Hashih

The Betrothed

She was correct, he shouldn’t be ashamed of the choice of practical garments these people wore on the field. Fashion was the least of his concern, anyway. However, both him and her were holding positions that was above and beyond these people would ever be. They were supposed to be the reflection of the nation and the aspiration of its collective consciousness. What they wore and how they conduct themselves, therefore, mattered not only to fashionistas and socialites, but also to political allies and the world stage.

To say that he was disappointed was an understatement. While they disagreed on a number of things, he expected her to at least consider her betrothed’s reputation when choosing which path to follow. But the truth was, it was who she was. The palace’s stylist could dress her up in the most expensive designer clothes, but it would not change the fact that she was indeed born to the wrong family. Ms. Black did not belong to his world as much as he did not belong to hers. This was who she was.

Like Cinderella after the clock struck twelve, she stripped off the glamour and slipped back into being the peasant she truly was. It was difficult to watch not because she struggled with her broken arm, but because by watching he realized how he had made himself believe that by wearing the brands that he wore, she somehow transformed into a different person, that she was not a farmer but his princess. He stared at the door latch, fighting against the itch to pull it open and be free from the truth. It was only his consideration for her half-dressed fiancee that stopped him. “And what about you?” He asked the latch the question. “You’re painting a bigger target on your back by doing this. The rebels hate you because you are slowing them down. The lords and ladies hate you because they do not see you as their equal. This,” he gestured with his hand at what she was doing, “only makes your standing on both sides worse.” There was also the matter of the queen’s opinion, but ultimately it was Rhiane at the top of his mind as he considered the strategy. He can handle the high society, but by being more likable to the masses, she was getting more and more annoying to the rebellion. The more she slowed down their advances, the more they would want her erased from the picture.

Just like his dare to leap off the cliff, she may not have considered the possibility that she might not survive the fall. When, after a stolen glance, he confirmed that she was sufficiently dressed, he put his hand on the door. But before he exited, he heard her voice whisper words which were perhaps not for him. “I was going to carry the burden for both of us, but -” He shrugged. Still without looking at her, he pushed the door open. “Do whatever you want. The stage is yours.”

Cameras flashed as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle. Although the soil was still damp from the overnight downpour, the air was crisp and the sky was blue that afternoon. Farmers and their families had gathered around the parked vehicles, curious about its passengers. Joining the sea of faces were the baron and his wife. Work boots looked odd when worn with the formal clothes. Without changing into the ones prepared for him, he moved to the rear passenger door where Tobias was standing. He may be rather upset at Rhiane, but the nation need not know that. They had started the charade, might as well continue with it and see where it led them.

From the crowd that had suddenly fallen into fragile silence at their future king’s appearance, came a child running and laughing with abandon, chasing after his ball. Because of surprise and the size of what Luke guessed was a two-year-old, the guards failed to stop him. The mother shouted a name from the crowd, just as the ball landed on the prince’s shoes. The guards prevented the woman from advancing, though her voice had stolen the attention of both Luke and the child.

“Pick the child up, and take the irresponsible parents of this boy,” ordered Lady Ferullo. The boy had light brown hair and similarly brown round eyes which started to tear up. He wore a dark blue oversized button-up shirt, probably handed down by an older sibling, a pair of shorts, and muddy shoes. It was dirtied by playing outdoors. His mother had the same eyes, though it was round and wide for a different reason. She pleaded silently with a guard to forgive the innocence of a boy, that her husband’s wages are barely enough to feed six mouths. A penalty was imposed by the local lords to lesser violation of the common law.

Without Rhiane to escort out of the vehicle, Luke picked the child up before Nolan or Tobias or the other guards could. “Little Alessandro,” he whispered, smiling slightly as the boy’s teary eyes met his. He heard the baroness gasp, frantically gesturing for somebody to take the charge off their prince.

Apparently, a stranger's face was not welcomed. The boy's face grew scared, his mouth quivered, and not a few moments later burst into tears while cradled in the arms of the prince. Luke couldn't help but chuckle, remembering his younger siblings when they were the boy's age. A guard gave the ball back, calming the boy a little as the prince pointed to the boy's mother as if telling him that he was not lost. He turned the sniffling child over to the guard to be returned to the mother. "No harm done here, my lady," Luke addressed the baroness. In an instant, he was back to the snobbish prince.

The Betrothed

If Rhiane earned her place in the upper echelon of the society, Nolan was born with his. But unlike Tobias, Nolan was a son of a close ally of the throne, thus he was entrusted with the life of its heir. The look he gave Rhiane was one that any member of the high society would have given a peasant, especially one who was demanding to be acknowledged. He turned to Luke, possibly hoping that the younger man would rescind the order if only to show the woman her place, but then Luke nodded which left Nolan with no choice but obey.

The moment she asked for privacy, he already knew that it was because she had closed her mind to the possibility that he had a point and she was confining herself only with what she understood, what she believed was right. Rhiane was prepared to launch an argument and a plea, or even a justification for her behavior that morning and Luke just listened. If there was anything he learned from being well-acquainted with women, it was that a man should keep his mouth shut while a woman was in the middle of stating her case.

“My father will do anything for my mother,” he said as if an afterthought to break the silence inside the vehicle after she was done talking. “It was not my idea to drag your mother into this, I doubt that it was the palace’s as well. The television networks are loosely regulated, they do not answer to the crown. Contrary to popular belief, we do not screen the news that are being shown to the general public. We just manage handling of certain information, so it does not reach the media.” But he did get her point. It was unfair to make him make up for something that was not his doing, but he did get what had made her so angry.

“You don’t have to say anything about what happened yesterday. In fact, I am asking you to keep your thoughts to yourself. Do not stop me or contradict my words when I speak to the press and address the people. They are my people too, Rhiane. They have been mine long before you came along. You may have lived the life they are living now, but I am charged to keep them alive.” A civil war would destroy the economy, tip the delicate balance of power. Worst case, it may incite another war as world powers would certainly risk investing in either the rebellion or the crown, hoping to reap gains when the dust settled. He loved his mother’s kingdom. To see it in ruins was not something he dreamt of nor something he would want to witness in his lifetime. Which was why, against his will, he begrudgingly concurred with the foolish idea of the queen’s advisors. “You may lead the conversations with the farmers, mingle with them, listen to their problems, but trust me to handle the rebellion.” The fact that the incident was publicized, he was expected to make a comment.

Rhiane was saved from answering immediately by a sharp rap on the driver’s door. It was Tobias presumably with the requested change of clothes. “May I interrupt for a bit,” Tobias hesitated upon seeing the humorless expressions on the couple’s faces. A small bag was handed out for Rhiane. “The owner insists Ms. Black to keep the clothes, she also does not want to accept any form of compensation for these old clothes.” The package was set down to the driver’s seat before the guard shut the door again.

“Keep my coat, but do not wear those clothes.” After a couple of seconds, he added, “Please.” Being engaged to a commoner, regardless that it was the tradition, was humiliating for the upper class. He was just beginning to wrap his fingers around the idea, then she would further his humiliation by dressing as one.

The Betrothed

There was finality in his tone when he quickly responded with, “You will do no such thing.”

Funny how the tides had shifted -- he was the one pinning his hopes on the success of the farce that was the love story between a somebody of his stature and a nobody of her stature. Before they were paraded around the kingdom and pressured into working together to fake an appearance of being two people who were madly in love, Luke would have agreed that it was a good idea for her to walk away and do whatever pleased her. He would have even raised the suggestion then punctuated it with the phrase “I don’t need you,” if only to make his point clear. However, such statement was not true given the situation they had found themselves trapped in. While he had no problem addressing his people, he needed her more than he thought he would. Rhiane’s part in the campaign against the rebels was one thing he miscalculated. Now that the rebellion had discovered her worth and how her presence could tip the scale, favoring a side in the otherwise deadlock struggle between the crown and its civilian opposition, he would be a fool to ignore her. He would be a bigger fool if he would decide against using her.

Much as he strived to prove otherwise, Lucius Alessandro was still his mother’s son. “When this vehicle stops, both you and I are going to pretend that this conversation did not happen. You will deliver your intended purpose – smile for the camera, flatter the people around you with flowery words, and pretend as if you do not find my presence abominable – and so will I.” It was too late to back down. The contest was already concluded and Rhiane Black was already named the princess elect. As the holder of such prestigious title, she was expected to fully support the ruling house that would one day adopt her as its child. Luke expected nothing less, because during the first few days they had known each other, she had made it clear that it was not ambition or infatuation that pushed her to forfeit her life for a chance to have a taste of royalty. Unlike the other candidates, Rhiane’s goal was to provide for her family, therefore he thought that she had more incentive to be on the queen’s good side.

Luke pressed his fingers on his left temple, massaging the spot as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Are we there yet?”

Discussions in the backseat between the prince and one or more of his subjects was not uncommon, but one involving a woman was. Usually, the ladies that went with his royal highness had far less sarcasm in their beings. Nolan cleared his throat. His eyes shifted to the mounted navigation then said, “We will arrive in a few minutes.” ‘Enough time to wrap-up your lovers’ quarrel’, he would like to add but then decided against it. “There are boots for you in the storage bin.”

“Good. I was just about to ask.” Luke opened his eyes, turning his attention back to the princess. His eyes were a little softer as was the general look on his face. If he was still mad at her, it was probably because she still refused to cooperate, but he also realized that being mean to her was already proven to be ineffective. “I am only telling you not to say anything that may be detrimental to what we are trying to accomplish. By no means did I mean to impress that the baron and his wife will do a better job than you. If I am going to mingle with the people, it is only fitting that the lord overseeing the land should head the tour, is it not?”

Lord Ferullo talked about the statistics of the towns, but those reports were undoubtedly generated by the statistics office. For somebody of his rank, it was not difficult to retrieve data and recite it as if he knew it by heart. It was nothing impressive. What Luke would like to understand was how well did the baron really know the towns and villages entrusted to his name. Was he even aware about the lack of medical facilities, the possible misappropriation of budget, or the possible growing population of the rebels in his area?

Tobias parked the vehicle on an empty lot. The uneven muddy terrain and deep holes forced the passengers to fight against the forces pushing them off balance. Trailing not far behind were the transport carrying the local nobles and Luce Viscomi.

The Betrothed

She only had to say a word and the stylist in charge of their outfits for the day would have no choice but reconsider the clothing which was selected for Rhiane. Nobody, not even Luke, had stopped her from verbalizing the thoughts, opinions, comments, and criticisms that ran rampant in her head. It was rather unfair, therefore, that she let go of the issue then and choose to vent out her frustrations at Luke when he hated the dress as much as she did. He hated it more because it gave Tobias a chance to be the kind, protective, and thoughtful man who was by her side at the right place and at the right time.

Luke quickened his pace to match hers. He would not be half the man that Tobias was to her if Luke was still frustrated over how tightly she had shut her mind on the evil deeds of the rebellion. How she did not fully grasp that this organization was not the messiah who will liberate the people from poverty and bring abundance into the land. No. While she chose to keep her silence, he would take up the fight and use her popularity to grab the attention of the masses. If not for the media surrounding the building, and the cameras pointed at their direction from the ground floor, he would have pulled Rhiane aside and demanded to settle the argument once and for all. Instead, he composed himself and followed her as she raised her request to Ms. Viscomi.

He used the slight pause to shrug off his coat, drape it over her shoulders, then afterwards pluck the one she cradled on her arms and extended his arm at his cousin. “It does look odd that one of you is not in uniform.” The chill was bearable given he was wearing long sleeve button-up shirt underneath the coat, but when the wind blew, it was like being embraced by a block of ice. Even he, who enjoyed the cold weather, shivered. The older couple was better dressed for the weather.

Not too long after, a couple of servants in their blue and white uniforms appeared with the tea that the princess elect ordered. One poured the warm liquid for Rhiane, then offered the same for the others. Luke declined, but the baron and baroness indulged the invitation. The warm liquid would help improve the body temperature before they went out into the open.

Luce Viscomi led the entourage once everybody was done with the short break. Cameras flashed as soon as the royalty appeared before the media people. Luke sported a schooled smile, but he forgot to remind his princess to do the same. The SUVs that would bring them to the fields that were due for inspection. One vehicle was assigned for Luke, Rhiane and their bodyguards, while another was assigned for the baron. As usual, Tobias volunteered to drive.

Once the engine had started, he warned her, “If you don’t plan on saying anything helpful, Rhiane, do not speak at all. Let me do the talking. I don’t need you to stand on my way.” He was referring about the rebellion and her misplaced compassion, or was it pity, for the organization. The message would be very straightforward. It would follow the same formula that catapulted the rebellion to fame. He would try to bend the people’s minds by utilizing their emotions. He would capitalize on the fame their fake love story had amassed and use it to sway the public against the evil intentions of the rebels. “If the rebels retaliate, as you fear, then it will only validate the message that we will impress upon the citizens – that the rebellion will do any means possible to destabilize the government. It doesn’t matter who they hurt or who they crush underfoot. It doesn’t even matter if the person they sacrifice is an advocate of the same ideals they say they are willing to die for.”

It was a short bumpy ride and soon the view of the mountainside with parallel lines of green leaves and purple and red fruits came into view. Luke had seen that photo a hundred times, but never had he been close to the real thing before.

The Betrothed

It was colder in Aresso than it was in the capital understandably because of the high altitude. There was also something in the air in that place that was distinctly different from the cities. It was crisp and fresh and felt a lot more laid back. If she would be given some days off her hectic schedule, maybe Luce Viscomi would choose to spend a few days in that same town to shake off all her stressors and get in touch with her inner self.

That day was not her day, though. Following through with the crown prince’s decision to meet with his hosts, because she too did not want to face disappointed the lords and ladies who had already spent a full day in town, Luce did not protest, nor did she try to convince Ms. Black to reconsider her choices. She thought it would be disastrous to do so. The prince would not back Luce up and the princess elect would not be inclined to apologize to her fiance. There was no win-win situation and maybe the best option was to keep them from each other’s sight as to not further the damage in the pair’s fragile relationship. However, what the woman had failed to anticipate was that the queen would not be happy to hear from the news about the separate engagements that the couple attended to. The call she got was not at all friendly.

Therefore, Ms. Viscomi came rushing to the venue. Her heels formed a rhythmic clicking as it hit the wood panels of the second-floor balcony that it drew the attention of the tall gentleman standing by a post, watching the diminishing silhouette of the mountain ranges from afar. With not as much as surprise in his features, Tobias regarded Luce’s advancing form rather lazily though it was only to check if the clicking noise was a threat.

“Where is she?” The image manager demanded, almost out of breath.

Tobias kept his silence. The entrance to the hall was a few paces from where he stood. On each side of the double doors was a uniformed guard – not a member of the royal guards, but he was informed that these men were the baron’s men. An armed Nolan was standing a few paces to the other side of the door, with Luke’s other guards nearby. Lia and Octavia had just rejoined Tobias after finishing the errand that Rhiane had asked of them.

Frustrated, but still trying to keep her composure, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath then asked again, “Mr. Lavancy, may I know where she is right now? Is she inside?”

It was difficult to tell what was going on in his mind. Tobias Lavanchy was aloof. She heard rumors in the palace that the royal guard was not always that way, that he was a cheerful boy who used to play with Luke when they were kids. Looking at him now, it would be difficult to reconcile the cheerful kid with the stiff man with a frozen heart. No wonder his perceived warmth around the princess elect had elicited several versions of the same rumor inside the palace. “Who do you mean by she?” Tobias finally asked.

As if on cue, the double doors opened to welcome the princess elect into the cold autumn afternoon. It did not escape her how the prince’s cousin’s attention immediately gravitated towards the dark-haired beauty. He took a tentative step forward, but then the prince stepped out after Rhiane. Whether consciously or not, Luke had his hand at the small of her back as he leaned close and whispered to her ear.

---

“Aren’t you cold?” Luke whispered. It was a stupid question, and he knew that. He wasn’t really sure why he had to ask. Perhaps it was to test if she was still mad at him. Or it could be that he asked because it was the most sensible question that came to the forefront of his brain given that he had been distracted by how low the neckline of her dress was and how much skin it showed. He did not miss the moment when she had to bend her body a little, how the lords' eyes could have fallen off it sockets. His question subconsciously had a hidden message that, if she could read between the lines, would tell her how much he hated her dress. But even he knew that it was not entirely her fault.

Behind the couple was the baron and his wife. The younger Ferullo had chosen to stay behind to entertain the guests. Actually, the older couple would have chosen to do the same except that Luke insinuated how it would be impolite to leave him to mingle with the commoners when the caretaker of the territories would not. The statement had left them with no choice but lead the tour.

The Betrothed

Save for himself and Rhiane, nobody else knew about the true reason behind the said tardiness. Her words were taken at face value, though with much curiosity hiding behind a thin veil of silence. The ladies had more cynical minds than the lords evident in the subtle way their eyes shifted to find somebody else in the assembly seemingly sharing the same thought. The lords, on the other hand much to Luke’s displeasure, seemed to be smitten by the princess elect’s sultry charms. He understood the look in their eyes as the titled members of the nobility watched the commoner’s face smile up to him and pronounce the justification for coming in with just Tobias. They saw her as just a pretty object, a toy, whom they covet but couldn’t have. Perhaps when the prince was done with her, they could at least have a glimpse of the wonders she could bring to their aging bodies.

It was difficult to tell exactly how old the baron was, or anybody in the assembly for that matter. Thanks to medical enhancements, those who could afford were granted with a face and a body that appeared as young as they would prefer. Of course, the more years deducted from a person’s age, the more expensive the procedure was. The baron’s appearance was that of a middle-aged man, with a head full of gray hair brushed up and away from the smooth complexion of his face. His eyes were dark and piercing, watching Rhiane and her fiance who stood beside her unwilling to move until her food had been served.

Luke just nodded in response to the unwarranted explanation coming from Rhiane. He would not bring up an argument in front of the vultures who were waiting to pray on the imminent corpse of the love story the young couple was selling.

“We have heard about the unfortunate incident.” The baron resumed cutting the meat on his plate using a silver knife. His thin lips curved upwards appearing to smile. Luke eyed him warily as he made his way back to his seat. It would have been preferable if Rhiane sat next to the prince so he could easily signal her to shut her mouth if needed be. Nobody expected a farmer to be well-versed in the nuances of conversing with the upper class, not the least Luke. Therefore, he was afraid that she might embarrass herself and him too. “We have all been prepared to meet you since yesterday morning, Ms. Black. My wife and our friends from nearby territories had traveled a great distance, took time off our busy daily schedules, to behold the rumored beauty of our next queen. I am glad that you find this quaint little village lovely, after sightseeing on your own while,” he took a deep breath and sighed. “While your presence is missed by people who went to out of their ways in hopes to meet you in person.”

“Ah, but that’s all in the past,” declared his younger brother, who Luke knew as Anton. The younger Ferullo grinned at the princess elect. “Our family’s territory includes the towns of Arossa, Scavano, and Catarno.”

The baron next filled in the information being asked of him by the commoner, except that he was not inclined to give a straightforward answer to her simple question. He told her about the province of Salerno, its population and climate, the percentage of local produce it contributed to the economy each year, and how much of it was from the lands his family governed. He narrated how Arossa was an agricultural town, whose economy was heavily based on livestock and farming fruits and vegetables which were conducive to cold climates. “The per capita income is a little cheaper compared to the whole kingdom’s, but the cost of living in the mountains is a lot cheaper compared to our cites.” As if the lord was intent on placing the woman into her proper place not because she wronged him in any way, but because he would make a fool of himself if he attacked the crown prince.
“Despite how expensive ‘organic’ Arossa berries are in the market?” Luke frowned, thinking back to the sweetness of the dried fruits and the filling of the pastries he had that morning. Certain technology had minimized the effects of seasonality to farming provided that the location could maintain a temperature within a defined range, it enabled the farmers to grow seasonal crops all year long. Arossa was one of the first beneficiaries of the research, supposedly boosting the productivity of the land so long as the farmers cleverly planned the rotation of crops. He did not mention it, or how a percentage of the produce was purchased by the local government to be sold to the market at a competitive price to maintain the inflation rate at an acceptable level.

“Yes, actually there are some difficulties,” the baron said slowly. The conversation moved to a discussion about economics. A topic that might not be appreciated by the ladies, but something Rhiane was familiar with. Being a farmer herself, she had first-hand experience on how the invisible hand of the market worked. He wondered how her experiences would make her qualified to join the little debate.

The women looked borderline bored. Once in a while, he would steal a glance at Rhiane to check if she had the same sentiment as the ladies. No one dared to start a conversation with her, not the woman sitting to her left or the lord at her right. They addressed her out of necessity, only when they had to give a piece of their mind to an opinion she voiced out. But it did not escape Luke how some of the men stared at her face and then the tempting neckline of her dress. He did not like it. He did not like waiting for Rhiane to finish her meal before he could act, because by then the men might have already formed fantasies inside their heads with her as the subject.

“I have other matters to discuss with you, Lord Ferullo, but not in a crowd as this. Will you clear a few hours of your time for me? Not today, but soon.”

The baron nodded, sipping from the glass of local wine. “This has been wonderful,” Luke addressed the assembly when he thought Rhiane was finished eating. “But we have a schedule to keep track of. Regrettably, we shall excuse ourselves.”

The Betrothed

“Anything you say about her reflects back to me,” Luke added, turning away. “No, Tobias. We are done talking.”

If his expression softened when he found Rhiane standing by the door, it swiftly reverted back to slight irritation when he discovered who escorted her there and whose coat was draped over her shoulder. At that point, it was difficult to tell which annoyed him more – the insulting comments of his peers or that while he was enduring the company of these people, she was having a date with his cousin. He almost regretted stopping Luce from doing whatever was necessary to stop Rhiane’s plan that morning. Of course, she would turn to Tobias. Had Luke been a little less mad at her, he could have decided using his brain and not his heart, and reasoned with Rhiane why it was not a good idea to visit the town without him. While he was a little grateful that the royal guard had the gall to speak up against ladies and gentlemen who outranked him, it did not change the fact that he was who Rhiane would default to, not Luke.

The room had fallen silent. Nobody had anticipated that the prince would come to her defense, more so that the princess elect herself would appear while they were carelessly tossing insults to the air. The sound of Luke’s chair scraping against the flooring as he pushed himself to his feet was the only sound in the room. The unexpected guests seemed to have paused, ashamed to make the cutlery clink against the porcelain plates. But the baron cleared his throat as if unable to contain his thoughts.

“Your highness, with all due respect,” he started. “It is not appropriate for a lowly guard to address the lords and ladies the way he did. If maligning your betrothed is synonymous to treason, then insulting a baron can be construed as insubordination. Or is my understanding flawed?”

Luke went around the table and was almost at the door when the baron made the analogy. It was tempting to give in, take the baron up on his word, and subject Tobias to disciplinary action, except that if he did that, then there would be no one else he trusted who could look after Rhiane. “Tobias Lavanchy is my cousin, my lord,” the prince admitted casually. He might have not said it, but his words implied that the man the baron was targeting was closer to the crown that the baron would ever be.

Not a single thank you was uttered for Tobias. Luke just nodded to the guard in acknowledgment and maybe a little silent complement, before dismissing him. To Rhiane, however, he offered his arm. There was a vacant chair across him where the plate and utensils were untouched. It would be awkward to ask anybody to move, so if she would calmly come with him, then he would put up an act that there was nothing wrong between them and civilly deposit her to the seat.

Though before doing so, there was one thing that he needed to settle. “Lords and Ladies, your attention please.” One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her so that the distance between the two of them was eliminated. He guided her such that the two of them were facing the table and the curious stares of its occupants. “Most of you did not make it to our engagement ball, but allow me to introduce my fiancee, Ms. Rhiane Black. I am expecting that everybody will extend to her the same respect and loyalty that you have all pledged to my mother and myself.”

Luke was not expecting a response, and the audience had none. After a short pause, he guided her to the empty chair then signaled for a waiter to bring her food. Hopefully there was something left.

The Betrothed

Luke had written down the password he set for her accounts on the inner wall of the box before he pushed himself off the edge of the table. However, it was not expected that the communication device would be left alone on the table, inside the box that it came with. But he was not about to hand it to her like a peace offering. He was not interested in peace.

Rhiane’s replies triggered a fuse and he was not the type who would back down when challenged. “I am not asking them to lay down their arms,” he shot back. “Those who are sympathizing with the rebellion and the idealistic world it promises should know better than to put blind faith into an organization who had not yet proven itself, nor had shown any potential in fulfilling its promises. Your role today is simple enough. Use the credibility you say you have to influence the public – wake them up. Let the parents see the ugly truth about the rebellion so they could educate their children about it, likewise, let the children hear about the evil scheme of these so-called patriots so they could convince their parents to withdraw.” He may not fully agree with the methods employed by the team, but it was better than Rhiane’s implied course of action which was to sit back and do nothing. There was information that he could not share with her, like the model of the firearms he retrieved from the dead rebels and how it was the same as the firearms commissioned by the state specifically for certain ranks in the military. He suspected the rebellion was not as poor as it would like the public to believe, that it was not even made of the less fortunate members of the society. It was possible that the organization was backed by the very lords and ladies that it was calling tyrants.

“I refuse to be bullied by the rebellion.” And he also refused to allow them to continue hurting her. Luke would have said it aloud except that Rhiane already declared her intention to leave. The prince’s jaw was clenched as if stopping himself from calling her name and asking her to stay in the room, because they were not yet done talking. Convincing her to go through the day with him was already out of the question, besides he did not want to.

Ms. Viscomi, on the other hand, turned on her heels and went after the princess elect. “Ms. Black, wait.”

“Let her go, Luce,” the crown prince commanded as the door slammed close behind Rhiane.

---

But the itinerary would not be hindered by her absence. The crown prince himself made sure of it as he insisted to meet the lords and ladies of the land on his own. Because no nobleman had his residence built in that town, the private lunch party was held in a decent sized function hall not too far away from the villa that the couple occupied. As was the protocol, only selected media outlets were allowed to cover the event and none of the personnel was allowed to ask questions. Therefore, the media was left to speculate when the crown prince arrived alone.

The interior of the venue was decorated in finery reminiscent of the capital’s glory. Furniture and fixtures, the chandelier, and even the curtains, must have been shipped from the capital just for that very event. It was in stark contrast against the poor, desolate houses with mismatched window shutters and ill-fitting wooden door outside the property. He did not dream about experiencing living in one of those huts, but now that he had seen it, Luke was curious what it was like. How different was it from the concrete walls of his home.

Lords, ladies, and people of importance to the society loitered around the room. Their lively-colored dresses and coats complemented the purity of the white walls with its golden accent. He smiled almost automatically when the Baron Ferullo and his wife approached him. “My wife organized this party, my prince,” boasted the baron. Perhaps a dozen rich people were in attendance, their ages ranging from early twenties to about fifties. Admittedly, he did not know everyone in attendance, but he was sure that these were the people who were supposed to be looking after the people.

“Thank you, my lady, for a lovely party.” He was ushered deeper into the hall to be introduced and re-introduced to the other attendees. Of course, the moment he drew near, every person’s attention seemed to gravitate towards him. It was not everyday that they would get the chance to interact with the crown prince. Even the waiters and waitresses hired for the event were openly ogling the prince. Their town was too far away from the capital that nobody of significance barely visited the place.

Luke could handle the noblemen and women. They were moving in the same world anyway. He was fluent in speaking the language of the highborn, knew when to complement, when to smile, and when to say “with all due respect.” The lords talked to him about politics and economy, while the ladies were more openly interested in the status of his relationship with Sophia Keller now that he was engaged. None believed that Luke would choose a farmer over a successful actress/model.

“Speaking of which, where is this fiancee of yours?” asked a woman who he judged to be in her early fifties while they were in the middle of their meal. “She’s a beauty. I have seen her on television. I wonder how much of that beauty is thanks to talented make-up artists.”

The comment solicited a few giggles from around the table. Luke was tired in repeating himself, but for the sake of manners, he answered, “She wanted to walk around town, familiarize herself with the people and their craft, so I let her.”

“She does not belong here, anyway,” the lady laughed a dainty little laugh. “A farmer will remain to be a farmer no matter how expensive the clothes you put on her.”

Another added with mock sadness and an audible sigh, “I pity the clothing labels who are and will be associated with her name.”

Luke paused before placing down the utensils beside his plate, seemingly loosing appetite after talking to those people. One thing he forgot about the upper class was that they loved talking behind another person’s back.

“Hurry up and get her pregnant, your highness. Though if you will not mind, I can keep her company while you go about carrying out your duties.” The baron wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively, earning him a smack on the arm from his wife. “What?! She has a beautiful body. I will not mind that she is a commoner if she’ll consent.”
A few other men voiced the same sentiment, while the women kept to their stand that Rhiane did not belong with them. Luke tried to keep his temper in check, forcing a smile to humor them, but when somebody commented that he would probably enjoy his time with her except that he knew of prostitutes who were as shapely but more beautiful and with more breeding than Rhiane and that he could introduce a few to Luke if he wanted to, the prince snapped. “Enough.” A single word said in a quiet, but firm voice was enough to silence the laughter.

The baron smiled sheepishly at the younger man. “We were just joking around, your highness. Surely you find nothing wrong with --”

“I said that is enough.” The tone of his voice was raised a notch higher. Finally, he lifted his gaze from the handmade centerpiece to meet the eyes of the baron. “Nobody shall malign my fiancee while in my presence. Besides, slandering your future queen is synonymous to treason, did you know that, Lord Ferullo? Or are you one of those imbecile, who thinks that the expensive labels sewn into his clothes define the level of his intelligence.”

No wonder the towns he had visited in the area were not as progressive as the rest of the nation. Disappointed with one person entrusted to enact and implement laws, he shook his head and prepared to leave. However, as his gaze swept across the room, a certain familiar silhouette caught his attention. Her eyes met his as she stood by the doorway with her good hand on the frame.

The Betrothed

It did not make sense no matter which angle he tried to view it – the dress that the stylist picked for Rhiane was too revealing, too tempting, too much for him that he had to avert his eyes like a shy teenager. The door was a safe subject. Whatever comment he had for Luce Viscomi was overshadowed by the image of his fiancee’s kind smile, and of course the dress which was begging to be taken off her. Now that he knew what awaited him beneath the layer of clothing, it was not easy to look at her the same way he did the night they first met.

Luke leaned against the desk considering Rhiane’s position. It was better to study the engraved lines on the door than look at her face if he was going to make a rational argument about the situation. Because of this, he missed the look of concern that Luce Viscomi shot his way while the princess elect finished her piece. But before anybody could add or rebut anybody’s opinion, Tobias broke the building momentum by bringing with him the replacement device and a new one for Rhiane. Luke received both boxes, but not before noticing the slight frown on his cousin’s brow upon laying his eyes on the farmer. Tobias’ opinion, though he did not voice it out, was not warranted. Besides, Luke did not appreciate that his cousin might be having the same thoughts as Luke about that dress.

After dismissing the guard, right about when the door clicked shut, the tension escalated. Luce’s smile beamed at Rhiane’s mutinous speech. “On the contrary, Ms. Black, we prefer if you will not sound like an expert on the subject matter,” the noblewoman corrected. The tone insinuated more than the words would have told her. Rhiane might have won the title of princess and she might one day rule as queen, no matter how short her reign might be, but her title was meaningless to those who were born to noble houses. She was an outsider no matter what. It did not matter that the crown prince shared his bed with her or that he consented to be physically intimate. Rhiane Black was and will always be an uneducated farmer in the eyes of the nobility.

“It is more believable if his highness will talk about the details. He is, after all, the most well-informed of the subject than any of us in this room.” A coy smile played on her painted ruby lips. It was not meant as an insult. It could be a subtle warning, but not at all an insult to the farmer’s intellectual capacities. As if Luce Viscomi was telling Rhiane that having an intimate relationship with the crown prince did not change anything. “You may speak based on how you feel, or how it felt when you suspected that the car was sabotaged by people who seek to harm the peace that you are campaigning for. You do want peace for our nation, don’t you? Both you and I want to stop the uprisings, ambush, and terrorism.”

While the noblewoman was talking, Luke had started to configure the device for Rhiane. It was the same model as his, probably with the same features as well. His and Tobias’ were the only contacts pre-installed on the device’s contacts list. He made sure his was configured as the contact to be notified in case of any emergencies. Satisfied with his work, he changed all the generic preset passwords to “myfianceisawesome.”

“Your testimony is critical to the success of this campaign, Ms. Black. I’m sure that Queen Camilla will greatly appreciate your cooperation.”

“Don’t force her,” Luke finally lifted his eyes from the device. It was difficult to say if he was annoyed because of the unreadable expression on his face. “If it comes down questions about the incident yesterday, I can handle it better than her. To some, the intention of the people behind the failed assassination is clearly to destabilize the government for their own gain. But let’s face it, not everyone understands. Not everyone is willing to take the blinders off their eyes and turn their backs on false promises of prosperity, because it’s easier to blame the government for their living conditions rather than work harder for its improvement.” Luke pushed himself off the table, then snapped his device back to his wrist. He had not yet downloaded his data, and just like Rhiane’s its content was limited to a few contact numbers.

He suspected, though, that the sudden resistance to the plan of action had something to do with how the palace used her personal data to support the campaign against the rebels without even asking for Rhiane’s consent. It was public knowledge as soon as she won the contest, therefore there was nothing wrong with broadcasting it again. “We are wasting our time debating. If there’s anything else you would like to raise, Rhiane, say it. Otherwise, let’s be on our way.”

The Betrothed

Rhiane looked a lot like her mother. As Luke stared back at the photo of a woman projected on the screen, he could not help but wonder what could have happened if Violet Black and her son did not die from the plague. Would a world with her mother and beloved brother still compel her to join the contest that introduced them to each other, or would she rather live her simple life out in the farming village, tending to livestock and the crops? A glance sideways at his fiancee told him that years after years of living, breathing, and walking the earth without her mother and brother had done little to heal the gash that their parting had done to her. He would hold her, tell her that it was okay to cry if she was feeling sad, or maybe he would just shut his mouth and sit with her until the sadness faded, but he could do nothing.

Instead, he turned the television off and asked her to come with him, because he did not trust Tobias. It was rather odd how easily she nodded without an argument to the condescending way he offered his help to wash her hair. Not long after, they found themselves in the bathroom. He had kept the water running, neither hot nor cold, but warm enough not to chill her skin that cold autumn morning. It was half filled when they entered.

Quiet minutes passed without anybody offering to start a conversation, when only the sound of the shower and its splashes as the droplets bounced off her hair and skin filled the room. As he had promised, Luke helped her wash her hair. Nothing more. Either he was not comfortable with the awkward silence, or he was afraid that she would break the awkward silence and make their time more awkward. For whatever reason, he left her alone.

It was not long until someone was knocking at the door. Luke was behind the desk then, browsing through the mails from most of the attendees of the meeting he had the day before. Most were apologizing for pushing through with the meeting as the news about the incident had not yet reached the local media. As if it bothered him that he had to talk a handful of obnoxious leaders while on pain medication. Responding to the letters was the least of his concern, therefore he asked one of his staff to draft responses and have him read it before sending out the letters.

“Come in.”

The door welcomed Dr. Gulsvig. He had to do a quick routine check-up for his patients, though the doctor hinted knowing about what the couple were up to so early that morning. Luke shrugged it off, though he wondered how Rhiane, who was sitting on the bed in her robe, took it that rumors circulating about their intimacy. The appointment with the doctor did not last long, but so did the peace that came after his departure. As if hearing about the doctor’s positive review of Luke’s and Rhiane’s health, the prep team requested for permission to enter. On their heels was Ms. Luce Viscomi. The woman had her hair up in a bun atop her head. She looked confidence in her mid-length pale blue dress, but she looked away the first time she met Rhiane’s gaze.

The ladies started ordering the princess elect to sit where there was a mirror, set up proper lighting, and started their work on her face and her hair. Dark circles under Rhiane’s eyes were testimony of the rough night she had to endure, and the nightmares she had to contend with over and over again, but it was no match against the make-up artists’ concealer. In no time, Rhiane was looking fresh as when she was presented as the winner of the contest. Her hair was done next as Luke was advised to step away from his computer and start cooperating with the stylists. A glare from the future king was enough to force even the pushy Ms. Viscomi to take a step back. But then, she followed her statement through by telling him that the tour of the kingdom and appearing in public was a vital part of his responsibility given the unrest in his mother’s kingdom. The latter was mildly enough to convince Luke to sit back and cross his arms over his chest in silent defiance. He did not protest when a couple of women fixed his mussed hair into a more presentable style.

A light blue coat paired with pants of the same material and color was prepared for him. It was, of course, the latest fashion, and fit the prince so well he could be a subject of an editorial shoot right then and there. No one would have suspected that he was nursing a couple of cracked ribs if it was not for the news. For Rhiane, the stylists prepared a strappy beige cocktail dress whose V-shaped neckline dipped dangerously low. The A-line skirt of the dress barely brushed past her knees. Unlike Luke, the transparent silicone brace that kept her arm straight was on display and inviting questions.

While they were finishing preparation of the couple, Ms. Viscomi wasted no time in briefing them. She told her how their day would go – that they would be meeting with the nobility for lunch first, then they would tour the field and sample the crops, until finally they would dine with the farmers at around five in the afternoon. They were expected to finish by around eight in the evening. At that point, they were expected to travel back to the airstrip where their transport awaited for them to fly them to their next destination.

They were also told that the palace PR team had decided to inform the public the truth about the unfortunate delay in schedule. The accident due to the malfunction in the safety system of the vehicle, including the brakes, the condition of the crown prince and his fiancee, the unknown rescuers, and finally the attempted assassination in the clinic – the public was not spared. Ms. Viscomi might not have said the reasoning behind the unconventional move, but it was clear how they manipulated the general consciousness of the people to think that the rebellion’s cause was not as patriotic as they portrayed it. It would be something that he would have done, had he been in charge of appearances.

“In other words, nothing was dressed or sugarcoated. It was the truth that we fed to the public this time.” Luce Viscomi passed a piece of paper to Rhiane, while the stylists finished her hair. “’The rebellion will do anything to destabilize the government’ is what we are selling this time. The public has to understand the biases, the money that was involved behind the scenes of the rebellion, how some rich people benefit from the ‘donations’ they pledge to the movement, how the uplifting of the quality of life of the poor was not the rebels’ priority.”