When Luke first circled around Rhiane and warned her to not even think about opening the door for the people calling to her from the other side she had stared at him in open defiance. Earlier in the SUV she had implicitly trusted him because he had proven himself to care about her health- from carrying her upon their exit from the pizzeria when it was evident her ankle was stiff, to bundling her when the frigid air of his remote island made her fingers frozen, to staying by her side in the royal clinic when she was so weak and ill she had been a thoroughly unappealing sight. But the crown prince had shown himself to not have the same care and consideration towards her mental or emotional state. In that pivotal moment when she was being serenaded by promises of a reprieve from the constant criticism of the palace she thought he was stubbornly denying her escape because he enjoyed having her as a novel toy to lord over.

That he didn't want her to go was perplexing, aggravating, and so contrary to their history together she had frowned at him in exasperation. From the moment they met he had made it clear the the engagement was a machination of his mother that he despised with every fiber of his being. It had been similarly transparent when they had spells of privacy that she lacked the traits he might want or expect in a fiance; if she had any doubt, the jarring differences between herself and Sofia drove home he'd be eager to replace her. Going with the rebels on its face seemed to solve their conjoined problems. Luke would be free to find a compliant admirer who would swoon at his wealth, prestige, and physical attributes, and would not mind being second in his heart to the actress across the ocean. The resistance could potentially give her family financial security or shelter, rid her of the conflict in having unrequited feelings, and rescue her from the deep-seated fear she had of romantic affection.

She was numb at the declaration she, the interloper to the royal family that had no influence over any policy, had been the target of the attacks. Her eyes went wide and she had kept her feet planted not because she meant to create another obstacle, but because she was struggling to process that anyone wanted her dead, much less the people she was trying so ardently to represent. Rhiane stumbled as he pulled her along, oblivious to the chair scraping along the floor or the thudding that shook the door on its hinges, her mind whirling over the revelation. She desperately wanted it to not be true but she did not think that Luke was deceiving her. There was sincerity in his words and actions. The princess elect didn't have the luxury of piecing together the puzzle but she could understand why her bodyguards had multiplied, why her food had nearly murdered her at EvoLab while no one else was affected, why no one had been fretting over the heir to the throne and instead watched her with careful concern.

"No, no, no," Rhiane whispered before he covered her mouth with his hand. The hostility she had been clinging onto, so as not to fall into despair over her situation, had melted away. Her protests were not at Luke's clever strategy to elude the assassins but at a world in which she had been reduced to such a pitiable pawn. Outside the bathroom there were the hurried movements of armed people rushing to follow the false trail. She inhaled sharply to try to keep tears from falling at being called a bitch and her survival cursed. This was not what she had anticipated when she had entered the contest to become the temporary spouse to the monarchy's most eligible bachelor. The farmer had known that the aristocracy would hate her, that the queen would treat her as an employee whose livelihood depended on performance, but she had honestly thought the service she could bring to the public would earn her their gratitude and praise. These rebels were not necessarily symbolic of the masses- she didn't think that her fans were faked or she would have been dismissed by Queen Camilla already for her failure- but that she had failed them stung.

She slumped against the wall she had been pressed against. Luke was doing his best to be a proverbial knight in shining armor but wasn't enamored with his efforts. He was at war against the coup- of course he'd do his best to keep her out of their grasp. What mattered to him, she presumed, was victory against his enemies, keeping their prize out of reach, and securing his succession so that one day he might be a king whose reign was long and revered. Rhiane was taller than most of her female counterparts but she felt small. It was as if she had been reduced to a powerful weapon that both sides of a disagreement coveted.

The space was horribly cramped. Rhiane started past his shoulder, lost in her thoughts, when he leaned forward and began to whisper in her ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine and she fidgeted with an impulse to distance herself lest she be drawn further into wanting the man that couldn't possibly love her. And it was then, in the darkness, he confessed that the kiss had not been mediocre and he didn't want her to attend the meeting with the farmers with Tobias. There was an implication of jealousy, of possessiveness, but Rhiane was reluctant to believe that the man of highest birth in all the nation would stoop so low as to want a peasant. It was unthinkable. It was taboo despite their engagement and impending marriage. This was supposed to be an arrangement of convenience.

Luke removed his hand and she, not thinking of the consequences, leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in reply. No one had to know what transpired in the bathroom where they were both vulnerable. Rhiane didn't think anything good could come out of her indulgence- she'd just yearn for more until they were twisted in the sheets and making a mess of every aspect of their lives- but this kiss could give her some reassurance that she was not alone for the few minutes they were in hiding. It could impart on her the strength she so sorely needed before she was forced to acknowledge that her destiny was a tragedy.