Rhiane was relieved to find that Luke was not in the mood for a scolding. She was not certain if it was her apology itself that had caused a change in his attitude but she was not of a mind to question the positive. Hopefully he wouldn't think this would be a habit for their future interactions. While she could admit when she was at fault, she wasn't going going to fall on her sword perpetually to allow him to be vindicated in every disagreement they had as might be more typical of courtly relationships with royalty. For the rest of her life she would have people laying in wait to point out her every wrong with great joy; those missteps would undoubtedly be numerous enough she did not need to add to their number by taking blame for that which she should not.

When the crown prince denied he was a good person she failed to be surprised but she was disappointed nonetheless. Luke certainly had his thorns. Naive as it might be, she had hoped that Cally had been correct. Some people hid their kindness and sensitivity under an abrasive exterior. Her brother, Gerald, was the sort that made more enemies in their town than friends, was quick to anger, and had a sharp tongue, yet that was not the summation of his being. Seb had proved to everyone there was someone gentle and caring buried underneath the hostility that her brother arguably used to protect himself. Rhiane knew she was not the sort of person that would be able to verify the existence of Luke's inner self, if one existed, either now or for the foreseeable future. Only a precious sister might be able to penetrate the walls that would separate the exterior from the interior.

But it seemed that there was no reason to hold on to such hope.

Ironically the same trait that the monarchy believed was essential for their ruler- being ruthless- was the greatest weapon wielded by the rebellion. The kingdom had become so obsessed with showing the strength of the leadership that the connection they had with the masses had become frayed and fractured. Revolutionaries were constantly arguing that there was no compassion, no understanding, and no empathy to be found in their nobility. Pragmatically everyone knew to have a bleeding heart pushover ruling would be disastrous, but belief was widespread that the pendulum had swung too hard in one direction and that the people, not just foreign nations, were being treated with callous disregard. Rhiane could not totally fault the rebellion's tactical approach: by dehumanizing those that they wished to overthrow they could convince more to join their cause. The former farmer was meant to help reverse this tide, to bring more appeal and favor, but she wasn't entirely confident she could obfuscate the reality of the allegations against the queen and crown prince in particular.

Not that the princess elect was particularly motivated to try. She had pledged herself through the contest to assist in their public image but she had not promised to do any more than the status quo. So long as there were funds sent to her father and brother for a short period of time the castle could crumble, war could sweep over the land, and there would still be hope that her family would have the monetary ability to survive. Additionally, the palace had proved to be a place of all stick and no carrot. Luke himself couldn't manage to be considerate without ulterior motives for a few paltry minutes without backpedaling into antagonism. The queen would orchestrate her death. Most fault for the failings of the couple would fall upon her shoulders alone if there was a shred of reason to do so. Without even a pretense of acceptance or reward she did not feel compelled to help. And Rhiane could more than any of them cared to know. Unlike the advisors that gathered around the tables with second-hand knowledge of what propaganda was being utilized, how receptive their citizens were to it, and how deep sympathies ran in the outer regions, she was intimately aware of the odds that no peasant with an ounce of self-preservation would utter aloud. Were they to properly respect her, allow her to give insight, and coax her into assisting their strategy she was certain she could be quite effective.

She didn't respond to Luke's 'reassurances' that she was a smart woman so he didn't need to bother pretend to care, or that she was not required to be honest. Rather than vocalizing anything she simply continued to sit awkwardly as she hugged her body to him while proclaiming how very little this contact meant. How he left a trail of broken hearts she wasn't certain she'd ever understand. Perhaps lobotomies in the female populace had become standardized if you were of a certain wealth- or they were masochists lusting after his power.

Surprisingly the tyrant fell asleep while massaging her hands. With a blush still burning on her cheeks she withdrew her fingers from his hold and weighed her options. Luke had promised that they would still attend her interview appointment albeit late. Rhiane did not wish to test the queen any more than she already had. Slowly and carefully the princess elect extricated herself from her fiance's lap. She was still cold but it was nothing that forty five minutes in a heated vehicle could not cure. Flopping onto the seat next to him she leaned forward to try to fetch her blouse, pants, and jacket that had been left behind when she was moved. Digits fumbled on the hem of her pants as she cleared her throat loudly for her companion's benefit. She'd try to wake him gently first. Should that prove to be ineffective she would, if left no other viable alternative, open the door so as to blast him with the frigid air outside.