He was right. Luke was usually right about most things, yet Ms. Rhian Black was anything but most things. Nevertheless, he was right about her intentions. That it was not about her breaking away from the poverty-stricken province she was born in, nor was it about her desire to live amongst the most powerful family in all of Europe or marry the most eligible bachelor in the land. No, none of those. It was all about her family, estranged as they were. Luke saw the dread in her eyes when he openly threatened the family she left behind, and the relief that washed over her face after his confession that he would not take that route. He thought of his sister, his family, the most important person in the world, and the very reason why he had not yet renounced his claim to the throne. He would take up the mantle of power so that she could live her life however she wished, and he would be in the position to protect her. It was their father’s mandate, that Luke should always look after little Cally. And so, in that view, the crown prince and the farmer girl found their common ground – in the people they wished to protect.

Luke was still pondering on the things she said, her declaration of loyalty to him, the confession about how she lied her way to victory, as she passed him by to fetch the pain killer she requested. Beautiful, cunning, manipulative, and a liar, Rhiane would truly fit in her mother’s court. There were just some rules that she needed to remember in order to survive the snakes that flocked the capital, like never admit her faults, bury her weaknesses, and above all, do not trust anybody. He stretched his legs and got to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest, with his jacket slung over one shoulder, as he waited for her.

She talked about the incident with the ambassador, which led them both to where they stood that morning, less than 10 meters apart. It was an interesting theory, though told by a commoner. She could be covering for her ineptness in wearing heels, which she already basically admitted at the waiting room before they entered the ball. “Regardless, I will personally see to it that your stylists will only pick flat shoes for you to wear from now on,” he said before leading her out of the suite. As for Sir Jin, there was hell to pay once proven guilty by Luke. He was authorized to order an air strike and be done with the devious man’s pitiful life, but if the queen would get in his way, the prince was sure that he could find means to open an investigation that would implicate the ambassador to the malicious act against the crown.

Ms. Viscomi was patiently waiting for them outside Rhiane’s door. “Great,” she exclaimed when the couple finally showed their faces. The image manager was a bit worried that either of the two had a change of heart regarding the queen’s request. “Now if you would please follow me, your highness and Ms. Black.” She led them deeper into the building into the space where a number of private hovercrafts were parked, all the while explaining what to expect. “Our staff prepared the Aurst Flux 54 hovercraft for your transport today, your highness. You will find it to be in top condition despite its age. It was selected to help you not stand out too much.”

Hovercrafts were a hybrid between an aircraft and a car. It was faster and had a more efficient engine than cars, but the fastest hovercraft was significantly slower than aircrafts. Its altitude was also limited due to its design. The appointed vehicle was a two-seater craft that was queen’s gift to Luke on his 18th birthday. Its black paint was sleek and shiny as if brand new, but it lacked the latest technologies due to its age. Nevertheless, it would be sufficient to perform its task to carry the couple to the restaurant.

Luke ran his hand along the slick body, feeling the smoothness of the curves of the design and remember the day he learned to fly the thing. With a touch of his thumb at the driver’s door’s latch, the vehicle was unlocked. He knew that it would work that way, but still a silly smile stretched his lips. The prince sat comfortably on the vehicle’s leather seat, feeling nostalgic as he took the wheel. “Get in, Ms. Black,” he invited, forgetting to open the door for her.

Ms. Viscomi bid them goodbye and cheerfully wished them luck as Luke powered the vehicle on and sped through the highway. The inside of the hovercraft was comfortable despite its speed and fast acceleration. Luke hardly felt any hesitation from the eleven-year-old engine. The air conditioning was also well-maintained thanks to the mechanics at the castle. Once safely on the highway, he glanced sideways at his passenger. She was still favoring one foot over the other and her asking for a pain killer meant that the pain bothered her.

“I need to talk to you about what you said back in your room,” he started while the reflection of the restored vehicle glided on the shiny windows of buildings at the business district. “I don’t need your pledge of loyalty,” he paused to think about his next words. “No, I don’t want your loyalty, but I appreciate that you feel that way. Although, if there’s one thing you need to know about me, Ms. Black, it’s that I’m not exactly your friend. In fact, nobody in court is and will ever be your friend. The sooner you grasp that truth, the easier it will be for you. So, next time don’t tell me about the lies you made to win the contest, or the thing you care about the most, because I may use it against you someday.”

They stopped at an intersection when the lights turned red and the opposite lane started to move. “I will break you more than once before this is over. I’m saying this to be fair, to manage your expectations, and because you were too honest with me earlier that I felt obligated to be honest with you as well. If not for the implant, I will not let my mother have her way, but right now we have to keep her happy. When she's happy enough, then maybe I can talk sense to her and have these deactivated
And when that happens, we can finally get back to the agreement we had last night. Just don't --” He stole a glance only to find her head slumping to the side towards his direction. Luke caught himself smiling in amusement. "Don't fall asleep on me while I'm talking to you," he muttered. With one hand controlling the wheel, he used his other hand to gently support his fiancée’s head, righting it so she can comfortably sleep and not complain neck pain when she woke up.

Before her entrance into the Contest Rhiane had not been in a hovercraft before. They were simply too expensive for anyone of her socio-economic status to purchase unless absolutely necessary. That assumed, of course, they had enough assets to liquidate that would come close to the listing price for such a vehicle. Like most things that she could not afford she had been at first been amazed at the luxuries of the one that had carried her during official transport. It was novel the first few times. Now that she had been inside of one, being ferried to various trials, then being carried to the castle, or taxied to an interview, they had lost some of their initial charm. Not only had the thrilling sticker of 'new' fallen off such an item she was entirely too tired to care about the model or Luke's apparent emotional attachment to said hovercraft.

Had they not been alone she might have also rolled her eyes as Luke addressed her as 'Ms. Black.' For such a self-proclaimed child of the courts groomed to perfection he was no Prince Charming. Rhiane almost felt tempted to tell all her former fellow candidates how they had been swindled by the deceptive propaganda that led them to believe he was a romantic gentleman. No woman she knew of swooned at being addressed as 'Ms. [Lastname].' Their ruse of courtship and emotional intimacy would not last long if Luke could not find it in himself to call her by her first name or a nickname that was clearly meant for her only. The more distantly polite he was the more exceedingly obvious it would be that they were in actuality little more than strangers. Pet names were out of the question on both ends. Rhiane had never called any man by a pet man and Luke would either explode or vomit at the pretense of calling her one (even to please his mother and earn freedom). Later she'd have to persuade him as to the merits of learning to say 'Rhiane' without disgust rolling off his tongue.

Swallowing a groan under her breath she climbed into the hovercraft and, once the tinted windows obscured the couple from view, she turned away slightly from her fiance. Crossing one leg over the other she took a deep breath and stared out the window. The world swept by in a blur of enticing colors and shapes of a distant lullaby. Mothers and fathers before the wars used to tuck their babes into cars and drive them around she had heard in tales. The vibrations of the engines helped the infants fall asleep apparently. Idly Rhiane wondered if that was why she felt so exceedingly tired as she sank into her plush leather seat.

Stifling a yawn she had turned ever so slightly to listen to Luke when he started on about something she said back in the room. Words blended together as fatigue washed over and her eyes slid closed. He drowned on without stopping to see if she was attentive. For a split second the princess elect wryly noticed this seemed to be a very 'Luke' thing to do to ignore his audience completely. Someone as indulged as he was must be used to having others hang off his every mundane word without dreaming to interject their needs or differing opinions. It was without any guilt that she drifted off into an ocean of slumber. Whatever he was prattling on about they were likely to disagree upon anyway.

Edwin visited her in her dreams as he always did. When he was alive they had been incredibly close. They had their share of fights, as siblings almost always did, but it was Edwin that helped her with homework, taught her to climb a tree, soothed her back to sleep at night when she still believed in monsters under the bed, and threatened the livelihood of the first boy to notice the curves that came ahead of their time. As the only women in the house she had been very attached to her mother and vice versa. Edwin was both an older brother and second maternal figure in her life; something that one might have expected of the gay eldest child if stereotypes had held true. Gerald didn't bother with Rhiane much in their youth. The age difference alone had made them struggle to find common ground without driving oen another absolutely insane with their idiosyncrasies.

Today's Edwin was a memory. Sometimes he was a memory, sometimes he was an adviser, and sometimes he was her conscience reaching out through the subconscious, but today he was a memory. He stood in one of their fallow fields facing the rising sun of the east as the first rays of sunshine blossomed over the barren earth. Taller than their father, yet shorter than Gerald, he had seemed larger than life at the same. A single plaid shirt hung off him unbuttoned and loose over the waistband of his jeans. Edwin had a square jawline, wavy hair darker than her own, and broad shoulders that had made him devilishly handsome in the small town with so few eligible bachelors. "Gerald can't run it," he was laughing at Rhiane's innocent question. "I know he's the oldest but... can you imagine? He'd just yell at everyone and ruin what business we have. No, one day you and I will run this place Rhi. I'll teach you everything you need to know once you get a little bit bigger."

Now he was laying in his bed wearing the same clothing. Disease had laid claim to him and made his body so emaciated under the garments it was impossible to recall how they had ever been filled. His breathing was a soft wheeze that made Rhiane's heartbeat rattle. Each exhale she was terrified would be his last. Relief embraced her with every exhale that proved he was even more doggedly determined to survive than any doctor had thought was possible. Willpower alone would not save him but Edwin would not go quietly; he would make the illness work for every inch and would prolong the struggle as long as possible because he was an obstinate son of Hubert Black. Rhi, I'm sorry, he said as she sat by his bed patiently. She had sat by her mother's bed watching her waste away and now she did it a second time for her brother. Rhiane could see in Edwin's features he was tortured by the knowledge instead of protecting her from harm he was causing it no matter how inadvertently. "I'm sorry I won't have time to teach you how to run the place."

Memory Rhiane leaned forward and smoothed back the hair that had become coarse over the last few weeks. "Don't worry about me," she had reassured. "I'll take care of Dad and Gerald. I'll figure it out. And you know me, I'll always have a plan for the worst case scenario." Worn as he was she saw a fluttering of fear in his gaze. Edwin had seen the quiet change that had overtaken his previously more innocent sister. The middle child of the Black family had suspicions about how warped her sense of agency had become as the epidemic claimed lives in their town.

"Promise me..." Edwin started.

"Edwin," Rhiane murmured in her sleep. Turning back to the side she furrowed her brows as the discussion carried on in a direction she had been resistant to allow it to go. Edwin had been dying and she could neither leave his side nor deny his request to speak, but she had failed to make the promise he had requested. It haunted her still. Perhaps that was why her brother, and not her mother, visited her so often in unwaking hours. She knew of his disapproval and it was easy for the psyche to imagine that somehow the late Mrs. Black would approve no matter how absurd the belief.

To an uninformed observer, it would seem that a lone Austre hovercraft had left the palace that morning, but it was a well established fact that the crown prince could never leave the palace grounds, whether on personal or official business, without security detail. The reality was that two inconspicuous hovercrafts had left at a set interval before the prince while another two was deployed after he took off. Both air and ground units positioned within the area were also put on alert that morning, with a special advanced party of the royal guards disguised as customers and passers-by organized at and around the restaurant to guarantee the safety of the future king.

Most, if not all, the air and ground activities were received by Luke’s communication band. He had it synced with the satellite communication service of the royal guards and military for two reasons – to make certain that security was deployed where it was needed, and to know how to elude his escorts. Unsurprisingly, with all the activity happening that morning, the black band around his left wrist was constantly projecting live feed detailing the location of the prince, ETA update, and the phrase “sector clear”.

“Freya,” Luke called to nobody in particular. He was driving in silence, with one hand on the stirring wheel and the other cradling his passenger’s cheek since he found out that Ms. Black had fallen asleep.

A beep responded to his call, then a feminine voice said, “Yes, your highness.”

“Turn off all notifications,” he instructed the virtual assistant. The next beep re-activated the gadget’s sleep mode. The presence of towering buildings had significantly diminished by then. In its place were a neat layout of warehouses, giant silos, cranes, low-rise offices, and the distinct structure of the nuclear power plant that was the source of power in the capital. They were not about to go too deep into the industrial zone. The restaurant was at the base of a low-rise office building of the corporate headquarters of a large mining company that was owned by his uncle. He found the parking space behind the building, but would not be able to maneuver the craft with one hand so he withdrew his right hand. It was that instant when he heard her whisper a name.

Edwin, she said. Even as she slept, she was still giving away information he could use against her. Edwin might be her father, brother, or lover. Luke might as well check the role of the person to Rhiane’s life, in case he needed a bargaining chip against her.

Parking a hovercraft was similar to landing a fighter jet, only that it was smaller in size and more sensitive to his prompts. Being a trained pilot, he normally managed a smooth landing, but that morning, as he took the designated spot at an angle from the air, the Austre whined as it hit the concrete and bounced once before settling down. The seat belt tightened on his chest as the momentum tossed him forward. “Oops,” was his sheepish reaction to the unusually rough touchdown. “Did I wake you up, princess?” He turned towards her with humor lighting up his blue eyes. That was for falling asleep while he was talking to her.

Without waiting for her response, he unbuckled her seatbelt and put on his jacket. He pulled the hood over his head, exited the vehicle and jogged to her side to open the door. “Come on, come on, Ms. Black. I’m starving. Had it not for your little mutiny, we should have already finished brunch by now.”

Luke waited for her to move before he led them to an entrance, frequently making sure that she was not lagging behind. They were greeted by an android that was programmed to greet anybody who entered the building as well as count the number of guests each day. A long corridor connected their entry point to the lobby and finally the front entrance. Corporate employees in business attire and young professionals in their smart casual wear loitered in the ground floor, which housed not only The Briks, but also other restaurants. It was the perfect venue for the publicity stunt planned by Queen Camilla.

The pair found the restaurant quite easily, because the name itself was written using black pieces of glass over a red bricked wall, thus the name. Just by looking at the façade, Luke decided that it was a casual dining place. Half the façade was the bricked wall and the name itself, the other half was made of glass panes, from which he could see the inside. The interior of the restaurant was decorated to look like a snapshot of a time before the war that was known as the industrial revolution. One wall, perhaps the accent wall, was made entirely of red bricks, while the rest, including the floor, was polished concrete. Carefully placed black piping gave the venue a more industrial feel, while pendant lights enclosed in copper geometric outline gave the place a cozy glow. He also noticed that the frames of the chairs and tables were made of black metal pipes.

He approached the hostess standing behind a wooden podium with the restaurant’s logo on it and asked to be seated on a table for two. She paused more than twice to study him, either because he looked malicious with the hood over his head and the shadows over his face, or because she already had an idea who it was. “You are fourth in the waiting list, sir. Please make yourselves comfortable for a few minutes. I will call your name when your table is ready.” The hostess gestured to a bench, smiling her most inviting smile. Luke just stared at her, uncomprehending. Not knowing what she did wrong, the hostess’ smile faltered, but was mostly held in place. But maybe she concluded on something, because she handed a menu to Luke. “You may browse our menu and decide on your order while you wait. We specialize in brick oven pizza.”

Apparently, no reservation was made for him. He would have a word with Ms. Viscomi when he got back to the castle, or perhaps while waiting, he could already compose an email. “Ah, miss, I see that you’re a considerate person, and my friends say that I am a good judge of character. Can you not make a special arrangement for me and my lady friend,” He slipped a bill on the podium and smiled for the woman. “You see, she needs to take her medicine on time or her condition may relapse.”

“Sir, I --“ She looked at the bill then back to Luke, perplexed, but eventually gave in. The woman behind the podium covered his hand with hers. “It sounds like an emergency, sir. I will see that the next available seats will be for you two.” she said, then gestured for them to take their seats.

Rhiane woke as the hovercraft jerked forward unexpectedly. Her head had fallen forward but her body was held firmly in place by the seatbelt; it was this jarring sensation that ultimately roused her from the slumber of conflicted subconscious thoughts. For a split second she sincerely believed the abrupt jolt into the waking world was the result of a collision with another hovercraft as unlikely as it was. What little she had seen of the vehicles indicated there were safety measures taken to prevent such unfortunate accidents. The farmer's fears were short-lived. A glance to the side and a slightly smug jest assured that Luke had purposefully navigated the bump for his own benefit.

She rolled her eyes at the crown prince's question as he unbuckled her and then jogged to the other side. Rhiane had every intention of exiting herself and was visibly surprised at his sudden chivalry of opening the door for her. Fingers hovered midair briefly where they had been about to wrap around the interior handle. The princess elect was not quite certain to make of this development in Luke. Either his education in etiquette manifested in him reflexively acting, he was hyper-aware of a need to perform his role of fiance the moment he stepped outside the Austre, or he wasn't completely full of contempt for his commoner companion. It seemed more likely he was impatiently hungry than he had suddenly developed a conscience for a peasant.

When Rhiane stepped out of the vehicle her suspicious gaze melted away and left only the pleasant countenance that had made her so famous. That Luke led her along rather than escorted her by the arm or held her hand assured that her assumptions were correct. Had it not been for the implant the prince might have abandoned her all together. Because she was a woman who had skipped meals before, and because she did not want to award his distance in front, the princess elect moved at a leisurely pace. The brace felt stiff on her ankle but the pain killers were doing their job in helping ease away the sore ache of her joint. With careful attention to her gait she was able to conceal that it existed entirely- something that would have been impossible with a jog or faster walk.

The Briks was nicer than anything she could have afforded with her pithy farmer 'salary.' Out of her depth was a constant. Still, she couldn't help but wish that they were somewhere familiar to her prior life. Luke would sooner let the agony of the implants take him than step foot into such an unassuming restaurant in a rural town. Tables would have been simple worn wooden structures over a decade old or cheap lightly discolored plastic. The building would have been small and only able to accommodate less than a dozen parties at a time. What it lacked in decadence, however, it would have made up for in other ways that The Briks and its peers could never hope to surpass. Ingredients were sourced from surrounding fields and so fresh that they were bursting with flavor that needed little enhancement. If she had closed her eyes she would have been able to taste the lightly grilled vegetables that had been plucked from the ground mere hours before they were prepared for consumption.

As Luke approached the hostess Rhiane, mindful of the ten meters not to be exceeded, drifted to the side and took a seat on a long upholstered bench occupied by other waiting patrons. Of course he didn't want to queue like a reasonable customer. When he spoke of his 'lady friend' and needing medication she wondered if there was a prescription in existence that would make his arrogance and entitlement more unbearable. Likely not. For someone working in an establishment such as this one she knew whatever bill Luke slipped would be too enticing a bribe to deny. At this rate their disguises might last all more of five minutes before everyone in attendance knew them, were snapping pictures, and asking for autographs.

Next to her were a trio of two men and one woman quietly discussing investments. Rhiane herself didn't have the luxury to be able to purchase stocks but she had read a great deal about them in news articles and studied what she had been able. Business sections of any publication drew her eye. Not only was she in charge of the farm's management, she had to be conscious of what circumstances may be affecting suppliers, vendors, traders, and merchants she sold to so that she could make the most shrewd decisions possible. Before the contest was announced she had fleeting thoughts that investments, if they ever turned enough profit for them, might secure the future of her father and brother if she was absent.

"Excuse me, but I could not help but overhear," she interrupted in a small gap of their conversation. They all turned towards her as she flashed a congenial smile that assured she had benevolent intentions for the intrusion. "I would advise against GenCo. Last year they spent a small fortune advertising their new genetically modified soy that was supposed to be more resilient to drought, not need as many pesticides, and would produce higher yields. To say it under-performed would be kind. I realize that they have made promises that this year they have made further modifications to seeds to make it live up to the hype they created but," she shook her head to emphasize the point, "most farmers are not willing to take that risk again."

One of the men and the woman exchanged looks. They were not certain what to make of this information but were not upset with Rhiane's insertion into the discussion. The third, the man not quite so pensive, leaned forward eagerly as he was enraptured by this unusual insight that might prove financial gain. "What do you suggest, miss?"

"This last year soy was driven down in price because of the surplus. Now that so many will not be planting it, the cost of soy will be driven up as demand remains the same but supply is temporarily lowered. That doesn't necessarily mean consumers will be willing to pay higher prices for soy products so I'd stay away from anything soy for the time being. It's too risky to expect wide profit margins. If it were me I'd look to Alpire. Confidence in GenCo is low so farmers will be looking at the alternative, Alpire, more seriously. I expect to see a spike in their value."

"You really think people will switch because of one botched soy product?" asked the woman somewhat skeptically.

Rhiane shrugged her shoulders affably as her smile remained in place. "I'm not suggesting that farmers will suddenly convert all their fields to GenCo. But if it were me I'd take a chance with one or two fields of Alpire seed to see how they fair next to GenCo. Last year's soy was a minor blip in the radar to most but it was devastating to the livelihood of some who went all in on that new line. That will be on the forefront of minds. They will wonder, 'If GenCo almost ruined me last year, or my neighbor last year, what does Alpire have to offer?' It would be foolish not to explore alternate possibilities on the market."

"If you'll excuse me for saying so," one of the men leaned forward as he whispered, "you are even more beautiful in person than on broadcast."

"What?" the woman asked, looking at Rhiane a bit harder. She let out a little gasp but Rhiane pressed a finger to her lips to indicate it was a secret both who she was and whom she might in the company of. While the businesswoman's gaze naturally drifted over to where the crown prince was lingering neither of the men could be bothered- they cared much more about a pretty lady offering advice than anything of the male persuasion no matter how potent.

"Thank you," one of the men nodded, "for talking with us. We'll take your advice seriously."

"Only take it as seriously as you want to. I didn't win any competitions based on business sense," she winked and laughed merrily. It was nice to be admired. No one at the castle truly appreciated her in any capacity and so it was bolstering to have anyone express genuine recognition. Although she had been incredibly pessimistic about this brunch, which was now almost lunch, she found herself buoyed with optimism. The palace was where Luke shone but here he would find himself hard-pressed to be as brilliantly spectacular as she was to the general public. It might just be enough to keep her head in the game rather than seeking out a method of self-destruction that would not ruin the chances of her family at home.

Decisions. His life was about making decisions – from the selection of which coat to wear (because he refused to be dressed by other people every single day) to the trade agreements with the neighboring nations – there was not a day when he was given a break from the tedious task of charting his fate and the fate of the kingdom he would someday lead. It was the same, he imagined, for everybody else regardless of their birth status. People took options, made their choices, and it was those little nudges that made up a greater wave of change. He then wondered how choosing the pizza would affect the economy.

Luke was leaning at the podium, contemplating between a pizza called “BOMB” and the more conventional Neapolitan when he caught wind of what sounded like the farmer girl’s voice conversing rather intelligently about stock prices. It didn’t surprise him how easy it was for her to open a discussion with strangers, she did win the contest after all. What he did not at all expect was how she could carry herself in an intelligent dialogue with those who earned a university business degree. Without appearing too interested with the discussion, he put the menu down and detached the gadget from his wrist with a gesture on its screen.

He opened a real-time chart of GenCo and was about to do the same for Alpire when the hostess asked whom the reservation should be made for. The prince looked up from his band with every intention to utter a random name when his blue eyes met hers and a look of surprised realization dawned on the woman. She visibly paled and appeared to find difficulty comprehending how the muscles of her jaw worked. “You seem to have found the answer,” he whispered, placing a finger on his lips in a universal gesture of silence. “Approach me when our table is ready. We don’t want to create a commotion by announcing our presence.”

Whether the hostess found her tongue or not was not his concern, therefore Luke did not wait for her to give any sort of response. He just left to find the bench that the farmer girl and her new-found acquaintances were occupying. One of the two men leaned forward and said something in a low tone, which prompted a look of shock on the female’s face, who tentatively glanced his way. Good, their ineffective covers were blown meaning half the mission is done.

He took the vacant spot beside Rhiane careful not to allow her to invade his personal space. “There were no reservations made, so I pulled some strings,” he said without looking at her. His attention was on the stock prices, specifically GenCo, which she claimed was not a viable investment at that moment. While it was true that the stock experienced a steady decline since the release of its annual earnings that stated last year’s income were twenty percent less than the income reported two years ago, while the spending increased by five percent probably driven by the advertising budget to promote the new product, the stock prices had been consolidating at a point of congestion for two weeks. He took it as a sign that the sellers were finally tiring, and the buyers were thinking that the price for the shares were just right. “I am going to make a purchase, Ms. Fundamentalist. Not today, but in a few days.” He gestured with his hand for her to come closer as he showed the chart to Rhiane. He had no idea how much she knew about trading, but he was showing her that the base of the six-month upswing was already reached by the downward trend, and that the twelve-year monthly upward trend was still in effect. “It’s about time they pick the stock prices up but remind me to sell before the launch of the improved breed.”

If the trio was listening, he didn’t care. He spoke in a quiet voice as if he was telling her a secret, but in truth, he did not want to refute her analysis in public. It would be against their mission’s objectives. The debate on who had the better analysis could wait until they were back in the palace. What couldn’t wait, though, was the curious businesswoman who approached them.

“Excuse me, your royal highness” she faltered and bowed awkwardly, unsure of the prince’s response and positively afraid of rejection. The woman held up her phone and gathered the confidence to smile. “May we take a photo with you and Ms. Rhiane Black?” The other two men were not as enthused, though they showed interest in participating, thinking that it would be a good story to tell their friends and family. Those who were close enough to hear couldn’t fight the urge to watch and see for themselves if they indeed heard right.

Luke supposed that phase two of the operation had started. People noticed them according to plan and it was time for him to play his part just for an hour. Just an hour of pretense, of being somebody that he was not, and it should produce results that would appease the queen. Never mind that it was a silly thing to do, it was the price he had to pay for choosing himself over his duties the night before. Pushing back the hood of his jacket, he smiled at the woman as he placed an arm around Rhiane’s shoulders and pulled her to himself. “Sure, but just one photo,” he invited the woman and her two other friends who immediately took the opportunity to be as close as they could get to Rhiane. The businesswoman looked like a teenager who had a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet her popstar idol. Her smile was big as she counted to three before snapping the group photo. Fortunately, it turned out perfect, with all five of them smiling and Luke not showing any resentment.

It was not just the happy businesswoman camera’s that snapped the photo, those who heard her say the title and the name took their own versions of the photo of the prince and his princess dressed as a commoner at a casual dining place. Luke used to dislike the habit of people to take his photo without asking for permission, but after a while he got used to it and learned to accept the fact that it would not go away. As long as they did not go out of their way to bother him, it was fine. But that did not seem like the case that morning. Because of one success story, others were willing to try their lucks as well.

Just then, the hostess approached with the good news that he had been waiting for the whole morning. Luke was relieved for two reasons – lunch and an way out of the curious public’s intent. “Your highness, Ms. Black,” she said softly, following Luke’s instructions, though it was pointless at that time. “Your table is ready, please follow me.”

Luke immediately got to his feet and followed the hostess. Bomb or Napoli, he was thinking, when he remembered that he did not come alone. The prince paused in mid-step, walked backwards to where Rhiane was seated, then wordlessly offered his hand.

Truthfully Rhiane didn't understand the graphs and charts that were keyed up by Luke and at his disposal. News that was dispersed to her town wasn't as detailed as it was for the capital. The kingdom was well aware that people in rural districts were unable to make investments and purchase stocks and, as a result, they did not bother to waste time and space relaying 'irrelevant details' to the masses that were too poor to appreciate its importance. All of her studies had been on broader generalities, on watching day by day variations, and by occasionally using physical paper records to keep track of history so as to better anticipate the future.

What she had the most firm grasp on was the bottom of the market that the nobility and larger corporations relied upon despite their arrogance. Rhiane was intimately aware how farmers reacted to different brands due to anecdotal evidence and superstition, she knew how often they were willing to rotate their crops, how quickly consumer confidence could erode when their livelihood was on the line, how personalities in the community could persuade one way or another. Antoine Ricci lived hours away from her and yet she constantly heard people reciting his opinions on how the weather would affect their next harvest. It did not apparently matter whether or not he was accurate in meteorological predictions months in advance, it only mattered he gave them the illusion that they had control over their fate. Life at the bottom of the totem pole was more oppressive than free. The queen spoke of agency in decisions and yet poverty robbed them of so much that any mundane choice they were able to seize was taken if only to confirm its existence.

"I'm sure you'll do exactly what you want, as always," Rhiane whispered. She did not believe for a moment that Luke had an ounce of faith in her. Although there was supposed gender equality in the kingdom she had endured quite a bit of misogyny operating the farm's business. Criticism was only amplified by the fact that two men, both related to her and older, heeded her advice and willfully conceded management. Even women whispered rumors as to why she had felt so compelled to traipse into a male-dominated field and make a name for herself when there were capable stronger, elder, 'more capable' individuals at her disposal. Some mused that she yearned to change her sex. Others thought that she might be barren (proven untrue by contest testing) and so she had nothing to offer the world and this drove her to madness. Most thought her to be a domineering bitch that got her jollies by making her family submit to her rule. None of these were even remotely close to the truth but she spared both her father and brother the humiliation of having the truth exposed. Always the martyr she'd sacrifice her local images for theirs; she had no regrets.

Hopefully it was clear to Luke that she had no intentions of discussing the matter further with him. What had been gifted to the commoner trio was done because they were respectful, congenial, and liked her even if minimally. To open herself up to someone who was insistent she was wrong was not an option she was willing to entertain in the slightest. He could wax poetic to himself for all she cared about how he was a flawless creature. There was no obligation on her part to listen; even in public she could feign it just as she was sure he would.

At least the picture was a happy diversion from having Luke's conceit- until it wasn't. The woman was practically falling over herself at the sight of the heart throb crown prince. The farmer had to quell her dissatisfaction inwardly so as to not to let her ever-present charming visage slip. That the two men were less enthusiastic hit the bit of pride that Rhiane had been quietly repairing with diligence and she bit the inside of her cheek to not show disappointment. Alone the isolated incident might have been negligible. After winning a contest to be abandoned, to being actively scorned and disdained, to having her insight challenged, and now being overcast with three strangers she attempted to befriend was almost too much to bear. Rhiane had thought she might have one blissful spot that was all her own in this palace of betrayal and pain but nothing had culminated. Even out on a date she was greeted with failure.

The hostess arrived just as the princess elect was contemplating her poor life choices (albeit with a light smile on her face that masked the encroaching misery) and Rhiane rose from her seat. Luke set off a few steps behind the restaurant employee but she did not immediately follow. The soon-to-be-official-royalty inclined her head towards the triad that she had spoken with briefly. "It has been a pleasure meeting you," she stated. Her honeyed tone was unfaltering, genuine, and more pleasant than any utterance delivered in the direction of her future husband.

Turning on her heel she found Luke had doubled back and was offering his hand.

There was a pause though there should have not been. Rhiane knew it was all a charade and that her acting was paramount, but she had never held hands with someone of not a blood relation. It would be a confession she would not admit aloud but all of her dalliances had been of a physical nature exclusively. Men who were seeking a proverbial roll in the hay with no strings attached were the extent of her intimate experiences. Suitors who wanted an emotional attachment, to get to know her romantically, to join in ways beyond that of the flesh were shunned. Rhiane's outlook on her love life had always been bleak for numerous reasons and so cuddling, holding hands, and chaste kisses were as foreign to her as they were to more virginal candidates in the contest. Rationally she knew there was no danger in taking the hand now extended to only perpetuate a ruse. Eventually she knew that these firsts would need to be conquered as she performed her due diligence as princess elect and princess. Emotionally she could not help but feel there was a persistent intangible danger that was more terrifying than anything the queen herself could produce.

"Thank you," she said to Luke. Her tone was sincere to the ears but only because she was an accomplished liar schooled in deceit. With an inner reluctance that was suppressed but not silenced she took his hand and allowed herself to be escorted to the table.

Although she had stressed the importance to Luke of conversing so as to better play the public she was unequivocally shutting down. Freedom and implant be damned she was only going to put precisely the amount of effort forward as Luke did. If it was true that the people did have greater affection for him, regardless of what she had tried to foster during media coverage of the trials, if it was true all they had to do with sit and be photographed as they ate without speaking, if he was so perfectly groomed he did not need her assistance, there was no point in helping. A shadow did not need to stretch for the light. He could handle this by himself exactly as he had professed he would and earn the results he was certain would follow.

The interior of the restaurant was filled with pizza goodness that tickled his senses and enticed him to order everything on the menu. It must be his stomach doing the thinking, because it didn’t matter that it was not his type of restaurant, he just needed food to be served as soon as possible. The sensation of hunger was not commonly felt by the members of the nobility. Food was plentiful and always available for those who were in position. He can order for whatever he craves, and the royal kitchen will make it for him.

That he was asked to wait in line and now wait for the waiter to take their order was getting to him. Therefore, when a man in white button-up shirt and black pants, wearing an apron around his waist approached, the prince very nearly snapped. He told the waiter his choice of pizza, appetizer, and two glasses of wine then promptly asked how long it would take for their food to be served. “About twenty minutes, your highness,” replied the waiter before he was dismissed.

Twenty minutes was not a long time to wait given the right company. Good thing there was the internet to keep him busy, because his companion, despite her earlier objection against his plan to not to speak to her, was being quiet. Not wanting to waste his time faking smiles and engaging in small talks, he started browsing through that morning’s electronic correspondences about the work he had left behind just to indulge the whims of the queen. One subject that came about was the consolidated monthly report on the status of the agriculture sector. He paused remembering what he was talking to Rhiane about before the hostess came to fetch them.

The prince opened his mouth as if to say something, only to shake his head and looked back down to what he was doing. What was he thinking? To start a conversation would be to admit defeat. He was winning thus far, she was not forcing him to discuss menial matters like the name of the pigs she had at home, or the number of eggs that a chicken can lay in a month. He was at peace, being able to conform to the queen’s order and being compelled to act interested. Although he was interested. He stole a quick glance at his date wondering how she could be nice to strangers and not to her future husband, and more importantly, her future king.

The thought was interrupted when the food arrived. Unlike the restaurants he frequented where the course was served one at a time to maximize the guests’ eating pleasure, everything was served all at once. Caprese, pasta, and pizza, plus the two glasses of wine. Everything came together at the same time and was left on the table for them to enjoy.

Luke served two slices of the tomato and its toppings to Rhiane’s plate without a word, then took two more for himself before retreating to his seat and eating in silence. It was neither bad nor good but was filling, which was what he was looking for that morning. His second serving had less impact than the first, and the third even lesser. He turned his attention to the pizza next and accidentally met her green gaze. “You are being quiet for someone who insists on us talking to make this more believable,” he said, breaking the silence as he served a slice of pizza on her plate. “Was it something I said about GenCo?” He took a slice for his own consumption and used it as distraction as he contemplated whether he would admit to her something that she had no business knowing. “I lost four percent of equity on that trade six months ago when the stock prices sharply declined due to poor performance of the company. Had I known how bad their most-hyped soybeans were, I would have sold everything before the launch of the product, not after. But I’m telling you, the shares are selling at a bargain price right now. It’s tempting, but one never knows how low the prices can go.”

Luke smiled at her, a genuine smile that time, and a playful wink too. It happened before Luke can check himself. Like a comet though, it blinked out of sight only to be replaced by the cool polite smile of somebody who had just remembered who he was talking to. Until that too vanished.

Despite the crown prince's absolute confidence about this outing, she was just as certain of the image he was unintentionally projecting. All eyes were upon them now that their purposefully poor disguises had been blown; they were a spectacle no patron would willfully ignore completely even if they feigned indifference and tried to be absorbed in their meals. The queen's arrangement of this date also assured there were plants to assure high definition photographs would be taken and utilized in covering up the shameful implications of Luke's departure from the engagement ball. Perhaps the monarch expected that her eldest child was a better performer than was reality. For most the threat of a rebellion, the forceful implantation as a leash, and her scorn would have compelled them to take every opportunity to make the most of this chance. Luke sat there arrogantly reveling in his convictions that he could do real wrong and the public would adore him inherently.

Even loyalists could not ignore what pictures would later show. Rhiane did not so much as glance at her menu before her impatient fiance ordered for them both. The supposedly romantic pinnacle of oozing charisma had not uttered a single word to her in advance seeking her opinion. While this could conceivably be explained away (albeit with limited success) what transpired next was awkward enough it became the subject of whispered conversations in the restaurant. Luke was browsing the internet, keeping himself busy, and completely ignoring the commoner whom his disregarding of had made headlines not only in their kingdom but across the world. The silence was so unusual and profound, so obviously evidence of a perfunctory relationship, of a man who would just assume be alone as with his future bride, that it gave credence to the contested theories about what had truly transpired the prior evening. Sudden;y the credibility of the story was fading as the charade unraveled. This was how people had feelings for one another acted while in the honeymoon stage unless something had gone horribly wrong. Single men and women would only allow such quiet at their table if they were plotting their escape from a suitor that was so awful they were contemplating how easily they could catch the manager and ask to pay before slipping out the back door.

For her part Rhiane took the opportunity to smile as other customers accidentally met her gaze, mouthing words to them such as liking their skirt, their tie, their blouse, or their hair, before returning to sitting with her hands in her lap as she was obviously neglected. The princess elect's advice had not been heeded but that did not mean she had to allow herself to tank this adventure as Luke sank to the depths. So long as the queen's wrath was not centered on her the stipend sent to her father and brother would not be threatened. Portrait perfect there was not a moment where her expression faltered to anything less than the enjoyment though she felt the polar opposite. Until the food arrived she was personified rejection.

The farmer thanked their waiter and patiently watched as Luke doled out food to her. Idly she wondered when, if ever, he would take notice of how much control he had exerted in the last thirty minutes. When it was clear that he was still oblivious she subtly shifted the wine out of the way and drank her water as she ate the appetizer quietly. Despite being of the lowest class in their society she sliced it into small, delicate pieces before eating it with nearly immaculate etiquette.

"I decided to let the results speak for themselves," Rhiane stated simply and truthfully. Her eyes glittered under the light with a momentarily cunning that was allowed to leak through for her benefit alone. Feeling adequately satisfied with her response to his passive observation she placed her knife and fork across the ceramic white appetizer plate and pulled the larger one meant for the entree closer. Pizza had not been a frequent indulgence of hers to say the least and so this was a rare treat. The nutritionists within the palace would be advising she'd have to eat salad for months to compensate. Apparently her waistline was a matter of national concern though no one except the twitchy advisors seemed all that absorbed. Once she was pregnant she heard rumor she'd truly be able to explore the decadence of the castle's offerings.

"If it's any consolation, I do not believe anyone knew how poorly the soybeans would perform," she admitted slowly. She did not know quite what to do about his confession, his smile, nor his wink even after they had faded. The princess elect was not anyone who kept company with men to whom she was not related and thus, when Luke deviated from being an unrepentant asshole, she was uncomfortable. In that moment she was not concerned because he was the crown prince but because he was a man, she was a woman, and she had distanced herself as far from any emotions bordering on romantic like that innocent flirtations made her no more composed than an adolescent in the thralls of puberty.

"I have nothing to risk, nothing to gain," she shrugged, "so it does not matter to me what you do with your investments, your highness. Maybe that is the charm of poverty. When you have nothing left to lose there is little to worry about, is there?" The self-depreciation was not insincere though delivered with a slightly lopsided smile. There was the distinct impression that she was no longer talking about just stocks.

There was no denying that by the time the pair was done with the appetizer, every person in the restaurant already knew who the two people sitting at the corner were. Professionals having lunch in their business suits, the waiters, and even the cook who prepared their meal tried their best to pretend that there was no important person in the room, but the quick sideways glances, stolen photos, and whispered observations betrayed their otherwise cool demeanor. It was precisely that instance, the feeling of being scrutinized like an exotic animal in a cage, that Luke disliked the most when in a room with commoners, even the schooled ones. It was as if those pairs of eyes were waiting to be graced with a glimpse of imperfection of the otherwise perfect portrait of the crown prince.

He was sure that there were criticisms to be told about the brunch date. Perhaps it would the choice of restaurant, the rather obvious disguise, the food he ordered for the two of them, the way his hair was fashionably mussed, or the expectations of the public that he did not meet. Of all these, the latter was the juiciest and most salable story. He was accustomed to circulating rumors and half-truths about him. It was alright, because he cannot please everybody, but it was his belief that that for every person that criticizes him was a person who praises his deeds. Instead of worrying about the general public’s image of him, Luke was more interested in how that morning’s charade would affect the queen’s opinion towards him.

“But you are no longer poor, Ms. Black,” he said, examining a string of mozzarella as he cut a piece from his slice and pulled it to his face. Technically, her net worth had dramatically increased after she won the contest, and it would further improve after marrying Luke. He wondered if she was already resigned to the fact that poverty was her past and the good graces of the royal family was her future. “You own a royal suite, designer shoes and clothes, an army of maid servants. Your family is well compensated. If you would require your own transport, it will be provided for you. There is no longer a need to work a day in your life.” Except to carry in her womb and deliver into the world Luke’s heir. He pushed the piece of pizza in his mouth and chewed slowly. Her usefulness would end after the birth of New Rome’s little princes and princesses. ’Then you can marry nobility,’ he remembered the queen saying. Just like she did after she killed her first husband, just like every other ruling monarch before her did. It was meant as an encouragement for Luke to go through with the engagement, a prize that the queen was dangling in front of his eyes saying that she would give her blessing to whoever of noble birth he wished to marry. Even Sophia Keller, who was seen by Queen Camilla as a bad influence on Luke could be his second wife when Rhiane was gone.

Rhiane’s fate was sealed when she joined the contest. The whole kingdom was aware of what was at the end of the road looked like for the winner of the title princess elect, yet Rhiane voluntarily entered. If she herself had forfeited her life, then who was he to care? It should be the least of his worries. Besides, he didn’t even like the farmer girl. At the end of the day, what bothered Luke was the fact that he would precisely be like his mother and the murderers of the innocent before her.

“On the contrary,” he continued after swallowing his first bite together with the thoughts of the future, then leaned forward to emphasize his point. “You have everything. And whether I like it or not – we both know my sentiment on this issue – you even have me.” What more could she ask for? He wanted to ask but thought that it sounded like a product advertisement. With a napkin in hand, he reached towards the side of her lips and dabbed away a non-existent stain. “So now you have precious lot to lose, princess.”

Rhiane raised a brow as Luke alleged that she was no longer poor. A refutation was already dancing on her tongue but it was his leaning forward, proclaiming that she had him, that made her slightly sour disposition tucked away under the mask evaporate briefly. The farmer laughed honestly without care of how this turn of events might appear to spectators. After eating the caprese appetizer she had only taken a few bites of her pizza before setting it down. Much as she'd like to blame her lack of appetite on Luke's arrogant ordering without knowing her preferences it was to her taste. Her father in particular would consume everything in sight when stressed but she was the opposite, wolfing down larger meals when content, and barely able to eat a few forkfuls of salad when there were issues weighing down heavily on her mind. The princess elect was relatively certain the small battalion of women tasked to make her a paragon of beauty would be all too glad to have this revelation relayed to them.

"Your highness," she started, clearing her throat to try to smother the last of the fit of giggles, "you are correct my family is well compensated. But I don't have any illusions. The suite in which I reside is owned by the crown and I am no more than a tenant. My maids serve not me but the monarch, and it is because it her decree that I ought to be attended that they are lent to me. I am more like a pet, am I not? I am kept for a purpose, provided for, cleaned up after, but ultimately decisions and wealth are out of my control." It was an apt allusion but not one she'd admit to anyone other than Luke. Despite his other failings he seemed to be a surprisingly honest person and deserving of the knowledge that she knew precisely where she stood. The princess elect was not a candidate with stars in her eyes that would mistake a gilded cage for utopia. In a sense she was glad they were spared from the realization how they would not be living the dream they had been insistent was just outside their grasp. Rhiane had saved some of them from a fate they could not bear to imagine much less endure.

"And we both know I do not have you. The lady in your bed this morning perhaps has you, or your family, or people that I do not know, but I do not have an ounce of you, do I?" Her probing gaze met his and directly unflinching as they sought an answer that she knew she already possessed. "I've seen people who truly owned one another and death could not wholly separate. I won't shame them, nor you, by trying to say that this arrangement even in part equates to having anything except a contract." There would be a future meeting of the flesh she knew but that was no different than her purely physical dalliances of the past. She would not have Luke. It would be legitimately shocking if, given his flight from the engagement ball already, there were not multiple affair partners that would have more of Luke's evenings than she as his wife. A pregnancy would allow the perfect pretense for his needs to be satisfied by a not-so-secret lover.

Leaning back she tried to clear memories of her parents from her mind. Her mother would hum to herself in the kitchen as she was slicing vegetables and her father would, horribly off-key and with no sense of rhythm, join in as if he knew the tune. It was one of her most fond recollections though she was certain it was something nobility and commoners alike would mock. A cacophony of antiquated songs being mangled by a duo hopelessly in love was not a portrait of romantic bliss. At the time she had been embarrassed by their displays of affection, their sweet names for one another, their silliness, the way they always hugged and kissed after a divisive argument, by how every man in town chuckled when Hubert Black went to the florist for the best blooms to beg for forgiveness. Now she knew how precious these interactions had been even if her adolescent self was humiliated by their 'lovey dovey' antics.

"But, for the sake of clarity, I will be more precise. I do concede I have some things it is possible to lose, but for it to really matter it must be something you care about, that you need, that you would be lost without. I've exchanged my conventional poverty for another kind entirely," she said more softly. Rhiane did not believe herself to have freedom and so even the implant had not robbed her of as much as it had Luke. The splendor of the castle was not something she was reliant upon nor enthralled by. Even her future, and the children in it, were forfeit as she would perish and they would be raised by either nannies or a stepmother that tolerated their existence but did little more. All of her hard work to keep push the farm from the brink of bankruptcy to becoming profitable was moot now that it was bankrolled by becoming a breeding mare for the crown prince.

"I dread the day that anything I covet is actually given to me," she added with a sigh. "We can go whenever you are ready, your highness."

The Briks, like most casual restaurants, was a place where groups of people sit together to share a meal and personal anecdotes among themselves. Therefore, when picking a place to eat, ambiance was as important as the quality of food. At The Briks, for example, the owner made sure that the interior exuded a cozy atmosphere of a certain period in history that was very much different than the present age. It gave the patrons a place to speak without being disturbed, an illusion of detachment from the hustle and bustle of the capital, and a way to ease stress even just for a few hours. To boost the old world feel, the piped music was from the pre-war era. Luke was sure that the song playing at that moment was not recorded during the Industrial Revolution, because it was impossible. The subtle melody that filled the room sang about a perfect moment spoiled by ‘saying something stupid like I love you.’

And then she went and spoiled the ambiance with her sudden burst of laughter. The crown prince faked his laughter, though it was pitiful compared to her heartfelt outburst. Those who were occupying tables nearest to theirs lost control over their curiosity and openly stared with questioning eyes. Luke met some of those eyes and shrugged. Had she laughed at something else entirely, he would have enjoyed the sound of pure mirth, but it was obvious that her reaction was because of something he said. He was not trying to be funny.

Luke started eating his pizza again as she composed herself, and continued doing so while she explained how she saw her present situation. That she likened herself to a pet almost made him laugh. Luke had a pet growing up. It was a wolfdog he named Seamus, which he bought during one of his overseas trip. He chose the keep the dog, because it was something he liked. On the contrary, keeping Rhiane was neither his choice nor his liking. He would have pointed that out in the middle of her sentence if his mouth was not full. Because it was, he let it go.

Rhiane's was a personality unlike the princess elect he envisioned, a woman who would be blinded by the prestige and the fortune that came with the title, not to mention being wed to the crown prince. Rhiane was the complete opposite of the princess elect that lived in his imagination since he found out about the breeding tradition of his family. She knew what she had gotten into and focused only on the task at hand that she refused to acknowledge the benefits. But when she started addressing his last statement, Luke put down his fork and knife.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” There was a trace of amusement at the corner of his lips. Did she expect him to say that he was even contemplating on surrendering himself to her? “We were talking about the charm of poverty, about economic standing, and what came with your title as princess elect. Being associated to the heir of the crown is among the many prizes you get when you won the title. Disregard emotions and any notion of a romantic relationship, because your observation is correct.” He said it plainly. Better that they set expectations straight on the first day of their fake relationship than one of them confuse a kind gesture with a show of affection sometime in the future. He didn’t plan on lying to her, because in the end it would only make his life more miserable, and she appeared to be an intelligent woman who would easily see through him.

“Think of me as your endorser. You do know how advertisements work, do you? Why brand owners pick celebrities to represent their products. It is as if the credibility of the endorser is extended to the product. What I’m saying is as my future wife, legally you have me as kind of your endorser. You will carry my name and the authority that comes with it.” He shrugged. That was how the law was written, that she would be part of the royal family when they were wed to be one. “Don’t demean yourself, because it reflects back to me. Instead, be a princess.”

Luke reached for something inside his jacket’s pocket then laid on the table two plastic cards. He slipped it over to her side before withdrawing his hand. Both cards were under his namesake and were represented by different banks. Although most of his transactions can be done wireless, he always carried with him the cards and some bills in case a disruption in signal would occur. “Take it and use it however you please. I will have the banks authorize you to transact on my behalf. You say that poverty has its charms. Maybe that is true, maybe it’s why those who are born poor remain poor, because they are too used to having nothing to lose that they have no clue how to not lose what they already grasped in their hands.”

Before she can react or protest, Luke requested for their bill and immediately paid for it as well, refusing the store manager when she offered the lunch to be free as the restaurant’s gift to Luke’s and Rhiane’s engagement. Checking the notifications, however, he learned that as his mother predicted, several photographers had camped outside the building waiting for them.

Rhiane could tolerate his little oration about setting aside emotional expectations and romance, his smug belief association with him was a boon any citizen would envy, that she was gifted with a lovely endorsement of the crown prince, the insistence she now carried his name and authority, and a subtle instruction not to demean herself (though she was not compelled by this request). It was when he slid two cards across the table and spoke of the poor remaining poor because they are too used to having nothing to lose that they have no clue how to not lose what they already grasped in their hands that her blood boiled. The former farmer stewed in disgust and rage as he paid their bill and checked his device for whatever he deemed one again more worthy of his attentions than his fiancee. She did not reach for the rectangular pieces of plastic. It must have been quite the sight for their rapt audience. After having a brief conversation they had watched Luke return to ignoring the woman he allegedly loved without noticing she hardly ate and did not so much as touch her wine.

"I did not realize you had such intimate familiarity with the poor," she said as she leaned forward with a smile painted on. From a distance she did not even appear upset but the venom in her words spoke to how deeply he had invoked her wrath. "I'm sure you wouldn't have made such assumptions without having personal experience to draw upon." But they both knew he did not. Vague reports and tours of poverty-stricken areas were almost certainly the extent of his exposure. By comparison had lived and breathed the life not only herself but seen it up close with every neighbor, every friend, every fellow farmer, every classmate, every suitor, every individual save a few that she came into contact with on a regular basis. The princess elect had the sense and courtesy not to fling her opinions on nobility at Luke for the same reason she expected him to return the favor; they didn't truly know one another's world. Clearly she had underestimated the ego that convinced him he was omniscient and omnipotent all at once.

"I sacrificed everything every day I was farmer just to claw us back up from the edges of bankruptcy," she started. "I did not attend university, did not grieve, did not date, did not take up hobbies, slept little, ate the least amount I could get away with, bought myself clothes only when necessary, did not rest when I was sick, and still it was less than others. I dare you to find anything that was in my grasp that I lost out of negligence. Despite my efforts, no matter what I accomplished, I would have never achieved enough success to not be considered poor. I neither know nor care what the wealthy tell themselves about the laboring class to help themselves sleep at night, feeling justified in their judgment and derision, but I will not tolerate your insults of them."

As impossible as it was to prohibit everyone from speaking ill of the poor she knew that at least temporarily she could try to force Luke to comply. With a subtle title of her head she gestured to their spectators and the exterior of the building where she expected the paparazzi to be waiting to snap glossy photographs of the newly engaged lovebirds. "The choice is up to you. Either we agree not to scapegoat the lowborn for their predicament or I can show the media how another princess elect might react to your words. Could you imagine what one of those delicate flowers would have done when they realized that their husband would never love them, that he would order for them without asking what they wanted, and would prefer they not speak to him? I rather think that they would cry. It's an art to be able to convincingly cry on command. It's deception obviously but much harder than selling a lie with charm. Would you like to make a wager as to whether or not I am capable? The public loves a tragedy more than uplifting news- it sells better apparently."

Had he not tanked himself by the assessment of the poor she might have been swayed to take the offered funds. Rhiane was a strategist that knew how to manipulate with a more gentle edge than the queen. During the contest, even when she had obscured the truth, she came across as genuine and relatable. People liked her because she was down to earth, able to poke fun at herself without pretense, and had a charming candor. With freedom to spend how she wished she could launch a campaign that would undoubtedly help Luke fight back the negative spotlight that was being shone upon him as a result of the engagement ball and this afternoon's lunch. Using her own background as a stepping stone she could launch community outreach programs, send thoughtful gifts, and appeal to the very people she knew the rebellion was swaying to their cause.

But the princess elect saw strings, real or not, attached to the cards laying on the table in the bright fluorescent light. Settling back in her chair she felt anger seep away slowly. It was unlikely, but possible, that Luke was in his own strange way trying to extend a peace offering or understanding. Rhiane felt was a stab of regret for letting her temper get the best of her. An apology felt excessive given his prior abhorrent treatment but she would at least try to bite her tongue back more than she had. A churn of her stomach indicated even her insides were disappointed in today's choices though eating still felt impossible.

The instructions he was typing in response to the alert that popped-up stating the situation outside was left unfinished, the notifications forgotten, when his date leaned forward and regarded him with a sweet smile that he knew by then meant that she was not at all happy. When she commented with sarcasm about him having “intimate familiarity with the poor,” the prince raised a brow and gestured towards her with his left hand to answer her thinly masked mockery of his observations. He was familiar with a poor alright, he just witnessed how she imprisoned herself in a cage of poverty when the key was within her reach, dangling in front of her eyes.

Luke leaned forward with his elbows on the table, so he was staring her at eye level. If she would prattle on about the credit cards, then it would just prove his point. But Rhiane listed for him the things she failed to do or experience, the material things she was deprived of, and the sacrifices she made, then topped it with a challenge. It was an unfair task to ask it from somebody who she met not twenty-four hours ago. Luke would have no answer to that challenge, and maybe Rhiane was not expecting any. Her pleasant façade would not matter if anybody got close enough to their table. Luke could discern the ire he awakened with his words from the tone of her voice to the subtle tightness of her lips, so much like the queen.

Honestly, he would not care for her opinion about the noble houses should she feel like expressing it, he had thought that she would not care about his opinion on the less fortunate ones as well. He expected a debate based on logical arguments, but the farmer girl was arguing on an emotional level. In the first place, the prince’s intent was not to insult her roots. He leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to ask her to calm down then clarify that he did not mean to insult anybody but was just stating his belief, when she issued a threat.

Luke wanted to ask her to repeat herself. Perhaps she was at such an emotional state that it clouded her better judgment, that she did neither mean what she said, nor did she intend to blackmail him to bend to her will and ask him to alter his beliefs. As if he was not her future husband and king. As if she and her family was not living on his good graces.

Anyway, agreeing would have meant admission that he was wrong. “When I told you be a princess, I did not mean be this way,” he ground out. Blackmail was a frequent weapon against a fellow noble, because in his world personal image and popularity mattered. Rhiane was quickly learning how to wield it. Unfortunately, he would not give in just like what they used to say in the military – “never negotiate with a terrorist.” Yet if he disagreed, he may soon find out that the queen restricted his freedom further to five or, worse, three meters. She was a self-professed liar and he believed it. She may also be a good actress, because lying and acting was one and the same. He would not take any chances. Luke had agreed to be seen in public with her for the sake of preserving his limited freedom, he would not endanger it by losing to this argument.

He remembered his cousin Marcel telling him that he discovered an effective way to silence any woman. Luke had not yet had the chance to test that theory until that morning. Without a word, he pushed his chair back and with two steps came to stand beside her. It would have looked that he would force her out of her seat, but in a quick succession the crown prince gently touched her chin and tilted her face to his. He bent his body over her and before she could push him away, touched his lips to hers.
It was unlike the personality he had since showed her. The gesture was kind and tender, even polite. A kiss of well-rehearsed pair of lips, devoid of emotion and yet full of passion. If she wished, she could pull away any second. Though it would not look good on her though to openly reject her fiancé’s romantic gestures. Some might even conclude that the absence of the crown prince at the Victor’s Ball was due to the apparent rejection of the princess elect.

Luke pulled away enough to be able to look her in the eyes. A smile that was almost a grin was on his face. “Be my guest,” he finally whispered, answering her threat. “What tragedy might the princess elect cry about? That she had lost her first kiss unwillingly to her fiancé? You may either take the cards and pretend to happily walk away with me with your dignity intact or cause a scene that you will surely regret.” Isn’t it what she wanted – to make the ruse as believable as it could be? Luke rose to his full height and offered his hand once again to her. “I’m sorry that I forgot to ask for your opinion on the food, and for being too busy with work to talk to you,” he said intentionally louder, but not to the point that he was declaring it for everyone to hear. Luke was not known to admit his fault. To hear him say that he was sorry was something the public would dwell on for a few days or weeks. Whether he was sincere or not would be left for the public to debate on. “Let’s go home.”

It was ironic that Luke accused Rhiane of being a terrorist when that was precisely what plagued the kingdom of New Rome. Had policy being to negotiate with the disgruntled masses there might not have been peace brokered, but the uprisings would have been significantly slowed if not stopped. The very tactic of refusing to listen was what incited rage, pushed people to join the rebellion, and convinced even-tempered individuals that acts of violence were both just and necessary. Rhiane assumed that the queen knew that the revolution was building momentum rather than losing it. Propaganda tried to stifle the successes of the furious poor but that only made them try harder to impress upon the world their strength. The princess elect was meant to help keep the 'terrorists' from reaching a crescendo that could lead to actual civil war and yet her darling fiance, arrogant and naive to the discord rumbling at the outer edges of his empire, accused her of the same label slapped upon people who actually worked against the crown. It was more important to him that he be able to insult his societal lessors than take advantage of an ally that could turn the tide.

Increasingly Rhiane was beginning to suspect that instead of thinking first of what the country needed, Luke thought of what he wanted. The crown prince appeared to place high value on personal satisfaction and selfish desires. One could only assume that, given his intellect, he was not wholly ignorant of the nation and instead expected it would sooner or later follow his lead like an obedient dog. She did not envy the duty resting upon his shoulders but she did not believe he acted responsibly either. Philosophy stated to be the most effective leader one must understand all of their citizens. Rhiane did not have delusions that the queen empathized with those wallowing in poverty any more than Luke did but she did theorize that the monarch comprehended more fully the situation.

All of these criticisms were forgotten when the tall, handsome male rose from his seat, walked over, tilted her chin upwards, and bent over to meet their lips in a kiss. The former farmer froze. Her past was checkered with dalliances that were emotionless affairs meant to satisfy primal needs. She was no virgin or stranger to the pleasures of the flesh but she was a relative novice to expressions of romantic intimacy. Onlookers couldn't see it but she knew that Luke must feel it if nothing else. Her heart thudded in her chest against her will and she tried to quiet the tingling that the man left in his wake. Despite knowing it was empty, forced, a gesture to placate and create a spectacle, internally she was not as stoic nor controlled as she pretended. Rhiane a distant suppressed part of herself wanted the love that her parents held in their hands if even for a moment. That she distanced herself, pushed away suitors, and rejected dates in the past was not evidence of her attempts to protect herself from temptation. The princess elect had underestimated the size of the weakness she had forged in her soul.

Luke dared her to follow through with her threat before he stood tall and offered her his hand. It took no small amount of willpower not to frown as he feebly tried to excuse his dismissal of her earlier as 'forgetting to ask her opinion' and 'being too busy with work.' She wondered idly how long it would take the public to realize that he had been supposedly working on the night of his engagement ball and through the majority of the first date; it insinuated that Rhiane was not a priority for either the prince nor the regime as a whole if he was sacrificing his most important moments with his new fiancee at the onset of the relationship. News headlines would turn this excuse against the royals as proof that they could not spare even key events for a lowly peasant. Weeks from now such dismissals with a flimsy explanation would be overlooked but that assumed there was a solid foundation of respect and recognition that came beforehand.

"Excuse me," the waitress interrupted nervously. In her hands was a small take home box composed of recycled brown cardboard that had the name of the restaurant emblazoned in bright red on the side.

Not yet taking either the cards nor Luke's offered hand Rhiane was happy to turn to the employee while she mentally scrambled for a way out of her predicament without loosing her dignity. "Yes?" the princess elect asked pleasantly with a brilliant smile that made her eyes sparkle in the fluorescent lighting.

"I have been asked to bring this to you, Ms. Black, courtesy of another customer."

Cocking her had to the side with curiosity Rhiane accepted the container. With all the enthusiasm of a child opening a present on Christmas morning she delicately pried open the lid to find a half dozen cannolis nestled inside. Each was a unique flavor that was visually distinguishable in a variation of the shells and filling but not immediately intuitive in relation to taste. It was hard to tell what genuinely thrilled the woman still seated at the table more- that someone had bestowed upon her a gift or that it was a sweet for which she had great affection. Having so little money meant even holidays were devoid of exchanges simply because they could not be afforded even by loving parents.

"This is wonderful!" she exclaimed with delight that made even the nearby tables unable to contain their own smiles. Her delight was contagious and made the waitress, apprehensive initially to interject, bashfully grin despite her attempts to remain professional. Rhiane stood (leaning on her good leg) and took the other lady's hands in hers briefly, unintentionally rejecting Luke whom she had honestly neglected, and looked her into the eyes with unbridled joy. "Please, I want to thank them personally. Can you tell me who it was?"

The waitress paused as she considered confidentiality but a man from the other end of restaurant shakily stood. He was in the company of four other individuals his age who, gauging by their similarly drab suits and matching badges clipped to their lapels, were co-workers at a nearby establishment. "It was me," he croaked with embarrassment. Now everyone had stopped eating to watch the show that was taking place right before their eyes. "I remembered you said before a strength trial that your favorite treat was the cannoli and I wanted to congratulate..." The poor soul's ears burned pink at the veritable crowd staring at him, one of which was heir to the throne and another of which was his future bride.

"I am in your debt for being so thoughtful. Please, let me express my gratitude," she began excitedly. "Would you like a picture together? I understand there are some photographers outside. I am sure one of them could take an excellent photograph with us and we can show how tasty these cannolis look so that The Briks is on the forefront of everyone's thoughts. Would you mind terribly letting one inside?" she queried the waitress with another charming smile that was evidently persuasive.

"Oh, that isn't necessary," the man on the other side of the room protested but one of the others at his table was already on his feet and tugged on his arm, "but I would like a picture very much."

What just happened?

The crown prince’s stare traveled from his outstretched hand to the farmer girl to the plastic cards screaming his name until it finally rested on an unassuming take-out box, which his bride to be seemed to find more interesting than anything he had offered thus far. Discretely, to save some dignity, he pocketed the hand he offered her while she drowned herself in glee at the thought of taking home the sweets. A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, he thought, watching her face light up even more. Sooner than later, when her stomach was bloated and would not fit in the dresses that her stylists picked for her, she would regret ever having met those tasty little devils.

The she got up then eagerly took the waitress’ hand in hers. In any other situation, it shouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t even mind if she was grasping the hands of another man, because they did agree to live separate lives despite being a couple. But the issue was that he offered his hand – the hand that would one day lead the kingdom of New Rome – and the farmer girl had the nerve to not only turn away, but also walk away. As if a woman of low birth such as her would ever have any offer more attractive than his. Such was what he was talking about when he told her that the poor did not know how to hold on to what they have. He had offered her the gift of financial freedom by authorizing her to access his personal finances and instead of the simple thank you that he would most certainly welcome with a smile, Rhiane, who he found out was as ungrateful as her brethren, chose to threaten him and walk away with a box of cannolis from another commoner.

Luke watched her chase after the kind-hearted stranger who presented her with such mediocre gift from a not so notable establishment. His irritation with the turns of events failed to show on most of his face, except his eyes. He was not a good liar after all. The glare that he was shooting at the perpetrator who stepped up to admit his crime was enough of a warning to not push it, but he and his friends apparently did. Luke could not fault the group entirely, though. They were encouraged by her fiancée, who claimed that she was indebted to these people. With a sigh, he picked up the plastic cards from the table and tucked both in the inner pocket of his jacket. One of those days, he would have to lecture her about corruption and how seemingly innocent ‘gifts’ come into play. Like what was happening, she was already granting the stranger and that place a favor.

“Ms. -- Rhiane, don’t,” Luke warned quietly behind her, but he guessed that she would do what she pleased anyway. He wanted so bad to drag her out of the establishment and into the safety of the hovercaft then fly away home. The only thing stopping him was the crowd present at the restaurant who would most certainly judge him and liken him to a barbarian who had no respect for women. Therefore, all he did was issue a warning and wait for her next move.

Her answer, or acknowledgement that she heard her, was cut by the entrance of the store manager. It was the same woman who Luke rejected when she told him that the newly engaged couple’s lunch was on the house. Unlike her politely blank face upon hearing his rather straight-forward rejection, the store manager was beaming. “Ah, this is great. Guard, please allow one of the photographers in,” she declared, very happy to be on the receiving end of the free publicity. She was smiling and was talking to Rhiane when she continued, “I’m sure Ms. Black and her new friends would love their photo to be taken by a professional.”

As the guard sought out to fetch one of the photographers, the store manager turned to Luke. As she met his then freezing glare, her face lost a degree of her enthusiasm and her voice fell into a more formal tone. “Would you care to join the photo, your highness?”

“No thanks,” he answered without hesitation. “I have better things to do.” In truth, he did not care to have his face or name linked to an establishment such as The Briks. He did not want to be misinterpreted as endorsing the restaurant, because if he did, then his peers would talk about the questionable taste of the crown prince.

The restaurant fell silent after the prince’s refusal. The energy that his fiancée brought to the room with her contagious smile and energy was dampened by a simple ‘no’. It was as if the people didn’t know that he was not one who would indulge in such petty acts. Or perhaps they had thought that Rhiane coming into his life had changed their crown prince. They were wrong. “I will be waiting outside when you’re done paying your debt and after granting every other person’s request,” he whispered as he passed her by.

Outside the restaurant was not an improvement in the scenery. Apparently, the news that the newly engaged royal couple was having lunch at The Briks spread like wildfire. Cameras snapped as he stepped out of the restaurant. Luke pulled his hood over his head as he found himself a vacant spot on the bench beside visibly ecstatic young professionals who were torn between approaching and ignoring him. If they had known him well, they would have decided to do the latter, but perhaps encouraged by the one photograph he allowed to be taken with, one started a conversation with a polite “Excuse me, your highness.”

He was rescued from another plain no by a phone call, which he was only too happy to answer. “Cally,” he said, placing the straightened band to his ear.

“Luuukeee! It’s all over the internet.” The princess sounded amused it made him feel a little better, less irritated. “My dear brother. Did you not know how to date a woman?”

“What? What do you mean I --”

Calista laughed at the other end of the line. “It’s all over the internet! I’ll send you the links. But let me tell you this now. If you’re going to date any woman, you don’t ignore her, or she will certainly get the wrong message. It’s obvious how you find your phone more interesting than your date. Ok. Got to go, I have an appointment for my nails. See you later. Love you. Remember what I told you, Luke.”

"Wait, Cally."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering. Where in the capital do you find the best tasting cannolis?"

There was a thoughtful pause from the other end. He hoped his sister did not know yet about the little gift presented by one of the patrons of the restaurant. "I would suggest the royal kitchen?" Cally answered. "It makes the best of everything, you know it."

"No," he sighed. Of course the royal kitchen would be the best bet, but he didn't want anything homemade. "I need it to be from a fancy place, with fancy packaging and all those things that women likes. Send me a message when you find it?"

"I don't know what you're up to, but okay."

It was hardly surprising that Luke objected to her offer to take a picture with the generous gifter. The princess elect had a plethora of reasons she could imagine for him doing so: he was dedicated to being contrary to her wishes, he wanted to make a hasty exit, he believed all the commoners around were beneath being allowed a single snapshot with his fiancee, he was in a poor disposition, he was unimpressed with his lunch, he wanted to control her every action as retribution for her defiance. As he had not showed himself to act with her best interests in mind she would not heed the warning. Were the crown prince a man who was legitimately concerned with her well-being she would have excused herself with profuse apologies. Luke's own hubris colored their every interaction as surely as hers did as well. Because he did not believe she could or would give advice that would work to their conjoined advantage she assumed it was because he operated with an exclusively self-serving motivation. Lack of both faith and trust defined their relationship.

Rhiane smiled at the manager who was all too happy to have more positive publicity in addition to what their visit had already generated. Perhaps it was silly of her but she felt an instant connection with the businesswoman. The former farmer had more in common with the manager of the restaurant than she had with anyone residing at the balance. While the woman may have had better circumstances as this area was more affluent than her home town they undoubtedly went through similar struggles. They worked positions of oversight, of handling vendors and employees, of organizing the premises, of negotiation, and neither were compensated adequately in comparison those that lived luxurious lives off trust funds.

Despite his arrogance Rhiane did not expect Luke's refusal to be as abrasive as it had been. That he had not hesitated before delivering the rejection did not help matters. With a smile still plastered on her face she tried to not let it dampen her mood as quickly as it had done to the patrons. No longer was he a charming man making apologies for a less than ideal date. The daggers in his eyes, his icy exterior, and flat tone more expressive than his visage.

"If you insist," she whispered back to Luke as he passed by. Since he was going to damn her either way she would capitalize on the sarcastic offer. Hopefully he enjoyed the exterior of the building for she would grant every request made in his absence. News outlets might make headlines questioning the sincerity and dedication of the groom but the bride would do everything in her power to be the beacon of hope the poor needed. She had to be proof of their value. There was no better way to vault the image of the poverty-stricken into a compassionate light than to ooze all the virtues conventionally held.

"Would you mind coming to my table?" Rhiane asked her new acquaintances once Luke had stalked outside. "I'm afraid I'm still sporting a brace from yesterday evening," she said with an apologetic smile and gesture towards the leg everyone had seen crumple under her yesterday on broadcast. There had been more replays in slow motion than she could stomach.

"Oh, oh of course!" The quintet almost overturned their chairs in haste to get to the table at which Rhiane and Luke had sat. The princess elect carefully picked up her carton of cannolis as the single very fortunate photographer was escorted into the room by security.

"Would you mind taking a picture of me with these gentlemen?" Rhiane asked the confused woman with a large camera hanging from her neck.

"No, not at your all Mrs. Black," she hurriedly replied as if afraid anything less than instant enthusiasm might find her replaced. There was a saying of not looking a gift horse in the mouth and at this very moment the photographer decided to respect the wisdom contained within the saying.

Six bright, jubilant faces were snapped in over a dozen flashes just to be certain that one captured the moment to Rhiane's satisfaction. The princess elect thanked her new friends again for their support and consideration once they were done and the photographer, still ruminating over her good fortune, handed them her business card. She had been about to do the same to The Briks store manager and Rhiane when the latter raised her hand in a gentle but firm refusal.

"Ah, before we do that... is there anyone else who would like a picture? Madam Manger, I would be remiss if I did not invite you as well. Please try not to think too poorly of Prince Luke. He is so busy with work and I am sure he won't mind if we are just a bit longer. In fact, I must confess what kept him so pre-occupied before is likely the focus of his attentions right now, and he will enjoy some time to focus." Another brilliant, sparkling grin that did not appear to be anything other than genuine. This was her chance to bask in the adoration that was given to royals at birth by virtue of simply existing. With no competition for the affections of the people she would lap up all she could receive so as to bolster herself later when the courts tore her down to a creature worth not even a shred of decency much less recognition.

"You are too kind, Ms. Black," the store manager said with a flush that gave her the illusion of youth. The waitress lingering by her side was slack-jawed with amazement that was mirrored on the countenances of other customers.

"Ms. Photographer, would you mind terribly?" Rhiane asked innocently as if she were imposing.

"Not at all!" This was the opportunity of a lifetime for the photographer. This exclusive guaranteed her sums of wealth that would secure her future for years to come; no one was a bigger endorser of the princess elect than the individual that stood to make a sizeable profit from her magnanimity.

"Let's form a queue," the store manager proclaimed as she clapped her hands together.

Five minutes alone in the open and all the pretense of being a commoner vanished into thin air. Instead, Luke was sitting alone on the bench meant for the waiting customers with a pair of uniformed guards on both ends. Other than the overly casual clothing, he was back to his old self – an untouchable brooding royalty.

In all fairness, he did not ask the other people sharing his bench to leave, the hostess did. She told them to give him space, which he thought was for the best, for after he was rejected by the farmer girl he was not in the mood to socialize. It was his order, however, for two members of his bodyguards to station themselves at either end of the bench and secure his privacy. The others he instructed to control the media people. That was after he stepped out of the restaurant earlier only to be greeted with flashes of cameras and journalists asking his statement about the Victor’s Ball.

The general peace and order was under better control after the press was gone. The slowed down steps, curious stares, and stolen shots taken by the by-standers were tolerable as long as they kept their distance. With the hood of his jacket over his head, he could at least pretend that nobody was watching him.

While his future bride was wasting precious time indulging strangers’ request to have a photo taken with her, he found time to browse through his electronic correspondences again. He was not lying when he told the manager that he had better things to do. Among the most pressing matters were the looming deadline for the ratification of the revised tariff rates for the import and export of agricultural products with other European nations, the letter he received from the Prime Minister of the Arab States recommending the revocation of the appointment of Ambassador Dewitt, and of course the continuous gain in momentum of the rebellion in the outskirts of the kingdom. Between the three, he was most concerned about the rebellion, although he would not cause unnecessary panic by voicing it aloud. The queen might think it was a matter of making a show to entertain the public by parading her son and a woman who she chose from the dirt of the farmlands. Luke could not disagree more. The rebellion was a real threat to the crown and neither he nor the proficient liar he was bound to wed would be able to stop it by pretending to be in love. Their grand ruse might buy him time, but it would not solve his problem.

Speaking of his partner in crime, it was about time she stepped out of the restaurant. He checked the time. Twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed. Unbelievable. Nobody, except the queen, had the right to make him wait. How long did it take for the shutter of a camera to capture a photograph anyway? Did she suddenly turn their lunch date into her own personal pictorial? Brushing back brown locks over his brow, he pocketed his gadget and wordlessly stepped back into the industrial revolution-themed restaurant, where he found a queue.

Unsurprisingly, Rhiane was at the head of the queue. She was smiling in front of the camera together with three other women. The princess elect’s casual style stood out against her companions’ sharp suit and businesslike hairstyles. Also not surprising was the fact that she seemed to be genuinely enjoying the attention of these people. Luke would give her three months at most before she’s tired of everybody in the kingdom and beyond who would constantly watch her every step and every article of clothing she would choose to wear. But he could not wait for her to tire from all the attention. Besides, it was obvious from her posture that she was favoring her good foot.

Luke waited for the photographer to signal that she was done taking the photo of the four women. It was his cue. Not minding the line, he walked up to Rhiane who was still glowing with happiness because of the little box of cannolis she was holding. The crowd did part for him not because he was the crown prince, but perhaps because his steps were heavy with purpose that he might as well shove them aside. “Let’s go,” was all he said. The manager would try to protest, though weakly, but one look from his cold eyes was enough to make the otherwise confident woman shrink. He did not apologize, nor did he explain his sudden intrusion. Luke just swept in, picked her up into his arms and carried her like a princess away from the gawking crowd, whose emotion was a muddled mixture of confusion, dismay, and perhaps a little wonder.

“You are not obliged to indulge them,” he told her under his breath once they were outside the restaurant and his two bodyguards were a protective barrier between them and anybody who would dare stop the crown prince. “Especially if you are in pain.”

Luke traced the path they made earlier when the arrived at the building. They exited at the back entrance and were welcomed by more than a dozen lenses of photographers, like snipers but in plain sight. His jaw tightened, reigning his temper in. If his mother’s court was a den of snakes, then the media, he thought, was a pool of hungry piranhas. If it was not against the right of the citizens, he would order every media outfit to be shut down because of their promulgation of exaggerated stories for the sake of ratings. What then would they make of that unexpected appearance of Luke and Ms. Black.

Thankfully, the couple arrived at their transport without incident. Luke carefully put Rhiane to her feet. One of his bodyguards opened the door of the hovercraft, but he waited for her to enter before he walked to the other side. The prince motioned for one of the men to come to him. “Contact the palace and request for a wheel chair at the landing pad.”

He bowed and saluted, then traced a pattern on his communication band and walked away. There was nothing left to do then but to enter the Austre. He turned the ignition on and vertically launched the craft. Unlike when they were on the way to the restaurant, he was not feeling chatty that afternoon. Instead, he turned the sound system on hoping that the music would calm his head.

Much as she enjoyed the enthusiasm of the people waiting patiently in line to take a picture with her, Rhiane couldn't help but admit internally that she was starting to wear down slightly. The farmer had eaten so little that hunger was culminating in an unsteadiness of her limbs as the minutes ticked by. She cursed herself for not forcing the entree down her throat even if the stress of the date had made such a notion feel like an impossible feat of strength. Before they had left her quarters she had known that fatigue from abbreviated sleeping hours and poor rest would compromise her endurance. That now she was willing herself through something as silly as photographs was her fault alone. Fifteen minutes had passed and she regretted the snarky bravado that had made her feel compelled, at the time, to take the challenge laid unintentionally at her feet by Luke to grant everyone's request.

Buoyed by the experience alone she was still standing (albeit with her weight almost entirely on one leg) when Luke breezed into the room. The princess elect had drawn fortitude from all the smiles that were given to her so freely as arms were put around her shoulders or waist at her insistence- though she let only the women have this honor for she did not want to seem too familiar with men other than her fiance. Never before had so many people been so pleased to be in her presence. Sycophants though they might be she no longer felt like an ugly stain on the polished marble floor of the queen's throne room. That these people even thought to appeal to her, a commoner of low birth, someone who scrubbed bathrooms on her hands and knees, who had shoveled manure from the farm's few livestock, who had been almost stranded in muck during a storm that turned fields into quagmires, was nothing short of amazing. Empty platitudes paled in comparison to sincere flattery, but it was more than the nobility would give her. Had she believed herself capable she might have stayed at the restaurant's table until her literal collapse due to her reluctance to pull herself away from the fantasy. The cannolis were not the only gifts she was receiving in the dining establishment.

Surprisingly she did not protest as the crown prince picked her up. Rhiane made certain to wrap her box in her arms, flashed an apologetic smile at her admirers, and let herself be carted off. The reasons for this were two-fold. First, and most importantly, she recognized she was at a brink of physical ability even if Luke was motivated purely by his ego and impatience. Second, and of greater concern to the monarch of New Rome, she knew that thrashing or visibly trying to escape would mar their image. Her royal consort may not be horribly worried about how he was perceived by the masses but it was all the princess elect could truly contribute. Were Rhiane to falter and stumble, to prove herself a blemish rather a boon, it was not beyond the queen's capabilities to have her replaced.

"How did you...," she started to ask as Luke whispered she did not have to indulge the patrons if she was in pain. Blinking in shock she realized that not only did the crown prince take note of how her injury afflicted her he almost cared. It was hard to remember the last time anyone had paid attention to her as he did just now. Both her father and brother were fine men but they had become so accustomed to her shouldering the burden of everything they did not pause to consider her weaknesses. For them she had to maintain an illusion of being indestructible and unfaltering.

In that moment she actually liked Luke. He was the first person she could remember that made her feel it was okay to stop, to breathe, to be herself, even if it was fleeting. Even if he was going to be an unmitigated asshole for the next decade he deserved a reward for the glimpse of compassion.

As they passed by the media, who were poised for this exact opportunity, she leaned into Luke's chest and prayed he would not ruin the mirage she was about to bedazzle them with. Her face turned slightly towards him, a faint blush on her cheeks, was a portrait of an intimate couple that had just been caught inadvertently rather than intentionally on camera. The the hand not grasping her carton she lightly laid upon his clothing and let curl on the fabric. They were politically engaged, not in love, but the subtleties that Rhiane utilized made her the bride being whisked away by a protectively possessive groom. That his jaw was set and his visage cold only played to the narrative rather than against it. It might not be enough to salvage all that had gone wrong during the date itself but it would be the perfect finish that had been commanded of them and help ensure the leash was not tightened.

It was not until they were inside she relaxed. "Thank you," she said once they were alone. For what she did not clarify. In truth she had gratitude for more than one reason but she felt awkward announcing it to someone who held her in such contempt. Rhiane let her head lull against the window as she breathed in deeply and let out a slow exhale. The reception of their outing would be mixed sentiments as it was relayed by the audience at The Briks, but it would almost certainly escape punishment. They had a long way to go before anyone would be convinced of their charade. Last night she had only a bleak outlook on the future but were a glimpse of hope in the storm clouds. It was not beyond Luke's ability to show her respect or empathy as a fellow human being.

The princess elect sighed and opened her box, withdrawing a single cannoli, and ate it slowly. Weary as she was she wanted to savor the flavors and to make certain she got as few crumbs as humanly possible on the interior of the Austre.

Luke preferred the ride back to the castle to be as serene and as quick as possible after the eventful brunch turned lunch date. His tolerance for common people, regardless of their standing in the society, had exceeded its limits after all those camera flashes, inquisitive stares, and attempts to strike a conversation. Add to the list the audacity of a lowborn woman to make him wait. He wondered how much longer the farmer girl would have lasted had he not taken her away by force. That she did not fight him back using that brazen tongue of hers told him that she was worse than she would let show. It was just fitting that she thanked him for saving her from the corner she had backed herself against.

The Austre, dropping its guise as just a regular craft, coasted freely on the highway with its two front escorts clearing the way. Other vehicles shifted to either side of the highway to give way to the VIP as was mandated in the law. Even the business district, which had the busiest air and land highways, found a way to let the convoy pass without pause. No red light stopped them, not even the speed limit could limit their flight.

Just then, he caught a subtle motion of his passenger from the corner of his eye and at the same time the smell of pastries wafted from the small package she was carrying. He stole a sideways look, careful not to be interpreted as overly interested in her dessert. From his peripheral view, he watched her take a dainty bite and looked pleased. She didn’t seem to like either the food he ordered for her at the restaurant, his romantic attention, and his money – to her, all of these were less than the box of cannoli. Surely there was something he was missing. And perhaps he should try one.

Without asking permission, without even thinking that it was necessary to ask permission, Luke’s right hand dove in the box. His eyes met hers. For a split second, he thought that she was going to protest, but being a man of action that he was, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Without cutting eye contact, the crown prince bit the treat in half then stuffed the other half in his mouth, allowing the creamy, sweet, slightly tangy taste, with hints of chocolate fill his mouth. “Not bad.” He shrugged, then tearing his stare from her, fished for another cannolo.

The couple together with their escorts arrived earlier than expected. Their arrival was greeted by a very happy looking Ms. Viscomi, a nurse, and a wheel chair. The appointed Image Manager was cradling her computer and grinning ear to ear as Luke stepped out of the Austre. One of the security men opened the door for Rhiane and assisted her to the nurse with the wheel chair. “Sit on the chair, Ms. Black. Or do you now prefer the warmth of my arms?” Luke asked slowly, lazily. In case she still had it in her to resist the assistance.

“Your highness, Ms. Black,” the Image Manager started after Rhiane was comfortably seated on the chair. “While waiting for you, I have browsed some of the contents that came up, and comments from different people, plus the photos. This is what it says so far.” She turned to Rhiane and her face lit up more. “What a stellar performance, Ms. Black! The public adores you. Your energy and humility do not come off as fake and the public feels very strongly towards you. You are a very relatable person and a good role model for the youth. As for his royal highness.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side. Ms. Viscomi cleared her throat. It was her job to coach them. She was resolved not to be intimidated by either of the couple, especially not by the crown prince. “Your highness, with all due respect, your good looks and birthright will not do all the work for you. Although you have a solid fanbase of people who respects and believes in you as a leader, at one point you should learn to be a relatable persona to the masses. Like Ms. Black.” She smiled, gesturing to Rhiane. “Sweeping her off her feet, publicly showing your care for her, being the protective and possessive fiancé. That’s what our people is looking for that’s --”

“Enough, Ms. Manager. I’m not interested to hear what the internet is telling you. Tell me instead what the queen thinks.”

The smile on Ms. Viscomi’s pretty face faded as she met a question that she was not prepared to answer. “I – uh. Your highness, unfortunately I have not yet conferred with the queen. But I will let you know this evening.”

Finished with the manager, Luke turned his attention to the nurse. “Did you bring pain medications?”

“Yes, sire.”

The prince nodded once before starting to walk towards the elevator. “Ms. Viscomi, do talk to the queen and let me know what she thinks. Her opinion is all that matters at this point.”

“Just a reminder. Ms. Black has a scheduled interview at seven o’clock tonight. Preparations will start at six o’clock,” she called after them.

The nurse, unsure what to do, followed Luke to the elevator. He led the way to the elevator in silence, neither acknowledging the presence of his fiancée nor the nurse. His suite was seated a couple of floors beneath the top floor of the towering structure. It was on the same tower as Rhiane’s, but multiple floors up. If hotels had penthouses, Tower five of Castello di Firanze had Luke’s royal suite. It was an irregularly shaped room, a pentagon with unequal sides, due to the structure of the building itself. The walls were mostly made of thick glass that, without partition, would boast one hundred and eighty degrees view of the capital itself. For the crown prince’s privacy, anybody on the outside would not be able to see the interior, regardless of the lighting conditions. The suite was divided into five sections – the bedroom, the living area and an open kitchen, the office and library that housed a physical collection of books, the bathroom, and an indoor pool.

Upon exiting the elevator, the three of them were treated to a view of the city beyond the sparkling water of a rectangular pool. Luke didn’t seem impressed though. To the right of the elevator was a wall. He continued walking until they reached a door which he unlocked by pressing his palm against the pad beside the door above a keypad that servants used when they needed to clean the suite. Once inside, a modern and minimalistic living area greeted them. It flowed naturally to an open kitchen, which Luke rarely used. The source of light that morning was not the various fixtures installed around the room, but natural light. A wall left of the main door separated the living area from the sleeping area, an enclosed area to the left before the kitchen was the bathroom. “You may leave us,” he told the nurse before freeing himself from his jacket and heading to the bedroom. Luke had disappeared on the archway, but as if he had forgotten something, stepped out again. “Come here and get some proper rest instead of sleeping while I’m talking to you. You may use my bed or the floor, whichever suits you best. It doesn’t matter to me. The sheets will be replaced before tonight anyway. I really do need to get things done, and looking after you, my fear fiancée, is taking up my time.”

Rhiane didn't object to Luke taking a cannoli although she perhaps should have; a moment of compassion did not signify a sudden parting of the ocean of condescending arrogance. Rather than voicing a protest she rolled her eyes as he ate the entire thing in two bites, wasting the opportunity to savor the flavor, which she viewed as his loss more than his own. Truthfully even if he took his time he might not have enjoyed it as she did. The princess elect was but a peasant whose palate had not the opportunity to become refined over the years. She did not have the finest chefs in the kingdom creating every meal with her personal proclivities in mind and indulging her every whim. Even after she was officially royalty she wagered the menu would be dictated by the queen or her husband, who someday would become king, before she was allowed to give input that might contradict their taste.

As he fished for a second confection she snapped out of her rumination and pulled the box out of his range, forcing him to either abandon the wheel or his pastry quarry. Before Luke could make the decision the latter was more enticing she took a bite out of each cannoli to possessively lay claim to them. It was sufficient to make the royal disinterested if not disgusted by her petty action. For the rest of the trip Rhiane kept herself pressed against her window to artificially create as much distance as was humanly possible in the confines of a hovercraft. The cannolis were consumed more quickly than she had planned prior if only to secure that she did not starve between lunch and dinner. An appetizer alone was woefully inadequate to keep her fueled. The princess elect's newly appointed nutritionist had even admitted, after an exhaustive analysis of her metabolism and digestive system, that their initial plan for her 'diet' would have to be heavily modified. To let her become too thin would be unhealthy, cause a cessation in her menstrual cycle, and impact her fertility.

Rhiane knew she was a brooding mare to the crown. It was when she was given latitude with her breakfast items the day prior she had an epiphany they wanted her prepared for carrying a child as possible. Little did they know that Luke would probably himself do everything in his power not to touch his fiancee more than was necessary. Were he to lower himself to undressing in her presence on their wedding night she would be impressed. In the mean time, while their charade carried on, the farmer would take as much advantage as possible to eat luxurious and unhealthy desserts. There was no reason to correct their ignorance. It was not lying to fail to mention that they could be poised beneath her hips as long as they liked but that an immaculate conception would not produce an heir.

As they arrived back at the palace she sighed and frowned at the sight of both the nurse and wheelchair. Knowing that it would ultimately not matter to Luke one way or another she had failed to disclose her dislike of those in the medical profession. Though she had been nothing but cooperative, polite, and obedient with the royal doctor when her ankle had been twisted at an unnatural angle, there had been no choice in the matter except to comply. Having a nurse here and now felt superfluous. The presence of the wheelchair was adding insult to injury. No matter how much strain she had placed on the recovering limb she was capable and willing to walk to wherever it was she was to be escorted.

Luke anticipated her displeasure. She let the guard, who was innocent in this social tug of war, assist her into the wheelchair as she painted on a smile for everyone's benefit. Honestly she would have preferred the arms of the crown prince though not out of emotional attachment. Rhiane would not, could not, should not every let it be known, but there was something comforting about being carried like a princess, allowing herself to be protected rather than being the towering shield that sought to shelter her loved ones from harm no matter the cost.

News that she had been well-received was welcome even if the greeting party had not been. The faux smile planted on her lips grew to one of earnest pride that her performance had achieved success. Mrs. Viscomi's praise, after the adoration of the restaurant patrons, made her heart swell with hope that she might last despite Luke's inherent ability to torpedo his own public image. Should the queen share the opinion of the expert that was to handle them then they might see Rhiane as the best possible solution to the lack of appeal the crown prince had with the rural citizens. No one could completely save him from himself, for not even an implant could rob him of his agency, but if she continued to present herself flawlessly they would not see merit on a replacement.

The icing on the cake was hearing Luke chastised and encouraged to be more like her. It had to make his blood boil. He dismissed this advice out of hand and perhaps it was because he sincerely thought the woman misguided, but it would burn nonetheless. That anyone of status would see him inferior to her would be an infuriating blow to his massive ego no matter how erroneous he perceived it to be. During the rest of the exchange she rested comfortably in her seat as she imagined how he would react if his own mother asserted such a theory. Criticism was not something her firstborn accepted well. That a farmer succeeded when he faltered, or failed, was unimaginable.

This was Rhiane's truest victory, even more so than the contest itself, and she would relish it no matter how short-lived.

Upon entering the floor that housed Luke the nurse was dismissed and Rhiane leapt up from the wheelchair the second the attendant was out of sight. Being mindful of the ten meters that she was allowed before either of them were left writing in pain she looked around curiously. Her own accommodations were lavish but not this opulent. That he had his own private swimming pool was both astonishing and revolting in equal measure. The excessive wealth that was gifted to the nobility was breathtaking but made her insides churn when she thought of how destitute others were as a result. Just last year there had been famine on the opposite end of their borders when a monstrous storm destroyed so much farmland that humanitarian efforts had not been sufficient to supply the populace.

"I'm not taking any medication," she announced as she limped along towards the bedroom. Rather than enter it she paused to enjoy the scenic view allowed by the walls of glass. Jaded, tired, and in increasing pain from the throbbing of her ankle, she felt the next sentence catch in her throat at the dazzling light of day bouncing off the landscape beyond. From this tower it easy to forget all the filth of living in abject poverty and be lost in the beauty of New Rome's capital city. The princess elect did not know how long she stood there utterly transfixed before she lost her balance and barely caught herself before she fell to the floor.

"I wondered if a doppelganger had taken over, but I see you are back to your lizard self," she prodded. There was a comical conspiracy theory hundreds of years old that the upper echelons of society were not in fact human but some creature descended from alien bipedal species that had subversively claimed the earth. Every once in a while those still able to joke about their bad fortune would accuse the 'blessed' dripping in jewels and designer clothing of being this bizarre inhuman race. It was a jab at him but not overtly cruel. "If I rest on the floor do I not prove my pet theory rather and defy your command to act like a princess?" she asked as she rounded the corner with pronounced hobbling.