The most difficult thing for Luke was not the evidently cold reception of the family, Rhiane sufficiently warned him about that. The baseless accusations of the men, he understood, were a result of ignorance and grief they might have not fully recovered from. He was not in a position to argue with people who had closed their minds off to wisdom, people who would rather pin the blame on someone else because it was easier than admitting to themselves that they themselves had shortcomings. It did not bother Luke. The most difficult part was hiding his nature, holding on to the words before they left his lips, and appearing to accept the judgment of the unschooled farmers. If Rhiane paid attention to his posture, she would notice how stiff his back was, that his jaw was set, though his face remained passive.

Perhaps the only consolation was despite not heeding her warning about her family, Rhiane was taking the matter of his defense into her hands. That she talked back to her father about calling Luke a murderer surprised him. Although she did tell him once that she did not blame him for what happened to her mother and brother, a part of her – the part that remained to that day a farmer – must have the same sentiments as Hubert and Gerard. Maybe Sebastian was right. Maybe she cared for him. After just a short period of time, the unlikely couple was testing the limits they drew the first night they met.

The second time that the alleged murder of Luke’s father was brought up was too much. It was not that he wanted to defend the honor of her mother. He would not deny what he personally knew was true – the queen commissioned the murder of her husband and remarried a nobleman. Implying that Luke was just a younger male version of the queen, a person he strived to distinguish himself from, did it. “For the sake of your daughter, I will forget I heard a word you said. Even the strongest nations are vulnerable to plagues. The crown had to take measures to contain the epidemic, else it may have infected more people.” It was short of saying that the capital ordered the isolation of the affected southern provinces to contain the threat. Nobody was allowed to leave and nobody was permitted entrance. Doctors remained scarce and, because the food-producing provinces were hit, supplies were barely enough to sustain the population. “If you have not been informed, let me tell you that the death toll inside the kingdom is less than our neighbors.” It was said to inform and not to boast.

He steered the topic away from the woman Hubert was referring to. While he had no real participation with what happened during the plague, Sophia Keller was admittedly a web of mess he spun himself. “I maybe my mother’s son, but I am not like her. I would not be standing inside your house wasting my time listening to nonsense if my intentions are as you said.” He let his arm drop to his side. Little by little, he felt the rein on his temper loosening. “I am going to find a way to keep your daughter safe, even if it means breaking tradition. She does--”

Seemingly uninterested in ludicrous promises, Gerard cut Luke off. The royal paused, turning his attention to the eldest son. Not many people had the nerve to cut him off while he was speaking. Gerard not only interrupted the crown prince, he also dismissed Luke.

“Nolan,” Luke said without breaking eye contact. With a touch on the earpiece, he reached out to his personal bodyguard. “Cancel all my appointments and meetings today.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am not your --”

Luke dropped the line. Nolan might love to complain, but he was smart enough to obey, especially when the prince sounded serious. “It’s just a farm. I am running a whole nation. How hard could it be to tend to a small farm for a day?”

"Luke, you don't have to," Rhiane interjected once he announced his intention to tend to the farm for the day. Glancing between her stunned father, who sat with his mouth hanging open in shock, her brother, whose lips were slightly parted in surprise, and her betrothed, who was as stubbornly confident as he always was, she began to realize that things had quickly spun out of her expected parameters. She had anticipated yelling, arguing, and bickering, and then hoped that they would leave within an hour, with the entire visit quickly forgotten. The princess elect had been forthright in that she did not believe a reconciliation with her family was possible at this time, and Luke had countered his real goal had been to have a private conversation with Sebastian. Why he was now entertaining this provocation, this challenge, was baffling.

"I think it's an excellent idea, Prince Alessandro," Sebastian intoned calmly with his endless patience.

"You do?" Hubert asked. He had snapped out of his stupor to look at his son-in-law incredulously. Most of his anger had dissipated with the heir to the throne's announcement that he would be joining them in the fields. While he had not forgiven or accepted the younger man as an appropriate suitor for his daughter, he was too taken aback by the offer to keep a firm grip on his hostility.

"It will give Prince Alessandro a chance to better understand what it was like for you to grow up here," Sebastian explained placidly, "and it will also given him a chance to prove his sincerity as future king and as your future husband to Hubert and Gerard. Sometimes feelings are better shown through action than words." The aristocracy would balk at the image of their sovereign doing physical labor, but no one in the room could deny the points that the blonde foreigner raised. If Luke toiled and struggled, it would be easier for the doubting men to believe he really cared about Rhiane, as he would be doing it for her sake. Conversely, if he abandoned his tasks within an hour, they would have their proof he was a man who was neither committed nor invested.

"This is ridiculous," the sultry brunette objected. "He has much more important things to do than help you harvest crops." Now that Sebastian had weighed in in favor of the idea, she knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she had to try to make them abandon this fool's errand. As bad as things were now, she didn't want it to escalate or worsen, as she had a difficult time imagining that Luke would truly follow their lead on how to operate the heavy machinery, test the soil, or inspect the rows for signs of pests.

"He can borrow some of my clothes," Sebastian offered as he stood. Of the three he had the best attire; there were no stains, no rips, not even wrinkles with the exception of where he had rolled up his sleeves. It was the superior option if Luke did not want to jeopardize his relative finery for his adventure in the rural landscape.

"Luke," Rhiane said as she grabbed his hand, turning her head to the side and whispering so the other occupants of the sitting area could not overhear. "It's not necessary. You don't need my dad's blessing. You could get hurt out there," she said, "and won't you miss some of your meetings? This isn't worth it." Concern laced her voice. He had chastised her once that he did not need her to fight his battles or protect him, but that was precisely what she was doing, though she did not realize it in the moment. Much as she had been injured by the emotionally charged discussion, especially when Sophia was mentioned, she was willing to endure those wounds if she could prevent him from being similarly affected by verbal jabs, muscle strain, fatigue, or even the political consequences of skipping some of his obligations.

All of them waited for a response. Hubert, Gerard, and Sebastian did not know what was being said, but they were smart enough to surmise that Rhiane was making a final plea to Luke's sensibilities, as she clearly disagreed. Only the latter of the three knew with any certainty, but it was dawning on the former two that the strong, proud, independent woman was attached beyond what the arrangement required, and that she was apprehensive about allowing him to undertake any risk, no matter how minimal, on her behalf.

“I want to.”

He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to show the foolish farmer that the crown prince was not just another pampered lazy royal who sat all day being photographed, interviewed, and revered by his subject. He wanted the father and son to realize that they were wrong.

Maybe it was he who was wrong. Despite not having the humility to accept a flaw in his rash decision that morning, Rhiane had a point that he had more important matters to attend to than harvesting crops and proving himself to be worthy to be called a son-in-law of Hubert Black – a farmer. The queen would send an entire fleet to extract her son from an embarrassing situation he found himself in. She would stop a potential scandal before anybody could spark a rumor about the heir to the throne toiling in the mud for the sake of an untitled woman who happened to win a silly contest. Lowering himself to the level of farmers was unbecoming of a future king, and a shame to all of the noble lords and ladies loyal to the ruling House.

The only justification for his decision was Sebastian. Luke did not care for the approval of the patriarch or his eldest son, he only cared for Sebastian’s opinion of him. Gerard’s partner was the ally he needed in order to infiltrate the rebellion effectively. The information he provided was more accurate, timelier, and more useful than the results from his network. Either the team was ineffective buffoons blowing off the Royal Treasury, or somebody up in the ranks was stopping the information from getting to the right persons. Sebastian might help the intelligence network, therefore his confidence in Luke was crucial.

“No need,” he gestured for the blonde to remain in his seat. “I am comfortable in these clothes.” And he had not worked a day in his life doing manual labor. He trained, and was continuously training with the military, which was the most physical labor he did in his life. Fine clothes were comfortable to wear in the office, a conference, on a date, or just lounging at home, but Luke really had no idea about working in the fields. Truth was, he was too proud to be borrowing something owned by a commoner. The other men may or may not find it snobbish or even insulting, but the prince would not be caught wearing mass produced clothes. Good thing he went for a stretchy sweater and sneakers instead of his other more formal clothing.

Luke was about to shrug his jacked off when Rhiane caught his hand and he turned to the side to hear her better. “I know,” he admitted in a similarly hushed tone when she told him that he didn’t need Hubert’s blessing. The other sentences that followed made him frown slightly. “It’s highly unlikely that I will get hurt. Farm machineries ought to have safety features, and I am not clumsy. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He would show her father and brother how not to look down on a royal just because the media portrayed them as privileged spoiled kids. “Somebody will update me on the agreements of the meetings and I can do my homework tonight.” His eyes briefly darted back to the other men in the room, who seemed to be straining their hearing capacities to catch a glimpse at the exchange between the couple, before overcoming his hesitation and turning back to Rhiane. “Tonight, while you are sleeping and after you’re done with me.”

A sly smile curved his lips, giving hints to the other occupants of the room about what the subject of conversation of the two was. “I’ll be careful,” he added aloud, then proceeded on taking off his coat. The dark clothing was passed on to Rhiane for safekeeping.

Luke turned his attention to Gerard. “There are some people I need to talk to, but I’ll wait for you outside so that we may start the chores early.”

With that, he retraced the steps back to the front door. The first person he called up was his mother, else she may think he was doing something suspicious, then his staff, then his representatives for the various meetings. He kept his line open for any sort of queries or reports or emergencies that may happen while he was working the fields.

Hubert Black and Gerard Black were still stupefied as Luke strolled out of the room and to the front door, closing it behind him securely as he exited the home. Sebastian had a smile curled upon his lips, amused and impressed by the crown prince's declaration he would spend the day doing farm labor in his expensive clothes. The crown princess had turned to watch him go, wistfully staring at his backside as she wished that they had a single day to themselves without complications, difficulties, and arguments, to see if the intensity of their passionate lovemaking was a sign they were not impossibly matched. Moments like these made her wonder. Neither one had to strive as hard as they did to prove themselves; he did not need the blessing of her family, and she did not need every member of the palace staff and public to adore her, and yet they did not logic impede their efforts. Internally she had to concede perhaps she was trying so hard for him, because she believed that there was a spark beneath his pretentious exterior, that he had the makings of a greater king than his predecessors. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe in her as well.

"If anything happens to him, I won't forgive you," she told the three gathered men sternly. "If he comes back and he's anything more than tired from the field work, I'll visit his injuries on each of you tenfold," Rhiane threatened severely. Her tone of voice was indicative of just how serious she was. The Black household was guilty of shouting and yelling when they were angry with one another, but there were not cases of domestic violence, the worst physical transgressions being when the siblings would fight in their youth.

"Why do you care for him?" Gerard asked her in an accusatory tone. "All you are to him is a woman who fought for the right to have his children. Your body won't even be cold before he moves on to someone like Sophia, if he even waits that long. Leave him now and stop this madness. We don't need his damned money!" he sputtered with venom. Luke had underestimated the feelings that his new in-laws had for him; they did not just dislike, they loathed, they hated, they doubted, they despised with every fiber of their being. That he had undersold the toll of the plague, and spoken of it with numbers instead of empathy, had done nothing to win them over.

"What has been done with that damned money?" Rhiane inquired as she turned towards Sebastian, expecting neither her of her blood relatives to give her a direct answer. "It hasn't been used for repairs or to replace the furniture, clearly."

"Hubert tried to refuse the stipend," the blond shrugged, "but they couldn't allow our refusal. There was a deposit made into an account with all our names at the bank, and we were sent the access information for the funds." It made sense. If there had been an investigation and the reward had not been forced upon her family, it would have made Queen Camilla appear weak, and would have been a blight on the forthcoming union. Public image was everything while the monarchy's loyalists trickled away and the revolution's numbers grew. The love story had to remain intact by any means possible.

"Can you give me that information?" the brunette asked of her friend. He nodded in affirmation as they began toward the study where it had been jotted down on a piece of paper.

"Rhi!" Gerard called out testily.

"I don't expect him to care about me, Ger," Rhiane replied, knowing the reason he had interrupted her. He needed to have her answer, to know why she clung to the royal so firmly, why she shielded Luke from the very people she loved so fiercely that she was sacrificing her life to gift them financial security. "Dad had Mom, and you and Sebastian have each other, and your love is so miraculous that I never thought I could have the same thing," she confessed softly, "so let me do this for all of you. Let me leave behind a legacy that makes your lives comfortable, and if we're lucky there will be a little bit of us in the next heir to throne, a spitfire with Mom's good sense, or Dad's moral compass. That's more than most people can hope for," she smiled sadly.

"Fuck," Gerard whispered under his breath as he fought back tears.

True to his word, Sebastian handed over a scrap of parchment with a series of numbers representing an account number, password, and PIN that would allow her unrestricted access to the funds. They did not speak during this exchange. There was nothing more to say. The foreigner realized that his sentiments would not pierce the carapace guarding Rhiane's heart on the topic, and she knew that she could not persuade him to appreciate the crown prince with the strength of her emotions.

"Luke," his betrothed said as she stepped outside the door. Hubert and Gerard were changing into work clothes while Sebastian gathered the tools that all four would need for the day ahead. Waiting until he concluded his phone call she pulled him to the side, trying to ensure that the security detail could not overhear. "I want to order furniture, appliances, things they need and are too stubborn to purchase themselves. Can you ask the guards to let deliveries through? I could ask them myself, but we both know it's you that they take orders from. Being stuck here doing nothing all day would drive me mad," she explained. There was much she could accomplish with hours to herself. With the name of Rhiane Black, future queen of New Rome, she was guaranteed to have services expedited without request, as it would be priceless for merchants to be able to proclaim she was a patron of their establishment.

“Send me a word once you verified the transaction,” Luke was telling one of his staff when Rhiane called his name. The prince looked over his shoulder at the brunette who still had her hand on the door then mouthed, “one minute,” before getting back to the conversation.

The sun was at an angle such that the main house cast a shadow over the couple standing under the awning and close to the front door. It was such a fine day. Luke had thought that by then the introductions to the family would be over and they would already be on their way back to their lodging. He planned to spend his time finishing the recommendation he promised the queen, then start to work on the review of policies leaders from all over the globe proposed to New Rome. Those pages were to be scrutinized, consulted to his advisors, annotated, until the kingdom had a solid position. It was going to be a long day, but not in the way he thought.

The prince raked his hair with a hand then finally addressed Rhiane as the line died away. “What is it?” It was still early in the morning, but he sounded exasperated with how the day was unfolding. Must be because of the lack of sleep since the tour began or that the effects of the coffee had expired leaving him a little tired and cranky. Although, there was no objection that came to mind when she told him what she wanted to do. “No problem. Take at least three guards with you if you’re going to leave the property. Never mind, I’m going to make sure there are at least three.” He glanced at her wrist, where he expected she was would wear the same communication device that he was wearing. It was not there. Somehow, he was not surprised that she defied him until the very end.

Unwilling to start an argument while he was at a disadvantage, Luke turned away to contact the security team leader to convey her message then his stern warning not to let her out of their sight. At the end of the property line, where chest-high fence marked the perimeter, were curious gazes. Some pretended to be just passing by, while some others were on their toes with their eyes narrowed at the house. Royal guards politely – at least Luke imagined they were polite in doing their jobs – asked the on-lookers to be on their way. Rumors about the VIPs turned the Black farm into an instant local tourist spot.

“Did your family not receive their part of the prize money? My staff is verifying the fund transfer made in favor of your family’s newly made bank account.” He continued to watch the security team busying themselves with the unwelcomed guests. Their faces were obscured by the distance and the crops. “If proven invalid, I plan on paying for the stipend myself. This is embarrassing. We do not work this way.”

He started rolling the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow the way he saw laborers did in movies he watched. “Your house needs to be renovated. I know of reputable real estate developers who can help. There is also the option of buying a new property. This house is just…” Plump purple bunches of grapes hanging in the midst of bright green leaves caught his attention as if it called to him to be harvested. The novelty of the farm was the property’s saving grace. But to somebody like Rhiane who grew up to such sights, he imagined how tiresome the scenery was. He could not imagine how it was possible to comfortably live in different states of repaired furniture, sewn curtains, and tattered rags.

Luke failed to find a less deprecatory word to describe the state of the house. If he owned such property and a handsome amount of reward was given to him, he would have no second thoughts about calling for a contractor to restore the house, then fill it with furniture so that it was livable. He was not fond of Hubert and Gerard, but he wished that either or both would step out the door and save him from completing the sentence, because it appeared as if Rhiane was waiting for him to do so.

"They received the prize money," Rhiane carefully acknowledged as she squinted against the sun and stared out at the guards converging on the bystanders. A few of them were trying to spot the royal and his bride-to-be, but the alignment of the sun and the shadow it cast over the two-story home made it too difficult for the couple to be seen at this distance. It was not all that long ago that she would have been an unremarkable commoner passing by on the road. Before the contest had been won she would have been a faceless, nameless, deemed unworthy of even a glance from the heir to the throne, despite the fact she had possessed all the same traits then as she did now. Something twisted inside her; pity for the peasants that would never have their talents realized or recognized, and loathing for the aristocrats she believed did not deserve the respect they were given by the crown.

Sighing to herself she leaned against the stucco. "Sebastian gave me the information I need to access the funds. Father and Gerard tried to refuse the stipend, so the palace opened an account for them at the bank and made the transfer. It's been available ever since. To them accepting the money would be endorsing all the terms of our engagement..." Rhiane's words drifted off momentarily. "Imagine if it were Cally. Would you spend any favors, anything given to you in exchange, for your sister to marry a man you thought couldn't love her, wouldn't cherish her, who you expected would replace her once he was through with her?" It was a poignant question she had not posed before. Whether or not he admitted it, Luke would have been even more hostile than Gerard were the roles reversed, perhaps threatening physical intervention to prevent the union from being forged. Perhaps there was no one in the world whom the blonde prince would prize more highly than his sibling.

Glancing down at her wrist she grinned, shrugging, keeping her tone forcefully light and buoyant. "I left the device on the plane since I thought we had an agreement you'd put it on me tonight. But, if it makes you feel better, I plan to stay here at the house. Who knows when I'll be back?" It was less of a matter of when and more an issue of if. For all his promises, Luke could not guarantee her safety from the clutches of Queen Camilla and her lackeys, who would not let her retire into the landscape of New Rome peacefully if they had any choice. Much as she trusted and believed in her beloved's intentions, not everything was within the scope of his control, and failure was a distinct possibility.

She patted the cream exterior finish of the nearest wall with a fondness. "It would be cleaner to buy a new property but this is part of the Black family heritage. Even if it wasn't, this was where Mom decorated, smiled, and danced, where I held her hand as she died, where Edwin teased, played, and grew, and where I held his hand as he died. I know they're dead, but it feels like they're still here somehow, as if the best memories have been kept alive. That's why I want to manage the beginning of the restoration myself. I know it's probably a bit overly sentimental but," again a shrug as if they were holding a conversation about a casual topic, "it will keep me out of your fabulous hair for a day."

By now Rhiane estimated his patience was running thin. Luke was not invested in her history, the two people whom she had nearly killed herself trying to comfort in their final moments, the lingering happy recollections that haunted the barren halls like ghosts, the awe she held for generations that had diligently kept the grounds intact before economic hardship led to disrepair, the emotions being in her old living room conjured with painful potency. Some of her smile faded briefly as she wondered if he had endured Sophia's rambling with adoration. Now that her name had been uttered it was hard to chase the phantom of the seemingly perfect actress, the preferred fiancee, the one who bent his ear and whom he had attended to with such consideration.

Deep in her heart she knew that she was an embarrassment: her birth, her childhood, her background, her tiny little room filled with fanciful paintings at the top of the stairs he had yet to climb.

"I'll see you later," she said abruptly. Just as she was turning to go into the house she collided with Gerard, who put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from falling. Sebastian was directly behind him and Hubert in the rear.

"Are you all right?" Gerard asked, noticing her somber expression with a hint of concern.

"Don't haze him," Rhiane veritably growled, batting away her brother's hands and straightening her posture. "I meant what I said. I won't forgive you if anything happens. Just because I can't whoop your ass doesn't mean I don't have a bodyguard than can now." She huffed, disappearing through the threshold before the tall, dark-haired man could process the threat. Tobias, who was standing less than a hundred meters off, stoically hid his bemused chuckle.

There was a small ping on Luke's device. A file had been sent to him by Sebastian- a recorded clip of Rhiane's proclamation minutes ago about how she did not expect the sovereign's son to care about her. Attached to it were messages from an anonymous contact, the missive itself decrypted but the identity shielded by innumerable layers of protective coding, telling Sebastian that they would send him the 'promised proof' by dusk that the rebellion's intentions towards the princess elect had shifted away from assassination in favor of abduction. It was not precisely what the crown prince had requested, but it was valuable intelligence, and innocuous enough that it would not expose his informant.

“That is precisely how I see any man pining for Callie’s attention – not one of them is worthy.” Luke said it with an arrogant smirk. Nobody alive was man enough for the crown prince’s little sister. The princess shall remain unattached if it was up to him to decide who she would be allowed to date. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

His half-smile and the mischief in his eyes as he quietly recalled how much fun it was to intimidate his sister’s suitors concealed the realization of truths she almost accused him of. He wondered how much of it was her family’s opinion and how much of it was hers. Regrettably, a lie to reassure her that he was not that man was a lie he would not tell her. Luke just stared at her out of the corner of his eyes as he quietly worked on the sleeve of his other arm, as even the half-smile faltered. No words of comfort could be said. Not even after they had recently taken to each other, because what she said was true. He was expected to be unable to love her as well as have her replaced with somebody who would not be a humiliation to the generations who had worn the crown before her. The silence of the prince stretched as she reminisced the history that the four posts of the two-story house witnessed.

As he watched the bittersweet memories brighten her face, he started to doubt if he can indeed save her from the fate which she chose for herself. How much was he willing to sacrifice, how far was he willing to take his promise.

Proving himself to the rest of the Black family, trying to gain Sebastian’s trust, and keeping her as an ally – all these were all about gaining information. He kept telling Rhiane and Sebastian that it was for the sake of the former, yet it was but the half of the truth. The other half was propelled by the crown prince’s competitive nature pushing his desires to score a win against the rebellion. Maybe he was unaware which weighed more to him – her safety or his responsibilities to the dynasty and its allies. Maybe he was not yet ready to answer that question.

He watched her abruptly turn her back then almost collide with her brother. Luke’s defenses were immediately on alert. He stood taller and his face harder as the three farmers joined the couple. “Would you like Lia and Octavia to accompany you?” He asked after she hurled her threats at her brother. Being idle most of the day was a sure way to be dragged to the land of dreams. Hers were not pleasant recently, therefore somebody had to watch over her even as she slept. Even though it was relatively safe inside their home.

---

Nolan and his straight face was standing beside Tobias when the rest of the household stepped out into the sun. The perimeter security awaited his command as the prince stepped out of the shade and into the sun. Maybe he had changed his mind. Most were anxious to leave the unfamiliar territory littered with possible sniping spots and other hazards. Although protocols were strictly followed and a periodic sweep was done by drones, everybody was aware that it would take but one carefully aimed bullet to compromise their mission. Nobody wanted to be part of the troops that failed their duty to protect the future king.

Thus, the team was disappointed when Luke followed the three tall gentlemen. Nolan wondered what was it that caught the interest of the prince that he cancelled his attendance to his meetings for the day, including one that his uncle requested on behalf of the Defense Ministry. The guard itched to ask Luke personally why was they wasting their time at a farm, but as one of the men handed a plastic container and a pair of work gloves, Nolan could not help but lift a brow. The crown prince he knew would not even consider stooping so low as to crouch on the damp earth to engage in manual labor. He had much better things to do than pretend that he knew what he was doing.

The weather was cool, but the sun was merciless. Nolan immediately strode beside the royal. He leaned close and spoke close to Luke’s ear. “We have enough men to do the manual labor, sir. Say the word and I will pull-out people to do the hard work.” It was short of saying that a man of his stature was not fit for such work. “It will be faster too,” he added.

Luke, on the other hand was only half listening to his personal bodyguard’s recommendation. He had just finished listening to his fiancee’s voice as recorded by her brother-in-law and was reading the forwarded missive. “Secure the perimeter,” was his only response. Kidnapping was the lesser evil of the two evil acts threatening Rhiane, but to hear that the rebellion had not given up on their quest to get their hands on his betrothed was not in the slightest good news. He was tempted to forward the message to somebody he trusted in order to try and trace the source, but it may raise questions which he did not want to answer.

Sebastian stopped a few steps behind the two other farmers. He looked over his shoulder at the prince who appeared to have concluded a conversation with on of the sharply dressed royal guards. He loaned the heir grape shears then promptly oriented him on how to use it, when to use it, and to which bunch to use it for. “Not all grapes were equals,” Sebastian reminded Luke. Then continued to a short lecture about what a ripe bunch of grapes looked like. The prince was about to raise a question entirely unrelated to the harvest, when Gerard summoned Sebastian for help.

Working for hours under the sun was rather unpleasant. Beads of sweat lined his brow, his cheeks were flushed and so was the exposed skin of his forearms. He crouched and bent his back in order to capture the produce into the bucket-like plastic container given to him. After one was filled, he had to carry it over his shoulder to its temporary storage in a room dedicated for it. The work was not too tiring, it was the sun and the heat that was uncommon during fall that sapped his strength. Add to it the ceaseless calls from his staff, his associates, and officers whose concerns were always tagged as “urgent” that perhaps nobody understood the meaning of the word. Before he knew it, he was simultaneously working for the farm while attending to his responsibilities as a crown prince. Charts and drafts were projected from his wrist, which he read and interpreted as the tomatoes and grapes fell into the bin.

Gerard and Hubert were never satisfied with Luke. They always had something to say about the quality of the produce he was gathering, the manner at which he picked the crops, or his sluggish movement. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. For the sake of Rhiane, he thought, he would not talk back no matter how much he wanted to. Not even when Gerard told Luke to do the composting of horse manure.

But even a hard day had to end. Sometime after lunch, the sun yielded to the horizon, slowly drowning New Rome with beautiful hues of orange and blue and red.

Left to her own devices for the day, Rhiane quickly called in Lia, Octavia, and Tobias, since Luke had insisted on three bodyguards, and set them to work. Using her 'volunteers' to measure the dimensions of each room and the furniture contained therein, she sketched the Black household in detail onto sheets of paper attached to her clipboard. Marks and notes were made as to where there were windows and doorways, where there was damage to the walls, where there were curtains and rugs. The result was an inventory of what needed to be addressed for her renovations. In totality it took approximately two hours for her to finish this task and make preliminary plans as to in what order she would send out inquiries for services. They dared not say anything aloud, but she could see out of the corner of her eye the relief on the faces of her security detail when they were allowed to be at ease while she sat at her desk.

The reprieve was short-lived. What the palace had failed to appreciate was how well suited their princess elect was to management. Her skills had been forged by necessity; Sebastian was passive, Hubert had been drowning in grief since the death of his wife and was equal amounts hot-headed and a doormat for a sob story, and Gerard was short-sighted. None of them had the raw efficiency of the only daughter of the late matriarch. Though she had no desire to ever be a queen that ruled, an ambition of other woman that sought the favor of her fiance, her innate social abilities lent themselves to leadership. Rhiane knew when to push, to encourage, to praise, to reprimand, to console, or to punish, and most importantly she knew how to delegate playing to the strengths of her counterparts.

The first call of the day had been to a local painting and wall repair company approximately an hour away. At first they politely advised that their availability was limited for the next two weeks, but upon realizing the identity of the voice on the other end of the line, they miraculously assembled a crew to respond immediately. Tobias was assigned oversight of the team upon their arrival. Rhiane herself gave the tradesmen instructions, showing them gouges to be patched and areas where new drywall was required. Any illusions they might have had that they would have an unlimited budget without scrutiny was quickly dismissed. The former farmer had a sharp eye, an astute sense of value, and was unafraid of confrontation. By the evening every blemish had been smoothed and primed for a fresh coat of paint the next day.

Second only to the issue of the walls was that of the floors. Rhiane called a carpenter with which she was personally acquainted for recommendations of nearby professionals experienced in wood floor refinishing. The first choice did not answer and, since time was of the essence, she gave the second the job. Admittedly it was a subjectively simple job; sanding, reapplying the stain, and finishing with a polish. Olivia was their supervisor, coordinating with Tobias so that the workers did not overlap in a way that would prohibit further progress. Fortunately, this was not the first time the laborers had been at a site where there was a hub of activity. Perhaps they could have been left to their own devices, but the royal-to-be was exceedingly reluctant to create any opportunity where they could take unauthorized lengthy breaks, and knew the presence of her bodyguard would deter them from trying to test their limits.

There was a flurry of other contracts established. A tailor brought samples of specialty fabric to recreate the faded curtains. Both a custom cabinetry manufacturer and a stoneworks contractor (who primarily installed granite countertops) took measurements and pictures so they could begin their designing process. Traders in local and imported artisanal rugs carted their wares up the gravel road and past the imposing figures of Nolan and his peers, and Lia accompanied Rhiane as she inspected, negotiated, and selectively bought what met her approval. Electronically she perused paintings, sofas, chairs, tables, beds, and other things that were not readily available from the same vendor. By the time Lia would finish assisting in a transaction there was already another for her to facilitate.

Upstairs rooms required an escort by Rhiane for admission. Edwin's had been untouched since his death and was veritable a shrine to the virtuous soul he had been. The brunette hovered around anxiously, cleaning the thick layer of dust off the dressers, nightstand, and other surfaces while the workers toiled diligently. They were quiet and respectful of the deceased. Much as she cursed the recent news coverage, it had the unintentional benefit of drawing attention to her losses, to which nearly everyone was sympathetic. Gerald and Sebastian's room had a closet that she closely monitored no one peeked inside- no one was stupid enough to demand why. The master bathroom had Violet's clothing, jewelry, and vanity, which the laborers treated with as much reverence as Edwin's belongings. Lastly was Rhiane's own bedroom, tidied before she had left, with various types of artwork hung from every corner, each bearing her initials. She had taken these all down and piled them up, face down, allegedly for the wall repairs.

Sebastian, Gerard, Hubert, and Luke returned to find the conductor of the refurbishment orchestra with her hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. Her hands and cheeks were smudged with errant bits of grime that had accumulated during the course of the day. Her sweater had been tied under her bust, exposing her midriff, but its purpose to help keep her cool rather than be a seductive sight. Soft cotton covers were over her shoes to prevent imprints on the polished floor that had been dried quickly at great expense. What her betrothed had probably intended to be her day of rest had been anything but; she was the executor of a plan that would not be hindered by anything short of divine intervention.

"You're back!" she exclaimed as she saw them walking in approach. The smile that had alighted on her face flattened into disappointment as she stared at her brother and father with such indignant fury that Sebastian winced reflexively, despite not being a target of her wrath. "I expected more of the two of you, but I can see that you were jackasses. Those gloves are for the compost," she observed, "What a fine way to prove the kindness of commoners, by making him do a task that you both bitch about so much, an adult like myself had to do it when I lived here."

"He wanted to prove himself," Gerard shot back.

"I have half a mind to ask Tobias to bend you over his knee and thrash you. You ought to apologize," she fumed, livid, and stalked up to her taller sibling until they were separated by mere inches.

"I'll take one, you take the other," Sebastian groaned in a whisper under his breath. "She won't hit anyone except Gerard, and she'll definitely do it for you, whether or not you object." Without waiting for affirmation that Luke was in agreement, he maneuvered behind his paramour in anticipation of an outburst.

"Apologize?" Gerard repeated incredulously. "He did better than I thought he would," he conceded begrudgingly, "but I'll never apologize..." he stubbornly insisted. His sister's arm tensed in preparation for an outlet for all her frustration- something for which he was making himself a prime target.

As the sun sunk deeper and the pretty shades of twilight fade into black, the farmers and their apprentice retired for the day. Soiled boots invaded the newly polished flooring one by one. Hubert was first to cross the threshold, then there was Sebastian and Gerard with Luke right behind them all. The farm tools were discarded in a plastic bin outside the door, cleaning of which was one more task to accomplish come daylight. The men were clear with their mission for that day, but none had a clue, not even Luke, about what the princess elect had been up to other than shopping for furniture. Therefore, it came as a surprise that the house had been cleaned and organized, touched by a woman’s hand. The walls were scrubbed clean and the floors polished.

Luke had been tired of keeping his patience in check, of absorbing all the unfounded insults hurled his way, of not fighting back. But when his eyes found his intended with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing a casual shirt fashioned to show her midriff, all the fatigue and the budding headache disappeared. Rhiane and her smile. It shouldn’t, but it did make him feel emotion he could only describe as the lovechild of longing and happiness. It made him forget the nicks made by shears on his untrained fingers or the blisters on his feet from wearing fashionable sneakers instead of functional ones. And suddenly he regretted not harvesting a few stalks of flowers from her garden for her.

But the smile morphed into a frown and just as soon did she launch into the offensive. Luke nodded at Sebastian, freed one of his hands from the gloves and just when she was about to strike, caught her wrist. If she turned her head, he would be caught with an amused expression which he kept on trying to hide. “It’s fine. The flowers in your garden will thank me for such a fine compost. I made sure that it was thoroughly watered and evenly aerated before replacing the cover.”

Gerard just smirked. Sebastian was the only person who was kind enough to explain the process to Luke instead of leaving him staring indignantly at a covered pile of dung. But perhaps even the latter doubted that a prince and the future king would seriously tend to the compost. Luke just asked for a piece of cloth that he could use to cover his nose and mouth with. His shoes were dirty, his clothing smeared with dirt and the occasional juice of fruits he harvested. Even his face, which was flushed by the sun, was not safe from smudges of dirt. Working in the field was neither comfortable nor glamorous, but the prince went through with it out of curiosity and pride. More of the former than the latter.

He let her wrist go. His eyes wandered around the space she put together. “Nice work making this place look a little more livable. I see that there’s no need to bring in an interior designer.” Three of her guards were still in the room, helping tidy up the place. No doubt that she worked the three to the bone as much as Gerard and Hubert did Luke. The ladies did not appear to be happy about the menial housework, but Tobias did not seem to mind.

“I'm going to use your bathroom. A warm bath is all I need right now. Actually, I don’t care if the water is warm or cold.” All that mattered was for Luke to feel clean again. He gestured for one of the girls to step closer. “Fetch a change of clothes for both myself and Rhiane.” Octavia acknowledged before she was on her way to the vehicle. Luke casually walked to the kitchen where he tossed both gloves into tha trash bin. His dirty sweater was pulled over his head and unceeemoniously diacaeded Problem was, she returned empty-handed and with an explanation that it was not loaded to their service.

When Luke seized her hand she immediately halted, not so much as fighting the restraint of his grip. That his touch dissolved her anger, or mitigated it enough that she wasn't compelled to deliver a blow to her brother's head, did not go without notice. Hubert and Gerard cast sideways looks at each other. It was Sebastian who was nonplussed as he grabbed hold of Gerard, making certain that this familial visit was not punctuated by a physical tiff. Throughout the day he had become more convinced that the prince and princess elect, as unlikely a couple as they were, were suited for each other. Not just anyone would have persisted through grueling labor in the hot sun. There had to be some semblance of affection, he wagered mentally, for any royal to pick up a rake and use manure to fertilize someone's flowers. Both of the stubborn fools were in denial about how deeply they were emotionally entangled.

"It still has a long way to go," Rhiane conceded as her gaze wandered over the rooms. The floors had been re-finished, but the baseboards could stand to be replaced, the walls had been smoothed, repaired, and primed, but needed another coat of paint, and there was a considerable amount of furniture she had custom-ordered that would not arrive for a few more days, despite the best efforts of the merchants from whom she had purchased. "But Sebastian can handle it from here, and I'll only be a call away for anything else I couldn't take care of today," she said with a smile. It was difficult to coordinate interior design from a distance, but Luke had proved through modern technology it was entirely possible. If he was able to keep up with his responsibilities while on tour, she could certainly keep an open dialogue with her brother-in-law about home renovations.

"I can call in a favor to the dry cleaner in town," Sebastian offered as he rescued the discarded sweater. He would have volunteered some of his clothing again, but it had already been made clear to him earlier that day that it was not an option that Luke was willing to consider. All of his garments were mass-produced, not individually tailored, and certainly not of a designer make. The only alternative arrangement that would have them leaving the Black household in clean clothes was to have the village's business open up for a special request.

"That sounds wonderful," Rhiane quickly agreed before Luke could protest. "We'll be in my upstairs bath," she declared as she began to lead her fiance towards the stairs. Already she could see the color draining from her brother's face. The implication that the two would be washing together was horrifying to her only surviving sibling. He had known about her occasional dalliances, but she had never brought anyone home. Not only was he politically opposed to the monarchy's philosophies, and therefore its heirs, he was disgusted by the notion of his younger sister being with any man intimately. He lacked an avenue with which to object. No one could deny the duo could use a shower and he begrudgingly had to concede she was as much an owner of the house as any of them. There was no way to stop them, much as he wanted to do so.

"You should have let me clock him," she whispered as she led the way to the aforementioned bathroom. "It's been a while since anyone knocked sense into that jackass." The bathroom was relatively large, another reflection of the success of the builders, who had not been as poverty-stricken as the current generation. Three doors led from it to the hall, to Rhiane's bedroom, and to Edwin's. There were two sinks, an ornate antique ceramic tub, and a more modern shower. This was one of the rooms that still needed attention; the former farmer wanted to replace all the tiling, replace the shower and toilet, and refurbish the counters, all of which were clean but outdated.

"What do you prefer, a bath or a shower?" she asked as she began to shuck off her clothes. Once he had undressed as well, she'd toss them out the door for Sebastian retrieve and ferry away. They had privacy and time to relax, finally, to unwind for at least a half an hour before they were thrust back into the constant flurry of activity of their lives.

Taking care of the logistics was supposed to be up Anelle’s avenue. She was appointed not only to make the couple look good in public, but also make sure that both were in their prime condition for work. Such work included taking care to think about what the prince and his princess elect needed and where it should be. The change of clothes, for example, was supposed to be loaded into the service in any eventuality that the couple decided to stay in the farm house. Anelle, smart as she was, could only hope to sabotage the day probably by “forgetting” to ask her team to pack a change of clothes for the couple. It ensured that they would return to the hotel, thus she could find a way to take the prince aside and have a private moment with him.

The lack of coordination annoyed the crown prince. It was evident in the way his lips were pressed in a thin line when he turned to look at Octavia. Although if he was about to say something, the opportunity was taken away from him by Sebastian and subsequently Rhiane. Especially when she said “we” and not “he.” He allowed her to lead him upstairs where he met the paintings on top of the stairs. She did not stop to give him the chance to critic the paintings, maybe because she thought he would, but instead continued to her room.

“I don’t know, maybe it was this that made me stop you.” He opened the door for her then followed her inside. “Imagine where we’d be right now if I did not stop you from hitting your brother. I’m not sure where you think, but I’m sure it’s not in the privacy of your room. The looks on their faces when you announced where we’ll be is revenge enough.” He pressed a kiss on her temple before she started undressing.

The bathroom was not as cramped as he imagined it would be. It had a shower and a tub, which was more than what a typical household would own given their financial status. However, some tiles were cracked and the paint on the wall stained with time. It was old, but functional and clean. At that moment, he was not in the position to picky. It was either Rhiane’s bath or the dirt and grime on his skin.

Luke kicked his sneakers off. His feet felt awful, it looked raw though if he felt any pain, he did not let it show in the way he walked. The confidence of his strides was misleading. He undressed before he answered, “Whichever takes the longest. There’s no way you can make me wear your clothes while waiting for Sebastian.” So, they must take their private time in her bathroom. “I’ll help clean you up under the shower before we soak in your tub.” He turned the hot water on then did the same for the shower. It sputtered a few times before the water came running smoothly. A glass of wine would have been nice while they relaxed their tired muscles, but it was more than he could ask for from a poor household.

He stepped under the cascading water and waited for her. “Did you cook lunch today? It was delicious.” The four of them sat under the shade of a tree devouring the flavors of homecooked meal. There was an uncertainty as to why the food tasted so tasty when it was just a salad, minestra, and pasta. Maybe he was just hungry. The memory reminded his stomach that it was in need of sustenance. It growled much to Luke’s embarrassment. “It was delicious,” he repeated with a sheepish grin.

They took their time, without regard to how much water they wasted. The stipend would pay for the expenses, and if it would not then Luke would. Time alone together and away from the eyes of the press, however, was rare and precious. They touched and kissed and cared not that they were not alone in the property or that the following day would greet them with as much challenges as the previous day left.

Rhiane smiled brightly as she stepped into the warm shower with Luke. It was not quite large enough for both of them to be under the stream of water at the same time without touching; of course, that was his intention. Needing to wash was merely a convenient excuse to share in tantalizing close proximity. "I didn't quite have enough time to coordinate hiring a chef with everything else," she teased with a playful roll of the eyes. Rinsing herself off was simple enough. The crown prince, however, was absolutely filthy from the fields. She reached over to a nearby shelf with a variety of products and picked the nicest soap and sponge to help him scrub himself clean. Most of the odor from fertilizing the fields had disappeared down the drain, but the soap's fragrance would conceal any lingering remnants.

"I took up cooking after my mother died," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't say it's one of my favorite things to do, but I don't dislike it either. The real secret to making people think you're good at it is staying within the scope of your abilities. It's a lot easier to make a really amazing sandwich than it is a more technical souffle. It also helps if whomever you're feeding has worked up an appetite. When you're starving and exhausted everything tastes better," the princess elect added with a roguish wink as she traced circles on his skin with citrus-scented suds thoughtfully. When she had first arrived at the palace she had wanted to stay in the kitchen and watch the masters work at their craft. She had no illusions of an innate undiscovered culinary talent, but it was intriguing to watch anyone hone their passions, to be so absorbed in making amazing creations that the entire world faded away. Her personal attendants had made it clear that there was no room in the schedule for her to ogle any members of the castle staff.

Over the course of the next half hour they flirted and kissed, moving from the the shower to the antique bath tub. It, like the shower, was designed to only accommodate one large individual or perhaps two children. The innovative couple were able to both get in by having Luke climb in first and Rhiane curl up on her side beside him. Soaking in the bath was pure bliss. Hot water soothed pulled muscles, dulled the ache of blisters, and helped their bodies relax better than when they had been standing. For once the brunette was content to bask in silence. There was something magically peaceful about escaping to a corner of her house with someone and simply enjoying their company after a long day. It was a new experience for her and one she did not want to ruin by arguing philosophy.

He hadn't the opportunity to discuss it, but she was hopeful that a day of labor made her betrothed appreciate what it was like being a peasant. More than once she had heard the lower class described as "lazy." While it was true some of her former peers were afflicted by such a vice, most of them toiled endlessly, their livelihood dependent on long hours under a merciless sun. She didn't expect that Luke would completely about-face about the source of the commoners' struggles, but she was optimistic that his viewpoint had shifted, and that he might more seriously consider that his fellow aristocrats rushed to a judgment convenient for maintaining their privilege. Neither side of the equation lived in Utopia. Rhiane did not have the power to change things for the better, but if her fiance was compassionate and understanding for those of low birth, perhaps he and their future children would enact policies that would make New Rome less oppressive.

They were still basking when Sebastian knocked approximately thirty-five minutes after he had departed with their soiled clothes. "I'm going to leave your things on Rhi's bed for when you're ready to get dressed," he announced after he entered the adjoining room. A closed door separated them, allowing them their privacy while he continued. "It's a good thing that I checked your pockets, Prince Alessandro, because you left a couple small things in your slacks. After they were cleaned I put them back," he advised. His footsteps could be heard retreating from Rhiane's bedroom before closing the door between her bedroom and the hallway.

As Luke would know, there hadn't been anything left in his pocket. Sebastian was slyly hinting, in a way that would not arouse suspicion, that he had left something in the refreshed garment. He had promised a certain amount of information before the work day had begun. Determining the best way to deliver it had been tricky, but depositing a data stick in Luke's pocket was an easy method of transfer, especially since there was much for him to review. On the stick were copies of partially redacted emails and forum posts going back to just before the engagement ball. All of them centered on discussions on how to approach the royal to be: debates as to her viability as a martyr, praise for her empathy, exchanges about if she could be kidnapped, concerns about her personal philosophies (which were unknown to them). The conversations escalated sharply with the news she had possibility slept with the heir to the throne. As Sebastian had alleged, many had become critical of the martyr plan if there was even a tiny chance there could have been conception, and there was rallying to save the public's darling before she 'became too attached' to the monarchy, especially Luke himself, who might have 'brainwashed her with insincere seduction games.'

Queen Camilla had two younger siblings – the Chief of Defense and the Secretary of Economic and Financial Affairs. Both used to live in the castle with the queen. They could still be living with her, except that the younger royals chose to plant their roots outside the walls that had imprisoned them all their lives. It was therefore a rare occurrence that the Chief of Defense paid the Queen a visit at night without appointment, and without any event requiring his attendance.

He stood in front of the glass walls of the tower, overlooking the tiny lights of the city sprawled before him. New Rome was a superpower in a world nearly destroyed by humanity’s greed. Its influence stretched far beyond the boundaries of one of the world’s oldest civilizations to modern day France and Germany. All these were the work of his forefathers. Lords and Ladies of Europe’s wastelands, who organized the survivors in order to build a civilization far greater than its predecessor. He was in it now, a member of the dynasty, to protect what had been built, what had been handed down to their generation.

“I got back from the reception of Ambassador Kim, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Dante.” The attendants at the door bowed as it slid open to let the queen in. She dismissed both, walking into the center of the room and assuming a seat behind her brother. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?” It was not everyday that the prince visited his sister. Truth was the siblings more frequently saw each other in formal events than personal visits.

The Duke exchanged the beautiful skyline for his sister’s attention. He resembled the queen so much that they used to be mistaken as twins. However, where the queen learned a semblance of calm, even friendly, demeanor, her brother was all frowns and business. “I have to talk to you about your son.”

“Which son? I have three of those, you know.”

“Camilla,” he sighed, exasperated at how the queen sometimes toyed with him. “you, of all people, are the most well-informed in terms of the current events in this kingdom. I am assuming that as his mother, you are closely looking into the ‘activities’ of your eldest. Where is he right now, and whatever is he doing there?”

The queen craned her neck so she could see her brother’s face, one that looks a lot like her, except for the hardness in his eyes that not even the security of their privacy hid. Of course, she knew where her son was, but her eldest was not one to spill his plans or what was in his mind. One side of her trusted that Luke understood the consequences of royal mistakes and that his actions were as well-calculated as the proposals he authored that morning, the other side worried that he was allowing his emotions get the best of him. Unlike the noble men and women, her Luke and Callie, no matter what they said, listened to the tiny voice of conscience from the deepest recesses of their minds.

---

Luke was successful in taking a step back and stopping himself from raising a point when she told him what she believed about cooking. The men of her household were already against him, he could not possibly survive the next few hours with Rhiane mad at her too. Because if he told her what was on his mind, it was certainly going to be another war of words. Her beliefs against his.

He lay on his side, his head leaning against the ceramic tub with her cradled in his arms. They had kissed and touched and flirted time away. His eyes were closed as he let the warmth soothe his tired muscles, when Sebastian’s voice came through the closed door. It was something about that object he supposedly left in his pocket that caught his attention. He normally did not place anything in his pants’ pockets, but even though that was the case, he did not say a word. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

If Rhiane watched his face closely, she would have noticed the uncertainty before his body stirred to pull his fiancee closer to his body, as if the tub made for just one person was still too wide for him. “Should we step out and dress ourselves?” If the tightening of his embrace was any indication, he did not want to step out into the real world just yet. The calmness of having nothing to worry about if only for a few minutes was addicting. Luke tilted her chin to meet his kiss. “Just a few more minutes,” he seemed to answer his question, then kissed her again.

The couple spent the few more minutes taking advantage of the privacy to get to know each other in an intimate manner. He basked in her beauty and toiled to make her comfortable and content at the same time. It was just like the night at the spa, where they pretended to be different people. People who were not told who to marry.

After the minutes ran out, Luke stepped out of the tub first to fetch soft towels from beneath the sink. He draped his over his head then passed Rhiane’s before helping her out the water. “Your brother will be more intent on murdering me now. Your father too. Especially if there is no one else in this house who can cook the way you do.”

Rhiane was especially languid about dressing and returning to the world of their conjoined obligations. She stood up and climbed out of the bathtub before generously stretching. It was much more tempting to spend the entirety of their evening in each other's arms and exploring the extent of their attraction to each other. Unfortunately, they both needed sustenance beyond intimacy. The princess elect had heard her betrothed's stomach growl more than once, her family was undoubtedly ticking away the minutes they were enjoying their privacy, and they almost certainly had travel arrangements made by Anelle in their absence. Groaning inwardly, the former farmer wondered if anyone realized that it was secluded tranquility that might make an actual love story form. If Queen Prisca was aware, it was why she kept the engaged couple busy, ensuring they wouldn't be able to afford the precious hours or minutes that would allow emotion entanglement.

"If it makes you feel any better, they'd disapprove of anyone," she shrugged as she accepted a towel and wrapped it around her torso. The bottom half of her hair was dripping wet, but the upper portion had dried since they had left the shower, as it had not been submerged when they were soaking in the bath. "Dad and Gerard only respect other farmers, but it's a male dominated field. If I had accepted a marriage offer from a fellow farmer, they would have expected to annex our lands, or that I'd give up my place on the Black Farm to become their wife and subordinate- leaving my brother and father behind. Hard to seriously consider a marriage offer when you're the more successful farmer and they want you to be their obedient little housekeeper," she added with a roll of her eyes.

Objectively the palace had labeled Rhiane successful. There had been a thorough analysis of her background when she became one of the final candidates in the contest. Of course she had never seen the file, but it noted a 'marked improvement' of the agricultural output once she assumed a management position of authority. A few financial experts had annotated progress through the months as a testament to the fact she could be an asset to the royal family lineage. No one was willing to call her shrewd or intelligent- she was just a peasant- but she surpassed all the requirements they had for mental acuity. While they would balk at allowing her having any real power once she was crowned princess and then queen, she would have been arguably wasted talent if she was the spouse of a commoner that used for her nothing more than cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing.

Walking into her adjacent bedroom, she gazed at the dry-cleaned clothes arranged on the bed thoughtfully. Luke wasn't wrong that her father and brother would be veritably murderous now. Any good will he had garnered working the fields had probably evaporated the instant he took his fiancee into the bathroom. Every second that had passed after Sebastian had returned their attire to them had made her relatives more and more certain of how they were taking advantage of the time together. Predictable as their ire was, and perhaps deserved, something inside her didn't want to walk away without putting more effort into trying to mend the fractured familial bonds.

"What do you think of going out? There's a bar in town that has a chef that makes amazing pasta dishes with hand-made noodles. It's a favorite spot for getting a stiff drink but also a hearty meal after a hard day's work. It'll put Dad and Gerard in a better mood and be a good way to thank Sebastian for his help. We can see if you can hold your liquor," she remarked with a raised brow. "The Black family has a reputation to uphold in that area, you know." It was a tantalizing proposition. A restaurant, even a simple one in a poorer metropolis, would be faster than waiting for her to create something in the kitchen. Additionally, it would be an escape, a way to unwind safely, and see what the people Rhiane knew were like, if their struggles were as profound as she alleged, if they were as lazy as nobility claimed, or as sharp and honest as she asserted.

"You'll need to wear something more... subtle, though. Sebastian has some clothes that aren't as nice as ours, but better than what I wore the other day on the tour. Tobias and Nolan could come with us if you're worried about security, though I think you'll have a hard time convincing Nolan to wear anything than his suit, and that'd make him stand out like a sore thumb. The bigger threat, though, would be all the lonely ladies that live here. If they saw a handsome man in a suit they'd persistently swarm him in desperation," she mused. A few travelers, typically representatives for a corporation trying to convince locals to buy their employer's seeds, equipment, tools, or use their company's financing program, would waltz into an establishment dressed particularly well. If it was a woman, the men would make brazen attempts to impress her, while if it was a man, women would boldly attempt to seduce.

"What do you think? Are princes allowed to have drinks besides champagne and wine? Would it be too strong for you?" Rhiane teased with a coy smile as she dropped her towel and began to rummage through her old closet for something suitable for a night out, but wouldn't also be offensive to his sensibilities.

“You do not watch a lot of news, do you?” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, watching as she waltzed into the room followed by a train of droplets dripping from her long hair. The crown prince was not exactly the prim and proper type of royal like most would expect one whose entire life was scrutinized under the lens of a camera. While sons and daughters of noble houses projected an image of a seemingly obedient offspring, the heir to the throne had this notion, at least when he was younger, that he need not prove anything to anybody, because he was going to be the next king. Sleepless nights held a different meaning then, right when he was about to graduate from the flight school and freedom was within his grasp. Rhiane must have been either too busy with the farm or did not care about the local showbiz scene to not hear about the drinking habits of the royal.

He pulled his pants and sat on the bed, then resorted to watching her browse the clothes hidden in her closet. “I’ve nothing to prove to you or the people, but I don’t see any reason not to go out and get us some drinks tonight. Just a few bottles to soften the edges. Your brothers don’t have to catch up with me if you don’t want to take care of drunken men tonight.”

Her bedroom had a touch of femininity in it that if he was to enter the house alone and then asked to find which was her bedroom, it was clearly that one. Some canvasses leaned against the wall adjacent the bathroom. Out of curiosity, Luke pushed himself off the bed then inspected the canvasses. They were paintings. Definitely the work of the same artist as the style appeared to be the same though the themes were different. He touched the dried paint on the cavass. The vivid colors bled on the white sheet forming interesting portrayal of reality as Rhiane saw it. Not every painting was realism, some were abstract, while a few had a touch of the drama of impressionism. He remembered Sebastian, during their first conversation, saying that she loved to paint.

Luke was going to change the topic and ask her about the paintings when a soft rap sounded from the door. Since his fiancee was not yet fully dressed, the prince went for the door, cracked it open a bit, only to find Sebastian on the other side. The foreign gentleman appeared to be both flustered and uncertain about knocking again. He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you two about ready to step out of the room?” Sebastian looked over his shoulder to the banister to the living are as it was visible from where he stood. “They are getting hungry and are starting to complain about the lack of food. We can prepare food on our own, but Rhiane rarely comes home so perhaps they wanted to taste her food once more.”

“But we are planning to dine out tonight. All of us.” Rhiane was correct, it was quicker than preparing a meal for the rest of the household. Besides, though he said that he did not need to prove anything, his ego was ticked when she implied that princes such as his self, did not know how to handle their liquor. He wanted to prover her wrong, show her that he was better than the common people even at drinking strong spirits.

Sebastian looked thoughtful. Perhaps having the same thoughts as his in-law. Luke and his bodyguards would stand out in their designer clothes then it would be a disaster in the bar with people either loving him or hating him to the core. “You can’t step out of the house wearing your clothes, your highness. I’ll bring some clothes for you to try on. We may be the same size.” At Luke’s slight frown, Sebastian added, “Don’t worry, there will be no holes and it will be as comfortable as your designer clothes.”

Sebastian disappeared into the hallway. “If it itches, I am not going to wear it,” Luke pronounced sounding like a whiny teenage girl who did not like her dress for the ball.

"No, I didn't watch a lot of news," Rhiane admitted with a casual shrug of the soldiers. "Other candidates in the contest were deeply distressed by my lack of knowledge on your personal past. Third place could last all your known paramours by height." Quietly she tried to imagine how her betrothed might react to such an avid, starstruck woman as his counterpart for the next decade, the mother to his future children, and a bedfellow. Luke had a robust ego but little tolerance for sycophants. While he found her lack of respect and reverence for his status frustrating, and their philosophical differences grating, she would be willing to wager that a lovesick puppy would be even more annoying. In their eyes he could do no wrong, but to reach that cognitive dissonance they had to sacrifice portions of their wit and, perhaps most importantly, they slowly became unable to think for themselves without being told the 'correct' opinion to have. Third place was a sweet woman- but she would have been a disaster for his image. The crown prince's possible misgivings aside, a meek and subservient princess elect would have given credulity to the rebellion's claims the engagement was a sham, and the commoner bride-to-be a puppet.

Her bedroom was the smallest in the house. Hubert and the late Violet Black occupied the master bedroom and give the next largest bedroom, which had its own attached bathroom, to their eldest child, Gerard. Edwin was born next and had the next largest for his use. Rhiane, the youngest and "baby," was given one of the two remaining (the last was left empty for a guest). The addition of Sebastian and the death of her mother and brother could have resulted in a shuffle of the bedrooms. Technically the patriarch of the household did not need the most space as a widower, and the only couple in the house could have pit it to better use. Somehow, however, it was easier to maintain the status quo. It was as if the family passively believed that if they did not talk about it, and did not acknowledge it, the pain of their losses might disappear of its own accord.

Rhiane's room was tidy, if not slightly bare from her absence. Besides the paintings that Luke had discovered, there was a well worn wooden desk and chair, antique by modern standards, a dresser, a nightstand, and woven rug next to her bed. Unlike the sprawling mattress that was in his home, hers could only fit one person comfortably, and only if they were no taller than she was. Once there had been hand-drawn sketches on the paint, but today's renovators had swept a primer over her etchings, leaving only the canvases revealing her artistic past. Her teacher at the time had praised her talent, particularly in impressionism, and usage of bright colors. In a world in which digital art was so accessible, and her farm's needs were so pressing, she had voluntarily abandoned her hobby out of necessity.

"Gerard drinks like a fish," Rhiane laughed lightly as she pulled on a pair of tight, dark wash, fitted jeans. They weren't appropriate fashion for a ball, or even a press conference, but they were flattering without being wholly scandalous if they were photographed by town folk. "It improves his temper, though, and Sebastian can more than handle him. I'm much more worried about you... or maybe you ought to be worried about yourself. Aren't you concerned that me, as your sober date, might take advantage of you?" Arching one slender brow and smiling coyly, she pulled on a loose sweater with a deep V-shaped neck that hugged her curves. "I can already see the headlines: Devious Farmer Steals Handsome Prince From Bar! Palace Shocked! County in Panic!"

"On a serious note, do we need to take our bodyguards? Or do you need to send Anelle notice of the change in plans? I made a list, as promised, by the way," she added as she tugged on some heels and hopped over to her cleaned clothes. Tucked into the pocket in careful, flowing writing were potential spots they could visit: her old school, her mother and brother's graves at the cemetery, the local community center, a park with a botanical garden, and a nearby supply store that helped her when she first took over the farm's management, and whose owners with which she remained on friendly terms.

Deferring to his judgment for a change when it came to the staff employed by the crown, she busied herself with cleaning up her paintings, taking the time to sort them mentally as she tried to find a space under her bed in which they could be stored. Much as she enjoyed Tobias's support and friendship, she wasn't certain that he'd make the best dinner company, and Nolan even less. Lia and Octavia would be even worse. If they did not scoff at the other patrons of the restaurant, they'd undoubtedly find it an underwhelming experience for the end of the day, and attract the wrong kind of attention. Rhiane was not petty. She did not feel she needed to compete with other women when she was not actively seeking romance; all the same, until she was on better terms with the pair, she didn't care for their company. Perhaps she was becoming insecure about the fact even they were more Luke's type than a peasant, regardless of physical beauty.

There were a lot going on in his mind, but none of it had to do with his position, the amount of work he left behind, or that he had been ignoring calls for the past few hours. Without precedence, his day doing manual labor had taken most of the worries about trade relations, global concerns, and security. In its place bloomed his curiosity about crops propagated in the different topographies of his mother’s kingdom. He had eaten tomatoes harvested from different regions and he knew that each had its own unique characteristic, as if coming from different species entirely, but that day was the first time he picked one from its shrub.

Needless to say, he had almost forgotten the reason he insisted to visit the farm in the first place. Luke paced to the bed then back to Rhiane’s door to come after Sebastian, but then decided that discussing their secret arrangement around the other men might not be for the best of all concerned. He sat on the bed, feeling the cold metal of the drive deposited inside his pocket. One reason why he could not allow himself to explore the limits of his alcohol tolerance that night.

“Thank you for not letting her win.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m a bit frightened to find out what else she knew about me that I myself had no idea about. Makes me wonder if you would still have joined the contest if you had the knowledge that this third placer had.” That he had never really fallen in love – except maybe with Sophia even though it was still a debatable subject – or that he had no respect whatsoever to women, or that he was arguably the rudest elitist of all the elitists in the land, were but two reasons for any sane common woman to run the other direction. It was his power, his position, his looks that blinded his paramours and made his previous relations superficial. None had cared to dig deeper to really get to know the person behind the mask. None but the woman he was not meant to be with at least for the next decade.

A forlorn smile graced his features while his mind wandered outside the farm and into memories he created with someone else. Good thing Rhiane had her back on him, laughing a little as she pulled on her jeans. “Why should you remain sober?” He absently asked the most obvious question in a voice that was uncharacteristically his, then lifted his gaze from the floral bedspread and into that spot that the sweater’s neckline emphasized. “But it doesn’t matter. Drunk or not, you take advantage of me and my weakness.” He arched a royal brow and cocked his head to the side, imitating her. “Undressing in front of me, joining me in the shower, jumping in the same bath that I am in. What else must I believe other my fiancee getting out of her way to seduce me?”

He pushed himself to his still bare feet, past her only to open the closet full of her clothes. There was a variety of colors and styles. Most were not suited for the season’s favorite fashion, though most were wearable. The prince scanned the collection of clothes until he found a cotton scarf that he felt complemented the color of her sweater. It was also of decent size that she could drape it over her shoulder to compensate for the lack of cloth of her v-neck sweater. He handed the material to her.

“I will do that later.” He unraveled the scarf himself then draped it around her. “Wouldn’t want you to catch colds tonight.” Wouldn’t want men looking at her chest more than the colds thing. “The bodyguards can stay and guard the perimeter if you’re not happy to be in their company tonight. Did you mean Tobias too?” Luke teased. He had expressed how he suspected the bodyguard saw the princess elect as more than his charge. Rhiane was not unfriendly towards the man. “Though we must not be spotted coming into the bar with your family, else everybody will instantly know and our disguises will be pointless. Remember our first date?” His lips stretched to a genuine smile. “How you mutinied against me and made us both starve? Well, we’re doing this undercover dinner for real this time, and I honestly do not want any paparazzi photographs or videos circulating the internet. No picture taking with the locals as well, let’s just enjoy the night as normal people. You think it’s possible?”

Shrugging, Rhiane wondered if Luke really believed that if she had full knowledge she would have declined entering the contest. Things had certainly taken unanticipated turns, such as the rebellion's violent faction making attempts on her life, but she did not necessarily regret her choice. Though he was inordinately stubborn, haughty, and distant, those were traits that were known by the public who didn't watch the news broadcasts. "I don't think it'd be my place to judge you for your past lovers, since I have several of my own, and other farmers would have looked down on me for being a woman even if we are both common folk," she explained. "I knew what I was getting into by having a marriage that wasn't based on a romantic ideal, you just had the best offer. Regardless of what my family thinks, I'd do it again, though I might go without the fun facts about your preferred shoe size or hair color for ladies that she couldn't help but tell me every time I tried to strike up a conversation," she groaned. It would have been harder on third place. She had firmly believed that the royal was the summation of all the information she had dug up on him, that she knew Luke on an intimate level because of her obsession, and yet the reality would have either sent her into despair or denial.

Everything was for Gerard and Hubert Black, but she worried deeply for how scarred they'd be at her inevitable demise. She could barely bring herself to enter Edwin's room years after her death. The future waiting for her was one where she was buried beside her mother and second-eldest brother, where they had another room they could not enter, another name they could barely utter, and a branch of the family that Queen Camilla would forbid them from having contact with if she was wise. Running a finger along the edge of the closet door frame she she considered that their financial salvation would crucify them emotionally. Luke wanted to keep her alive. She trusted him, perhaps foolishly, but his mother and the other nobility could not be underestimated. It was cruel of her to damn people she loved because she could not bear the portrait of what middle age would bring: divorce if not murder, separation from her children, watching someone she cared for toss her away, possibly falling ill and feeling the curse of morality make her a burden on others, sucking away her slip away slowly and painfully.

If Rhiane regretted anything, it was that she had come to feel deeply for a man she couldn't have, that she let errant dreams convince her that the blissful acceptance and love her parents had could ever be hers as well.

"I can't have any alcohol since we've slept together," Rhiane told him, eyebrows raised in surprise he hadn't deduced as much. "In the unlikely event I'm pregnant, it'd risk a defect. Even if we were both absolutely certain I'm not, it'd reflect poorly on me since there's always at least a minuscule chance, and my image would tank with the media if the perception was that I was 'recklessly' getting drunk. Abstaining is safer and easier than the alternatives." She watched and waited for his reaction. Ready as she was for the challenges of children, he had been far less enthusiastic about their arrangement, and it stood to reason that he'd be apprehensive about adding to his responsibilities. He was an unapologetic playboy who had not promised monogamous commitment, he was constantly busy with the bureaucracy of New Rome, and had not reconciled her low birth being mixed with his. Deep inside she dreaded the disappointment he might express if and when her belly grew.

"If I remember correctly, you suggested the shower and bath together, and undressing in a shared room is quite normal," she protested as she watched him reach into her closet and pluck out a scarf. "When I mean to seduce a man, I'm not subtle," the princess elect truthfully proclaimed. It was an understatement. More than once she had been the aggressor in initiating a dalliance once the other party conveyed their interest. Reporters and the masses presumed her a virgin, or a modest, virtuous girl that had 'saved herself' for a special sweetheart at most, but she had romps under her belt that would make others blush, if not in their vigor than in her energetic participation. Luke had witnessed a hunger that matched his own when it came to physical exchanges.

For a moment she feigned being torn and conflicted about whether or not she wanted Tobias to be in their dinner entourage. "And how do you expect to disguise yourself so no one recognizes you? Hell, it'd be a miracle if they didn't recognize me. I've known this place my whole life and I'm probably more famous here than you are. Piero will shield his restaurant from the paparazzi, but you might have to endure some good-natured teasing and debate, I surprisingly attract it," Rhiane admitted him with faux innocence. "And I also can't promise we won't run into one of my one-night stands while we're out and around. Seeing as how well you conduct yourself around Tobias with all your suspicions, I'm sure that won't be a problem," she jested.

The proprietor of the modern-age tavern was a gentleman by the name of Piero Ricci, whose lineage was allegedly traced through countless generations of chef entrepreneurs. He had a soft spot for Rhiane just as he had a soft spot for Violet, so he forgave her when she left behind a bill to chase down a striking, muscular male specimen that had caught her eye. His trust was not misplaced. Without fail she paid her tab within a week. Not only was she honest with him, she was charismatic, able to entertain travelers and regulars alike, relaying stories of mishaps, mocking local officials, sharing gossip, or dispensing advice for those that sought her out. All in all she was good for business. He was a good man, but he could respect how she helped his profit, and they had a professionally mutual beneficial agreement. For a couple free drinks a week she'd engage with and help keep a patron asking for more rounds or a dessert so that they could finish a conversation.

“I most certainly did not suggest to shower and bath together, ma’am.” He pulled-off a lopsided grin that was as cocky as it was mischievous. Not that he did not think about it, the prince was just concerned about the impression he would make to her family should he carelessly voice out his wishes. Besides, he was counting on his fiancee to make the offer and she did. “I specifically and politely – mind you – asked permission to use your bathroom so that I may clean myself. It was you who suggested that we do it together.” Which made him a much greater enemy to her brother.

Truth be told, he had not thought of their recent intimacy the way she did. Her words took him aback that the grin was wiped off his face and his jaw went a little slack. It may be the difference in the maturity between a playboy and a woman. He was all about the fun, while her mind was already preparing for motherhood. If the tables were turned and she was the female in the relationship, he wouldn’t have thought to stop partying on the account of a possible pregnancy. Besides, he was not ready to father a child. There were other consequences of a successful pregnancy which he was not prepared to tackle that night, so he let it go.

When she raised the question about how they ought to disguise themselves, Luke shrugged. “Being a little stealthy is better than announcing our presence in the local bar like superstars. Let your father and brother enter the bar first. We’ll wait a few minutes while the patrons fawn over them asking about you and me and if rumors are true that we are visiting town.” Her face was a face that was difficult to hide in a village that most probably knew each resident’s face. His had been in the broadcast, magazines, papers, and every media platform ever invented. She was correct to point out that the exercise of pretending to be common villagers was futile, except that his plan was more than pretending but redirecting as much attention as possible. “Then we come in and take a seat somewhere in the background. Could you call your friend to tell him that we do not want too much attention, and because of that he should be the one to take our order?”

The more she talked about it, the more excited her voice got due to the prospect of meeting old friends and sweethearts, the more anxious Luke became about their night out. He was good at holding a conversation with the working class. The working class, on the other hand, had opinions about the royals which he was not in agreement with. Some may even be resentful of his presence. All Luke wanted was a drink, good food, a quiet night and none of those ex-lovers she was talking about.

A soft knock disturbed their conversation. Luke, having nothing else to do, went on to check who it was, saying, “You seem excited to meet those exes. What, to flaunt the guy with the ‘best offer’?”

Sebastian’s face greeted Luke when he cracked the door open. A few of his belongings were bundled on the foreigner’s arms, which he turned-over to Luke. Most were made of a material that was a bit stiffer and rougher than what he was used to wearing. He set the clothes on Rhiane’s desk. The clothes were all the same to him and it did not matter which one he picked so he did the topmost article. It was a plain blue t-shirt. “Should I just stay behind?” He mumbled into the shirt as he pulled it over his head. His hair was mussed after he emerged from the shirt. “Or maybe drive you to the bar and then pick you up after you’re done rekindling old flames.”

Rhiane cast a glance at Luke as he suggested she was 'eager' to meet her exes, then chased it with an insincere offer to stay behind and a thinly veiled accusation she might use the time to 'rekindle old flames.' It was strange to hear the jealousy in his tone. For as possessive as we was in Tobias's presence- unnecessarily so- he had failed to make any emotional confession of feelings. She was the one who had declared she wanted him, but he did not reciprocate this vocally at the time, and still had not. Anelle was the closest he had come to admitting anything, and that was only in that he rebuffed the other woman's overt flirting, reassuring her that his fling with the image manager was in the past. The crown prince wanted her eyes to remain affixed on him and him only, and acted with romantic attachment, but would not put into words that thoughts that traveled through his mind. If pressured by Gerard, she wouldn't be able to say with certainty that he wouldn't lose interest, that he wouldn't return to his playboy ways, that his infatuation was not manufactured by convenience alone.

Certainly the fact she was being compensated for being his betrothed soured his view of their situation. No one liked to think money had to be exchanged for someone to agree to be their partner. As unpalatable as the notion was, even more so was the knowledge he was with her by force, that he had to be implanted with a device to keep him close initially. Rhiane had put faith in an individual that loathed her low birth, that insulted her peers, and continued to deny that the death of her mother and brother had been at all preventable. She ought to hate him just as much, if not more, than he despised her, but she had managed to bridge the divide. Until he made his own figurative leap, it was hard to have sympathy for his plight.

"Is there something else I should flaunt?" she teased mercilessly, confident it would be weeks, months, years, if he ever conceded that their relationship was beyond a mutually beneficial physical and political arrangement. "How many at your engagement ball have you had a tryst with? If there were none, I've still met two of your exes, one of whom I have to work with, and that assumes you and Sophia are not entangled and in contact," the princess elect pointed out. "I never saw the need to sleep with a man more than a few times," she pointed out. Luke seemed to ignore her philosophy of treating intercourse like a transaction, presuming that love was unattainable, but it colored many choices in her history. "You've undoubtedly been with both those women more times than I've been with all the men you might meet tonight added together."

"I'm just looking forward to seeing people I know," she genuinely stated as she stepped forward and ran her fingers through his hair. "The people in the nobility, the palace, the staff are your people, something they never fail to let me know or feel. It's nice to have people that want to shake my hand and argue about who has the best seed for planting this year, or what methodology of irrigation is best for the crops, or if the local merchant's prices are a rip off or a sign of a turn in the economy. Hell, it's just nice to have people ask for my opinion on something without being patronizing," the former peasant sighed. Interviews centered on favorite colors, or fashion, or her engagement, not on matters of national importance. Whenever the topic landed on a difficult subject it was because she guided it in that direction, because she proactively broached it, not because anyone gave her credit for having intelligence or relevance.

Except Tobias. Tobias cared about what she thought, how she felt, what she dreamed of, what she wanted for her country. He dared to see her as more than a puppet. When he inquired about what she'd do about the rebellion, he had listened and not scoffed at her response. Had the royal cousin been heir to the throne, had he wielded power, she believed he'd still manage to involve his future wife in his affairs, appeal to her passions, and sincerely honor her. The more that Luke brought up his relative, the more she compared them, and the more she wondered what the passive, stoic, reserved bodyguard would do if they were the couple instead.

"Piero will keep us from becoming a spectacle, but I won't have him keeping everyone from saying hello. I promise not to be stolen away," Rhiane professed with an upheld hand, imitating a solemn vow. "There are plenty of people I haven't slept with and that won't be utterly starstruck."