Before Luke could make his way to the farmer girl, who he found was holding a conversation with Luce Viscomi, the host walked up to him and bowed as a sign of respect.

“Your highness,” the host greeted. Jonas Alken was a sought-after celebrity talk show host who had interviewed not only the royalty, but also international personalities. Obviously, it was not the first time he and Luke met, but their relationship ended at being the interviewer and interviewee, no matter how chummy they seemed to be on screen.

Luke extended his hand to the man, which the other shook firmly in a businesslike manner. “I would like to personally congratulate you on your engagement. Ms. Rhiane Black is both a lovely lady and an intelligent woman. If I hadn't known better, I would think that she's a well-educated noblewoman. I enjoyed talking to her tonight, but maybe next time you might consider joining us?”

“Thank you, Jonas. She is indeed something else,” Luke answered, smiling, to perpetuate the lie that Rhiane had started. “If our schedules permit, why not? But both Rhiane and I will be very busy between the wedding preparations and she already spoiled the kingdom about our plan to visit the outer regions. We will both be outside the capital for weeks. Perhaps when we get back?” In truth, he was not fond of celebrity interviews. Although his position required that he be visible to the public and an interview or guest appearances here and there could not be avoided, the prince much preferred an intellectual discussion like during economic forums, defense summits, or other official functions. This unconventional battle using popularity to fight against the momentum of the rebellion, however, would require that both he and his future bride become something like a celebrity love team. Love was a lie that the media was fond of exploiting.

“If you would excuse me.” Luke didn’t finish the sentence, but instead pointed to the flowers. The other man understood, thankfully. It was part of work, he reminded himself as he sidestepped Jonas and walked up to where Rhiane was talking to the appointed image manager.

“Yes, of course,” Ms. Viscomi was saying.

“Could I now have time with my fiancée, Ms. Viscomi?” Luke was standing behind the princess elect, cradling the bouquet on one hand.

Ms. Viscomi’s eyes lit up. For all he knew, the flowers could be her idea. The thought made him want to strangle the older woman, but what good would that do? “Ms. Black is all yours, your highness. I will have an appointment set for us to talk tomorrow, Ms. Black.”

“Rhiane,” Luke pronounced her name carefully as if it was the first time it rolled out his tongue. It was just work. A part of him wanted to start an argument with her about the consequences of her action, but doing so in public would do nothing except undo the image they both worked hard for the whole day. The discussion could wait, but petty revenge wouldn’t.

He was one step away from her, not too close and not at all far. When she turned around to face him, she would find that he too could pretend to be in love. “You did well tonight,” the prince complemented the commoner. He was looking at her as if she was the only person he could see in the room, as if she was a princess and not a low-born farmer. “These are for you.” The flowers were presented to her and when she took it, though hesitantly, Luke also took the opportunity to close the distance between them. He used his freed hand to lift her face up to look at him by using a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. Without hesitation, he lowered his face to hers until their lips touched in a tender but hasty kiss, clearly disregarding her wishes to not engage in any public display of affection.

“But I think you are avoiding me for some reason,” he whispered against her lips before pulling away and placing an arm around her waist, leading her to the exit.

The Betrothed

Due to reasons concerning the security of both the crown prince and the princess elect, the interview was held in one of the sitting rooms of the Castillo de Firenze. The makeshift studio was located in Tower Three, which, because of her ankle, required the interviewee and her entourage to board a transport from one tower to the other.

If anybody had anything to say about his royal highness and his fiancée’s tardiness, nobody was brave enough to as much as raise a polite point. The director, staff, crew, and interviewer were all smiles and eager greetings when the couple finally arrived more than an hour late. It was Ms. Viscomi who did all the apologizing.

The room was mercifully not large enough to force the couple apart. It was a room commonly used as a venue for private meetings between Queen Camilla and important visitors. To say that it was opulent was an understatement. Like the other chambers in the castle, it boasted a view of the city, but what set it apart was the old-world charm reminiscent of late Renaissance interior design. Where Luke’s suite was made of glass walls, the makeshift studio was concrete walls and tall windows framed by delicately draped cream-colored curtains adorned with gold tassel details. The polished scarlet flooring was mostly covered by a rectangular carpet, while the ceiling was a painting depicting the perpetual blue skies. It was meant to be relaxing, but all the tiny details on the wall trimmings, the half dozen portraits of important persons in history, was exhausting to look at for the prince. He would rather look at clean lines and plain, smooth walls. However, if a person was well-educated in classical architecture, the slender gold-fluted columns with intricately decorative capital protruding from the walls would be easily appreciated as a column of Corinthian order.

Rhiane occupied a red couch in the middle of the room, while her interviewer fired the questions from an armchair of the same color. Above them was a grand chandelier made up of seemingly thousands of crystals that glimmered at the slightest touch of light. The heir, on the other hand, assumed a position behind the director, away from the limelight. He watched the interview unfold from the monitors that captured every angle possible. All of which showed his commoner princess. Dressed and dolled-up, though not as polished as she had been the night before, the farmer could pass as a lord’s daughter. She was beautiful even with her hair dripping with salt water and her face bare, but it was her courage that made her stand out from the women he had an affair with. Not the courage to jump into the depths of the ocean even though she couldn’t swim, but the determination to rescue her family out of poverty even if it meant her life was forfeit. Add to that the audacity to go against protocol and command the live broadcast with her own words. He wondered how the queen would react to such a flagrant disregard of authority, but Luke would be sure to stand by the farmer if only to spite his mother. Besides, he did encourage Rhiane to not be a puppet of the crown.

His thoughts were running on such scenarios when he felt a light touch land on his back. “She is more beautiful in person than on the monitors, don’t you think so?” Luke didn’t need to turn his head, it was a voice he would recognize anywhere. Her favorite perfume even lingered on the air, the prince was just too absorbed in his thoughts to notice.

“Sofia, don’t take too long or we will miss our reservation.”

Luke recognized that voice as well for entirely different reasons. Philip, his younger brother, looked like a perfect gentleman in his tailored coat and pompadour hairstyle. The younger prince was barely seventeen years old, and yet he acted as if he knew how the game was played. The fact that Sofia had talked him into seeing Luke was enough proof that Philip had no clue. Poor young soul whose heart was bound to be shattered into pieces by the goddess he allowed himself to be tempted by.

With a sweet longing smile, Sofia assured the younger gentleman that she would be with him shortly. Philip nodded, eyeing his older brother with intensity as if daring the heir to even lay a hand on the girl. Luke wondered what kind of tale did his Sophie spin that time to make the younger prince believe that she was even slightly infatuated with him. They both watched Philip retreat.

“Isn’t he too young for your taste?” Smiling, Luke leaned slightly to her. Sofia was the same height as Rhiane, though much slighter in build like most models and those whose body image was perceived as ideal. Although they were out of earshot, he whispered, careful not to be overheard.

The actress shrugged, watching the camera feed on the monitors. “You did not return any of my calls all day, your royal highness. What am I to do?”

“I was preoccupied,” he admitted. They were not looking at each other but were both watching the monitors absently. Given the chance, he would walk out the room with the actress, her hand on his arm like the night before. He would cancel the reservation his brother made and bring her someplace worthy of her beauty and grace. “I sent you messages though.”

Words failed to leave her tightly pursed cherry lips. The silence stretched on and Luke let it be. He was getting used to the silent treatment. Rhiane laughed at a comment of the interviewer, which momentarily caught his attention. It was a controlled and poised sound lacking the mirth he remembered from their afternoon escapade. The director instructed a camera to zoom to the princess elect’s profile. Sofia was right, the cameras couldn’t do his fiancée’s beauty any justice.

“Preoccupied,” the actress repeated after the sound of laughter had faded.

Luke tore his eyes from the monitors and stared at the woman’s profile as she in turn stared at the screen. In her defiance, she refused to look at his face. “Yes, but it is all work. This is all work.”

She shook her head slowly. “Well, it does not look like it, your highness. The Luke I know will not share his private space with just somebody from work.”

“That’s not. Where did --”

“And he will not lie to me.”

Sofia, with all her connections, was bound to learn about the sleeping arrangement of the newly engaged couple, but Luke didn’t expect the news to reach her that soon. He was supposed to tell her, without giving away too much information, about his and Rhiane’s circumstances. It was his plan to invite her to lunch the following day. If not for the princess elect’s impromptu announcement about whose bed she would retire to at the end of the day, the issue would have remained under his control.

In one of the rare instances, Luke was saved from responding with the timely arrival of his brother who reminded Sofia of their date. The latter made no protests. If she had anything more to say to the crown prince, she was able to restrain herself from talking as she understood that it was not the right venue. Instead, Sofia allowed herself to be led away by Philip as his older brother followed them with his cold gaze and a promise to call.

His view was obstructed by a staff carrying a bouquet of more than a dozen red roses. “Umm… Excuse me, your highness,” the young woman shyly asked. “Here are roses you asked for? For Ms. Black after the interview?” He didn’t request for any bouquet of flowers, especially not for the farmer girl. It was another scheme concocted by the PR staff, he thought, but they could have timed the delivery better. Because as the young staff talked about the flowers, Sofia paused and looked over her shoulder before walking a little bit faster towards the exit.

The Betrothed

She was not often at a loss for words, the princess elect said so herself. Her fiancé wondered if she too was not often caught blushing, if her sudden difficulty to find the next word was in any way related to the color that crept up her cheeks. Luke bit back the tempting urge to point out the obvious and tell her that she was blushing. But, he had tried to tease her about, well, about her trying to seduce him, and it turned out not well for the two of them. So, the prince held back his tongue, but not the cheeky smile and the knowing look as she traced a semi-circular path.

“Still, it tells me that you would rather have a box of dessert than spend time with me.” To be fair, he was not trying to win either her time or attention that morning. There was no honeymoon period in the relationship that the couple shared. In the few hours that they had known each other, neither held back, or at least pretended to like the other person instantly. It was refreshing, though he would not admit it, to be with someone who did not tip toe around him, someone who was not afraid to say what was on her mind.

For example, her admission that she would not be using the strategy that the PR team had formulated for her first interview as the princess elect. It was a bold choice, and one that would directly be against the queen’s preferences. Yet, the crown prince understood that his future wife had a point. Unlike his mother, he too believed that the times had changed. Playing the same cards over and over again without regard to the other factors that affect the loyalty of the people to the crown was not going to solve anything. It followed a concept in economics most commonly known as the Law of Diminishing Returns. Therefore, skeptical as he might be to the knowledge of the farmer girl, Luke was inclined to give his consent.

“I can neither approve nor disapprove a strategy that is not thoroughly discussed to me firsthand, especially when it had to do with plans for the future,” he admitted. The tone of his voice had returned to businesslike, and so did the expression on his face. “However, knowing what I know about you, I can tell that there is no way that I can sway you to just go with the established strategy. Let me just tell you this – be careful what you say on a live broadcast. Citizens and foreigners alike will be watching and listening to what you will say. These people will remember. The internet will record every single word. Then, the world will test your future actions against your statement, and finally they will judge you.” Like they had judged him and the members of his family. “Because tonight, your words are not the words of a lowborn farmer, but that of a future queen of the most powerful nation in Europe.”

And there was also the factor that was the present queen. Of all the eyes and ears that would be focused on the broadcast, hers was the pair that the two of them should satisfy. “The future that you will talk about, have you thought of how it will make the present that our Queen Camilla built look like? Do not forget that the objective of this engagement is to make her reign look good enough to discourage the supporters of the rebellion.” Because a single slip, if what she would tell the cameras, would in any way sound as if she was rebelling against the crown or that her vision was better than that of the reigning monarch, then tonight was as good as her last night speaking to the public. That would be the least of what the queen would do. “Think about what I said and remember that the teleprompters will still roll the scrip should you choose to just go with the flow. I want you to have a successful interview tonight, Rhiane.”

With that, he turned the knob and pulled the door open. They had delayed the program enough. It was time for the show to move forward.

Spiritum - Reborn

It was the pungent smell of burnt remains that Katarina was trying to save herself from when she pinched her nose and allowed herself to breath through her mouth. It didn’t take long, however, before she tasted the bitter flavor of death, which was like charcoal grilled meat only that it was more charcoal than meat. That and the contorted reality formed by the unusual concentration of Mist convinced her that they should be as quick as possible. Gather information then leave was the summary of a recon mission. But there was still one detail that they had yet to open – the opulent looking escape pod.

Lori detected the possibility of life, and she was usually correct in those things. However, to be honest, Kitty was not too worried about what or who was inside the pod, what kept her on the edge was the reason why the aircraft was on the ground in the first place. Besides, there were six capable WARDENS focused on the front. At least one of them should take care of their back side. With that reasoning in mind, Kitty turned away from what came to be the focal point of their mission just as Setzer commented about her teaching methods. With her back on him and her eyes up the sky, she gave him a thumbs up. It was actually Galahad’s methods – he taught her that trick.

The night sky was calm and quiet save for the crackle of fire and the low hiss of metal yielding to the monster of a sword that Setzer wielded. It would be fine, she told herself. It would be over soon, the stench, the mist, the uneasy feeling of being on a real-life field mission for the first time. She hoped the Marshalls who asked for their papers earlier that night had already filed a report and that backup was on the way.

Then a wave, like cold water washing over her body, went through her and made her gasp. It was followed shortly by a warning about Mist pocket which was cut short. Kitty quickly turned on her heel, taking two long strides towards the scene even before she knew what was happening. The unpleasant scent forgotten, her right arm stretched to one side as she willed a katana to materialize in her hand.

Instinctively, the first person her eyes searched for was Lee, made sure his position was not compromised, before she turned her attention to the glimmering tendril of whatever that was. Setzer took care of it with a swing of his blade, but failed to anticipate a shadow, which Kitty also noticed not soon enough to warn her comrade. The two-hit combo subsequently brought the biggest of the all to the ground and landing on top of him was a girl screaming in Vangarian.

Whatever the black-haired survivor said did not stop the WARDEN, only because she did not understand a word. Katarina’s Vangarian vocabulary was limited to just three phrases that she learned from Gideon and Zimmy, none of which was appropriate for the occasion. Muscle memory took over despite the increased pressure from the Mist. She stepped her right foot forward and was poised to throw the thin blade like a javelin. It had almost left her hand when Zimmy more or less limped to the front.

Shit!

With all that she had, she willed the Mist to eat the blade whole. It vanished a few inches from her friend’s head. Thankfully. She could feel her blood pounding in her head as Lori’s voice screamed something at someone. It was a very near miss. Kitty could have been the first member of the squad who actually took a person’s life – a friend’s life. It was not a pleasant thought.

Weaponless again, but not at all defenseless, she continued to Morander’s side then snaked an arm around the younger woman’s back to support her. “I got you this time,” she whispered, relieved. Then, frowning, she asked, “But, what did she say? Do I high five her?”

The Mist was not as tame as she would have wanted it. She felt it move in waves around them, not the calm soothing blanket of power, but a turbulent current like a river during a storm. She’d force it to bend to her will, but it never worked that way. Instead, Kitty prepared to draw her weapon once more and waited for the opportunity to use it.

“There’s only one of you and seven of us,” she attempted conversion with the Vangar in a matter-of-fact tone using her mother tongue, not quite caring if the woman understood.

The Betrothed

It was totally fine for Luke to not talk to Rhiane if she so wished it, because in spite of the brief yet very real moment they shared during dinner, the reality remained that they were not friends. Just like the young lords and ladies of the court, the advisors, the representatives of the houses, the heads of ministries, she was a political figure that he had to work with without any expectations of either loyalty or friendship. She was as much of an obligation to him as he was to her, because together they were expected to play a part in a grand scheme that was orchestrated by the queen.

Therefore, when he heard her voice calling after him, he stopped midstep and looked over his shoulder. He had already made it to the door, actually it was already parted enough for him to catch a glimpse of Ms. Viscomi. “Ah, she found her voice.” He pushed the door shut then leaned against the frame. “And here I was thinking that my future wife has lost her tongue out fear of Dr. Isaac.” Sarcasm was ever present in each word of his sentence, but he did wait.

Rhiane stopped a few feet from him before her admission that she disliked doctors. It was not fear after all, but maybe she was just making it sound less like an issue of weakness and more like an issue of preference. Regardless, it was an unfair and baseless generalization. He wanted to point it out, but the subject of discussion had quickly shifted from her to him. His attitude, to be precise.

“Had she made a decision on my behalf in front of me without my input?” Luke mused smiling, but not really smiling. Was it not obvious that his life was pre-planned before he was even born? While it was true that a lot were riding on his decisions, ironically how he would live his life was not among them. “I am looking at her decision right now.” But he understood that it was not the point of her argument. He did have the tendency to act on behalf of the party that was not performing according to his expectations. It was a habit he acquired from being a leader – picking out the weakest link then helping it perform, because his team was only as strong as its weakest member. And in the Luke-Rhiane tandem, Luke found her lack of cooperation as hindrance in achieving the goal, so he took it upon himself to act on her behalf.

“It is teamwork,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “For it to be a productive consultation, one of us should talk otherwise it’s not a consultation at all. You were being stubborn, and you were letting your prejudice cloud your better judgment, so I thought it would be up to me to stand up for us.” Luke ran a hand through his hair. Whether he liked it or not, they were a team. “If you do not want to be treated like a child or a puppet, then I encourage you not to give me or my family a chance to treat you as such. For the record, I do not wish to be married to a puppet. I much prefer an intelligent woman.” It was an advise, but he was unsure how she would take it.

When she mentioned how he was too happy about the prospect of being separated from her, he grinned. “It was that obvious? No, don’t get me wrong.” Luke followed-up before she walked out on him, annoyed. “And don’t take it personally. I just find our arrangement very restricting. Besides, are you not equally excited to be rid of me for a whole day? I know that was not the most pleasant companion, you practically left me for a box of dessert. But if it will help you for tonight, then I can tell you that there are far better things that that happened today than Dr. Isaac’s recommendation to the queen.”

The Betrothed

The doctor, after keying in his findings and prescription to her medical records, turned the computer to sleep mode and tucked it under his arm. His work for the royals was done for the night and he had other matters to attend to, more specifically the experiment results that was waiting in his laboratory. Therefore, the older noble found no reason to extend his stay, especially as he sensed impending trouble for the crown prince given the uncharacteristically silent and straight-faced Rhiane Black. Commoner or not, genetics made it so that women were all wired the same. Being married to one for over a decade made the doctor more sensitive to their body language. Unfortunately for Luke, though, he lacked that experience.

“I will be on my way then. Wait for my staff to bring in the medication, your highness. It will help Ms. Black fight back fatigue.” Dr. Isaac was talking to Luke, because he thought it pointless to converse with somebody who was not willing to join the conversation. It might be just the circumstances, because rumor had it that the woman was nice and even friendly to the maidservants and other palace staff. Not that he would befriend the crown prince’s future bride, he just wanted to test if the hypothesis was true. “And best of luck to you both. Marriage is not easy even for those who were in love before they got married,” he added, clapping the crown prince’s shoulder in a familiar gesture as he passed by.

Luke nodded absently as he was again typing on his gadget. He lifted his eyes from the screen only when he felt the pressure of the older gentleman’s hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Doc Isaac.”

“Learn to pay attention, Lucius,” the doctor advised in a low voice. “It will make your life easier, especially with the nanotech implant in place.”

The prince frowned, watching the man in white coat proudly exit the room. Luke might be doing something else, but he was paying attention to the diagnosis and instructions given by the physician. If there was anything he missed, he was sure that Rhiane would fill-in the details. She had been quietly sitting on the bed anyway. He had to assume that she was attentively listening to the doctor.

“Alright then, let us get back to business.” Luke snapped the gadget back to his wrist with renewed energy, as if his admission earlier that night that he was very tired did not happen. The prospect of freedom for a day seemed to have ignited the flame in his soul once more. The freedom to do whatever he wished to do, whenever he wished to do it, without considering the feelings or thoughts or well-being of another individual – he missed it even though he had been tied to Rhiane for just a day. Not that he despised her company, he was just not used to not being his own boss.

He moved from the foot of the bed to where she was seated and offered his hand. “We have the go signal from Dr. Isaac to proceed, which means we must proceed. I’m sorry for delaying your shower for fifteen minutes, but you were right, the consultation might not have been necessary.”

When she did not move or talk at once, it finally came to him that she was again giving him the silent treatment, like she did in the island when he said or did something – he still had no idea what – that made her mad. He wondered what it was that time around. Did she get mad at him for forcing her to see the doctor? She had to understand that it was for her own good, that he would not send her out to talk in public if there was any risk on her health. But there was no time to explain. If the queen would agree to the doctor’s recommendation, Rhiane had to perform well that night otherwise, Luke would be stuck in his bedroom while his fiancee got all the rest she needed.

“Fine,” he sighed, turning his back on her. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t. Let’s just get this night over with and talk later. The queen is waiting.” He walked to the door, testing the limits of their link with every step, bracing himself for the pain if she would choose that moment to rebel.

The Amberclad Index

I'm in, if you'll have me!

The Betrothed

The doctor tilted his head ever so slightly. Out of respect for the future queen, no matter how short her reign would be, he stopped himself from frowning or even voicing out the thoughts running in his head. After years of practicing his profession, he understood that some people, especially the proud ones like the crown prince, consoled themselves with the thought that everything was fine if only to prevent themselves from hearing from a medical professional that it was not the case. The princess elect and her future husband seemed to be the same in this regard.

To break the silence that followed Rhiane’s response, or her lack of a helpful response, the doctor dragged the wooden chair from the desk to about a meter from where his patient sat. He deliberately took a seat so that they were speaking at eye level, and by doing so, felt as if he was a detective interrogating a suspect instead of a doctor trying to help his patient. “With all due respect, Ms. Black,” Dr. Isaac started in a rehearsed pleasant voice which failed to match the stern expression on his face. “It will immensely hasten the process once you start to cooperate and narrate for me how you felt after your extended exposure to low temperature.”

“Let me answer for her, doctor,” the prince butted in, impatient as ever. If he did read her correctly then she would not be upfront with the man in white suit. The Rhiane who appeared to be calmly sitting on the bed was not the Rhiane who boldly took his dare to jump off the cliff and did so with very little to no remorse. For a while, he thought her a fearless woman, but then again there was no human being who was born without fear. It just happened that hers was something that Luke felt was nonsensical.

The doctor then turned his attention to Luke. “Certainly, your highness. Although, might I point out how I wish you are this diligent when we are talking about your personal health issues.”

“If I have any.” He turned away for a moment, seemingly distracted by the notification alert tone sounding from his band.

“I am sure you are in perfect health, my prince,” the doctor humored him. “Let me ask you then why you thought Ms. Black had mild hypothermia this afternoon? Was it not just the case of her feeling the cold weather?” He intentionally did not ask questions about what they were doing or where they were that afternoon not because it was irrelevant, but because he knew Luke would not like the line of questioning.

As a response, Luke returned his attention to the older gentleman. “Again, I am not an expert, doctor. We were both drenched and exposed to the cold for perhaps longer than an hour. Ms. Black had difficulty in coordinating her limbs, in finding her balance, and also in speaking coherently. She was shivering and was conscious at least. Her skin was very cold, colder than my own even though I was shivering myself.”

“If you were drenched in cold water at this weather and also exposed to low temperatures, as his highness says, then yes the symptoms sounds like hypothermia.” He nodded to Luke then turned to Rhiane. The doctor typed the observations on the tablet he was holding, swiped and touched the screen several times before raising it vertically so that it was parallel to Rhiane. “Don’t move, Ms. Black. This won’t take long.”

And it didn’t. It was as quick as taking a photo, but the photo was a thermal scan of the doctor’s subject which showed her core temperature. Satisfied, he put the nodded to himself and put the tablet down. Next, he reached for her hand and checked the skin for any tender spots, redness, or injuries caused by the exposure to the cold. Finding nothing of consequence other than the roughness that was uncharacteristic of a noble lady, he quietly thanked Rhiane for her cooperation. “There’s no cause for worry, your highness,” the doctor reassured Luke, because Ms. Black didn’t appear like she needed any reassurances. She had believed from the beginning that there was nothing to worry about. “Whatever first aid you had administered seemed to have worked well enough. Your princess’ core temperature is normal and there seems to be no injuries.”

The crown prince was on his mobile device though, holding it in both hands and typing furiously. He only acknowledged the doctor for a second then went back to what he was doing.

“Then again, fatigue is not an uncommon after effect of hypothermia, Ms. Black. To help you through the interview, I will ask my staff to bring you something that can help push back the fatigue and boost your physical and mental faculties. It should wear-off gradually, but it should not hinder you from falling asleep. I suggest that you take as much time to rest as you can from tonight until tomorrow. And to that point, I will personally request her majesty to allow you two to be separated for a day.”

That last sentence attracted Luke’s interest. His thumb froze in mid-air and his eyes snapped up in attention. “Come again?”

“You heard me right, Lucius.” Dr. Isaac got to his feet, but not before winking at the prince. “I will recommend to turn-off the device for a day, so you don’t have to drag poor Ms. Black with you as you run errands around the capital.”

It was the only good news he heard all day and it showed on the smile slowly creeping up his face. “Of course, she has to rest after what she had gone through today,” he agreed with the doctor. It all turned out well for him in the end. And perhaps she felt the same. Tomorrow was a promise of freedom. Even though it was just for a day, he would surely cherish it.

“Right, but before that, I would like to remind our future queen that she needs to take her medicine tonight. To ease the pain and also reduce swelling, even though I think your ankle has been healing quite well.”