What she had intended to say is that she knew that he didn't want to touch her, although that hadn't been the extent of what she knew he 'didn't want.' He didn't want to be in her company when he preferred to be alone, he didn't want to be marrying her rather than the lovely actress whose company he had enjoyed during the engagement ball, he didn't want to be lugging around someone who had managed to damage their ankle (no matter the circumstance), he didn't want to be sharing meals with a peasant who had a less refined palate- the list could have gone on for years. Luke's offer to help her dress had been the precise object of the princess elect's half-voiced protest. There was something humiliating about having a man help her clothe herself while having the knowledge that her very being made his skin crawl on account of her low birth. The former farmer had not objected to being used by men who sought to satisfy their primal urges so long as the need was consensual, but she wasn't in the habit of being weak in the presence of anyone, family included. To accept his proposal would make her embarrassed, vulnerable, and shamed all at once.

Before she could offer clarification or explanation the crown prince was busying himself. Rhiane sank further into her seat, sliding down on the leather upholstery, as she felt the waves of heated air blast into the vehicle. Turning slightly she positioned her brace as close to one of the vents as was possible so as to expedite the softening of the silicone. It was rigid before the frigid pool and autumn breeze, but now it felt like stone on her flesh. If she thought it was possible to remove the medical object without the notice of her fiance she would have done so. There were many words to describe Luke but unobservant was not one of them. She could only imagine the barrage of bitter chastisement if she tried to wiggle it off the compromised ankle.

Rhiane could hardly believe her ears when she realized that not only had the heir to throne called his mother, but he was requesting that her interview be cancelled on account of her health. Much as she wanted to interject her opinion she was too shocked, was too aware of how poorly that would skew the queen's opinion of her, and had no method with which to impose on a conversation on a handheld device. The princess elect's disbelief only deepened when Luke heatedly countered something spoken by the monarch by stating Rhiane was not a 'puppet' that ought to be compelled to perform on stage. Although he had chased it with justification that he didn't want a collapse on television, the comparison stuck with her. The words struck her as strangely honest. It was not a logical argument as much as it was an emotional one. Queen Camilla must have drawn the same conclusion whether or not she stated it outright to her wayward son. For someone who detested both her companionship and what she represented it was highly peculiar that he had grown offended on her behalf.

The apparent result of the discussion was that nothing had changed. Her eyes flicked to the screen where she took silent note of the time. That they would be late to the interview was all but certain. Idly she wondered if there would be a lecture or punishment waiting for their arrival. Obviously the implant was evidence that the crown prince was not above disciplinary actions, but he would not be subjected to anything as harsh as a poor citizen that was not [i]really[/i] royalty, and this might keep her safer than otherwise. Linking the pair together meant that if one misbehaved the other was an accomplice whether willing or unwilling.

As she was lost in her thoughts Luke jumped out of the hovercraft, jogged over to her side, opened the backseat door, opened her door, deposited her on the backseat, entered the backseat himself, and stripped. It was all so sudden she had barely the time to comprehend; reacting was out of the question. Her face reflected a mixture of bafflement, genuine surprise, and mild suspicion. The warning that she shouldn't ever think he was 'enjoying this' was as puzzling as his actions. Out of respect for his personal space she had edged away from the centre of the rear of the vehicle, though this was short lived. Immediately after his proclamation she reached forward, grabbed her, and pulled her into his lap.

Rhiane had underestimated the cold. This was something she could admit both internally and aloud once her chattering teeth were more compliant. In her eagerness to prove herself she had not considered how much exposure to cool temperatures might be amplified in only her underwear. The farmer hadn't been swimming before and thus was unprepared for the shock of diving into a pool that was bound to be several degrees lower than the weather. She had not calculated how emerging without a towel would mean the water would cling to her skin and keep her more perpetually chilled than if she was dry. Most of all she had not heeded the sage advice of not overexerting oneself in winter. The season was autumn, but the wisdom of her elders was still applicable: it was easy to be so taken with a task, and feel warm from sweating, that the warning signs of a body's regulation were on the fritz was ignored.

Despite herself, even as she shivered in his hold, the princess elect's face flushed so vividly she looked away. Never had someone embraced her (pragmatic reason or not) in this manner. She was no virgin. While Rhiane had been with men there had been no tender kisses, no holding of hands, no cuddling, no hugging, nothing that was affectionate and might insinuate there was something between them of an emotionally intimate nature. By her own insistence they met, had intercourse, and then parted ways without a pretense of a relationship or mutual comfort. As the shuddering started to gradually diminish the pounding of her heart was more clearly felt where their torsos were pressed together. It was a futile wish but she hoped that Luke wouldn't seize the opportunity to note it, ridicule her, and then ask probing questions that she was unprepared to answer. Her fingers were still like tiny icicles but she did not dare to move them. Rhiane sat awkwardly, clearly unsure what to do with herself, as her body belied how foreign and new this experience truly was.

"I-I-I'm sorry," she muttered. Hopefully he'd take the apology and not use it as a foothold to spend the entire forty-five minute travel time to the castle to try to cajole her into groveling at his feet. She'd sooner fling herself out into the falling temperatures and let nature take her than do so.

"Y-y-your sister," she began. There were still goosebumps covering her from head to toe but at least her voice was stabilizing albeit slowly. "Last night she... s-s-she," Rhiane paused to curse under her breath at the ache of her jaw and how idiotic she was sure she sounded. Taking a deep breath she wrangled the chattering under control with sheer force of will. "She said you were a good p-person." There was more to say but perhaps not right now while they were both nearly nude and she had an appointment with the nation imminent. If Cally was right, and Luke [i]was[/i] a good person, if he [i]let[/i] himself be shown as one, there was a chance she could help revitalize a failing public perception that had been capitalized on by the rebellion. Before that could be accomplished, however, Rhiane needed to see if the princess had her brother on an undeserving pedestal or she was not given credit for an astute assessment.