For the first time since they had entered the villa the vacant gaze on Rhiane's visage shifted and she turned her head on the pillow to look at Luke. She had been passively aware of conversations and movement before that moment but nothing had been able to pull her out of her inward-facing attention. The princess elect was unaware of Tobias's secret affections, but even if she had been the way he embraced her, carrying her with a professional grace and dignity, did not create the same sparks as it did when Luke was her companion. The sitting room that had been repurposed for treatment posed no threat to her emotional state because there were no implements, no tools, no staff that would force her to undergo procedures. Nothing had mattered enough. The farmer could have spent hours being ignored, spoken over, and carted to destination after destination and she may not have reacted. A pervasive emptiness had a firm grip upon her psyche.

But Luke's words had shone through the intangible darkness. His hand slipped into hers and his fingers between her own as he continued to speak. Rationally Rhiane had known what she had seen was not a unique experience. Tobias, Nolan, and all the other bodyguards had higher body counts than they would ever disclose to her she was certain. The crown prince had told her before that attempts had been made on his life and it only stood to reason the would-be assassins had met bloody, violent ends. Hearing him talk about it, though, was reassuring in a way she had not anticipated. Even if she had not been alone in having this sort of trauma, the fact no one spoke of it, no one discussed it, no one recounted it made her feel just as alone as if she was the only one.

"I don't want to sleep," she finally said. "I see his face when I close my eyes," she whispered as she closed her eyes briefly. Luke felt her shiver under the covers and limply squeeze his hand as they fluttered open again. From the expression on her face it was clear she was speaking the truth. This was not an unusual occurrence; it was why the doctor had warned that she would be prone to nightmares in the immediate future until her brain could find other things compelling enough it would not be so singularly fixated. Time would help but so would distractions once the memory was not so fresh.

"It wasn't your fault," Rhiane added, referring to his confession about shooting a man dead to protect his sister. "But this was my fault." Her voice was low and raspy rather than her typically loud and assertive tone. "I failed them. If I hadn't they would never have come to the clinic, and you wouldn't have been in danger, and they... might still be alive."

Earlier Luke had revealed to his fiancee that she had been the intended target all along, not him, but he hadn't yet had an opportunity to elaborate on anything more. The natural conclusion she had arrived at was that the rebellion hated her sufficiently this had been their motivation for three attempts on her person: poisoning at the EvoLab event, sabotage of the SUV, and then the armed attack at the clinic. Had they reviled the princess elect they would not have ever tried to kill her. The revolution was less interested in the heir to the throne because while he was a charismatic leader, he had enough flaws, scandals, and figurative blemishes for them to capitalize upon. It was because Rhiane was such a galvanizing force, spreading an image of compassion, acceptance, and understanding, convincing the public that there was someone at the palace that cared for them and spoke for them, that they had felt the need to negate her impact. If left unchecked she could deliver a fatal blow to their recruitment. Deceased she could no longer polish the tarnished reputation of the queen's family. The dream of the coup had been a barely competent royal-to-be, a woman that would smile and wave but have no substance; instead they had been granted a farmer more adept than they had thought possible.

In short it was Rhiane's success, not her failure, that had led to their murderous fervor.

Classified assessments by the intelligence community were that the plan was ingenious- though that word was not used for fear of being reprimanded by the queen. In the event Rhiane died, regardless of circumstances, the monarchy would be blamed. The rebellion was using their history against them: everyone was quite aware that 'breeding spouses' had a definitive expiration date. This was tolerated, if not embraced, because the citizens believed the peasants who enjoyed the riches, the affection, the prestige, and all that went with their victory were properly compensated for an untimely death- and it was no secret to those that entered what would happen after a decade or so of marriage. If Rhiane died prematurely suspicion and scorn would follow, no matter what the mass media told them, and regardless of the truth of the matter. Luke could sincerely mourn her and only the diehard loyalists would believe in the honesty of his grief.

Similarly now it would be impossible to replace the princess elect. Queen Camilla refused to accept this reality but her rejection could not exact change. If she was killed the rebels would be able to parade around their martyr and build exponentially more momentum for the coup that sought to overthrow their cruel, callous overlords. If she was discharged they would not be able to muffle or silence what she could reveal to New Rome. Anyone Luke took next would be compared to Rhiane, the people would be reluctant to accept a replacement, those that had faith in the love story would be harder to persuade of its voracity, and those that thought it was a charade have more proof to drive them into the arms of the revolution.

The only way the throne could win was to use Rhiane as intended. So long as she was smiling, waving, pursuing her philanthropy goals, hanging off Luke's arm, and charming as she had been doing for a week, it would be detrimental to the civil war brewing. Were she to be stolen, kidnapped, or killed, it would benefit dissidents more than it could ever aid the rulers of the kingdom. That was why they were so desperate.

"Tell the doctor I'm fine with my sling," she breathed. It was not fear that prompted this implied refusal of medical intervention yet again- she felt guilty and diminished, unworthy of anything more than what was absolutely necessary by Luke's standards. His stubborn betrothed wanted to punish herself in the only way that was possible.