Rhiane had been combing through articles, blogs, blurbs in social columns of editorial pages, and the like for reviews of how well-received she had been the day prior. While she knew that this was something that Ms. Viscomi was already constantly monitoring in her capacity as their PR advisor and coordinator, she liked to see with her own eyes what others were saying. Moreover, she knew that the focus of the queen and therefore her employees was on how Rome in particular was reacting to the newly engaged pair. Not only did Rhiane want the details of exactly what her country's people said about her, she wanted to know the impression of international citizens, who were harder to understand but incredibly candid. Commoners in other nations did not have to worry about Queen Camilla intervening if they wrote a large volume of negative comments. The queen was powerful but not so much so that she had free reign upon all the world's inhabitants written words.

Almost everything she could find was a glowing endorsement of her disposition, her humor, her humility, or other personality aspects that were found to be endearing, but there was one consistent criticism in those that had any: absence of affection. It was not abnormal for anyone to doubt that Rhiane and Luke were madly in love with one another. In their heart of hearts everyone knew that it was at least a partially fabricated fairy tale; however, if they were trying to sell the public on love, the public would at least want glimpses of infatuation. Much as Rhiane would prefer to blame Luke, simply to preserve her pride, she knew she was just as at fault for this crack in their polished image (if not more).

The young woman had sworn off romantic fantasies and forced herself to become even more pragmatic than she already was after the death of her mother and father. With stalwart dedication she never let physical intimate encounters infringe upon her feelings. Men had used her and she had used them to fulfill a need, nothing more, and she made herself view it as no different then wanting to eat, drink, or sleep. What had changed was that she had pretend she was in love with Luke. This already a difficult task before she got to know him well, but she had erroneously assumed because she found him attractive, because he was intelligent, because he was invested in the illusion of marital bliss they would come to an easy arrangement that suited them both.

Now she had to admit in that facet of becoming princess elect she was failing. Today it was a vague statement buried in paragraphs of praise, only spoken by every hundredth person, sandwiched between compliments about how she was the princess everyone had been waiting for to represent them, but it wouldn't be such a trivial concern for long. In a few more weeks the raised brows and hard stares would grow. By the time the wedding actually rolled around the indifference they had, the distance, the barely-friends aura would be even more apparent.

But what was even worse than being unable to act as if she was in love- at least so convincingly that people could be convinced it had miraculously occurred in an arranged marriage- was that she didn't want to pretend with Luke. He was handsome, he was clever, he was thoughtful, and he was charming when it suited him, and could have been a genuine Prince Charming; but Luke was only warm when circumstances forced him to be. Luke didn't like Rhiane and she would rather not fight for his consideration. If he loved another woman, or man, or no one at all, there was nothing she could do about it. Trying to earn his approval was a battle she would rather not join, and would instead rather spearhead initiatives for better medical care for the poor, scholarships for those with ambition but dwelling in poverty, funding for the arts so that their culture could thrive under more than just the aristocrats.

Rhiane was so lost in thought she was startled when Luke approached and addressed her. She almost jumped out of her seat in surprise before taking a deep breath and gaining her composure. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about anything, she reasoned, and definitely no reason to be uncomfortable around her fiance.

"Aren't you supposed to be flying the plane?" she teased as she powered off her device to give him her full attention. "It wouldn't kill you to get some sleep," she suggested lightly, "I can't actually sleep enough for both of us to be rested, even if that's what it feels like I've been doing."