In the intervening time between when Rhiane had stirred and when Luke had been transferred to the bedroom she had been re-dressed. Her bodyguards were confident, regardless of what Luce Viscomi had been angling for during the procedures, that the crown prince would not be letting his fiancee leave the premises for any engagement that evening. Her sullied clothing had been stripped off and a nightgown had been pulled out of the salvaged luggage for her to wear. At the time the princess elect had been too drowsy to do anything more than lift her good arm when they pulled it over her head but it had not mattered. This was a simple enough task that the strength and coordination of the two women responsible for tending to her needs easily removed and deposited her back into the bed. Instantly she felt better. There was something soothing about having freshly laundered linens and clean, soft nightwear.

Rhiane was still basking in comfort and silence when the sheets were drawn back, two men placed the heir to the throne onto the other side of the mattress, and then he was covered to rest peacefully while the sedative wore off. Glancing over she idly wondered if this would be the unlikely beginnings of them actually sharing quarters. Before now they had been able to avoid sharing the same bed. Either she dozed off while on a sofa or sitting in a chair reading while he stayed up late. The palace liked to keep up appearances so they did not seem to mind having a suite with more than one bedroom so as to pretend the 'lovebirds' were saving themselves for marriage- despite both having lost their virginity long ago. Eventually they'd have to share a bed more regularly, however. Once the couple were wed there would be new expectations placed upon them, not least of which was children, and that would make it impossible to explain away never sharing a room.

"Not Sofia," she said with more jealousy in her voice than she would have liked. Rhiane tried to force herself to not care about Luke's dalliance with the beautiful, famous, beloved actress that had stolen his heart since before they had met. It was hypocritical of her to have resolved not to be in a romantic relationship with him, to keep things purely physical and professional, and then covet the very feelings she was inwardly rejecting. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself as she stared up at the ceiling. Nothing was as easy as she had anticipated. Every shared moment made it harder to keep the man beside her at arm's length.

"You must really love her," the princess elect remarked in an even tone. "To miss her this much, and be thinking of her, you must really love her. Have you talked to her recently?" Rhiane asked as she kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. It was easier to mentally erect walls between them if she envisioned the other woman entwined with Luke. She could convince herself that he belonged to someone else, that she was unworthy, that she did not want the affections of a man who could not see and appreciate her, that it was better to casually converse than have passionately fueled arguments and kisses in the rain.

But it still felt dangerous to lay where she was. They were a single man and single woman, both incredibly lonely, thrown together by politics, with the freedom and time to do much more than wait for dinner. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she made a concerted effort not to look at him. Had it been easier to find another place to recover she might have risked the nightmares she knew would haunt her purely to avoid the temptation. Tonight she wasn't as composed as usual. Her willpower had been shredded by guilt, by fear, by trauma, by pain, until there were only thin strands left. In the morning hopefully she would be made better with the distractions of visiting the masses, making speeches, and shaking hands, but right now there was only Luke. Luke with his tousled blonde hair and his sleepy, twinkling blue eyes.

"Is that why you kissed me?" she asked, ever a glutton for punishment, "Because you were remembering her?" It was something she was afraid of him answering. It would probably provoke his anger if not his pride. Were he to respond it would be brutally honest, perhaps unkind, and not what she wanted to hear, but it could help be the final nail in the proverbial coffin of her infatuation. Rhiane couldn't afford an escalation. If Luke so much as maintained this new status quo she was utterly doomed- because she refused to abandon the belief that she was unable of a fairytale like her parents enjoyed and now Gerald and Sebastian destroyed. It was for her own good that she help him annihilate this crush. The fantasy of the media could not become reality.