Rhiane remained highly skeptical of his sudden change of heart. While his speech about the right to change beliefs was true- and more pointedly was the only reason that a princess elect was necessary to the crown to begin with- it was hard to fathom that the pompous and arrogant heir to the throne was so easily swayed by a blush or strategic change in approach to public image. He had been so dismissive at the engagement ball that he had left quickly and slept with another woman. Luke's blatant rejection of her had been the impetus for the implant. He had not been charmed by her refreshing honesty, shrewd understanding of her position, apathy to what lovers he would certainly take before and after they were wed, nor her performance at lunch, though she had expected they would be met with appreciation. Yet now he was professing attraction, a desire for genuine romance, and a sudden need to cast off their earlier agreement. It didn't make sense no matter how many times she turned it over in her head.

As the day wore on, however, she could not deny their frigid arrangement had improved. The greedy royal had snatched a cannoli and not insulted its taste. He had been forced to extend an invitation to his private island sanctuary but by all appearances legitimately enjoyed the cliff diving he had suggested. Luke had joked lightly and smiled after rescuing her from the depths of the pool they had both leapt into. Dinner had been pleasant and shared with enjoyable conversation. After her physical the prince had admitted the best part of his day was not hearing tomorrow could be spent by himself. Rhiane had presumed this was the start of a friendship or casual accord. Not once had she conceived of it as anything more than acceptance and making the best out of a challenging political joining.

Her bold escape was thwarted. The brace had been a forgotten impediment to her dash but ultimately its removal would not have won her the race. His legs were longer, he had more muscle mass on account of his gender, and he was not a couch potato that lacked exercise. Again there was soft cursing under her breath as she nearly lost her footing before he caught her wrist. For a second as she stood there, her breath heavy not only with the sudden burst of adrenaline that the sprint brought but also with the shock of him caring to intervene, she stared at him bewildered. Rhiane was certain her provocation would have some response but it was not what she expected. For a man that had been disgusted by her touch a day prior he certainly kept initiating contact.

"It's impossible, Luke," she finally said after the stifling silence of the transport and walk to his room. "I'm not the sort of person that can, or should, have that sort of... romantic relationship. It's better for us both if we keep things professional because then we know exactly where we stand and things won't become messy, or complicated, by any unwanted feelings." The former farmer knew she shouldn't persistently press the issue but she was becoming more and more vexed by the possibility he wouldn't just feign memory loss come morning. She believed the crown prince to be stubborn to a fault. If she couldn't persuade him to abandon this bizarre change in viewpoint then she feared for her future more than if Queen Camilla descended upon them in rage.

"You're..." she halted as she was reminded of his flattering of her flushed face. It was by sheer willpower alone she didn't go beet red though there was a rosy tint to her cheeks. "You're handsome, you're intelligent, you clearly adore your sister which speaks to your character, you're dedicated to your work and responsibilities, you're considerate when you chose to be, you're even a good dancer, so you shouldn't have any issue finding someone else. It's not you, it's me that's impossible, even for someone... like you," she said faltering. The compliments were genuine and all but an admission that were she to indulge herself he was her type. But Rhiane Black didn't care how many criteria boxes he checked. Personality flaws in her fiance were not a deterrent so much as her deep-rooted conviction that the universe was incapable of granting her a soul mate in Luke or anyone else in existence.

Turning around she sighed and began to undress for bed. A good night's sleep would restore them to sanity. Perhaps it would give her the clarity of insight as to why Luke was being so odd. If nothing else rest would give her more fortitude to deal with what was certain to be a disapproving monarch and her lieutenant Ms. Viscomi. Luke not defaulting to petty insults was the miracle of the week. To expect anyone in the palace to see the wisdom in her interview's deviation from script was highly improbable; two miracles simply didn't happen in quick succession even to the most lucky people in the world. And the princess elect had never been that fortunate.