Rhiane was surprised that Luke didn't fully realize all the barriers there were for the poor to get out of the vicious cycle of poverty. She didn't expect him to fully appreciate the struggle, given his wealth and privilege, any more than she could fully understand the hardships he might have endured as an heir to the throne; still, his questions indicated an unexpected gap in knowledge. Unless he was toying with her, he truly had no notion why a woman like herself had not at least ascended to the lower middle class if not higher. She couldn't claim there hadn't been any opportunity whatsoever. There had been a couple marriage inquiries in the months immediately preceding her entry into the royal contest that would have elevated her slightly if she sacrificed her farm to her future husband. It was embarrassing to admit this to Luke. No one wanted to boast their best prospects were a couple men looking to wed in order to usurp their property. A familiar flush rose to her cheeks at his compliment to her intelligence. It was hard to hide how flattered she was when she was inches from his face though she tried; she didn't want him to have the sudden epiphany that his compliments made her inwardly swoon like a schoolgirl. Not many people praised Rhiane since she had come to the capitol, and Luke had been one of her most emphatic critics. To hear an object of her fledgling affection manage to say something nice almost fed her a false hope. "It took both Mom and Dad to manage the farm," she said after struggling for a moment to find words. Her face was still a rosy pink. "Gerald was going to take over for Dad and Edwin was going to take over for Mom, so they wanted me to sit for the exam. But then Mom died, then Edwin, and I knew if I left then Dad and Gerald wouldn't be able to manage on their own." She shrugged as if recalling this did not bother her, but she was not as unaffected as she pretended. "It's not enough to be smart. You need teachers that can help you pass, and the best educators want to work in the cities where they can mentor students that will become tomorrow's leaders. If your teachers aren't as experienced or helpful you have to study on your own, if you can find time when you're not having to help out at home, or hire a tutor, which most can't afford if they can find them. Everyone knows admissions favors who would make better alumni- lords and ladies, sons of corporate executives, daughters of actresses. And then even if you can manage to beat all those odds you have to figure out how you'll manage to move, to commute, to budget food and supplies," Rhiane said shaking her head. "Some people make it, and I guess I could have, but I couldn't leave Dad and Gerald behind like that. At least this way I know they'll be taken care of," she added with a more forced smile. It was all foolish pondering to her now. She had forever tied herself to the bias for, and prejudice against, the title of Princess Elect. In the unlikely event that she was dismissed, the position she held would not be so quickly forgotten regardless of the effort involved by the aristocracy. Rhiane would be seen as the woman that was almost queen to the common folk or, if Luke did take her as his wife, the queen of low birth. No longer could she be a farmer, an accountant, a lawyer, or a doctor without every move she made scrutinized and politicized. As far as she was concerned being a royal fiancee was her career. "Yes, I am sure that being a pilot in the military would help you avoid strict rules," Rhiane couldn't help but mutter dryly as he applied the bandage. He was a bird caught in a cage, though she didn't think the armed forces were her idea of freedom. A commercial pilot had less glorious work but wouldn't have commanding officers barking orders and screaming obscenities when they caught a whiff of insubordination, real or imagined. She wouldn't have lasted long in the military personally. Rhiane was athletic enough to have done relatively well but she would have found it impossible not to lose her temper under such rigid conditions- ones she considered infinitely worse than her current situation. There was a prolonged pause as Rhiane hesitated to come closer to him. Her rampant distrust of the medical field (despite her proficiency with its application) was well documented. Bribery, ultimatums, and coercion were typically applied to get her to oblige even the most inane of requests. She stared at him nervously, anxious about letting anyone inspect the battered limb, but finally reluctantly moved back to being half on the center console so that he was not forced to reach. It was the most trust she had shown anyone when unwell and was a monumental leap of faith. Because he was being gentle and congenial she was willing to let him assess the damage though it made her extremely uneasy. Rhiane would have much rather irrationally ignored the pain and tried to convince herself it did not exist. She winced as he rolled up her sleeve and discovered multiple dark bruises from the middle of her forearm to a few inches below her shoulder, with the largest over her elbows. There were no protruding bones, no sharp curves that ought not to have been there, but a casual inspection indicated that she had fractured her arm. The rolling of the car may have slammed her joint into the door, twisted it a way it ought not to, or been crushed between her body and the steering wheel. It was impossible to tell without an X-Ray confirmation. "Wait- " she panicked as he raised her arm. He felt her jerk slightly under his grasp as she bit down so hard on her lip to avoid crying out in pain she made it bleed. Rhiane found the pain excruciating but she didn't want to appear weak or helpless, not in front of anyone, least of all him. "It's just.. a little tender," she lied. From the way she spoke it sounded as if she was not trying to deceive him but rather persuade herself. "I'm fine," she protested as she withdrew her arm and very carefully let it drop to her side. From the grimace she made it was evident Rhiane was in agony unless she managed to keep the appendage perfectly still. "You're your mother's son, but you're your father's son too," she added in a subdued tone, trying to distract herself from the injury and simultaneously not offend her companion. "I don't think your father was wrong. You are special because you can decide what kind of king you want to be- you can rule like your mom, or you can travel more, and pilot your own aircraft, and make jokes about movies I've never seen before, and be more of what you want. If anyone could..." She stopped herself, realizing she was saying too much, presuming too much, and sounding like a lovesick puppy giving some horrible combination of a pep talk and a confession. Clearing her throat she gazed out the window. It had begun to rain and it would not be long before the droplets made their way through the overhanging branches, onto the broken windshield, and into their vehicle. This ought to have dissuaded her from doing something as foolish as offering to venture outside, but that's exactly what she did. It was preferable to remaining in the car for the imminent rejection, roll of eyes, or argument about how she was a naive peasant that didn't know anything about how to govern. "You can't walk, so I'll climb up the ridge back to the road. Maybe I can wave someone down to come help," she reasoned aloud as she turned to move towards the largely intact driver's door.