Syrenrei

The Betrothed

Once Luke had returned to the cockpit to facilitate the landing, Tobias had given the princess elect time and solitude to compose herself. As soon as the wheels had touched ground, however, he was the first to to arrive at the door to Rhiane's private quarters. Lia and Octavia exchanged quiet knowing looks. There was no damning evidence that the handsome, elusive, taciturn guard was beginning to harbor feelings for his charge, but he was undeniably different. For years everyone in the palace had watched him be aloof and detached with his daily interactions. To see him so attentive, even more than his station required, made them incredibly suspicious. Rhiane herself was obviously oblivious, but it was hard to miss the quiet ease the pair had around each other, as if they were old friends rather than strangers only a couple weeks before.

In the war silently brewing between the cousins no one knew the entire story. Only Rhiane and Luke were privy to the fact they argued more than they agreed, that they had not shared any intimate moments while alone, and that they had agreed to keep their relationship professional. Luke was ignorant of Rhiane's suppressed feelings, Rhiane unaware of Tobias's fledgling crush, and Tobias unknowing that his calm, supportive disposition gave him a slight edge against the proud heir to the throne. For the people that were observing glimpses of the hurricane of emotion, misunderstanding, and acting, it was too confusing to understand.

"Was that really necessary?" Rhiane asked as she caught the keys.

Her demeanor had shifted the moment that Luke had strolled up to the vehicle emblazoned with 014 on its side. With Tobias she had been relaxed, telling him about a time she had unsuccessfully attempted to work her fields in the winter with an advertised 'winter crop.' It had been a failure but relevant to their next destination. That was one of Rhiane's many lessons that not climate and soil were both essential to the success of a seed's germination. Tobias had been as stoic as always but had not discouraged her from weaving her tale. That he listened so intently had made her smile, laugh at herself, and fall comfortably into her casual charms.

This charisma was more constrained with Tobias's departure. With Luke she was polite but guarded, conscientious of their proximity, and apprehensive about his attentions. This was visible to their entourage but it was glaringly apparent to the target of her anxiety- Luke himself- because he was so physically close to her. Because they had not resolved anything with their 'debate' not even an hour prior she was cautious. Rhiane had already been verbally rejected emphatically once; she was not about to risk anything to make herself an easy target a second time.

"I drove trucks on the farm," Rhiane said as she moved into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. She made a point of waiting until Luke strapped himself in before she decided to disclose that was the extent of her experience. The jalopies she had at home were wildly different from the machinery she was now about to operate. "How different can it be?"

With entirely too much acceleration they blasted past all the other vehicles. Rhiane was used to trucks that were of poor construction, that were often in disrepair, and didn't have as much power as what she was now driving. Instead of being alarmed by their rapid rate of travel, Rhiane was positively delighted. She was a giddy as a child graduating from a tricycle straight to a motorbike. Being the future queen hadn't had many tangible benefits she cared about- but this one finally appealed to her and almost made up for being disparaged for being a lowly peasant. In ten years she'd be dead. There was no sense wasting time with a little speed or a light testing of its turn radius.

Vehicle 014 barreled ahead, taking pinpoint turns, twisting and turning around every curve as its operator let out a peal of maniacal glee. Luke could have fallen out the side and she might not have been noticed. For just a few minutes it was her, the road, and a half ton of metal obeying her every whim.

The Betrothed

Rhiane had provoked him and braced herself for the impact of his rejection, but it still stung despite her attempts to mitigate the emotional damage. No one wanted to hear they were unworthy, that their feelings were ridiculous, that they were unwanted by another individual. It had little to do with romance and everything to do with human nature and the very basic need for reciprocation of caring. That he could so smugly dismiss her and then request she perform an intimate gesture, with the laughable excuse they needed to practice, cemented her resolve to distance herself from him at the first opportunity. Certainly she had agreed in public to feign affection but she had made no such promise in private and there was nothing to gain if she indulged him now or in the future. Even his proposal had been for a kiss during a broadcast, not in the cockpit, in exchange for speaking to the farmers. She could imagine now he'd ridicule her if she had obeyed- he'd mock her ability, or her submission, or her weakness, or any variety of perceived lesser qualities simply because being a bully amused him.

"No," she stated quietly but defiantly.

Truthfully Rhiane wasn't certain what exactly had just transpired. Before Luke had faced off against Tobias he had said something about Lia and Octavia, but had not offered any explanation as to what the bodyguards in question had been talking about. It had to something concerning her, but she could not imagine what they might discuss with the future king and not her. The princess elect had been careful not to expose any aspect of herself that could be construed as a salacious secret to her new entourage. If anyone suspected her more true nature, her candid practicality, her baggage of the soul, it would have been Tobias. The cousin to the throne's heir was more observant than nearly anyone else she had met, the court included.

More mystifying than his throwaway comment about the two female guards had been the stares between the two men as they argued about safety protocol. There was no love lost between the pair. They were cordial and polite most of the time but there were walls erected between them from long before she entered the picture. Tobias was generally stoic, and Luke generally apathetic, so it was hard to imagine what could generate such animosity as she had just seen evidence existed. What made it more perplexing is that it had very suddenly appeared. When Tobias had been to escort her to the engagement ball there had been no posturing, no glares, no bristling as her arm was transferred to one to another.

"No," she repeated more firmly. "Why would I? You wanted me to in front of the cameras, but there's no camera here. Or are you now raising the requirements, only to perpetually increase them later, so that I am following your every whim in the hopes that I might get a prize just outside of my reach?"

Rhiane turned her head to the side. Her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment and an emotion that eluded his grasp. Had he been kinder, more gentle, more understanding she might have foolishly acquiesced with his demands. She was not certain if she was more disappointed that he continued to be his mother's son, or that she almost took the plunge and risked everything to see what might be hidden behind his lips. Now she was certain only loathing, disgust, and scorn still dwelt there. Any fantasy that he was an equal measure of his peasant father had been dispelled.

"I didn't believe your mother's propaganda," she said softly with her eyes on the adjacent wall rather than hers. "I explained to you my difficulty in my acting. Whether you realize it or not, the populace will discover today, tomorrow, years from now that the romance is not genuine. Love is not something you that can be easily emulated when you've never felt it for someone," she said with more injury in her voice than she intended.

"I'm sure you can find someone more worthy to kiss you," Rhiane said as her eyes remained locked on the wall. And therein laid one of their many problems. Because it had been reinforced many times over that she was leagues beneath him, it was increasingly difficult to simulate a believable chemistry; with each interaction the future queen became more adamant the distance between them was too large to be crossed, and that there was nothing to be gained by trusting, but liking, by believing. Undoubtedly this had once been an issue with the queens and kings of past- but perhaps they had fallen to physical passions without as much thought as to their birth.

The Betrothed

There was no use wasting her breath trying to deny the blushing; anyone with two functional eyes would be able to tell she was. If anything the shade of pink that had bloomed across her features only seemed to intensify despite her rich bronze tan. Rhiane was humiliated even before he pointed out her childish response to his teasing, but the jab at her principles was mortifying. She was not royalty yet but she felt a certain level of responsibility for the often-overlooked citizens of their county, and to have him verbalize she was prioritizing her feelings over their need for recognition struck her deeply. Had she been able to melt into a pile of goo and disappear from the plane entirely she would have seized the chance immediately.

"I never said I thought it was counterproductive and unnecessary," she retorted hotly, both irritated and offended. Luke had made no honest effort to woo her nor had she decided that the situation merited her dipping her toes into the pool of romance. Their first dance together had forged an agreement that they would keep their relationship as a business partnership at best- which was what nearly every arranged marriage among the nobility was. Rhiane had always conceded the fairy tale illusion that the queen wanted to craft of the engaged couple was 'productive' and 'necessary'; it was the execution of the plan that she struggled with.

The princess elect was grumbling internally with annoyance when Luke turned her chair, leaned over her, and tilted her head upwards. The glow of her countenance was now scarlet and she squirmed in her chair as if passively seeking a way to escape. Despite the discomfort she did not dare move; she knew he was both faster and stronger than she was. Rhiane stared up at him with wide eyes and parted lips in shock and confusion as he dared her to come up with a time he had pushed her away. Her words failed her. It was not that she lacked an answer, but rather than his presence, his intimate posture, and his breath on her made it impossible to find her voice.

She had heart palpitations and was on the edge of a heart attack or panic attack when Luke suggested practicing- only to be interrupted by the co-pilot. Something about seeing his expression out of the corner of the eye pulled her back down from where she had been thrown into mental orbit. Until that moment she had been worried about what a kiss would reveal. Things were not so easily hid in a kiss as they were otherwise. She'd be able to feel his revulsion and contempt, his disgust for her heritage, his detachment as he tried to imagine she was someone else. More than that, however, she was worried about emotions might be conveyed unintentionally as she entangled herself. Rhiane knew better than anyone that part of her distance to preserve the integrity of a very vulnerable inner self. What she could deny, suppress, and ignore could surface in an instant where control was lost in embrace.

"All my acting," she said once they were awkwardly alone again, "has always had some truth in it. I've never dated, I've never been in love, and I've always intended to keep things professional," she explained quietly with mustered confidence. Rhiane had slept with men but they had been physical affairs only. There hadn't been long talks, sharing dreams of the future, exchanging secrets, or stealing glances at one another. After one or two fulfillment of one another's needs they had gone their separate ways without expectation or attachment. That's what she expected of Luke, for him to want to keep things impersonal, but he seemed to enjoy pushing her for his own amusement.

"Even us lowly peasants have our pride," she said, a slight tremble still in her words, and her intentions transparent. Instead of avoiding invoking his ire as she had been doing recently, she was now purposefully provoking him in order to to push him away verbally. If she belittled and rejected herself he couldn't do it to her; if she made him so angry he didn't want to even touch her then she wouldn't have to find excuses as to why she was impossibly attracted to such a difficult, devilishly handsome individual. She had discovered by accident he loathed her self-depreciation. "You don't have to lower yourself by pretending to like me we're by ourselves." There was a flash of vulnerability despite objectively daring him to say he disliked her intensely.

If she had spoken less impulsively she might have realized someone as intelligent as Luke would read between the lines. Once his head cooled he could make several conclusions about her behavior, but most importantly that she was was not the robot she feigned. No matter how pragmatic her approach, she wouldn't put this much effort into forcing distance unless there was danger otherwise. Luke's stoic cousin showed no interest in most women but he did not flee them. He ignored them and turned them down, but Tobias had never been compelled to avoid anyone.

There was a hard assertive rap on the door as Tobias unapologetically pushed past Carver. "Prince Luke, Miss Black. I apologize for the interruption," he said in a monotone that belied his lack of remorse, "but unless Miss Black has been cleared to occupy the co-pilot seat, I need to escort her back to her quarters per safety regulations."

The Betrothed

Rhiane rolled her eyes so hard she thought there was a very real danger they would detach. It was true that she had won the contest that catapulted her to the position of future royalty in no small part due to her charisma. As darling as she was to most of the nation, there were very hard limits as to whom she could affect. All of the aristocracy had a bias against her and thus an immunity to her charms, with the sole exception of Luke's sister, who admittedly seemed to like everyone. Luce Viscomi was a lady that did or should know how the courts felt about the princess elect, and yet she had still had faith that Rhiane might reach Luke, the man who had the most reasons to hold her in contempt. It would take weeks, months, years before the staff of the castle was friendly towards her. Either Luce was ignorant of the polite rejection and scorn of her peers and superiors or she had been convinced the fictional romance was real.

Truth be told they were caught in a cycle. Luke was stubborn and didn't want the interference that Rhiane manifested in his personal life. She was a disruption, a distraction, poorly educated, low born, and forced upon him. Because of the circumstances he didn't want to listen to her and became irate, which just made her not want to listen to him, and that in turn made him even less willing to listen to her. Neither one wanted to bend. On separate paths they functioned well, but when there was a convergence there was a battle of opinions and wills. He had heard her this time, she mentally conceded, yet it hadn't changed anything. His stance was unwavering, hers was unwavering, there was no revelation a peasant could manipulate the audience better than even Luce Viscomi gave her credit for, and all she had accomplished was wasted effort.

When they had first met, Rhiane had professed she was be completely honest with Luke. She apologetically and masterfully navigated social situations like a professional, putting on a mask of such mixed sincerity and deception that not even she could tell where one began and the other ended all the other time, but she had no such pretenses with Luke. He was always granted a front row seat to her truest self; as such, he saw a wide range of emotions flicker over her face.

After rolling her eyes she had been annoyed, then indifferent, then doubtful at his suggestion they sneak off somewhere without asking permission, but upon his suggestion of a trade the color drained from her face. The cool and composed woman looked petrified for a moment before she turned her face away and flushed from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. "I thought you weren't cut out for theatrics," she said, quoting his words earlier with a slight tremble in her voice. "Besides, didn't you just explain why you wouldn't and shouldn't talk to the farmers?"

Although it sounded as if she was turning him down, there was a distinct lack of refusal. Rhiane was afraid. She was a daredevil when it came to jumping off cliffs into water, trusting he'd keep her from drowning because she couldn't swim, she didn't whimper and cry about being poisoned within an inch of her life, she hadn't flinched at any physical tests of the contests, and hadn't been intimidated by anyone at title who looked at her with loathing. It was romance that was her kryptonite. She was so terrified of attachment that would end in heartbreak that she had chosen to be alone rather than risk rejection. The princess elect had alluded to this before in casual conversation; she had proclaimed that there was no chance for her to have actual love, so she had chosen to be a contestant for Luke's hand precisely because realistically romance was impossible, and they could be companions with a more pragmatic relationship.

Rhiane was torn. On one hand she was personally invested in seeing her peers publicly respected and listened to by Luke. She had no delusions that he would suddenly make changes in law or policy, but them having his attentions for even a few minutes was priceless, and this offer may never happen again. On the other hand, she would be offering up her deepest vulnerability, something she was loathe to do even with the people she trusted the most. "If I agree you wouldn't be able to push me away in front of the press," she tried to point out. It was clear she considered this a distinct possibility; that he'd be so disgusted by holding her hand or sharing a kiss that his revulsion would override composure. She had not shared this thought with Luke, which undoubtedly shed some light as to another reason she withdrew in his presence.

The Betrothed

Rhiane collapsed into a seat without a pretense of elegance once Carter was out of the room. Perhaps her fiance would find it unladylike but it spoke to a level of comfort she had around him in most ways. She had decided to be honest with him the moment she won the contest and so she was, becoming more casual in private, without bothering to fix the hem of her pants as she sat or crossing her ankles as proper etiquette dictated. "The poisoning was so four days ago," she complained though not loudly enough anyone would hear. "I've tried to have a message passed along that these dietary restrictions are ridiculous but they are unconcerned with my opinion on the matter." This was no surprise. Even when she was on death's door she had not seemed to take the event quite as seriously as the physicians would have preferred. No doctor nor nurse would trust her to be objective in analysis of her own recovery. Years of experience taught them that if their patient was reluctant to medicate, made frequent jokes about their situation, and underestimated acute conditions, they would continue to prematurely jump back into action.

"Not quite," she said with a shrug to his question about the peasants. "You know, I was thinking on my long journey to the cockpit," the Princess Elect remarked jokingly- she was tall for a woman and less than half a foot shorter than Luke- "about what it must like to be a crown prince. I've seen how much time and energy you sink into trying to help govern the country and spearhead projects of interest to you, but even among the nobility I would wager there are people that underestimate you, or don't understand some of the unique pressures of your station. They might judge you for missing an appointment, and tell others you are lazy, when you have a more pressing matter above their clearance. They might think you have such luxurious accommodations you must always be relaxing because they don't personally see you up late at night working. They might think your mother's praise is more easily earned, that everything comes naturally, that you do not struggle, because they see someone handsome, clever, wealthy, and powerful, who will one day be king."

Rhiane pulled her gaze away from the gently lit clouds and turned towards Luke, propping an elbow up on the side of the chair and leaning her chin into her palm to make certain he had her full attention. "People have a habit, myself included, of listening to others but not really hearing them. Back when I was a farmer, laboring in the fields, I didn't want a knight to ride up, sweep me off my feet, and pay off all my debt. I wanted to be heard. I wanted someone to understand how I had to work when I ran a high fever, because medication was too expensive, and the crop had to be harvested. To know that when there was enough bad weather I'd have to live off one meal a week. To not think because I rested in the winter I was lazy, because I destroyed my hands and back the other three seasons of a year. I know I can't make you talk to the peasants, Luke, but I think they are looking for, and hoping for, is someone to really see them and what they do, someone who is important, someone who might remember them when they are creating future policies."

She returned to reclining in her chair as she stretched her legs out farther in front of her. If she had taken off the heels she was wearing, which had returned to her daily attire as soon as her ankle was considered healed sufficiently for the strappy contraptions, she could have rested her feet on one of the consoles and taken a nap. Rhiane had plenty of sleep over the last few days but the soothing vibrations of the airplane and the utter lack of public to engage with made it a tempting place to doze. Two of her recently chastised bodyguards were wide awake but most of their retinue was enjoying shut-eye. There were not nearly as many security concerns while thousands of kilometers above the ground.

"In any case, I also wanted to remind you that Ms. Viscomi will report whatever we do, or do not do, to Queen Camilla... and the implants can be controlled from a considerable distance. I've shared close quarters with far less dashing individuals but I know it will hamper your work if you're seen as uncooperative and have the leash tightened. You'll have to listen to my, what was it? Loud snoring? at an even closer distance." She jested with a wink as she crossed her legs. Much as he detested being bound to her, almost certainly because he had other people he'd rather entertain or things he'd prefer to do alone, it bothered her less and less. Rhiane didn't mind the lack of solitary time. When Luke was particularly vexing she'd roll her eyes and wish she could run away, but he had been in better spirits since they began their journey she thought.

"I wonder if Ms. Viscomi could be persuaded to allow more sightseeing," she mused to herself quietly as her eyes drifted over the soft colors of the sky beyond the glass. Rhiane didn't have control over her diet nor her itinerary. Idly she considered it could be seen as a positive indulgence if they didn't just meet the people but also saw more of the national landmarks. There were architectural masterpieces, natural wonders, and breathtaking views that drew tourists that Rome's princess elect had never seen in person. Most of these spots were a source of pride for the locals. The crown wanted to warm the public to the newly engaged couple, but perhaps an argument could be made that a visit to attractions would encourage nationalism and be considered firm endorsements by royalty.

The Betrothed

"- you, there's something different," one of Rhiane's female bodyguards was saying.

Two women had been appointed to the security detail for the princess elect when the decision was made to bolster their numbers to match Luke's. While the queen could not and would not admit aloud why she had chosen them, it was undoubtedly because there were places Tobias could not easily follow Rhiane, and since the poisoning incident they were reluctant to let her even use the bathroom by herself while in public. Both women had their accolades as guards at the palace but did not hold a candle to Tobias; they remained his subordinates even in their elevated positions.

"I haven't noticed anything amiss," the other female bodyguard responded skeptically. They were towards the center of the plane and seated in adjacent chairs conversing in hushed tones. The first to speak was Lia and the latter Octavia. Both were of aristocratic backgrounds, Lia's slightly more prestigious, and relatively good friends with one another. Neither had noticed Luke striding out of the room and possibly near their vicinity as they bent their heads together.

"He just looks at her differently. It's subtle but he... I don't know, he watches her intently, and not just because it's his job. Don't you think it's tragic? Half of the castle would be happy to be with him and the one woman he might have the mildest hint of feelings for and she's taken," Lia lamented. She was among his admirers even though she was wed. Like the royals her marriage had been a political arrangement, not a union born out of love.

"I think you're imagining things," Octavia sighed. "The person I feel most sorry for is Prince Luke," she whispered to Lia.

"Marrying a peasant," Lia remarked with a sad shake of her head. "They tested everyone thoroughly in the contest, and as nice as she is, I find it hard to believe an exceptional farmer is better than any lady he could find in the capital." What she was suggesting was unkind but the popular opinion in the palace and the upper echelons of high society. While they stopped short of accusing her outright, they thought Rhiane was less intelligent, less beautiful, less clever, less artistic, less everything of matter. To consider her their equal or better was so uncomfortable it edged on blasphemy. It did not matter objectively if Rhiane could beat them in a hundred tests- their bias had to persevere and they had to be better.

"I'll speak with the farmers of course, but you didn't come here to ask me to speak with them," Rhiane said to Ms. Viscomi once Luke had disappeared beyond the threshold of the door. She knew the answer before it left her lips. All the world knew that the princess elect was a farmer before she had been catapulted to national fame as fiancee to the heir to the throne. This stop would be less spectacular than its predecessors; there was a passive expectation in having a former former speak with farmers from another province. Newscasters could even potentially find the scenario boring. At the same time, the media would latch onto the absence of Prince Luke. They would see it as a sign of rejection of Rhiane's past, of her prior peers, of her upbringing, and some of the citizens most likely to join the rebellion.

"I take responsibility for being uncomfortable with public displays of affection, Ms. Viscomi, and I have seen some of the same criticism you have. Can you prepare a list for me of the names of the farmers I'll be meeting with as well as, if possible, a physical description? I think that it will go much smoother, and leave a positive impression, if I can try to commit their names to memory beforehand," Rhiane suggested with a smile.

"Yes, of course, but..." Ms. Viscomi began to protest. Her goal of trying to persuade Luke into addressing the farmers of Adrossa personally had not been met; furthermore, she had failed to elicit a promise from Rhiane she would help advocate on her behalf to the stubborn royal.

"You'll have to excuse me, Ms. Viscomi," Rhiane said as she stretched out her long limber legs and rose from her seat. Tobias turned from staring out the window. "I promise to review all the information you compile for me, but first I was invited into the cockpit by the prince, and I don't intend to refuse the offer. It is the queen's wish we become more familiar with one another is it not?" she said as she flashed a charming smile. As she moved forward to step out of the room Tobias did not follow. Rhiane was safe on the plane and it was quite evident that this was a private affair in which he would be imposing regardless of how silent and stoic he remained.

"Of course, Miss Rhiane," Luce agreed with slightly more forced enthusiasm. There was no easy way to object. She had pointed out a lack of intimacy not even a minute ago. To keep Rhiane locked in conversation would impede the rendezvous at the front of the plane and make her a hypocrite, something she was not eager to do. If she contradicted herself even once both Luke and Rhiane would latch on and twist it to their advantage when a future critique was called into question.

The Betrothed

Rhiane had been combing through articles, blogs, blurbs in social columns of editorial pages, and the like for reviews of how well-received she had been the day prior. While she knew that this was something that Ms. Viscomi was already constantly monitoring in her capacity as their PR advisor and coordinator, she liked to see with her own eyes what others were saying. Moreover, she knew that the focus of the queen and therefore her employees was on how Rome in particular was reacting to the newly engaged pair. Not only did Rhiane want the details of exactly what her country's people said about her, she wanted to know the impression of international citizens, who were harder to understand but incredibly candid. Commoners in other nations did not have to worry about Queen Camilla intervening if they wrote a large volume of negative comments. The queen was powerful but not so much so that she had free reign upon all the world's inhabitants written words.

Almost everything she could find was a glowing endorsement of her disposition, her humor, her humility, or other personality aspects that were found to be endearing, but there was one consistent criticism in those that had any: absence of affection. It was not abnormal for anyone to doubt that Rhiane and Luke were madly in love with one another. In their heart of hearts everyone knew that it was at least a partially fabricated fairy tale; however, if they were trying to sell the public on love, the public would at least want glimpses of infatuation. Much as Rhiane would prefer to blame Luke, simply to preserve her pride, she knew she was just as at fault for this crack in their polished image (if not more).

The young woman had sworn off romantic fantasies and forced herself to become even more pragmatic than she already was after the death of her mother and father. With stalwart dedication she never let physical intimate encounters infringe upon her feelings. Men had used her and she had used them to fulfill a need, nothing more, and she made herself view it as no different then wanting to eat, drink, or sleep. What had changed was that she had pretend she was in love with Luke. This already a difficult task before she got to know him well, but she had erroneously assumed because she found him attractive, because he was intelligent, because he was invested in the illusion of marital bliss they would come to an easy arrangement that suited them both.

Now she had to admit in that facet of becoming princess elect she was failing. Today it was a vague statement buried in paragraphs of praise, only spoken by every hundredth person, sandwiched between compliments about how she was the princess everyone had been waiting for to represent them, but it wouldn't be such a trivial concern for long. In a few more weeks the raised brows and hard stares would grow. By the time the wedding actually rolled around the indifference they had, the distance, the barely-friends aura would be even more apparent.

But what was even worse than being unable to act as if she was in love- at least so convincingly that people could be convinced it had miraculously occurred in an arranged marriage- was that she didn't want to pretend with Luke. He was handsome, he was clever, he was thoughtful, and he was charming when it suited him, and could have been a genuine Prince Charming; but Luke was only warm when circumstances forced him to be. Luke didn't like Rhiane and she would rather not fight for his consideration. If he loved another woman, or man, or no one at all, there was nothing she could do about it. Trying to earn his approval was a battle she would rather not join, and would instead rather spearhead initiatives for better medical care for the poor, scholarships for those with ambition but dwelling in poverty, funding for the arts so that their culture could thrive under more than just the aristocrats.

Rhiane was so lost in thought she was startled when Luke approached and addressed her. She almost jumped out of her seat in surprise before taking a deep breath and gaining her composure. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about anything, she reasoned, and definitely no reason to be uncomfortable around her fiance.

"Aren't you supposed to be flying the plane?" she teased as she powered off her device to give him her full attention. "It wouldn't kill you to get some sleep," she suggested lightly, "I can't actually sleep enough for both of us to be rested, even if that's what it feels like I've been doing."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"If this man is a thorn in your side like you suggest, you've surely already come up with more than one plan to deal with him and his forces. You wouldn't offer to help if you didn't already have some notion as what would tip the odds in your favor," Solae observed shrewdly. Her words were calm and measured yet pleasant; she was not trying to chastise him but rather put into perspective that her youth did not make her naive.

Ten was no different than an aristocrat in that he did mental calculations with each and every interaction. He would not be a successful businessman if he could not do constant risk assessments and analyses, as well as be able to improvise solutions to urgent issues that could cause a pitfall if not immediately addressed. Solae had no doubt her arrival had been a surprising turn of events. They had not known they would go to Zatis until they had set the course, so unless Ten was harboring precognitive abilities the universe had never seen, the criminal had not anticipated them crossing his path. What she was wagering on was that his cunning mind had been churning as soon as he set eyes upon them. Now that time had passed and they were eating dinner he might have a plot. Perhaps it was imperfect, perhaps it was just invented, but it existed nonetheless.

"Your talent was wasted in that embassy on New Concordia," Ten mused aloud as a small smile alighted on his features. Picking up his fork he dissected a piece of fresh fruit, carefully stabbed it, deposited it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and then responded. "While I do have a plan in mind to help you..." he began.

"With all due respect, Ten, it would benefit us both. I do not mean to be rude, but you wouldn't be helping us achieve our goal out of selfless benevolence. You have things to gain as well as you have already explained," Solae boldly pointed out. Rene tensed slightly as if he suspected this might ire their host but he remained unperturbed. If anything he found it amusing that Solae had so much courage, such an intimate understanding the players, and the wisdom to know her candor would not be construed as a threat.

"The plan in mind that would help us all," Ten corrected with a slight polite incline of the head to Solae, "would require both your assistance and cooperation. Until now my resources would not favor a direct assault on Ralch, I believe you could help tip the odds as it were. More specifically I theorize that if Solae assumes her mantle of Marquise Falia to access the local cache we could recruit a few parties that are on the fence as to whether or not to intervene. As for Rene, I believe your expertise as a soldier might more efficiently guide my own assets when we are forced to draw weapons."

"I don't know anything of this cache you keep referencing," Solae said skeptically, "Even if I did, how can you be certain that I will be able to access it? Thus far Duke Tan has prevented the spread of information from New Concordia. Any protocols that might be in place upon the deaths of my parents would not yet be activated because, as far as Zatis is aware, they have not yet been declared dead."

"There is a bank in the medical district that allows you a small safety deposit box that can be accessed with a very rigorous series of tests. Any items in the box are destroyed if the owner dies with no instructions as to the next of kin, and the contents are often destroyed if there is suspected illegal access," Ten explained casually.

"And you think this is where the cache is?" Solae asked with obvious doubt in her voice.

"No, I believe the location of the vault is located in a box there. The boxes have technology that allows them to incinerate the contents- within certain parameters- remotely by the banking staff. They are not the best solution for items of great value, but they are for sensitive information you might want accessed under certain circumstances."

"So it's a method of setting a contingency plan," Solae sighed. It sounded like something her parents might do- especially her father- if they thought they might meet an untimely end and did have this fabled vault. The only reason she was even entertaining the thought this mythical treasure trove of incriminating evidence existed was because Ten was so confidently factual. He wouldn't waste anyone's time, most of all his own, on a mere whim.

"It requires a blood test, both hand prints, a full body scan, and a short questionnaire with rapid fire questions you must answer in ten seconds or less," Ten elaborated. "Needless to say this can not be done with a corpse or easily faked- if at all. To the best of my knowledge it has not been breached since they have started the four-step verification process."

"And you want to go there after we eat?" Solae asked.

"By the empire, no. Zatis is an unusual place. It is extraordinarily busy in the afternoon and at night, when most indulge their vices one way or another, and is less crowded in the early morning hours. I would suggest that we set out shortly before dawn. Almost no one willingly goes out at such an hour so you'll attract the least attention then. The bank operates with discretion so they will not alert Duke Tan or his goons that you were there, if at all. In the interim I recommend you get some rest. I have a spare bedroom for you to share unless you require separate bedchambers. I will have my staff prepare some clothing for both of you as well as a wig if you will wear it. Without your golden hair visible it should be easy to get to the bank without issue. It's what will come after that will be considerably more challenging."

The Betrothed

The morning brought the medical team who, after much debate about waking their sleeping patient and royal fiance, reluctantly came into the room to run a battery of tests. Although Rhiane had been cleared last night they did not want to rest on the figurative laurels of victory. Before discharging their patient they drew more blood, swabbed her throat, checked her nasal passageway, and performed a comprehensive exam. They all knew that the queen would come down on them so hard they would wish for their own deaths if they sent the princess elect into the world only to have her collapse due to poor health that could have been conceivably prevented. Losing a patient was always a tragedy for a physician. Losing a patient on worldwide broadcast, and thereby obliterating the reputation of their kingdom and country, would be catastrophic.

Their worry was for naught. Despite having an intense dislike for medicine in general, Rhiane was relatively healthy. Sebastian's instructions to heed the doctors kept her compliant enough for the process to be expedient. Elena Villani, who was not an individual to be intimidated, gave thorough instructions for a modified diet for Rhiane. Not trusting that the former farmer would be completely faithful to it- she was not ignorant to the brunette's love of food- she copied it to Luke, Queen Camilla, Tobias, and the head of the attache that would be seeing to the newly engaged couple's accommodations over the next several weeks. The latter was not given an explanation for the dietary concerns that Rhiane suddenly developed for the next several days, nor why she was under a doctor's care (Elena knew he did not have the clearance), but she knew he would not question the implied authority she held.

In addition to some oral steroids to expedite the healing process she was to gradually re-introduce strong acids to her digestive system. This displeased the princess elect. She'd have to temper her love of spices, of citrus, and of vinegar-based salad dressing until mid-week. Elena was not concerned about having heartburn or acid reflux, but rather preserving the more raw lining of Rhiane's esophagus. Very fortunately the muscle should heal quickly. It was a minor inconvenience given the life-and-death battle that had waged the night prior but Rhiane was a touch grumpy. The sheer thought of missing out on a local delicacy during their trip was a travesty.

As to the rebellion's intentions towards her, and the part they did or did not play in her poisoning, Rhiane remained oblivious. Anyone that might treat her differently she attributed to other events: they were legitimately charmed by her demeanor, they felt compassion towards her struggles, they pitied her, or in the event of servants they felt camaraderie for her as a peer who grew up under less than ideal circumstances. The palace had heirs of lesser known aristocrats sworn to the crown, but that did not free them from the disillusionment that could come from being socially immobile in their caste, and sympathetic to someone of a similar plight.

The only visible impact Luke's discovery had on anyone besides himself was that their retinue underwent another furtive security check and additional loyalists were added to ensure that no revolutionaries would be able to 'access' Rhiane on the tour. If there were infiltrators in the castle itself it stood to reason that they had more presence, more cunning, and more resources than previously calculated. The possibility of a kidnapping occurring had been laughable. Now that an assassination attempt had happened at an elite, private event meant they had to prepare for both avenues of attack: abduction or murder. Rhiane's security detail were still largely under Tobias's direction, as her personal bodyguard, but they now rivaled the number of men that would accompany Luke to an official public event.

The first day of their tour catered to Rhiane's interests although not by design; they visited the studios and independent galleries of artisans and artists outside the capital. None of the citizens had works eligible for consideration in the castle proper but their craft was held in high regard by the local populace. Undoubtedly this 'stop' had been planned in an attempt to appeal not only to commoners but also to suggest they had upward mobility into the higher rungs of society. The harsh reality was that very few, if any, truly did, but the fantasy had to endure to keep the status quo. Rhiane engaged with their guides and hosts with uninhibited enthusiasm and passion. She asked specific questions, praised every piece of pottery and oil painting of landscape, and let almost everyone solicit her for photographs. Tobias at first tried to keep her from involving herself quite so much but once it became apparent she wouldn't cede to his control and it was garnering extremely positive PR, she was allowed to exchange stories, ask them for advice, and even purchase a few smaller items that she had intentions of sending home to her family. One reporter following at their heels was so enamored with this choice they could overhear her describing Rhiane as having a "heart of gold."

The focus was so fixated on Rhiane that any polite disinterest by Luke was easily overlooked. What was also very easily missed (or dismissed) was that there was little to no physical affection between the pair. Unless Luke went out of his way to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, or wrap an arm around her shoulders, she did not initiate any such gestures herself. No one expected this of her necessarily, but its absence would become more odd in a few weeks, especially if they were supposed to be infatuated with one another. In private she maintained this same sort of respectful distance. Rhiane was friendly and went out of her way to make it clear to the press she thought of Luke fondly, but he knew perhaps better than anyone else she was not an intimate companion, and she seemed to hold her feelings out of reach of them both. As tempestuous as she was the farmer was not without discipline in certain avenues of her life. The masses would have been appalled to know she could be bribed more easily by a slice of cake than a sweet kiss from her future husband.

Day two of the tour was much like the first. Instead of touring artisans they went to see members of the oft-mentioned 'middle class' who worked in large buildings, in impersonal cubicles, and were viewed as 'worker bees' by their superiors. This was a stark departure from organizing an event with the CEOs and presidents of such businesses. Breakfast took place at a hotel that emptied their banquet halls to accommodate the the crowed of programmers, engineers, accountants, salesman, secretaries, and the like. Lunch was at a park- which troubled Tobias greatly because such an open space seemed more dangerous- and their audience was much the same. Some smaller business owners were randomly selected from a pool to have the honor of an official visit. Rhiane continued to be her charming self. Each woman that shook her hand was also bestowed a compliment about her complexion, hair, dress, or eyes, and similarly gentlemen were gifted the same, though she took care not to make the flattery seem inappropriate. In conversation she asked about their careers, their schooling, their spouses, their children, and, most importantly, cared about their answers. If someone cut off the answer of a colleague she would gently scold them and allow the first person to continue.

The reporters' coverage of Rhiane continued to be flattering. She was seen as humble and engaged rather than haughty or distant. The largest scandal was that a few male admirers were caught on camera confessing that they were jealous of her arrangement with the prince. Luke had his love-stricken fanbase as well, which were swooning over his chiseled features and sharp attire, but it had been quite some time since there was a young introduction to the royalty. That Rhiane was wanted, perhaps even coveted, was a novelty that sold airtime and publications. Becoming a national object of desire felt silly to the subject in question herself, even if the had cultivated a sultry image during the contest, and she laughed uncomfortably during the footage of the would-be suitors.

Day three was to be their last day in an urban area before they moved to industrial sectors and rural towns. Thematically it was a day focused on education. They toured schools with awards for excellence with a trail of cameras following behind. In the elementary school that had been selected Rhiane absolutely insisted on reading a children's book personally. The principal summoned some of the other classes and the soon-to-be princess had a crowd of five-year-olds crowded around on carpet. She was more at ease than the teachers, half of which were awestruck and red-faced, and used silly voices during her reading to help earn the approval of her audience. A few girls and a couple boys boldly raised their hand for an informal Q&A with mundane questions like what color she was wearing to the wedding ("It's a surprise!"), how old she was ("Just a little older than you are!"), and what kind of cookies were her favorite ("Chocolate with chocolate chips and chocolate chunks!"). The schools for older children were just as awkwardly stunned with teenagers trying to discreetly ogle the royal of the opposite sex. Rhiane was gracious with the administrators, telling them anecdotes of her adolescence, about how she tried to find loopholes in the rules, how she wanted to be a on boys' sports team, how they sometimes called her older brothers down to her classroom if she was unruly. These innocuous little stories helped to make people forget, albeit temporarily, that she'd become co-ruler someday and was not just a woman they met for lunch. When they all laughed at her argument about what color to paint the sky when she was eight there was no pretense of formality.

But Rhiane didn't have quite the stamina that Luke possessed. While she was the darling of the nation during the day, at night she barely made it through dinner without yawning. Each evening she would drape herself on the most convenient piece of furniture and pass out given the chance. Fortunately she was so exhausted that her regular nightmares did not plague her. Unfortunately, this meant either Tobias or Luke had to cart her to an appropriate place for sleep since rousing her was next to impossible. Given time she would adjust to this new schedule, but until her body stopped waking her before dawn for the fields she no longer tended, she dead weight once her eyelids drifted close.

The Betrothed

Rhiane had spent almost all of the first half an hour of the movie splitting her time between watching the story being woven and wolfing down her meal. The nurse checked in once, whispering to Luke it was good she was consuming so much since the poison had effected her digestive tract, and that eating was far better for building strength than anything that could be provided intravenously. The attendant had also checked her vitals once over and marked her chart. While the medical team was still on high alert for potential complications they were satisfied for the moment that the recovery was going smoothly. The princess-elect was visibly uncomfortable with all this attention from physicians and associated professionals but she did not try to rebuff them. Sebastian's chastisement had retained its effectiveness.

After two hours she had begun to droop slightly. Unfolding scenes elicited a wide range of reactions: confusion during the romance, excitement during the action, bafflement during a portion of the drama, shock when it was revealed the entire ship was sinking and that it was woefully unprepared to save everyone aboard. The woman had honestly professed to her royal fiance before she didn't believe she was capable of finding true love. It was this same unfamiliarity, how utterly foreign the emotions it evoked were, that led to her being puzzled or annoyed at the choices of Rose in particular. A few times she shook her head in disbelief but she did not interrupt by saying anything aloud. The pre-war film had been made with the assumption the audience wouldn't be as firmly a stranger to romantic experience as Rhiane Black.

By the two-and-a-half-hour mark, she was struggling to stay awake, although this was not the movie's fault. The nurse had come in twice more, changed her IV bag, and administered a mild sedative when Rhiane wasn't looking to help her rest better. It wouldn't force the future queen into sleep but it would help her sleep more deeply when she allowed herself to drift off. Rhiane was determined to see Titanic all the way through and kept shifting herself in the bed or opening her eyes wider than necessary to keep her focus. Now that it was clear the movie was centered on a tragic finish about a rich woman and a poor boy she was sad to see the cruiser sink; it was her favorite character thus far.

Luke's phone rang again; this time it was his security force providing a second update on their investigation. The end of Titanic was less than half an hour away but Rhiane had started to lightly doze. She had begun by laying flat on her back, her arms at her sides, the same position she had been put it when she was first moved to the bed. As her eyelids had fluttered shut she had rolled to her side unconsciously, facing Luke, close to the edge but in no danger of falling off her luxurious mattress. Even her breathing had slowed to a measured easy rhythm that denoted she was at peace as her slumbering face suggested. When in the realm of dreams the sultry, assertive, stubborn farmer looked like the innocent maidens she had to distance herself from.

"Your highness," the security force man greeted once he had been permission to speak. It was the very same once that he had conversed with earlier in discussion of the deceased waiter.

"We've discovered some correspondence between the waiter and what appears to be another member of the rebellion. I will send copies to your device immediately, but I wanted to warn you of their contents beforehand. It appears that the waiter was arguing with another individual about what course of action to take with regards to Princess Elect Rhiane. The waiter wished to have her killed to further their cause."

The man took a deep breath before continuing on. "While this is good news, your highness, the individual he was sending messages to indicates there are several rebellion sympathizers or members- he calls them 'our people'- already within the castle. No names are given and we are still tracing the individual the waiter was speaking with. Our analysts say that these messages have multiple layers of encryption hindering our process. From the word choice we believe it is possible this other individual might not necessarily know who or how many infiltrators there are, just that they exist, since he failed to boast about their numbers."

The nurse had gone back into the room while Luke was taking his call and tried very gently to help Rhiane roll to her back once more. Despite her efforts Rhiane would not stay on her back; as soon as the nurse's hand left her shoulder she had rolled to the same side without so much as stirring. The nurse was clearly frustrated but short of restraint- which was not warranted- she couldn't make the brunette comply. Realizing that they would have to make do she began to delicately tug at wires so they were not tangled under Rhiane's limbs, torso, or hair, and that she could continue to be monitored through the night.