As Luke had anticipated, Rhiane was not persuaded by the good doctor's approach of drawing closer, giving her a stern look, and speaking words that, much like the majority of the castle's residents, sounded more rehearsed than sincere. For most the knowledge that the queen had personally selected the royal physician would have earned him their trust. The princess elect, however, was not one of the plentiful  innocent little lambs that had competed for the chance to become a Castiglione with blind faith. Religious sects within the empire consoled themselves with the belief that those with status and wealth were righteous and deserving. Many loyalists with this ideology had sent their prized daughters to the trials as they all but worshiped the nobility. While Rhiane was not a rebel, she was also not a fool, and she did not place trust with anyone yet she had come in contact with: not Queen Camilla, not Prince Luke, and certainly not this man of the medical vocation.

She remained unconvinced any 'man in a white coat' would really advocate for her health unconditionally. Doctors assigned to her town during the contagion had proved themselves to be shrewd and detached from the human component of healing. If Isaac Gulsvig had appealed, making promises of his virtue, there was at least a small chance she might have been swayed. Because emotions were guiding her actions just as much as cool pragmatism he might have had some victory were he to 'prove' himself different from his kin. Getting on her level had helped somewhat, but the mantle of authority he assumed with his choice of words made her balk slightly, and she was reminded he was, at the end of the day, both an aristocrat [i]and[/i] a member of the occupation that she had anxiety towards.

When Luke interjected himself she was both relieved and annoyed. Rhiane was glad that she did not have to obey the subject of her apprehension, no matter how lofty his appointment, though she was irked at how easily her fiance robbed her of her voice. This was something she knew she would have to grow used to over the years. The commoner consort of the reigning monarch was limited in power. The lowborn might think that the marriage, and subsequent children, would give them great power, but she knew at the end of the day she would always be observed and leashed. On her farm she had the freedom to state her opinion as kindly or cruelly as she wanted and when she wanted. In the castle much more control needed to be exercised.

She had been listening silently, trying to avoid both of them, when the tablet was lifted and she was instructed to sit still. Because there was no invasion of her personal space, or overly prying question, she did so, but she almost snatched back when he reached for it to continue his evaluation. Luke was too consumed with his device to notice the daggers in her eyes that were being thrown his way. The shower was no longer just a matter of personal hygiene and relaxation. In the last ten minutes it had transformed into a sacred sanctuary that kept thinking of to make the current appointment feel quicker.

The doctor was recommending medication.

Rhiane could feel her lips tightening into a line of disapproval. Allegedly it would help alleviate the fatigue temporarily, and restore her physically and mentally for the interview, but the princess elect did not cherish the notion of chemical assistance. She was a proud woman that had powered through more than the lingering weariness from this afternoon. It was true the interview was more pivotal than almost anything proceeding it that she had attempted while half-exhausted, but relying on some concoction, from a man whose motivations she did not know, endorsed by people she did not trust, and employed by someone who would ultimately murder her was not enticing. 

The princess elect continued her silence. Luke was too lost in glee at not being chained at her to consider her feelings on the 'freedom' or prescribed medication. Going into the interview she had been trying to coax herself into a positive state of mind. Seeing someone so joyous at not being with her, as if she were a wretched monster, hurt her more than she expected. Having two individuals talking about what she would do, as if they thought she was just a mindless doll, was similarly injurious. More and more she was glad that none of the other candidates for her position had succeeded. They would have been destroyed to realize they were just a pretty puppet that Luke and his ilk would rather stomp on than offer one kind word towards.