It was ironic that Luke accused Rhiane of being a terrorist when that was precisely what plagued the kingdom of New Rome. Had policy being to negotiate with the disgruntled masses there might not have been peace brokered, but the uprisings would have been significantly slowed if not stopped. The very tactic of refusing to listen was what incited rage, pushed people to join the rebellion, and convinced even-tempered individuals that acts of violence were both just and necessary. Rhiane assumed that the queen knew that the revolution was building momentum rather than losing it. Propaganda tried to stifle the successes of the furious poor but that only made them try harder to impress upon the world their strength. The princess elect was meant to help keep the 'terrorists' from reaching a crescendo that could lead to actual civil war and yet her darling fiance, arrogant and naive to the discord rumbling at the outer edges of his empire, accused her of the same label slapped upon people who actually worked against the crown. It was more important to him that he be able to insult his societal lessors than take advantage of an ally that could turn the tide.

Increasingly Rhiane was beginning to suspect that instead of thinking first of what the country needed, Luke thought of what [i]he[/i] wanted. The crown prince appeared to place high value on personal satisfaction and selfish desires. One could only assume that, given his intellect, he was not wholly ignorant of the nation and instead expected it would sooner or later follow his lead like an obedient dog. She did not envy the duty resting upon his shoulders but she did not believe he acted responsibly either. Philosophy stated to be the most effective leader one must understand all of their citizens. Rhiane did not have delusions that the queen empathized with those wallowing in poverty any more than Luke did but she did theorize that the monarch comprehended more fully the situation.

All of these criticisms were forgotten when the tall, handsome male rose from his seat, walked over, tilted her chin upwards, and bent over to meet their lips in a kiss. The former farmer froze. Her past was checkered with dalliances that were emotionless affairs meant to satisfy primal needs. She was no virgin or stranger to the pleasures of the flesh but she [i]was[/i] a relative novice to expressions of romantic intimacy. Onlookers couldn't see it but she knew that Luke must feel it if nothing else. Her heart thudded in her chest against her will and she tried to quiet the tingling that the man left in his wake. Despite knowing it was empty, forced, a gesture to placate and create a spectacle, internally she was not as stoic nor controlled as she pretended. Rhiane a distant suppressed part of herself wanted the love that her parents held in their hands if even for a moment. That she distanced herself, pushed away suitors, and rejected dates in the past was not evidence of her attempts to protect herself from temptation. The princess elect had underestimated the size of the weakness she had forged in her soul.

Luke dared her to follow through with her threat before he stood tall and offered her his hand. It took no small amount of willpower not to frown as he feebly tried to excuse his dismissal of her earlier as 'forgetting to ask her opinion' and 'being too busy with work.' She wondered idly how long it would take the public to realize that he had been supposedly working on the night of his engagement ball and through the majority of the first date; it insinuated that Rhiane was not a priority for either the prince nor the regime as a whole if he was sacrificing his most important moments with his new fiancee at the onset of the relationship. News headlines would turn this excuse against the royals as proof that they could not spare even key events for a lowly peasant. Weeks from now such dismissals with a flimsy explanation would be overlooked but that assumed there was a solid foundation of respect and recognition that came beforehand.

"Excuse me," the waitress interrupted nervously. In her hands was a small take home box composed of recycled brown cardboard that had the name of the restaurant emblazoned in bright red on the side.

Not yet taking either the cards nor Luke's offered hand Rhiane was happy to turn to the employee while she mentally scrambled for a way out of her predicament without loosing her dignity. "Yes?" the princess elect asked pleasantly with a brilliant smile that made her eyes sparkle in the fluorescent lighting.

"I have been asked to bring this to you, Ms. Black, courtesy of another customer."

Cocking her had to the side with curiosity Rhiane accepted the container. With all the enthusiasm of a child opening a present on Christmas morning she delicately pried open the lid to find a half dozen cannolis nestled inside. Each was a unique flavor that was visually distinguishable in a variation of the shells and filling but not immediately intuitive in relation to taste. It was hard to tell what genuinely thrilled the woman still seated at the table more- that someone had bestowed upon her a gift or that it was a sweet for which she had great affection. Having so little money meant even holidays were devoid of exchanges simply because they could not be afforded even by loving parents.

"This is wonderful!" she exclaimed with delight that made even the nearby tables unable to contain their own smiles. Her delight was contagious and made the waitress, apprehensive initially to interject, bashfully grin despite her attempts to remain professional. Rhiane stood (leaning on her good leg) and took the other lady's hands in hers briefly, unintentionally rejecting Luke whom she had honestly neglected, and looked her into the eyes with unbridled joy. "Please, I want to thank them personally. Can you tell me who it was?"

The waitress paused as she considered confidentiality but a man from the other end of restaurant shakily stood. He was in the company of four other individuals his age who, gauging by their similarly drab suits and matching badges clipped to their lapels, were co-workers at a nearby establishment. "It was me," he croaked with embarrassment. Now [i]everyone[/i] had stopped eating to watch the show that was taking place right before their eyes. "I remembered you said before a strength trial that your favorite treat was the cannoli and I wanted to congratulate..." The poor soul's ears burned pink at the veritable crowd staring at him, one of which was heir to the throne and another of which was his future bride.

"I am in your debt for being so thoughtful. Please, let me express my gratitude," she began excitedly. "Would you like a picture together? I understand there are some photographers outside. I am sure one of them could take an excellent photograph with us and we can show how tasty these cannolis look so that The Briks is on the forefront of everyone's thoughts. Would you mind terribly letting one inside?" she queried the waitress with another charming smile that was evidently persuasive.

"Oh, that isn't necessary," the man on the other side of the room protested but one of the others at his table was already on his feet and tugged on his arm, "but I would like a picture very much."