Truthfully Rhiane didn't understand the graphs and charts that were keyed up by Luke and at his disposal. News that was dispersed to her town wasn't as detailed as it was for the capital. The kingdom was well aware that people in rural districts were unable to make investments and purchase stocks and, as a result, they did not bother to waste time and space relaying 'irrelevant details' to the masses that were too poor to appreciate its importance. All of her studies had been on broader generalities, on watching day by day variations, and by occasionally using physical paper records to keep track of history so as to better anticipate the future.

What she had the most firm grasp on was the bottom of the market that the nobility and larger corporations relied upon despite their arrogance. Rhiane was intimately aware how farmers reacted to different brands due to anecdotal evidence and superstition, she knew how often they were willing to rotate their crops, how quickly consumer confidence could erode when their livelihood was on the line, how personalities in the community could persuade one way or another. Antoine Ricci lived hours away from her and yet she constantly heard people reciting his opinions on how the weather would affect their next harvest. It did not apparently matter whether or not he was accurate in meteorological predictions months in advance, it only mattered he gave them the illusion that they had control over their fate. Life at the bottom of the totem pole was more oppressive than free. The queen spoke of agency in decisions and yet poverty robbed them of so much that any mundane choice they were able to seize was taken if only to confirm its existence.

"I'm sure you'll do exactly what you want, as always," Rhiane whispered. She did not believe for a moment that Luke had an ounce of faith in her. Although there was supposed gender equality in the kingdom she had endured quite a bit of misogyny operating the farm's business. Criticism was only amplified by the fact that two men, both related to her and older, heeded her advice and willfully conceded management. Even women whispered rumors as to why she had felt so compelled to traipse into a male-dominated field and make a name for herself when there were capable stronger, elder, 'more capable' individuals at her disposal. Some mused that she yearned to change her sex. Others thought that she might be barren (proven untrue by contest testing) and so she had nothing to offer the world and this drove her to madness. Most thought her to be a domineering bitch that got her jollies by making her family submit to her rule. None of these were even remotely close to the truth but she spared both her father and brother the humiliation of having the truth exposed. Always the martyr she'd sacrifice her local images for theirs; she had no regrets.

Hopefully it was clear to Luke that she had no intentions of discussing the matter further with him. What had been gifted to the commoner trio was done because they were respectful, congenial, and liked her even if minimally. To open herself up to someone who was [i]insistent[/i] she was wrong was not an option she was willing to entertain in the slightest. He could wax poetic to himself for all she cared about how he was a flawless creature. There was no obligation on her part to listen; even in public she could feign it just as she was sure he would.

At least the picture was a happy diversion from having Luke's conceit- until it wasn't. The woman was practically falling over herself at the sight of the heart throb crown prince. The farmer had to quell her dissatisfaction inwardly so as to not to let her ever-present charming visage slip. That the two men were less enthusiastic hit the bit of pride that Rhiane had been quietly repairing with diligence and she bit the inside of her cheek to not show disappointment. Alone the isolated incident might have been negligible. After winning a contest to be abandoned, to being actively scorned and disdained, to having her insight challenged, and now being overcast with three strangers she attempted to befriend was almost too much to bear. Rhiane had thought she might have [i]one[/i] blissful spot that was all her own in this palace of betrayal and pain but nothing had culminated. Even out on a date she was greeted with failure.

The hostess arrived just as the princess elect was contemplating her poor life choices (albeit with a light smile on her face that masked the encroaching misery) and Rhiane rose from her seat. Luke set off a few steps behind the restaurant employee but she did not immediately follow. The soon-to-be-official-royalty inclined her head towards the triad that she had spoken with briefly. "It has been a pleasure meeting you," she stated. Her honeyed tone was unfaltering, genuine, and more pleasant than any utterance delivered in the direction of her future husband.

Turning on her heel she found Luke had doubled back and was offering his hand.

There was a pause though there should have not been. Rhiane knew it was all a charade and that her acting was paramount, but she had never held hands with someone of not a blood relation. It would be a confession she would not admit aloud but all of her dalliances had been of a physical nature exclusively. Men who were seeking a proverbial roll in the hay with no strings attached were the extent of her intimate experiences. Suitors who wanted an emotional attachment, to get to know her romantically, to join in ways beyond that of the flesh were shunned. Rhiane's outlook on her love life had always been bleak for numerous reasons and so cuddling, holding hands, and chaste kisses were as foreign to her as they were to more virginal candidates in the contest. Rationally she knew there was no danger in taking the hand now extended to only perpetuate a ruse. Eventually she knew that these firsts would need to be conquered as she performed her due diligence as princess elect and princess. Emotionally she could not help but feel there was a persistent intangible danger that was more terrifying than anything the queen herself could produce.

"Thank you," she said to Luke. Her tone was sincere to the ears but only because she was an accomplished liar schooled in deceit. With an inner reluctance that was suppressed but not silenced she took his hand and allowed herself to be escorted to the table.

Although she had stressed the importance to Luke of conversing so as to better play the public she was unequivocally shutting down. Freedom and implant be damned she was only going to put precisely the amount of effort forward as Luke did. If it was true that the people [i]did[/i] have greater affection for him, regardless of what she had tried to foster during media coverage of the trials, if it [i]was[/i] true all they had to do with sit and be photographed as they ate without speaking, if he [i]was[/i] so perfectly groomed he did not need her assistance, there was no point in helping. A shadow did not need to stretch for the light. He could handle this by himself exactly as he had professed he would and earn the results he was certain would follow.