Rhiane quietly watched the queen and her son face off about the events planned for the next day. Truthfully she wasn't certain who she supported; her future mother-in-law was polite to her face, concerned only about the peasant as a pawn to manipulate, but was never outwardly callous, while her fiance was openly hostile at times, showed worry about her occasionally, but tried to be honest. Neither one of them had won over her loyalty completely. Queen Camilla represented the promise of financial security for the Black Family and a diligence to etiquette that meant at least the princess elect wouldn't be disparaged to her face. Luke was her chance for a true ally within the castle walls and someone in which she could confide... if he could get past his disgust at both the situation and her commoner birth. Anyone would have had a difficult time choosing.

She managed a smile to Callista as the royal explained that this opposition was to be expected with her future husband. It reassured her though perhaps not the way in which the princess intended; it made Rhiane realize that this streak in his personality might mean their disagreements of the last couple days would have happened with any contest winner. The former farmer knew she wasn't the easiest individual to deal with, but she had truly considered herself to be one of the candidates that was the least demanding. Many ladies had entered the trials with impossible dreams of a man who couldn't have existed but except in the wildest fantasies. Rhiane had been realistic by contrast- she only wanted a business partner that could remain professional. Cocking her head to the side she wondered if the heir to the throne had always been this way or if his disposition was the result of his father's thinly veiled murder. She did not envy anyone who had to look their mother in the eyes daily and know that they were responsible for the cold-blooded execution of their beloved father.

To say that she thought Luke must be conflicted was an understatement. It was a wonder that anyone in the entire lineage had not snapped worse than a few heated exchanges or non-lethal blows to one another. Not every 'breeding spouse' had been able to be killed when their children were young. A couple had watched the eldest grow to the teenage years before a younger sibling was conceived and it was safe for the commoner spouse to be discreetly erased. The older the offspring, the greater the attachment, and the more deep the wound when the cut was made.

As Rhiane chewed on the grapes she had been handed she pondered on Luke's motivations. His dedication to staying with her had seemed sincere, and his voice gentle, and the edges of her memory recalled some distant promise about making her feel better. She wanted to believe he had argued for a delay for the sake of her health alone- but she also knew that he must love Sophia. The crown prince had abandoned Rhiane shortly after meeting her for the actress, had risked both their images, incited a revitalization in the revolution with his recklessness, and brought the princess elect to a business meeting presumably to make the model jealous. His actions thus far had not been what would be considered honorable. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, she wasn't convinced that her dearly betrothed wasn't jockeying for a chance for more indiscretions before leaving the capital.

It stung when it was announced that the rest of the royalty, the [i]real[/i] royalty, was going to have a family dinner while she was confined to bed rest after having just escaped a harrowing encounter with near death. Rhiane kept her face neutral through sheer willpower but she was internally devastated. Tobias had been called to attend to her needs which should have softened the blow but it did not. She knew she was an outsider but the contrast of their stations was painfully clear. Her future in-laws would be enjoying a pleasant meal over fine china and with crystalline glasses, celebrating their victory and good fortune, while she was miserable and left to what staff could be spared. On paper it hadn't seemed quite so horrible an arrangement given the compensation and lifestyle changes offered. In practice, however, she doubted any sum of currency in the world would have not made a heart break at being so easily dismissed and forgotten.

Just as Luke was exiting the room and Tobias turned to enter the room, however, one of the machines that was taped to the torso of the brunette let out a series of sounds that indicated something was amiss. There was a change in the princess elect's breathing pattern and the muscles of her upper torso were convulsing. She twisted to her side almost reflexively and, over the edge of the bed farthest from the door, she sputtered up the pieces of fruit that had just made it to her stomach only minutes before. Most of what her body had ejected was just bile but it burned her throat nonetheless and made her wince as the caustic stomach acid seeped into the abrasions. Both of her doctors had warned her to stay away from anything overly spicy to avoid aggravating the damage to her esophagus in particular but had not forbidden anything as simple as grapes.

"Excuse me your highnesses," a nurse said as she rushed by and then elbowed her way past a surprised Luke and stunned Tobias.

Elena Villani was sprinting down the hall from the small room she had ducked into to enjoy a coffee. "Queen Camilla, I hate to impose, but I need one of you to stay. As I am sure you are aware, doctors do not need authorization for any acts of life-saving intervention. We tried to contact Ms. Black's next of kin earlier today in preparation for procedures that would not, strictly speaking, meet the threshold of 'life-saving,' and therefore require medical consent. We were unable to make contact with either her brother or father. Given that Ms. Black is heavily medicated, and her decision-making abilities are legally compromised, we need either a family member or an authority figure that can make decisions on her behalf."

Another nurse sprinted down the hallway, pushed Tobias to the side, and edged her way into the room. The first nurse had pulled out a cart that had been formerly positioned in the corner of the room. Arranged upon it were various instruments and chemical concoctions that were meant to combat a variety of adverse effects such as the one they were currently facing. The second nurse put her arm around Rhiane and tried to adjust the bed into a more upright position so that their patient could rest without choking if she felt forced to vomit a second time.

"Mrs. Black has an exceptionally high pain tolerance, your majesty, and so we have had to administer less pain medication than we expected. Her judgment is still impaired, however, and I don't know if she can appreciate my recommendations in her state. If you'll excuse me," she said with a bow before half-jogging into Rhiane's room. Technically everything Elena said was correct. Rhiane wasn't considered fit to make medical decisions and no one, not even the most forgiving and generous ethical overseer, would not at least raise a brow if every choice was left in the hands of someone dosed with narcotics. Reading between the lines Luke might surmise that the specialist had also found her patient difficult to wrangle and that she needed someone to help override the crippling paranoia of the princess elect.

"It looks like her body still thinks it's under attack by anything she eats," Dr. Villani remarked to the first nurse as she placed her cup down on the counter and side-stepped around to the other side of the bed. In some circumstances this would be an excellent instinct for the purposes of self-preservation, but in this case it was working against them. Intravenous fluids had helped stabilize and hydrate the princess elect but were not meant to be a substitute for food entirely. She knew even before asking that Rhiane wouldn't want anti-nausea medication; the woman had objected to nearly everything offered that was not absolutely necessary, and it was possible for her to spend at least a couple days on the IV waiting for the overly protective impulses to pass.