Rhiane was struggling. As they entered the royal suite that had been gifted to her upon her victory her mind had already drifted to admittedly morbid contingency plans if she found being a princess elect to insufferable to endure. Everyone had their limits to what they could tolerate until they broke or took action as a matter of self-preservation. On the farm she had learned each and every one when she was saddled with [i]ever[/i] responsibility upon her mother and second-eldest brother's death. While her remaining family had the luxury of falling apart it was her duty to make certain they showered, fed them, cleaned up after them, order groceries, hire temporary workers they could not afford to bring in the harvest, seize control of both household and commercial finances, establish rapport with suppliers, brief herself on trade agreements, arrange funerals, answer calls, send notices, and do everything else humanly possible. One day she had found herself sitting on the floor of the bathroom she had shared with Gerald (her eldest brother) and wept until she fell asleep. It was only then, after she had been driven to her brink for weeks, that either of the men in her life came out of their fog to realize what a boon she had been in their time of need. And even then she did not have time to grieve because the world kept turning mercilessly. Those days were behind her as she was directed down a new path of wholly different responsibilities. The day in the bathroom, however, as she sobbed and heaved so hard she could barely breathe, played vividly in her forethoughts. Not even she was absolutely certain what toll these new burdens would take on her. Every piece of food she ate would be measured and her weight carefully measured to make certain she only gained if pregnant. Clothing would be selected for her and she would be forced to chose from a limited selection of what was appropriate. Any children she bore would be considered property of the crown rather than little darlings for her to raise. Rhiane's death was inevitable and would be chased with a speedy marriage of her future husband to someone of his social class. Within the courts she would be a social pariah. The farmer was not fooled by the glimmering opulence of royal life. This was a test of stamina both mental and physical. Were it not for her brother and father she would not be here. She would not have gambled on her life were it not necessary to secure their future. The untimely death of the late Mrs. Black taught Rhiane that their dependence on her meant the moment she slipped away and was interned into the earth they would be lost. It was this knowledge that required drastic action. Idly she wondered if Luke or the queen realized how far she would take this unspoken promise she made. Luke, immovable and apathetic as she was, might even balk at the plots that had been created before she set foot in the capital. For their sake more than her own she hoped they did not see what she was capable of. Maids undressed Rhiane to her undergarments with her instruction. Other ladies might be bashful about being seen in so little but given that Luke had sexual intercourse with another woman on the night of their engagement ball she neither felt modest nor concerned about his reaction. Were he disgusted by her common birth body perhaps it would be another helping of punishment for his misbehavior and appalling conduct. Without the concealment of a dress, blouse, or skirt it was apparent her life had included labor. Rhiane's arms and legs were slender but muscular and her abdomen had a more pronounced indentation than most that could only be won with exercise. Initially the servants had sought to dress her in fitted jeans but the brace had proved this an impossibility. They tore through her wardrobe to find another pair that flared slightly from the knee downwards to disguise the medical support. Once she had wiggled into the dark wash bottoms she was given a burgundy T-shirt with a discreet V-neck to compliment her skin tone. Queen Camilla's reference to a disguise that was not meant to actually be completely successful repeated in her mind. Just as before she was also given flats but these were plain black and unadorned with any identifying designer symbols or embellishments. Her hair was being teased into a ponytail as a denim jacket was slipped over her shoulders when Luce Viscomi entered the room. Patiently she listened to the schedule as an elastic band secured her hairstyle before she discreetly waved away the attendants with a smile. "I need a few minutes if you do not mind, Ms. Viscomi," she said as she flashed a brilliant smile that she used to charm her way into getting what she needed with the least amount of resistance. Rhiane imagined that the crown prince behind her would be exasperated by this apparent favor. Whether he was eager to eat or to have this charade over and done with she neither knew or cared. "Of course," the image manager stumbling slightly over her agreement. Clearly this was not the answer she was expecting. Even the maids, who had finished preparing the princess elect for the brunch, were startled and confused. Nothing in Rhiane's features betrayed her intentions as she was a portrait of polite congeniality. "A few minutes alone with Prince Alessandro," she elaborated with gentle insistence. Before they had a chance to dream of objecting the handsome woman had ushered them out of the door even with a slightly lame leg. It was not until the portal to the hallway was closed that she let out a sigh of mixed relief and annoyance. "I'm sure you think the common people are stupid," Rhiane began now that they were alone, "but I can tell you from experience they are not so easily fooled. Do you really think if we simply sit there and eat without speaking they will believe, especially after last night, that were madly in love? I can assure they will not. They will interpret the silence as a dismissal and further rejection. I have heard the rallying cries of the rebellion in my town, in cities I have traveled to for business, and it is always that the nobility thinks of them no better than animals. If we hand them validation of that theory on a platter not only will it have consequences in the kingdom but the queen will punish us for the failure." "I do not care what we discuss. We can spend the time talking about your family, your friends, the people I ought to know, or the interests you hold that I may not. I am only asking what topics we ought not to trod on so that we can make the most of the brunch," she paused here. "Love has always been an impossibility in my life," Rhiane professed with such an unwavering conviction it was clear she did not limit Luke to this certainty but the entirety of humanity, "so I am not trying to ask that of you. Just a conversation of your choice for the photographers. And if that is beyond you, then I will plant myself here and suffer the consequences." If Luke would not take responsibility (which it seemed clear to her he would not) then it was better to be seen as uncooperative by the queen and disciplined. A failure to perform outside these walls when much more on the line. Unlikely as she was to be personally blamed she knew that she would feel a guilt by association and that was not something she could bear. Not with everything else. Not without the support or comfort of someone- anyone- that actually cared about her and could offer encouragement.