Hashih

The Betrothed

If they stayed inside the villa basking in the pale yellow glow of the lamps as they lie quietly beside each other, could they remain to be just a man and a woman struggling with the unwelcome emotions plaguing their chests? Could he strip off his birthright as easy as he did his shirt and pants, and waste the day away talking about nonsense, trying to get to know the girl he was going to marry at one point? Could they both forget their differences as they forget about how the world continued to move outside their villa?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Putting on a robe after drying himself, Luke walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed.

The Betrothed

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

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

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

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

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

His other hand continued to search for places that felt good for her. He liked the feeling of her heart beating frantically under the palm of his hand, how her breath occasionally caught on her throat. It was difficult to say the exact time when she started to matter to him, or when was the exact moment that he started to care for her. As much as he would want to clear their complicated relationship, he could not completely disentangle himself from his nature and his family’s tradition. He did not verbalize his answer, because he had no real answer for her. What he had was the present, where he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The future, however, was never certain.

The Betrothed

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?”

The Betrothed

“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.

The Betrothed

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.

The Betrothed

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.

The Betrothed

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.

The Betrothed

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.

The Betrothed

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.

The Betrothed

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.