The first thing Rishe said to Arnold that night was, "Your Highness, I have a request."
Her gown rustled as she leaned in close. "I would like some herb seed and a corner of the gardens. I made a list. I hope we can discuss this in more detail later."
Arnold was silent a moment. "Rishe."
"What? Didn't you tell me to let you know if there was anything I wanted?"
She looked at him quizzically, and Arnold sighed.
She'd heard that he'd finished his mountain of work and even managed to sleep for a while. He was dressed in his usual military black, trimmed with a red mantle and black gloves.
Arnold shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I'm guessing that Oliver didn't tell you the reason for this party? It's merely for appearance's sake. I need to look like I'm searching for a bride within our borders as well. There's no reason for you to attend."
It made sense. The crown prince—the greatest catch in the kingdom—marrying a foreigner without even the slightest nod to propriety would invite unwanted discontent from the nobility.
"However, we're betrothed," Arnold said. "This whole evening is merely a formality. And with news that you're my 'hostage' going around, you'll be an object of curiosity. I don't want to put you through that."
"Well, I already went to the trouble of getting ready." Rishe plucked at her soft blue dress, draped in fluttering layers around her like a flower bud. She'd braided her hair, decorating it with accessories. Her makeup was light, her shoes polished to a mirror shine. Her only jewelry was a pair of pearl earrings.
"Rishe…"
"Your Highness, the court may consider my status as a captive princess shameful in the extreme, but I don't." She'd chosen this course, after all.
Arnold was again watching her with a mixture of wonder and confusion.
"So don't worry," She said, extending her hand. "Feel free to show off your fiancée."
Arnold relented, his dashing smile creeping out once again. "Very well. I should take advantage of this opportunity to touch my betrothed."
"We're wearing gloves."
Arnold took Rishe's hand.
**************************************
A throng of guests was gathered in the ballroom as a group of musicians performed on a platform. Women in gowns stood clustered, while gentlemen in military attire grouped together. A mere glance was enough to tell their clothes were of the highest quality. They mingled happily, making small talk with glasses in hand.
Rishe let her hand rest on Arnold's arm as she paused at the threshold to take it all in. "This is a bigger event than I was expecting."
"Is it? I'd say it's a rather small gathering, actually."
"Maybe for a military powerhouse," Rishe muttered.
Yet another reminder of Galkhein's wealth took her off guard. Arnold just looked bored.
"The size doesn't matter," he said. "In the end, they're only here for gossip. Look, here they come."
In the blink of an eye, they were surrounded by guests.
"Prince Arnold, thank you for gracing us with an invitation," said one man. "Such a pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Abel," Arnold drawled.
"Your Highness! We were so glad to hear of your safe return." Another guest chirped. "Please, our daughter is simply dying to be regaled with tales of your trip."
"I can't imagine I'd have anything particularly exciting to share with her." Arnold said curtly.
After the last few days, Rishe found this look of glazed apathy disturbing. His good looks only compounded it—he was so handsome that every expression was stark.
He looks more like Emperor Arnold Hein now, but still not the same.
Arnold appeared to notice her watching him. When he looked at her, his sourness disappeared, replaced by a genuine smile. All around him, women found themselves flushing. Arnold paid no heed to their fervent gazes, instead leaning in to give Rishe a brief moment of consideration.
Then he leaned in close enough to kiss her.
"A dull trip," He said again, pulling away. "But fortuitous. Without it, I would have never met the woman destined to be my wife."
A shocked murmur rolled through the crowd. Rishe, who hadn't recovered from seeing Arnold's beautiful face at close range, barely noticed the looks of utter loathing the assembled women were throwing her.
"H-His Highness is smiling? At his hostage bride?"
"He called her his wife?! He's never even looked at us!"
They were whispers, but they carried.
A portly man stepped forward with his daughter in tow. "Your Highness, do you mean to say that this lovely young woman is your fiancée?"
Every eye in the ballroom was on Rishe, alight with curiosity, envy, or schemes. None of them could hide their contempt. But Rishe didn't falter.
This is nothing compared to being publicly dumped in a banquet hall. And I've done that seven times!
She offered a polite smile and an astoundingly correct curtsy. Left leg at a diagonal behind the right, back straight, head bowed. "How do you do? My name is Rishe Irmgard Weitzner."
Even the most hostile guests could find nothing impolite in her greeting, no sign of rough manners from the rustic daughter of a backwater nation. Rishe had years of training in expectation of ascending to the throne. Occasionally, habits from her other lives slipped through, but Arnold appeared to be the only one who noticed.
Now he was looking at her with satisfaction. "Lady Rishe has only just arrived, and her acquaintances are few and far between. I hope I can count on you all to hold me accountable should I prove an incompetent husband."
"B-but of course, Your Highness."
"Come, Rishe." Arnold guided her out of the ring of spectators. The stares continued to follow them as they walked away.
Rishe dropped her voice to a whisper. "You sure know how to invite the ire of women."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"The way you harped on about me. Everything you said was tailor-made to stoke their jealousy. You've gained me enemies, so thanks for that."
Arnold snorted. "Everything I said was to protect you from enemies. They need to know you aren't just some trophy they can eliminate without recourse. We need to show them this to forestall any potential moves against you in the future.
"Show them what, exactly?"
"That I'll protect you no matter what."
He said it with such nonchalance that it brought her up short. Protect me?
Arnold Hein, protect me?
Such an ironic position to take. She couldn't tell him that, of course. Her response came out somewhat strangled. "I doubt they'll be anything to worry about. In fact, the biggest threat facing me is you."
"Oh? And why do you say that?"
"For many reasons, the most obvious being that I'm no match for you with a blade." As much as it pained her to admit it.
Arnold looked pleased. "Perhaps we should duel."
"Yes, please! And if it wouldn't be an intrusion—I would like to train with you." If she studied him, she could learn his strategies and his attack patterns.
She'd never be a match in speed or raw power, but any insight would be invaluable.
"Sure." Arnold shrugged. "I don't mind."
"Truly?" Her eyes glittered with anticipation.
He chuckled. "Your answers never disappoint me."
"What's that supposed to mean? Oh, it looks like they're playing a new song."
A soft melody drifted across the hall. The crowd divided, heading toward the center of the floor or against the wall. The next dance was starting, and everyone was waiting to see what the crown prince and his new fiancée would do.