Since their first fateful meeting Rhiane hadn't thought of Luke as someone she would label as tender. He was proud, arrogant, quick-witted, stubborn, condescending, confident, handsome, fearless, patient, intelligent, and thoughtful, but he did not let his emotions be swayed by softer things unless it was in face of his sister. The princess elect had come to care for him regardless, but she had dampened her expectations he would be gentle, and yet in the last few hours he had proved such attributes did make up his character, he just withheld them from most. The way he reciprocated her kiss was sweet. It spoke to her of silent vulnerability, of acceptance, of caring for her in a romantic way. It was true that he had been more compassionate in the face of her injuries and illness, but she still attributed that to being invested in his territory in a war. This kiss couldn't be interpreted any other way than what it was. Somewhere deep down the heir to the throne actually felt a hint of something for the lowly peasant farmer.

She hadn't noticed the way she melted into his arms until the sounds outside the bathroom jolted her out of her reverie. Rhiane had let her mind be pulled into the clouds but now she had been cruelly yanked back their present reality. Standing there stunned, trying still to grasp that people wanted her dead, she watched as Luke carried a stool towards the window commanding her. It was almost refreshing to see that streak of lording authority. Of course she had no intention in leaving fist and risk having him fall victim to the rebels when they breached through the door. Her tongue rose to the top of her mouth as she mentally prepared an argument for why the royal ought to go first as the future leader of the country.

They had run out of time.

Color bled out of her face as Rhiane was finally confronted with a man with a rifle that had burst through the door. It was somehow easier to dismiss the attempts on her life when she did not see the offender eyeing her like a prize trophy. As cavalier as she had been about death it had not pointing a weapon at her as it gloated over a surefire victory. She had frozen in place until Luke stepped between her and the criminal. Seeing him put himself in the line of fire was sufficient to incite her protective instincts. With her good hand she pulled on his arm, reaching for his shoulder, trying to coax him to stand to the side. While she did not want to die she wanted him to die even less. Rhiane had a passive sort of valor, the sort that would have made her a fine fireman had she the training, because her impulse was so strongly skewed to save another over herself.

With each step she knew they were doomed. There wasn't an escape. They were unarmed and wounded. She was about to make a desperate plea to let Luke be saved- even though there was no hope she could persuade the villain- and then a gunshot thundered on the edge of the room. Rhiane had never heard one fire before this close. It was deafening yet she didn't hear it crack the second time. Her gaze was fixated on the young man who had stared at her, blood erupting from the point of contact, his eyes glassy as his soul departed its mortal shell. Fortunately the one who had more directly taunted them had his back turned when he was struck down, though there was a fine mist of red that sprayed into the air.

Rhiane didn't hear herself scream as she shrank back in horror. Tobias had been looking down with grim determination, confirming his enemies were deceased, when the shrill sound rang through the air. Even Queen Camilla couldn't hold this against her. Soldiers trained for combat often had the same sort of visceral reaction when they say their first comrade collapse next to them or had the gravity of their first kill sink into their psyche. Everyone processed it in different ways but it was never easy except for psychopaths. None of the other candidates that had been selected for competition for Luke's hand in marriage could have endured the poisoning and been ready for travel the next day, persevered through a sabotaged vehicle collision and kept their wits about them while they tended to someone else's ailments, and then been unaffected by being confronted by assassins. That she had made it this far was miraculous.

"Nolan," Tobias called over his shoulder as he holstered his weapon. "See if anyone can find something for the princess elect. We need to get her calm enough to travel. We're not secure here even with the threat eliminated," he assessed before taking a step into the bathroom over the corpses. Luke was in his way but he regrettably had to wait for permission to pass. No matter how much his heart might yearn for the circumstances to be different, the terrified brunette crouching down behind the prince his his fiancee, not Tobias's.