Well, actions speak more truthfully than words. The fact that she held his cousin’s opinion higher than his own was, to Luke, a blatant declaration of how she trusted Luke way less than she trusted Tobias. Never mind that he was the crown prince, that he received a higher level of education than the royal guard, that he had the treasury of the royal household at his disposal. Unlike those born with noble blood, title, education, and gold were of least importance to a person of humble birth. Didn’t she say something similar that morning as she shoved him out of his room and went on praising his cousin for being more of a man than Luke?

“I changed my mind.” The prince leaned against the door, his blue gaze wandering out the window as the words tumbled out his lips. There were several people she could ask for opinion on the matter. In fact, there were four of them seated inside the moving vehicle. She could have asked Nolan too if she wanted to hear what other people thought. That would have been the logical thing to do. Gathering data from two different sources was better than taking the first information collected at face value, because in that case, there would be a third-party to validate the second party’s claim. However, she didn’t. Tobias’ opinion was enough. If the royal guard said no, would she have closed her mind to the idea as well?

“Anelle said that we shall be meeting with the appointed leaders of the town. There are no noble lords present, just common people. And afterwards, the marketplace.” He had never been to a total marketplace, but she needn’t know that detail. “I believe we can find a souvenir that we can send my sister from there.”

He was of course annoyed that she had to lean on Tobias’ opinion even if it was just for the paintings. He was also aware that he was acting like a child. She made it clear that morning that if not for Luke’s title, Tobias would have been the better man. It might have hurt his ego, but it did more than that. He was the type who didn’t care for what people like Rhiane thought of him and his actions. That was the Luke he understood. Yet the truth remained that he was affected by her words, that she made him angry and frustrated and jealous. “I will write a note for her.” As if saying something entirely unrelated would redirect his thoughts. He wanted to talk to his sister about Tobias and Rhiane without painting the latter in a bad light. Callista was his only ally in the palace then. It seemed that it remained true to that day.

“Enough talks about the presents for my sister. Let me brief you about today’s itinerary.” Luke took on a business-like tone with the princess elect as he described how the tour would move forward after they stepped out of the car. Her homecoming was designed to showcase her life in the rural agricultural town, emphasizing her humble roots, and how she grew up to be the intelligent, beautiful woman that captured the crown prince’s heart. They would begin at the town square, then head to the marketplace where she did her trading. They would visit the bar they visited the night before as well as some local restaurants she frequented. The only school in town was also part of the itinerary. A few of her former teachers, trading partners, and drinking buddies would also be interviewed. Finally, before the day ended, they would come visit her mother’s and brother’s grave.

The original plan was to visit the cemetery before heading to town, but there was the matter of her dress and the marketplace, which inspired the team to switch the timeslots. “We should have enough time to look around and browse the crafts and produces.”

To say that Rhiane had a lack of enthusiasm for their schedule was an understatement. For once it was not his petulant behavior or condescending attitude that was the cause for concern, but rather the setting of her home town. As much as she genuinely loved the placed where she was born, she was worried about their reception of Luke and his entourage in particular. The people here had no illusions about the flaws of the government and crown, and while they were not all rebellious dissidents, they had suffered under the faults, and been systematically ignored when it was convenient. Many more here died from the plague than her mother and brother. Perhaps the resistance had not gained a strong foothold here yet, but if the heir to the throne paraded himself around, unsympathetic to their plight or in denial of the bias he had been given by subordinates, it would be disastrous. The announcement of one of their own as princess elect had gained back some of the lost favor, and instilled slightly more loyalty, but the battle for their fealty was far from won.

"It will be harder to convince them than anywhere else we've been," she mused quietly. Nolan and Tobias might be able to overhear, but it wasn't as if they weren't aware that the engaged couple had their complications. The facade of romantic love was a tale sold to the masses; on the other hand, the nobility was comforted by the fact it was was a charade. They simultaneously had to sell the concept of being madly infatuated with one another to the majority of the populace while reassuring the privileged minority it was only a political arrangement for the betterment of their society. Royal staff in particular were aware of the dichotomy, they just did not expect her to be so willful or practical when her predecessors were enthralled by beauty, wealth, and prestige. History had taught them she should be madly in love with Luke and she was reluctant to reveal the reality.

She let silence fall until they reached the marketplace and the vehicle came to a rolling stop. It was only then, when they were supposed to disembark, she let out a heavy sigh. "Nolan, Tobias, could you give us a moment of privacy?" she asked politely. Rhiane anticipated a protest from Nolan but, either because he sensed the prince would agree, or because he didn't want to be blamed for another fight, or he wanted to avoid listening to their discussion, he gave a curt nod and both men stepped out of the vehicle, closing the doors behind them. Outside a crowd was beginning to gather as they realized who the expensive motorcade arriving belonged to.

"I'm not accusing you of not doing your research, but I want to warn you these people won't be as fooled as easily as the other places we've been," she said as she ran a hand through her hair thoughtfully. "They knew me before I left for the contest and entered the capital. Lying to them will be much more difficult. And unlike our other stops, there is a much higher percentage of the population here that is apathetic or upset with your mother, and they'll be looking for any sign that you're a fraud. You could be perfect and I'd wager they'd assume the worst. I just want this to go well for you, so..." the former farmer took a deep breath. "If it would be easier we can split up. Nolan doesn't like me, but if it would make you feel better, we could swap bodyguards if you absolutely can't allow me to spend time alone with Tobias."

What she was trying to delicately state was that she knew that Luke did not have any affection to her. The media had their suspicions. In person, with an audience that didn't like him, that was invested in her, the future king had much resting on his shoulders. Without sincerity he would have to be an excellent actor. In the best of moods- which he was not in now- he had not been award-winning. As heartbreaking as it was to feel rejected, to know she'd never be good enough for him, and that he'd choose the side of the aristocracy over her every time, she didn't want to demolish his image in one fell swoop. She had alternatives to marrying him now that she had become the darling of New Rome. Rich and powerful as he was, he seemingly had one path, and if it was ruined she did not want to be the one responsible.

Tempted as she was to clear the air about the painting, if he couldn't figure out that Nolan didn't care for her, and would side with him, and that he held Callista on a pedestal, then that was his own fault. Tobias was the only person in her proverbial corner that treated her with honestly, dignity, and respect. A frown flickered onto her face as she realized how much simpler it would have been if her childish crush was on someone who was so kind, patient, and considerate, rather than someone arrogant, haughty, and emotionally unavailable.

Luke nodded when Nolan met his stare from the rear-view mirror. The prince was made aware, through several occasions, that Rhiane was fond of these unannounced closed-door meetings. Denying her the privacy would only mean disaster for the tour and the most possibly their joint image. So, he just nodded and bit back a dry retort, waiting for her to give him a piece of her mind.

When she began her little speech, Luke turned to look at her only because it was polite to do so. She was beautiful that morning. She was beautiful with her bare face and naked body, but the carefully placed highlights and contours enhanced her features. His attention was arrested by her lips as it moved, the waves of her hair cascading down her shoulder, the gentle planes of her face as the morning sunlight worshipped it. She was as beautiful as a goddess from the ancient texts, but he was not about to agree with her proposal.

Luke’s answer was a flat, “No.”

He let the silence stretch between them, before speaking again. “This is not the capital. The people I have on the security team is stretched too thinly as it is. I cannot put more strain by creating a different itinerary each for the two of us. Not today.” The prince was firm in his refusal. Sebastian might have given the information that the rebellion was leaning away from the idea of turning Rhiane into a martyr, but it had only been a few days since the last attempt. The memory of her tears as she tried to make sense of the guilt she pinned on herself while they were inside the wrecked vehicle, the pain of her broken arm that she fought to hide from him, the way she thrashed in her sleep as nightmares invaded her dreams. It was something he’d rather not relive for the second time. It hurt him to watch his stubborn fiancee brought down to her knees by circumstances he could have easily prevented. Therefore, if anybody asked if he was protecting her health, he’d surely claim that he was doing it for his own sanity.

“You may argue that this is your hometown. Maybe you trust the people whose face you knew and whose childhood was similar to yours, but I don’t. Loyalties can be bought, Rhiane.” He paused, searching her face for any reaction. “I don’t want you to be the one paying the price just because I was not careful enough. Besides, it’s right about time that we stopped pretending.” Making the people believe the lies that the crown worked so hard to propagate was secondary to her safety. If it would make it easier to convince her that sticking together was the better option, then he’d have to nurse that spark of hope he’d seen in her gaze until it burned into something more than a distant dream. Until it turned into a semblance of reality.

With the bouquets sitting in between them, Luke reached out to cover her hand with his. A gesture which he was certain Rhiane was already used to at that point. “I don’t care what they believe or how they imagine me to be, but if lying to them means pretending that I care for you - that I am in love with you – then they got it all wrong.” His thumb traced nervous circles at the back of her hand. “I’m saying that it’s about time we stopped pretending that this was all for the queen and the dynasty. You told me you like me. I feel the same. These emotions can make a fool of us.” He laughed a humorless laughter, tilting his head to the side, waiting for her to call the bluff. But was he really bluffing? Was he saying it to convince her to abandon her idea? “My mother does know me more than I know myself after all. She sent Anelle to get me to remember how the high-born ladies differ from…” The words trailed away, knowing that there was no polite way to say it.

Rhiane frowned when Luke refused, at first with no explanation, that he would not be taking up her suggestion of dividing into two groups. She remained frustrated when he finally elaborated on his reasoning, and what was initially a flare of anger dissolved in the wake of disappointment. There was no denying that the princess elect was displeased with his assessment but any outward hostility she held disappeared. What he said made some sense. The town was smaller than other municipalities they had visited on the tour but had more variables. On a whole the populace was composed of less loyalists, the faithful to the crown were less devoted, there had been less time to prepare for their arrival, and the rebellion could more easily disguise themselves as commoners here than they might have in a place with a larger law enforcement presence. Sinking back into her seat she mentally conceded to the points he raised. Sticking together was safer for their entourage, for them, and for the continuance of their mission. Questions would be raised if they split apart- though she was convinced that their charade would not be as well received here as it had been elsewhere and that their farce may be doomed in this specific locale.

"It's my job to pay the price," she murmured more to herself than him as she averted her gaze to stare out the window. Admittedly she had suffered. It was her, not him, that the the resistance sought to make into a martyr. As her fame grew and her successes became more numerous so too did their desire to murder her in the name of the revolution. Before the contest she was a nobody to whom the entire world was apathetic. Now that she had won and was the future queen, there were nearly as many people that wanted her dead than alive; they simply disagreed on the when and why, not the principal itself. For the coup's strength, she must pay the price, for the kingdom's prosperity, she must pay the price, for the heir to the throne, she must pay the price, and for the continuation of the decadent comfort of the nobility she must pay the price.

His touch was so unexpected that she startled when he made contact. Rhiane did not pull away but cautiously turned to meet his stare, confused by the words that tumbled out of his mouth. Both hope and doubt crept into her features. She was hopeful that he spoke to truth, that he reciprocated her affection genuinely, that he had not been indulging because she was a convenient outlet, or because she was a rebound, or because he wanted to manipulate her. What made her apprehensive was how he still could not accept that she was not born into the aristocracy, that she was of humble beginnings, and she would be lying if she claimed she did not sometimes wonder how she compared to the countless women that came before her and understood his gilded life than she ever could. The queen was a cunning figure that moved around human beings like pawns on a chess board. It was not so hard of a leap to make that her son could do the same with the correct motivations.

"I'm not ashamed I was born poor," she told him without hesitation, "and I won't let your mother, Anelle, or anyone else make me feel any more shame for not being born to a rich family than for not being born a blonde. We can't control the circumstances of how we are brought into this world, and I dare anyone to tell me that they could have done better than me with what I was given, especially your ex-girlfriend." It was a bold philosophy not without merit. If he shrugged with indifference every time someone brought up that she was born a farmer, they would lose some of their ammunition. Because he perceived it negatively, because he accepted and embraced their view point, he gave it more validity than it would have otherwise. Dukes and duchesses would be outraged initially but if he persisted in saying, 'So what?' enough, he'd forced their hand into bringing more credible arguments, or being defeated when that is the only criticism they could raise.

"I do like you, Luke, regardless of whether or not you are wearing that sparkling tiara of yours," Rhiane jested lightly. "I like the part of you that is fearless and aggressive like your mother, the part of you that doesn't flinch away from a challenge, that leads with such conviction. But what I also like about you is like Callie, and is like, from what you describe of him, your father, devoted to your principles, and protective, and intuitive, and compassionate. Are you sure Anelle was just sent her as a reminder of high-born ladies, or if she was sent here to remind you of the person your mother wants you to be and Anelle wants you to be? You'll call me crazy but..." she took a deep breath, "I think your mother might be afraid of you changing for more than one reason. She's not ready to retire yet, but if you show that second part of you, the one more like Callie, if you stop caring that I'm low-born, the people will recognize your sincerity and reward you." She was purposefully cryptic, but it wouldn't be too difficult for him to deduce that she was theorizing that a royal with certain qualities could rouse the populace to support them. The queen presumably wanted, for the time being, to remain in power and have control over the next generation, to shape him in her image. There would be a reckoning if her plan did not bear fruit.

"We'll go together then," she sighed, "but if you are just pretending to like me, they won't be as lenient or forgiving of you here. I'm not worried about their loyalty to me." Rhiane's gaze sought his again. "I'm worried about you." She didn't even factor in that she could be punished if her home town was faulted for a stumble in their PR campaign. The queen had no qualms about scolding her son, but Anelle would shift responsibility without a doubt, as she was still trying to curry favor with the handsome, golden-haired man.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips for the peaceful victory. “They believed us last night, didn’t they?” Not that he was smug about how they fooled a bar full of people under the influence of alcohol he bought for them, but it came out sounding that way. He was a damned fool if he believed that he did a great job in fooling Rhiane’s friends and acquaintances the night before, because it was much too clear that he was fooling none other than himself. It was perhaps out of convenience that he wanted himself to believe otherwise. He fooled himself in believing that he was just pretending, that he did not care for the farmer just because she was born without a title.

Ruling over the common people was what was expected of him. Caring for their welfare was expected of a good king, but the concerns of these people did not rise above the concerns of his peers and of the nation itself. He understood that the common people were what made up kingdoms and empires, but no kingdom would stand without its noble houses, lords, and royals. It was a tricky scale to balance. He was left with the choice to pick the support of the people or the support of the noble houses, because the two worlds found it difficult to coexist.

Therefore, when Rhiane told him explicitly how she thought that the people would reward him if they thought that he sincerely cared for one of them, Luke bit back the urge to argue against her point. It was the masses or his noble lords. Choosing a commoner bride was an attempt to appease the masses. However, commoner spouses didn’t survive long not entirely because the royal spouse always despised the commoner, but because the people behind the royal did not approve.

Luke squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. He exited from his side of the vehicle. The gentle warmth of the sun was welcomed especially in the midst of the coming winter. Faces of strangers greeted him as well from a safe distance which his security forces predetermined. Men in black suits and stood attentively to keep the crowd from the prince and his fiancee. He could feel the curious stares boring at the back of his neck as he rounded the vehicle and gestured for Tobias to step away from the rear passenger door. Luke wanted to be the one to assist Rhiane down the vehicle, he wanted to be the only person touching her hand.

She still believed he was pretending. He wanted to believe that he was just pretending. A lie. A flagrant lie. But was he prepared to acknowledge it? To acknowledge that he cared for her, a woman of low birth, more than he ought to? Yet time and again, she showed that she did care for him not just through her words but also through her actions. Even as they had just walked out of a bitter argument, she still thought of him and how she could help foster trust between the crown and her people. She did not care for the crown and his money, his fame and the prestige of being given the title of a princess. She had proven to not want more than the promised future for her family. She would fight his battles for him even when he said no. Even if she thought that he was just pretending to care for her for the sake of his and his mother’s image. Luke hadn’t met a woman as selfless as the farmer.

With a gentle tug, he pulled on the latch and opened the door. His hand extended towards her, offering assistance. “Smile for the cameras,” he leaned forward to whispered to her ear. The very same advice he had given her during their first meeting.

She was still skeptical as he came towards her side of the car, opened the door, and extended a hand. For a second her eyebrows knitted together in visual scrutiny. If there was ever a perfect time to sever the engagement, it was now. Rhiane could take advantage of the proximity to her home and simply refuse to leave. Although the crown had the upper hand when it came to brute force, any favor they had built in the court of public opinion would be decimated if they were found to be taking her against her will, and the people of her birthplace were much more biased in her favor than anywhere else in New Rome. It was more tempting than she had admitted aloud. They could pack up their house and cross the border, fade into peaceful obscurity, or capitalize on the fact she could convince others she had damaging information about the monarchy if she wasn't left alone. By no means she think it would be a simple endeavor to embark on, but it had the potential to save her from the heartbreak of being perpetually undervalued, of being treated like property instead of a living, breathing human, of being an accessory to the inevitable falling of a kingdom as the waves of rebellion swept over the land. There were a few cards Luke could play and he didn't even seem to realize they were in his figurative deck. Instead of concerning himself over whether or not he was on the precipice of himself being rejected, he carried on with a cavalier arrogance, taking for granted she would stay there by his side until he decided to discard her.

"It's your turn to make me smile," she whispered back in his ear as she leaned forward to step down from the high carriage of the SUV. Almost immediately she was blinded by the light of the sun and the reflective sunglasses of the numerous reporters gathered to observe the couple. A handful had faithfully followed them throughout the tour to have continuous coverage while others were new on the scene. The abrupt shift to a more rural locale had been too difficult for a few media outlets to accommodate on such short notice. Seasoned correspondences had been replaced in the retinue by newscasters from smaller online publications. It was the sort of person Anelle would hate but would be warm, flattering, and more congenial for Rhiane.

At the sight of the pair the crowd's chatter grew louder and she waved to onlookers. Something about seeing familiar faces in the audience was bizarre. Until now everyone she had encountered had been a stranger that had not known anything of her prior to the contest. She had been honest when she confessed that Sebastian was the closest thing she had to a best friend, but there were acquaintances, merchants with which she had done business, neighbors, and persons she knew very casually. It was so jarring to recognize them that it knocked her off her game and she felt her smile faltering slightly. Guilt over deception had not troubled her before nor had manipulation. Everyone participated in lies to some measure, white lies or grandiose, for a wide variety of reasons. There was no reason for her to feel shame for being better at a game that all the world actively played.

What tugged at the edges of her mouth were doubts. The princess elect's masterful proficiency in social situations was because she expertly intermixed truth with fiction. Complete falsehoods were doomed for failure but a carefully crafted omission, misleading comment, or fabrication was indistinguishable when blended into a greater amount of sincerity. Rhiane prided herself on her accomplishment in this skill. Lords and ladies, counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses had been foiled by her finely honed ability, regardless of their overall contempt for the former farmer. The critical element missing now was her happiness. She was so deeply troubled by the bleak prospect of her marriage, by the rebellion wanting her dead, by the traumatic experiences she had been subjected to, by the lack of support she had been able to build, by the presence of an infuriating ex-girlfriend, by all the hostility and criticism aimed in her direction, as well as the knowledge later in the day she would be visiting the graves of her mother and brother, she couldn't quite locate joy inside. Everything had gone to hell so quickly her head was still spinning as her heels touched the ground.

"Your highnesses," one voice called out nearby, "any plans for the market this morning? Are you looking for anyone or anything in particular?" It was a gentleman from a municipality an hour away dressed in a plain, albeit crisp suit. A badge tacked to his lapel identified him as press but he was too far to discern the name or company he represented in particular.

"We're shopping for someone who deserves many more presents than I have time to select for," Rhiane replied easily and cryptically, a smile starting to reappear, just without the brilliance of earlier on their travels. Her body language did not belie her emotions except that she was not as close to Luke physically as she had been during other events that had them standing together. This was not itself necessarily abnormal enough to warrant anyone's notice; if they diverged more obviously, as occurred in the vineyard, then it would be scandalous enough to be blasted in every other editorial.

She was still upset over something really petty that it should have annoyed Luke, but he kept on thinking back on Sebastian’s words. How the foreigner thought his sister-in-law was doing all those sacrifices for Luke’s sake. She had never visited her late mother’s and brother’s graves, but she would brave the path to the cemetery beside her unwilling fiancé, because she cared about the role she played as the princess elect. No, she was playing along because she cared about the public’s general perception of the crown prince. And there he was with his perfectly styled hair and designer clothes, straight-faced and not at all feeling like being friendly. His thoughts skimmed between her angry tirade, Sebastian’s assessment of the situation, his sister’s unsolicited advice, and her heels.

Absently, one hand lingered at her elbow, prepared to grab her should she trip. He hadn’t forgotten about the unfortunate incident while she was in heels, which led the queen to believe that her son needed to make amends with the citizen of New Rome by parading his future bride across the kingdom. Those blasted shoes were the culprit, and there she was wearing yet another deadly pair.

The exasperation was barely noticeable from his words. “But first, we will go buy some sweets. Any good bakery around?” It was about nine in the morning. Still, the smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air around the town center. The aroma alone reminded him of what she told to nobody in particular as she sat beside him in the car.

The press seemed confused that the crown prince was looking for food in a rural town as if he was willing to taint his royal palette with the less than standard, homemade food of the commoners. “Ah, my team bought a few bites from over there.” He gestured without conviction, shrugged. “Would you like to check it out? It’s nothing fancy, just a common --”

Luke neither thanked the press nor waited for him to finish his introduction of the bakery. He gently nudged Rhiane to the direction the man pointed so they walked ahead of the man. Men in black suit effectively parted the small crowd to make way for the prince and his future bride. As usual, he continued to wear his business face – cold and devoid of any real emotions. The two of them was led to a two-storey establishment with a glass façade with the word Becky’s printed on the glass. A guard pushed the door open and proceeded to station himself at one corner of the shop.

“You’re still upset.” It was not a question. He wanted to ask why, what was it that he did that upset her, but that meant accepting defeat and admitting that he was wrong. So, when he opened his mouth again, he commented, “Sweets always make you smile.” The door closed behind them and they were once again in a semi-private space. Thankfully the bakery was empty that time of the day. The chairs and tables were neatly arranged and clean. At the counter was a middle-aged woman. Her daughter came running down the stairs a few seconds later. Both stared at Luke as the initial shock of being in the presence of somebody whose face they only ever saw from the television took over.

The prince led Rhiane to the counter where a glass display cabinet held samples of the freshly baked bread and pastries. He scanned the display for that familiar dessert. “Do you make cannoli?”

The mother stuttered, blushing a little. “Yes, your highness.” It was the daughter that saved her. She looked as if she wasn’t even eighteen.
“Eve!” The mother said the name like it was a reprimand. “Our sincerest apologies, your highness. We don’t have the ingredients.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement as if he was already willing to let it go, but then he opened his mouth to make a demand. “Write down the ingredients that you need and it will be provided for you. Please make a batch or two. My staff will come pick it up in the afternoon. We will compensate you for your efforts.” He stole a quick glance at the other pastries on display. Rhiane could pick a couple of sweets in the meantime.

“Pick anything you like, but I suggest something bite-sized like those cream cheese brownies and those cookies, as we don’t have time to sit around and eat,” he told Rhiane.

Ordinarily, since she had grown up in the town, she would have been ready to make a recommendation the second one was requested. Luke's spontaneous desire to visit a sweets shop caught her by such surprise that she was still blinking in co-mingled shock and confusion when he posed the question to the nearby press. As far as she was aware such a stop was neither on the itinerary nor was it something that he would seek out typically. During their outings he had alluded to not having quite the same addiction to sweets as she did. She shared in the stupefied newscaster's bafflement; surely the bodyguards were similarly perplexed even if they did not display as much on their features. From day one of the tour it had been drilled into her repeatedly that they had to stay on schedule. Going to the spa had been a deviation, but arguably just as much for Luke's benefit as her own, she she did not attribute the oddity to pure benevolence. This wayward excursion felt jarringly out of place for the heir to the throne.

Before she had grasped what the hell possessed her fiance to behave so bizarrely, he was nudging her down the road towards the store insistently. Rhiane bit the inside of her cheek as she inwardly lamented that the circumstances prevented her from asking questions. Words could all too easily drift through the air and be overheard by their audience in such an open space, a risk she could not take, and there was nowhere to drag him aside between where they had exited the vehicle and where the business was located. Doing her best to maintain her composure, she tossed a few smiles here and there as they passed clusters of people, some adoring fans and others bystanders that were waiting for the royalty to get out of their way so they could make a few purchases for their home. The former farmer wasn't certain if the hand at her elbow was meant to guide her, stabilize her in the tall heels she wore unsuited for a brisk pace, or keep her from fleeing.

Belatedly, when she was ushered inside the establishment and Luke remarked she was angry, she recalled complaining that her bold insult of Anelle (which she did not regret in the least) had doomed any chance she had to stop by a bakery for sweets. A nice middle-aged lady and her daughter both stared at the prince as did his betrothed. Everything with him was a game of push and pull. One minute he was furious, indifferent, or arrogant, and the next he was attentive, empathetic, thoughtful. Desperately she wanted to believe that the latter set of emotions were reflective of how he truly felt about her, but she couldn't be sure, because he stopped short of revealing himself. In the SUV she had been sure that he was telling her the lie he knew she wanted to hear since the success of his PR stunt relied on her performance. As she was tugged towards the clean display filled with the morning's offering she wondered if trying to fool her he was unintentionally honest and the only person being deceived was himself.

Quietly listening to the cannoli issue being sorted out, she couldn't help but raise a brow at his determination as her eyes wandered over the treats. Soon she was absorbed in the descriptions written on tiny little cards naming each confection and the ingredients contained therein. Like most of New Rome's restaurants, it had a mixture of traditional pastries, cakes and cookies popular across the globe, and a few unique creations. The careful little script took her on a culinary adventure that was not stressful, not complicated, not gut-wrenching, not mentally taxing. Here there was no chance of cruel rejection or assassination.

Rhiane visibly startled when Luke spoke to her since she had been so engrossed with feasting with her gaze. "Sorry," she said as she flashed a genuinely sheepish grin at the proprietor, "I was lost in my own little world there for a moment. Could we have a couple pieces of torrone and a few zeppole?" There was a wide variety of international delights she could have selected, but she had been to the bakery a few times as an adolescent and adult, and true Italian fare appealed to her more. She would have devoured anything and everything in the bakery given to her, yet when required to state a preference, it had to be the recipes that were handed down for generations through the people native to this area of the country. The young girl hurried to fill the order immediately as her mother jotted down ingredients for the cannoli.

"You should get something as well," she told him matter-of-factly. "I bet you worked through breakfast and haven't had anything substantial to eat." The neighbor's chickens ate more than Luke in a foul mood and she was quite aware that she had soured his attitude when she had yelled at him earlier that morning. If he went on a passive hunger strike due to loss of appetite she'd have the whole damn world after her from the red-haired witch, to the queen, to the rabid fans that were beginning to cluster outside the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of their supposed golden-haired angel. There were less of them in her hometown than in other provinces they had visited, but they were here nonetheless, undoubtedly picking fights with her fans as to which member of the couple was more unworthy of the other. If she had to be honest, that she had fans was still an unsettling concept. When she had entered the contest she had planned for and anticipated having the support of the masses. What she had failed to account for was the insanity that was how many legitimately overly-fixated individuals could be in the populace.

On the night she nearly died of poison, Luke discovered that his fiancee had a truly tender spot for sweets. Even if he wanted to, he could not get himself to forget about the look on her face when her trolley of sweets was carted inside her hospital room. That same look of wonder lit up her face while she surveyed the display behind the glass. He imagined it was the same expression he had whenever he was invited to test a new model of military fighter jet. It made him want to smile and ask her what was so exciting about those homemade pastries, because she’d never looked at him as tenderly as she was caressing those sweets with her gaze. Made him wondered how much of her time and her family’s farm’s earnings were spent on that bakery, or even if it was even her favorite bakery. But maybe every bakery was her favorite.

“Hmm. Are you worried?” She was correct in her assumption that he traded breakfast for work, though he did catch a few bites. Just enough to calm his rebelling stomach for the time being. Then again, stopping by the bakery was not about him. If he’d have it his way, they’d be walking the street of the town, with Rhiane on the lead, relating her stories to the camera, but she was upset and probably had less time than him for breakfast. “I’ll have coffee to go, please. I want it iced,” he added after a few moments of thought.

The store owner lifted her head. Her hand paused in the middle of jotting down the ingredients. She bit her lower lip as if contemplating if she could say whatever it was that was running through her head. She glanced at her daughter who had packed the princess elect’s orders in small brown bags. “We only have instant coffee, Prince Alessandro.”

“Instant?”

The soil and the climate of the area did not grow with coffee. Importing beans, grinding it, and purchasing those home brewing machines were not productive in a farming village that grew vegetables and other crops. Besides, who would purchase an expensive blend? If it tasted like coffee, had caffeine, and was capable of banishing sleepiness, then it would do. “Yes, your highness.” She sounded embarrassed to admit it. What she could not bring herself to admit was the fact that it was beneath his highness’ royal taste and it would be blasphemous to offer it to the future king. But to deny him his whim could cost her the shop, if rumors were to be believed about this man. So, she averted her gaze and turned to Rhiane instead.

“I have not been offered an instant coffee in my entire life.” The daughter finished her task, but held on to the bags, anticipating the royal’s next move. Her mother was prepared to bow and apologize as if it was a crime to do so, as if she offered it to him. But before the shop owner could make another sound, the prince declared, “I want my coffee iced. Do you want a glass as well, Rhiane?”

The tension dispersed like a cool gust of wind sweeping from the sea. The owner’s shoulders relaxed. She took the little brown bags from her daughter, who disappeared to a door behind the counter possibly to mix some instant coffee. Eve returned not too long after with the drinks. When Luke asked how much it cost him, the owner hesitated, stating that it was a gift for the newly engaged couple. The prince firmly objected, quoting one of the kingdom’s law concerning graft, bribery, and how a public servant must turn away kind offers, no matter the intent, from the citizens it served. But he did not carry around cash and the shop did not accept electronic payments, so in the end Nolan paid.

“Are you ready to leave?” He handed Rhiane’s sweets to her while Nolan pocketed the shopping list of ingredients. Eating in public, especially while walking, was considered unsophisticated by the nobility. Perhaps because most of them had time to eat slowly, carefully chewing the food, while taking care to follow every table etiquette in existence. Commoners could not afford that and neither could Luke. So, to hell with social protocols. It was a choice between what the nobility with their endless gossip and an upset Rhiane. If they knew Rhiane the way he did, then they would understand that there was never really a choice to make.

"Yes, I am quite worried," she candidly admitted with sincerity. The proprietor of the bakery and her daughter would see it only as an affectionate exchange, none the wiser that this was an abnormal confession, ignorant of the fact that the couple were carrying on with their engagement without a romantic aspect. In their own way the masses were seeing more of the truth than either the future bride or groom. As the pair told themselves it was a political arrangement they were participating in for arguably mutual benefit, their lies had begun to wear thin, and their honest feelings were bleeding out onto the surface. Surely the queen realized the charade that had begun with fooling the populace was now only fooling her son and daughter-in-law to be as they tried to deny the fact that their attraction was more than a shallow physical affair. What worried Tobias the most, more than Rhiane being beaten down by the nobility, was that she might be that perfect match for the cousin that did not deserve her in the slightest.

Mentally the princess elect attributed her concern to the fact if he faltered that she, as a convenient target of the aristocracy, would be blamed instead. If they were going to do a job she wanted to do it well, she further reasoned, though her heart knew that despite all her frustration, all her anger, and all her ire, she cared much more about it than she had divulged. Through all her thoughts of abandoning this tour and striking out on her own, she did not wish malice on him, only that he might eventually see the virtues of his father and stop following in the footsteps of his mother. Perhaps it was this shred of hope buoyed by fondness for the man buried beneath the crown that kept her by his side.

Quietly she observed the exchange between the business owner and Luke, certain that she would need to intervene at some point. Surprisingly he didn't immediately refuse the instant coffee with royal indignation. Blinking back her shock she stole a glance at Eve, the daughter, just to make sure she had heard him correctly. It was so out of character for him to be so agreeable with common establishments, beverages, and people, that she didn't know whether he was in the throes of caffeine deprivation, was trying to appease her, was attempting to keep himself from creating a scene with the media poised outside, or if somehow the last two weeks had rubbed off on him more than she anticipated. Caught so off-guard by his order, there was a prolonged pause as she belatedly realized he had asked her if she wanted a cup as well.

"No thank you, but could you pack me some water or juice, whatever you have? Caffeine in the morning will disagree with me," she said congenially with a bright smile and a wink towards the flustered women. The younger girl barely suppressed a giggle, not that Rhiane minded; she wanted to break the ice without leaving room for speculation why she wouldn't want the typical breakfast offering. The former farmer feared it would give her the jitters during a nerve-wracking day, that it could upset her digestion in a most unfortunate manner, but she was also incredibly apprehensive about whether or not they had been so cavalier with their prior romps. Proceeding with caution seemed the best course of action.

"You are full of surprised today," she murmured as she took the bags from her fiance and opened the one she guessed from the weight and shape contained the torrone. Sebastian would be appalled she was having such a confection for her first meal of the day, but she rationalized she had something healthier in the tent, and a taxing day such as this meant a reward in advance would keep her spirits higher. Breaking off a piece of nougat she popped it in her mouth and let the silky exterior melt away on her tongue. The Black family had been too poor to justify purchasing cakes, cookies, and candies. Their late matriarch had been an excellent cook with no love for backing. Sometimes her mother had tried when they had a special occasion to celebrate. The sentiment was what mattered the most, the outpouring of warmth and understanding, of emotions more profound that could be articulated. Scarcity had transformed sugar into being a sweet reminder of what happiness they held onto for a time.

Taking a cup filled with apple juice from the mother baker, she popped off another piece of the torrone as she swallowed the one she had given herself. "Will you have a taste?" she asked, holding it up high enough she could feed it to him if he agreed. It was a strangely intimate gesture on her part, one absent any need to prove to anyone what they were or were not, devoid of ulterior motive, empty of malicious plot. For a few seconds she was merely a woman who wanted to share something that brought joy to her to someone she liked, someone that might be hungry, someone that she wanted to infuse with a morsel of cheer.

Luke tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a smile filled with smugness. “What am I if not full of surprises.” Being full of surprises wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he thought. The fact that she had not yet asked every person in the establishment to please give them some privacy was telling something. Maybe he’d done good in her eyes by indulging her very unhealthy craving, though it was no surprise that he’d yet to deny her tastebuds’ desires. Honestly, what made her happy made his life a little less tedious.

Then she held up a bar of torrone asking if he’d like to try. Being one who did not really enjoy too much sweets, he was inclined to say no. However, there were eyes everywhere, watching them. Her warning that it would be more difficult to convince these people that their charade had even a morsel of truth in it came to mind. What would they think if he declined the sweet little gesture of their princess? Perhaps that the crown prince thought himself too good for the local bakery’s products, or that the crown prince rejected the princess elect’s tastes. On the other hand, if he did take a bite and pretended that he liked it, it was the noble lords’ wives who would be whispering to each other how their future king had lost his expensive taste.

For the first time since they entered the bakery, he regretted being swayed by the feeling that he needed to appease Rhiane Black because of what her brother-in-law said about the sacrifices she was willing to make for Luke’s sake. Because there was no correct way out of the situation she put him into. If he rejected her offer, the peasants might think it was an act belittling the little town’s produces. Then again, if he accepted, the nobility would talk about how the heir to the most powerful nation in Europe had succumbed to the will of his commoner soon-to-be bride that he took off his elitist robes in exchange for commoner clothes.

A moment’s hesitation, then he leaned towards the sweet delicacy and took a bite. To more accurately place it, he chomped on the nougat, breaking away more than half of the bar. Then, he grinned at his fiancee like a schoolboy who succeeded in teasing his crush. “Not bad,” he admitted.

With a hand at the small of her back, the prince guided Rhiane towards the exit. “Not bad at all.” The words were muffled as the words came out in between chewing the treat and grinning. His eyes slid back to the remaining torrone with a purely mischievous intent. They could buy more, but where was the fun in that?

Nolan gave instructions to his team as the couple moved towards the exit. A couple of the royal guards exited the establishment before Luke and Rhiane, signaling the others about the development. The door was opened for the couple. Luke stepped out after his fiancee. “It is improper to eat while walking,” he leaned against her ear to whisper. “I will not let you be criticized by yourself, so you have to give me some more of those.” It was not entirely a ploy to get a reaction from her. In fact, it was true. It may be his idea to grab something to eat before they officially begin because she was upset, but his people would not understand. They would not even try. All the good that the princess elect’s presence brought to the ruling house was not important to the upper class, what they saw more clearly – what they looked out for – was her missteps. Any flaw, any possible criticism. Luke’s intent was to shield her from their words by being the first offender of the protocol. Because by doing so, they couldn’t really say that she was being inappropriate without saying that their prince was inappropriate.

Though, his critics would probably enjoy that. Just like they would enjoy talking about how the commoner princess had changed their future king.

What started as genuine glee when he took a bite turned into indignation when he took more than half the bar without one singular chomp. Nothing bothering to disguise how scandalized she was on her features, she quickly pulled away the bag like a petulant child, almost sulking over the substantial loss to her sweets. She was mostly playing but she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed he had taken so much. For Rhiane all gifts were precious and, perhaps on this very special day, it was an even grander gesture that she was reluctant to share, even with her would-be benefactor. This blemish on her charitable attitude had also been glimpsed when he had snatched the cannoli she coveted on their first date.

Truth be told she was possessive over the few rare items that were presents. Her father and brother especially were the sort of people that felt uncomfortable outright declaring their affection, so they expressed themselves by thoughtfully bringing home the best apple from the orchard, setting aside a basket of her favorite berries from the harvest just for her, or discreetly trading for household purchases that were fitting of her aesthetic over their own. It was not her 'love language,' but she had come to appreciate what these tokens represented. That her room back at the castle was so bare was a combination of her estrangement from her family, not trusting the palace to safeguard her 'commoner' baubles with sentimental value, and because their presence would be a painful reminder how poorly she was regarded by those around her.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than taking half of my torrone if you want a rain check for standing me up last night," she grumbled quietly enough that the words only reached his ears. Rhiane was realistic; she knew that despite his supposed confession in the vehicle before the market he might at any time decide he was done with interacting with her more than required. The need to produce an heir would not disappear, but he could limit their physical contact after the wedding to when their chances to conceive were highest, and be as quick about it as possible. The expiration date of their marriage or the fact she was enslaved to it did not mean she could not have her own terms. Just like any other woman, she felt somewhat spurned he spent the entire night with his mother and an ex-girlfriend, and needed him to make amends of sorts before the slight was mitigated. She wanted to feel important, desired, wanted, not a toy when he was bored or desperate.

She blinked as he whispered in her ear that it was considered improper to eat while walking. This was such an absurd rule of etiquette she was distracted by how irrational it was rather than how she had put him in an awkward position. The masses would have gossiped if he refused her offering she belatedly realized, and she was left wondering why he had humored her: to boost his own image, to protect her from the ever-critical aristocracy, because he was famished, or if he wanted to make her happy. Some of her joy deflated that it had been such a tactical decision. Every attempt she made to bridge the gap between herself and those of the upper class, be it Like or a bodyguard of high birth, was fruitless, as if she were constructing a grand arch over an endless chasm. The sole individual that had wholly embraced who she was and supported her was Tobias.

Taking a nibble out of the diminished torrone, then sipping at her juice, she took a moment to gather herself and reply in more hushed tones. "There's merit in you trying to keep their favor, but I've no incentive to keep trying to win it. We both know I could be the daughter of a deity and they'd still find me at fault." Perhaps it was not entirely true- there were exceptions to every rule- but it certainly felt to her that it was a fruitless battle. Rhiane would not keep expending effort if the only outcome would be that she would go to bed each night more discouraged and tired. If a few crossed the line, nice to her, passively approving, or merely congenial, she would have cared about the impact of her delicately consuming a nougat bar as she toured the market.

As they stepped out into the sunshine the villagers crowded around (as did the press), though they did not try to push past their security. In the capital city Luke was the golden prince who was adored, and he had his admirers in the town, young women swooning over his height, his physique, his blue eyes, and every other detail of his appearance. More numerous than his fans, though, were Rhiane's ardent admirers, young men enticed by her curves, women who admired her strength, children who wanted to be her when they grew up, or marry someone like her when they grew up, senior citizens who were glad she represented them and could be their voice with her compassion, married couples excited about the impact she could make on her future. Her name was yelled, and pieces of cloth and paper were waved around in an attempt to get autographs. This was the closest many of them would come to her and mayhaps their only opportunity to meet her before she departed, with no guarantee she would ever return.

At the capital, his name was worshipped as if it in itself was the name of the creator. He was the embodiment of power, the hope of the kingdom, the nation’s salvation and its future king. Men aspired to be like him while their women threw themselves at his feet. He could not be in public without a camera poised at his direction to scrutinize the folds of his coat or the perfect styling of his hair. It was suffocating to have his admirers and critics surround him at every corner, even in the palace. Thus, to hear that for once his name was not the name being cheered was quite a relief.

The morning sun was a welcome warmth, but it paled compared to the reception of the townspeople for their princess. Cameras panned away from the couple’s faces to film those who gathered to receive Rhiane Black back in the town that nurtured her to be the woman who would one day rule beside Luke. A commoner bride to a royal household was a story only present in the ancient fairy tales. As if she was born to prove that fairy tales could turn into reality. To the young girls, she was the heroine they all wanted to be when they grew up – a smart, strong, and kind woman. A blonde young woman being interviewed by a media personnel said so.

If Luke’s opinion on the matter was asked, he would agree. In the few weeks they had known each other, she had proven herself to be a beautiful, intelligent, and kind woman despite the name of her father. He equally admired and disliked the strength of her will which drove him mad most of the time. But he would not deny that she was a smart, strong and kind woman. If she was a daughter of nobility, then there’d be no need for a charade of emotions and feelings. But again, the gap between the two of them was too wide, its depth too deep to be bridged by fleeting feelings of admiration.

Luke leaned close enough for her to hear him above the cheers. “I could stand in your defense in front of your critics, you know. But I will only make a fool of myself, because you wouldn’t stop fighting me every single chance you get.” He smiled briefly, as if he just whispered an amusing observation, the pulled away to take a sip from the bland, watered down instant coffee from the shop. One thing he would not miss.

He smiled politely at the crowd, one hand at the small of her back to guide her forward. One of the security personnel directed them to the market proper. Unlike the other places they visited so far, Rhiane’s hometown didn’t have a nobleman or a lady to greet the prince. Anelle explained that it was due to the short notice and the town not being part of the original itinerary. Rhiane was present anyway. She could handle the tour.

The journalist from earlier approached the couple again. A camera crew trailed after him. Luke noticed that the camera was not turned on as was the microphone, he assumed. “Your highness.” He bowed as he greeted Luke, then turned to Rhiane. “Ms. Black. My name is Manno. We will accompany you today.” He gestured to the cameraman. “Please speak to the camera as if you are guiding a tour of the town. Shall we begin?”

"There's no reason for you to be dragged down trying to fight my fights for me," she protested quietly while they had that brief moment alone in the crowd. The bodyguards were the only people close enough they could have potentially overhead any of the conversation, but they could not hear the engaged couple over the din of cheering, yelling, laughing, and excited chattering. It was enough of a struggle for the princess and princess elect when they were standing beside one another. Luke could have anticipated her response if he missed the objection she voiced aloud. Rather than allow him to be her knight in shining armor, like so many ladies of New Rome dreamed of, her complex made her feel obligated to be the one to shield him. For so long as she had been expected to be the dependable one in her family everyone relied on, who supported everyone, and who undertook the tasks no one else could or would do, she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be looked after. Refreshing as it was to see glimpses of her betrothed's strength and concern, the former farmer was reluctant to add to his burden, to let him be potentially injured on her behalf, even if she frequently felt as if she was crumbling under the pressure and trauma.

Trying to ignore the realization that she did, in fact, like the protection of Luke more than she could ever admit, she tossed back errant lockets of chocolate brown over her shoulder and stood on her toes to be closer to his ear. "I fight with you because I haven't given up on you yet," Rhiane told him, the word 'yet' hanging in the air for a moment as an unconscious reminder that her patience was not as endless as the world took for granted. "But you quite underestimate me if you think it's because I'm trying to influence you for any agenda that would benefit me. Can you say the same for the other people that fight with you?" she inquired raising a brow. It was a poignant question. Callie didn't really fight with him like she did, his queen mother was trying to mold him into a reflection of herself, and everyone else had motivations. Every fledgling plan in her head, however, was for his exclusive benefit.

As she was ushered forward she took another sizable bite of her torrone and washed it down with sips of her juice. The sugary sweet had bolstered her fragile emotional state into something much more sustainable. Tempted to stop and sign some autographs, she was too paranoid that Luke would punish her by eating the rest of her torrone. Mentally frowning she kept the bag with the remnants in the hand farthest from her royal escort.

"It is good to meet you, Manno," she replied gregariously, instantaneously turning on her effortless charm. A bright smile played on her lips that exuded the brilliant charisma that made her so beloved by the masses. "Before we begin, if it would not be too much trouble, I do have a request," Rhiane began with a disarming gregarious tone that implicitly made almost anyone she met want to capitulate. She was not a woman without flaws, but she so likeable, endearing, and relatable, that her manipulations lacked the cold edge of the nobility, and wooed her peers into wanting to help her in any way they could. That she had developed a cult-like following was not surprising given her attributes.

"Of course, Miss Black," Manno readily agreed, though it was not as if he had a choice. If he annoyed the princess elect, he would presumably upset the prince, and then this arrangement would collapse in the blink of an eye. To be the news coverage for the tour was too precious to waste- and he also doubted that anything ridiculous would be asked of him.

"We'll be making some purchases for the princess at some of the stalls," she divulged, the vivacious grin never leaving her features, "so I'd appreciate it if you could pan away from what is being bought. I'd like to keep it a surprise for her until they are delivered to her. She's been so unconditionally caring and supportive, and I've always wanted a sister, so I feel I must take this opportunity to spoil her a little," she concluded with a wink. The crew behind Manno was smiling and nodding themselves in silent approval. By explaining herself and her motivations, she had made them equally invested in keeping the surprise, and just as delighted in the gesture.

Manno smiled back at the princess elect. One had to be especially apathetic not to be enthralled by that smile. No wonder the woman earned the love and adoration of the common people, because on top of being a relatable person, she was genuinely nice and had a very pretty smile. The crew nodded, brushing his index finger to the device in his ear. There was nothing wrong in panning away from the purchases Ms. Rhiane Black and the crown prince would select for the princess, but he had to inform the director. After excusing himself to let the couple lead the cameras, Manno relayed Rhiane’s request to the director and the rest of the crew. There seemed to be no concerns until Lady Toscano joined the conversation.

Unaware of the discussions held between the media crew, the production director, and the mistress who pulled the strings from behind the scene, Luke allowed himself to be led by his fiancee towards the marketplace. As usual, her charming smile was enough to disarm the crew and bend them to her will. Not that he had any objection to her request, he was amazed at how much a woman can manipulate with just her pretty face and her smile. If he thought that he was beyond her supernatural power because of his status, his wealth, and women more beautiful and refined than Rhiane who would kill to be in her shoes right now, Luke was thoroughly mistaken. He was very serious and professional with his royal obligations, but even the queen was beginning to notice that her heir was threading the fine line between work and pleasure.

The prince caught up to Rhiane. It was not easy to hold a conversation amidst the cheering crowd, but he was not done with the topic. “You are such a delightfully confusing woman. Has anybody told you that before?” If she didn’t want him to fight her battles for her, then what was all the screaming about that morning? “Would you rather Tobias defend you then?” He had to mask the jealousy with amusement. He made himself believe that he was amused and not at all feeling his ego wounded by the thought that she thought of his cousin as more relatable, more reliable man. Enough that she believed the royal guard would stand up for her and she would let him, but she would not allow her fiance to do so.

The security team made sure that the crowd remained where they should be, though as they neared the market, fewer and fewer people were allowed. It was so the couple could move more freely and the filmed shots look more intimate. They stopped by a crafts shop selling trinkets and jewelries made of strewn beads on thread and some interesting pieces made of thick copper wire. Luke examined a ring which was coiled in an intricately unique pattern. Callie, just like other young ladies her age, loved pretty and shiny stones for accessorizing. They also loved being unique and fashion forward. The seller’s wares would do.

“What do you think of this?” He held the piece of jewelry up to Rhiane. It was not like the expensive pieces that the princess wore, not even designed by a respected name in the industry. The material was cheap, but it was interesting and unique. The thick wire was unmarked by whatever tool the craftsman used, the coiling patterns would swirl up the finger when worn, like a little piece of abstract artwork reminiscent of the rolling waves of the sea. “Can you try it on for Callie?” He placed his coffee down on the surface then took the ring off the hand mannequin. With the piece of art on between his thumb and middle finger, he held his other hand out for her. The goal was to buy his sister a souvenir and his mind was fixated to it. Therefore, he asked her to try the ring on, to let him fit it on her finger, without realizing at that moment that it may remind her of what he lacked. That he was missing the engagement ring for his fiancee.

"Mmmmm," and a coy smile was the only indication she gave that she had, in fact, been called a confusing woman. Admittedly this declaration was typically made with much more unkind words, especially by her brother. Not every one night stand partner had been willing to part ways when their tryst was complete. A few had tried to insult or belittle her in their confusion. Though the words had stung she did not take them personally; Rhiane knew she was very unusual, running contrary to the normal romanticism of her sex, and that could be exceptionally frustrating. For her brother she was the unyielding matriarch that had rules for their household, yet would get frequently upset with him when he didn't take initiative on matters he was sure she would claim he 'mishandled' if he did. The princess elect didn't claim to be perfect. She was acutely aware she was a broken, flawed woman, and she merely sought to keep that knowledge from the merciless crown that would rid itself of her once it saw the cracks.

"Art bears a part of the soul when it's created, and my paintings are no different," she said, casting him a sidelong glance as her attention was torn from the crowd cheering her name. Had he not distracted her with continuing the conversation she might have begged the guards to let her sign a few autographs before they left her home town. Part of her ached for the people that wanted so little from her after having been part of a community that supported for years, and we unable to have the simple gift they called for so desperately. "I'm here only by the graces of your mother because I am beneficial. If you're dragged down trying to defend me we both know what will happen," the former farmer in said a calm voice detached from the horror of her her own mortality. "What would you do if you hung up a painting and your friends laughed at it? Or your relatives insulted it? Or your mother demanded its removal? It's not that I want Tobias to defend me, but I know that he genuinely doesn't care about what anyone else thinks. He's recognized that the world doesn't care about him, so he doesn't care about it more than necessariy. You still care, Luke, and I have no delusions about my importance in your life. If part of my soul is on display, and you have to pick a side, my art or the people around you that truly matter and have no expiration date, I don't think I'd ever come out on top."

It was dangerous enough that she had developed such an emotional attachment- and if she must be honest an infatuation- with the crown prince. Because she cared about him more than she ought to she was devastated when he promised her a nightcap after their evening with her friends and then left her alone for so long she had fallen asleep waiting for him. Because she was too invested she knew that if he let his acquaintances ridicule her landscapes and impressionist pieces it would be a horrifying blow to her sense of self. Because she was head over heels for him she unconsciously held out hope that he would transform into a man he had given her no reason to believe he would become. What began as a political arrangement was now a tragically one-sided love story she was unable to dismiss.

As they walked through the marketplace Rhiane followed through with her agreement to give a tour for the camera once their public audience had been reduced and she could be heard from more than a few inches away. Not only did she know most of the businesses that had stalls or shops in the center of the town, she could name the proprietors, and give some basic information that made her introductions more friendly, familiar, and warm than when they had lords and ladies performing such a task. If required she could have been almost as crisp and polished as an aristocrat, but the goal was not to appeal to the nobility, but rather to remain firmly anchored to the humble roots as a true Cinderella tale. Manno was more than a little impressed that she was so well prepared. Cue cards had been drawn up just in case she faltered. Their worries were unfounded as she gave more colour, life, and detail than the reporters could have.

Luke and Rhiane did not have the same work duties, but she did not take hers any less seriously. When she was a farm manager she had endeavored to learn anything and everything she could about her neighbors since it had worked her to her advantage more often than not. When she had been abandoned by her fiance the night prior she had refreshed her memory in secret.

They proceeded this way for a few minutes when they came upon a jewelry shop, one that she did not anticipate her paramour being interested in, as it was below his station as was everything else. Since she had already created a gift basket for Callie she thought that responsibility for her present would rest on her shoulders regardless of what he said in the vehicle upon their arrival. As he bent down to inspect a ring she watched closely, surprised, wondering what exactly about the trinket had caught his eye. Her idle curiosity was cast aside when he asked for her opinion and then plucked if off the mannequin, holding out his hand expectantly so he could use her finger for sizing purposes. Rhiane paled slightly. Perhaps he did not see the significance of this event while she could not ignore it. Not so long ago she was discussing the missing engagement ring while enjoying a soak in a hot spring.

"Luke," she whispered quietly in a warning, then sighed and let him take her hand in her own. Their entourage had undoubtedly already seen what he was trying to do. If she kept her hands at her side and refused him then it would create an even bigger, more scandalous scene than if she agreed. "This might draw attention to the wrong thing," she said below her breath so only he could hear.

Giving in to the request of the princess elect to pan away from the presents she intended to purchase for her soon-to-be sister-in-law, the camera crew kept some distance from the couple, relying on the equipment’s capability to zoom in. There was no lapel microphone attached to either of the couple as was what the protocol dictated. No royal was allowed to wear a technology which could record their private conversations or acts. Thus, the audio recording was done through a remote microphone. Admittedly, it had limitations. The crowd, the landscape, the weather were factors affecting the signal. Yet although some of the exchanges between the princess elect and her fiance were thankfully kept from the public, the prince’s actions alerted Anelle.

“Director!” The urgency was not something she even tried to mask. “Switch the feed.” But it was too late. The camera zoomed in the supposedly tender moment between the newly engaged couple. It caught Luke inspecting the ring, then lifting his eyes to hers before saying something inaudible. Just like that, speculations and theories about the real relationship between the two, and the involvement of the actress, Sophia Keller, were the most talked about topic in the kingdom.

---

“Don’t worry about it,” was what he told Rhiane after he examined the fit of the ring. Callista was thinner than Rhiane. He thanked his fiancee before turning back to the store owner to ask for a size smaller than the one he had in his hand. Unfortunately, there was none, but it did not stop the prince from purchasing the unique jewelry.

Neither the shop owner nor any person in the crowd who watched them said anything about the missing engagement ring, but the question lingered in the air as if the collective consciousness was a loud enough voice asking Luke about the story behind his fiancee’s bare finger. He glanced over his shoulder at Rhiane. Was she silently asking the same question? She didn’t seem upset, but she didn’t really show her true feelings when they were on a shoot. Especially not on a live coverage.

“We’re done here,” Luke told nobody in particular. A very royal-like manner of dismissing his subjects without actually addressing anybody. He expected the crew to take it as cue that they were moving forward. To Rhiane, he offered his arm. There was no way to gauge what was on her mind other than dipping his foot into the water and waiting for the sharp teeth of piranha to nibble at his toes. “Anelle showed me the photos of the rings that were purchased. You may pick one yourself and unlike this store, we can have it resized.” They still spoke in hushed tone, aware that their whispered conversations would easily turn into a disastrous scandal should any of the microphones pick it up. “I’m letting you choose. Your engagement ring will be however you imagine it to be. I want you to want to wear it every day.” And because he had no time to pick one for her that the purchase of the official ring that supposedly symbolizes his noble intent to wed her was left into the hands of his ex-lover.

The couple stepped out of the store and was ushered back to their vehicles. The next destination listed on the itinerary was the school Rhiane attended when she was younger. It was the only school in the village, the very institution that molded the young minds including Rhiane’s. One of her teachers was going to tour them around the school, Anelle had informed him that morning. Rhiane was expected to tell the viewers anecdotes of her childhood as part of building a very relatable image. Luke, on the other hand, was expected to be diplomatic, to smile, to listen, and to keep his mouth shut if he had nothing useful to say.

Nolan shut the passenger door after Luke, and the prince sighed. The privacy granted by the vehicle was precious.

Rhiane struggled to keep control of her facial features internally, though none of her inner conflict reflected on her visage, which still had a smile plastered on it as she glanced towards the crowds that were lingering behind the perimeter created by the bodyguards and press escort. The very suggestion was absolutely preposterous. Not only was it wretchedly insulting, she could only imagine what his reaction might be if she very casually offered to have one of her flings provide him with a list of possible wedding rings for him to chose from. Of course Luke did not put himself in her shoes. Decades of life within the palace as the pampered crown prince meant that he never had to empathize with anyone else and could instead focus solely on the pressures of his role in the monarchy. She did not assume that it was an upbringing without extreme stress, she was just certain that he had been allowed to become selfish, to enjoy an existence where his thoughts and emotions were valued much more highly than the vast majority of his usual interactions. In a way she almost pitied Anette for not knowing how inconsequential she was to him.

"Humans are very fallible creatures," she murmured in response after a prolonged silence. It was only as they were getting into the SUV that she decided she would respond to him in any meaningful way. "I'm sure I'll be asked about my ring in the future, and I might accidentally let it slip that not only did I pick it out myself, it was from a list prepared for my by your ex. A story like that wouldn't be an issue for you, would it?" she asked innocently in that sweetly furious voice she used when she was incensed to a cold rage.

The former farmer knew exactly would happen if she 'mistakenly' divulged the ring process to the media. Just like any others article of news surrounding the crown it would be dissected and sensationalized to the extreme. There would be a rush to discover the identity of the ex and, if no one immediately made the deduction, there would be a veritable parade of his past dalliances broadcasted every night to estimate the probability they were the one referenced. Any credence they had lent to their charade would crumble under the weight of her tale and the illusion of a enviable romance would shatter. Admittedly it would not necessarily be a death blow, it would just be a crisis they could not afford, even if much of the blame could be shifted onto the princess elect for divulging what she knew she ought not to. With so many eyes on them it would be a challenge to punish her effectively without tarnishing their image further.

Realizing she was stomping on what may have been a horribly ill-conceived olive branch she sat down in her seat, strapped on her seat belt, and pulled out a borrowed device that Tobias had lent to her. Because Luke had failed to go to bed with her last night, and had spent so long with his mother and the red-headed demon, he had yet to meet the conditions under which she'd accept the phone model he had tried to gift her previously. "For the record, I believe Callie and I would have the same opinion on jewelry. When someone picks out something for you, even if it's not precisely what you might have selected yourself, the sentiment makes it more beautiful than it would be otherwise. I'm sure she'll be pleased with her present," she explained as if they were debating nothing more than his purchase. Nolan and Tobias wouldn't expose their private conversations, but it still wasn't an argument she wanted to have in front of them all the same.

For the entire ride to the school she was suspiciously silent, reading articles from her hometown's various publications and blogs. Many candidates for the contests to win Luke's hand in marriage had worn jewelry; she was the exception, not the norm, and none of the final contestants except Rhiane were so devoid of accessories. When she formally moved into the palace she had no necklaces, bracelets, watches, and only very simple hoop and stud earrings with no decorative extras for a change in attire. Any time she had made an appearance with any such trinket it had been selected for her by a stylist, though she had been somewhat consistent that, the few times her opinion was requested, she elected for something less ostentatious. Similarly her dresses had been like her paintings, focused on vivid color, decorative artistic embroidery, and traditionally appealing artistry than it was about being fashion forward, expensive, or the most eye-catching. She had always been someone who valued skill over glamour, which was why the luxury of the wealthy elite did not impress her as much as the elaborate pottery in one of their first tour stops.

The caravan of expensive vehicles came to a stop in front of an old school weathered with age. It was not derelict, having been cleaned the last couple days with intense fervor, but no amount of washing could hide it was far from the new architectural wonders where the highest pedigree of teachers assembled to greet the children of the country's leaders. Large trees with leaves the color of a blazing sunset flocked the entry to the school and were interspersed throughout the front and sight yards. Cars, the sort driven by the lower and middle class, filled the parking lot, with not a soul in sight. The moment the engines idled an older gentleman, two older ladies, and a man approximately the age of the couple sprang out from the front doors- their greeting party. One of the older ladies was the principal, the older gentleman a member of the local school board that oversaw the educational system in the town, and the other older lady was a counselor stationed at the school. Oddly enough the somewhat handsome man in his late twenties or early thirties was not on their itinerary, clearly a late addition.

"Ah, it's an old friend," Rhiane smiled, sounding not at all surprised. Tobias lifted his eyes to glance at her in the rear-view window. Something about the way she had grinned, and the choice of the word 'friend,' told him that this was her doing, and was part of a plot that would shake up what had been original envisioned.

Even in subtlety, very few people dared to raise a threat against royalty. The presence, the authority, and the power the royal family monopolized was enough to make any sane human being to be careful that a royal would not perceive their words as threats or worse, blackmail. The reason was simple – the crown and her brood were capable of pronouncing judgment on the spot, seizing any and all rights of their subject, including their right to live. Coercing the wrong royal was comparable to treason.

Nolan sensed the change in Luke by the time the princess elect finished her first statement. This particular royal was not fond of manipulations when the puppet master pulling the strings was not him. Luke did not appreciate how it sounded as if his fiancee twisted his arm to submission. Nolan’s employer stared at the princess elect a moment longer with his cool, emotionless, blue gaze. To an outsider, it would look as if the prince was idly watching his future bride, but Nolan knew it was otherwise. “Accidentally let it slip,” the prince enunciated every syllable slowly before looking away. A small smile on his lips, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “You forget who you are and who you are talking to, Rhiane Black.”

The silence that followed was tense. Rhiane busied herself with her borrowed device, something Luke didn’t much care for at that moment, while Luke repeatedly cancelled incoming calls as he watched the scenery outside the window. His face was a blank mask shielding his thoughts from the outside world. He was not in the mood to discuss state affairs, because if he did talk to any of his staff, his frustrations and anger would come crashing down on the unfortunate soul. Such was both unprofessional and unacceptable. His duties to the crown and to the kingdom must be fulfilled with a clear and level head, free from emotional biases. Yet, his annoyance brought about by his fiancee’s unreasonable fixation to a piece of jewelry occupied his mind. Both he and she were aware that there was nothing romantic about their engagement. Whatever romantic fantasies weaved around their engagement was nothing but a fabrication of the PR Team. She did not love him. He should not be concerned about how she felt about him. An engagement ring, therefore, was nothing but a reminder that they were bound to a fate of a loveless marriage.

As long as she did not breach the subject again, Luke kept his mouth shut. He watched the village pass by right before his eyes. It was very different from the capital – the houses were shabby, there were no tall buildings, the road was bumpy and laden with pot holes. The only saving grace was that the air was fresh and the trees many. Soon, they were rolling to a stop in front of a building. It must be the school Rhiane attended, based on the itinerary that Anelle prepared. And the people greeting them must be her teachers. All but that one person who must be about their age.

Nolan invited Luke out the vehicle before the latter could raise a question to cross-examine the princess elect’s statement. Thankfully, the prince obliged. He stepped out of the vehicle first then made his way to the rear passenger door to help his fiancee down. Just like a perfect gentleman. He was quiet, still, as he followed to greet the other commoners. Media staff and crew were stationed around the building, but more unmanned cameras were installed at strategic spots in order to capture the best possible shot as well as help in surveillance of the area.

“Is this the only school around?” He eyed the chipping paint, the broken windows, missing glass, and ultimately the obvious lack of building maintenance. Who was to say that the building would pose no risk of collapsing while students were inside. The prince turned to the older members of the welcome party if only because they looked as if they could give him more information compared to Rhiane’s “old friend.”

The picture perfect descent of the princess elect from the vehicle, stepping down with the hand and support of her royal fiance, was a stark contrast to their cool conversation. Surprisingly this was also the cause of their conflict. With two people so adept at being professional and portraying a certain image, they were less aware than others where their mask ended and their personal feelings began. Tobias was not shocked at this turn of events, but he stood back stoically, displeased. He didn't know what was harder to watch: someone he adored as much as Rhiane being rejected by his cousin's pride or the two of them pretending nothing was bothering them the instant that the media began to snap photos from afar. It was just a matter of time. When the two of them were together it was as if a pin had been pulled from a grenade- and whether they would explode in passion or anger was anyone's guess.

"Your highnesses," one of the older ladies as she bowed low, almost comically so. For this small village having the crown pay a visit was unimaginable, much less somewhere as unremarkable as the school. Their awkward etiquette was a result of having little time to prepare, unfamiliarity with the crown's protocol, and frayed nerves. "I am Orchidea Vitacco, the school's principal. This is our counselor, Aida Gilardi, and our most senior member of the staff, Efrem Lepro. I believe Ms. Black is familiar with Pio Zattala; he tells me they attended together. He now teaches the seventh year students."

Pio Zattala was not nearly as handsome as the prince with his coiffed blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. What he lacked in chiseled features or exquisite clothes, however, he made up for in a charming personality that was unlike either of Rhiane's suitors. When he smiled at her it was a wide, bright smile, and there was something in his presence that was congenial. Neither Luke nor Tobias could truly claim that they were as outgoing or friendly as this commoner man was, but he made a good impression nonetheless, and was veritably the sort of individual that could be plastered all over advertisements about the hard-working, unintimidating, and kindly masses of New Rome. This was one of the reasons that the former farmer had Sebastian request he be included as a guide for their tour. If she was going to have a difficult day, she might as well have one with a former flame, one that appreciated her and would make it more enjoyable. That her betrothed would possibly be jealous was an added bonus. He had his redheaded witch and she had her old classmate.

"We've met a couple times since then," Rhiane admitted with a smile that easily reached her eyes and was utterly sincere. "It's a small town, so it would take effort to avoid someone," she joked to lighten the mood. Assuming that no one else in their entourage would want to talk to low-born residents of her birthplace, and that the disrepair of the school building would make them even less enthused to converse with these poor educators, she took the proverbial reigns. "I hope we haven't imposed on you too terribly. I know how important classes are to your students and I hate that we might be interrupting," she added more graciously. The reporters from afar were practically swooning with her humble manners.

"We are honored," Efrem said emphatically. His eyes were slightly misty, overwhelmed by the reality of who was before him, and how far one of their own had come in the world. Seeing him so genuinely touched by their arrival made Rhiane feel a pang of guilt that she never intended to return to her home. She stood by her reasons for her decisions, but she couldn't deny the collateral damage, and that winning the right to be Luke's fiancee had been a victory for more than herself. A tiny municipality that half of the country couldn't point out on a map would be forever touched by her renown. Little girls would dream of her, idolize her, and look to her as proof they could achieve their dreams for generations.

"Everyone is very excited to see you," Pio added. The 'you' could have been plural- but he was looking directly at Rhiane when he said it. Faces had appeared in some of the windows as adolescents gawked at the caravan of cars and men in suits. For them this was a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle they would tell their own children about when they were adults. There was no questioning whether or not they were a disruption; they were.