"I trust him," Rhiane insisted. There was an uncharacteristic waiver in her voice, as if she wasn't quite ready to assert herself as aggressively as usual, but there also a the hint of the stubborn streak he had become all too familiar with over the course of the last week. "The rebellion..." she chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, trying to reason out the best way to approach the explanation. "In villages everyone knows someone who at least sympathizes with their views. You can't just avoid people because they don't like the monarchy- they are the grocer, the teachers, the nurses, the factory owners, the seed suppliers, people you interact with every day, and it's not like everyone who supports the rebellion is violent. I'm sure if the people that attacked lived nearby they knew the doctor and he might have known them, or their loved ones, and that makes it harder," she said a little more quietly. "It's harder to have a face to put to evil intentions."

The way in which she spoke suggested that it was not just the doctor that might be struggling with reconciling an individual, one that could be an unassuming neighbor or friendly passerby on the street, could be a cold-blooded goal assassin. For Luke supporters of the revolution were strangers. Dismissing an enemy combatant with which one had no association or similarities was infinitely easier than if they personally recognized or related to them. "And besides, I know the royal doctors treat me because they are ordered to, because I'm the princess elect. The doctor from the clinic would treat me even if I was still a farmer. That makes him more tolerable," she confirmed.

"You don't need to stay," she deflected, though Rhiane did cherish his comforting. It felt greedy to ask him to hold her hand through a procedure right after he had to endure his own. "I know you'll be tired," the prince elect said, ever the self-sacrificial martyr, "and I don't know long it will take them to fix my arm." She couldn't hide how much she dreaded the medical team arriving and being left a victim of their devices. It amazed her that Luke didn't seem bothered by the prospect of being poked and prodded.

Typically the brunette was a bottomless pit but she had no appetite. Her stomach was empty, she hadn't eaten in hours, and she knew she needed food to recover, but recent events had robbed her of the desire. It was bound to also be struggle to do basic things like cut her food, hold a sandwich, or lift a cup as these things required two hands. Though she quietly refused to acknowledge it the pain in her left arm was substantial. Rhiane couldn't even pretend she'd be able to defiantly utilize it to get through lunch or dinner, whatever the hour of the day it was now. She had lost track of time completely.

"You can lay here on the bed as well if it's more comfortable," she offered though it might seem slightly scandalous to a royal's sense of propriety. To emphasize her point she tried to shuffle herself to the side to create a vacancy. Beds in the palace were larger but this one could fit three large adults comfortably; they did, after all, have the most lavishly decorated villa as their accommodations for this leg of the trip.

"We can watch a movie," she suggested more thoughtfully, "if you don't need to caught up with work..." Luke seemed determined to stay by her side, which made her feel guilty, but not enough to ask him to leave. She worried for when she would fall asleep, as no matter how long she had been sedated and already slept, she knew she would grow tired more quickly with toll the trauma and injury put on her. Rhiane did not want to admit her weakness aloud but she felt safer knowing his presence might dispel nightmares if she succumbed.