Luke's words pierced the drowsy haze of her mind. With a groan she pulled down the sheets and rubbed her eyes against the light that illuminated the room. It was still relatively dim, rather than brightly lit, but anything except complete darkness was currently unwelcome. "I didn't each much yesterday," she murmured with a stifled yawn. It was a vast understatement. Most of what had been brought to her before her surgery had been sent back to the kitchen not out of malice but because she had lost her appetite. The princess elect had eaten more when she had been served meals during the contest and immediately thereafter, when her caloric intake was actively limited by the crown to help mold her into the rail-thin shape viewed favorably by the higher class. Were she to continue on a path of such intense dieting she would almost definitely lose some of the exaggerated womanly curves that had defined her. Rhiane's life had given her an athletic build that was overtly sensual, but ladies of the court were more petite, adhering to an expectation that they would be delicate waifs rather than sultry vixens.

Waking was inevitable. Much as she'd like to hide from the world for days on end and drown in the nothingness that came when she was neither dreaming nor having nightmares, it was escapism, and Rhiane couldn't afford to be cowardly. Queen Camilla's dismissal no longer frightened her but rather she worried for who might replace her. The more she dwelt on the notion of another commoner taking her place the more convinced she was she must stay. Many of her fellow contestants had been intelligent but naive, strong but easily manipulated, kind but emotionally vulnerable. The palace would crush them underfoot. Like the martyr she was Rhiane would rather endure the death threats, the criticism of the aristocracy, and the knowledge she was only a pawn to the monarch than subject someone innocent that would be broken in short order by all the pressure.

And perhaps, deep in her heart, she had to concede she was greedy. There was not much she had coveted. As everyone had witnessed she did not care for the wealth her new lifestyle afforded, did not ask for ways to spend or make demands for personal items, and the gifts she had purchased in the first days of the journey were not for herself. Last night had given her an ounce of hope. Rhiane wanted to have Luke's hand in marriage. Perhaps his confession was drug-induced fallacy, and they'd never be more than professional companions, and he would have numerous affairs under her nose. What she did have, though, was the knowledge he couldn't and wouldn't take another wife until she was gone. The farmer had a chance. While she was still didn't completely believe in romantic love, and that she could have such a thing, she couldn't help but have moments of weakness where she wanted to try.

With great reluctance she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. The strap of her nightgown fell off her shoulder and she absently moved it back into place. She ought to get dressed for the day but she was in no rush. Luke had seen her in less and now that he had not shown any signs of being tempted to make her a conquest. Now that he appeared to be back in his right mind she could expect him to be just as detached, restrained, controlled, and disinterested. "When do we have to be ready?" she asked without making any sort of commitment to eating. Her stomach was growling but she stubbornly believed she could keep skipping meals if they were on a tight schedule. Rhiane didn't want anyone to impede the trip more than she already had with heir wild driving and subsequent crash. If she had to go hungry and suffer through a long day it was only right.

She ran her good hand through her hair and looked blearily past Luke towards the bathroom with a grimace. Although she had a wider range of movement and could now eat by herself, washing her long hair was a difficult task on the best of days, and it would be made harder if she didn't have her flexibility to stretch and reach around the back of her head. Dr. Gulsvig didn't work miracles. For today at least she'd have to call on a bodyguard to help her wash. It left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Rhiane didn't like having people serve her with tasks she knew brought them no joy- and it bothered her more when she knew she couldn't trust the people who provided assistance.

"He doesn't say no," she said abruptly as she stared at the distant door frame in contemplation. "It's nice to have someone listen, and agree with you, but it's not healthy. Someone who never agrees and someone who always agrees are never good for you. It's good to have someone who can tell you when you're wrong because then you can trust them to tell you when you're right too. No one's right all of the time." The person of whom she was speaking was, of course, Tobias. Luke could surmised their constant disagreements frustrated her just as much as they did him, but she appreciated his honestly, and that she did not view it as a completely negative aspect of their relationship. "I don't think he'd even say no if I asked him to help me wash my hair," she mused without seriously considering such an order.