With another low groan Rhiane peeled herself off the mattress by first rolling to her good side and then sitting upright. Competing urges, needs, and desires left her indecisive about which she ought to appease first. Truth be told she was almost certainly just as insatiable, if not more, than her fiance when it came to the fulfillment of vulgar acts of the flesh. Entangling herself with Luke again was what at the forefront of her mind as she fervently wished for an encore yet it was not possible at present. The princess elect had been debating between sleeping or eating when the suggestion was made to have breakfast. The heir to the throne's words were all the encouragement she needed to be prompted into action rather than lamenting the options for which they had neither time nor energy.

It was perhaps the most consciously cooperative she had ever been with the crown prince. Stifling a yawn she moved closer to the nightstand and took a few generous gulps of the medicated orange juice without any protest. Rhiane plucked a pastry off the platter, ripped it in half, and shoved a large offering of flaky layers of croissant stuffed with apple jam into her mouth. The shift in her demeanor could be attributed to both his more considerate approach and the appeal to her natural inclinations, but it was undoubtedly also because she was still riding the highs of contentment from their romp. The former farmer was a complex individual but was not without her simple pleasures. She could not be bribed with wealth or impressed with stature, but she could be coaxed with sweets and affection from a suitable person.

Just as she was mulling over a snarky response to his joke about Tobias she watched as Luke picked up his tablet and answered a call. Though she did not mean to eavesdrop she could not help hearing the conversation. Callista, whom Rhiane regarded with a warm fondness, was worried about her brother. The princess elect reasoned this was because Queen Camilla had to divulge to Luke's siblings the events of the last day. Had she heard Gerald was in a similarly deadly incident she might have been similarly bombarding him with frantic calls and messages. Shrugging her shoulders silently she kept eating. It was what they said next that snapped her attention back to the discussion- the news. Rhiane was confused. None of what transpired should have reached the media unless the crown or rebellion leaked their version of the events.

She was still perched on the edge of the bed nude, completely exposed as she had no compelling motivation to cover herself with the soiled sheets, when the video connected. The twin princes, unless blocked by Luke's shoulder, would have a generous view of the peasant's assets that had catapulted her to becoming the victor of the the contest. Rhiane would not have been embarrassed had she known. In almost every circumstance she was very confident with her body. What would have concerned her is whether or not this might invite a complex situation later should either of her future brother-in-laws not be quite so faithful to the sanctimony of marriage. Women had certainly been a complication in the relationships between brothers before.

As her betrothed shower Rhiane turned on the screen in their room and selected the first station dedicated to news that she found. She continued to drink her orange juice and swallow down fruit and bread slathered with butter as she waited with fading patience for whatever headline the royals referenced. There was a short segment about fluctuations in stock prices and an update on an arson investigation of a baron's estate followed by breaking news: the palace had confirmed an attack on the recently engaged Princess Elect Rhiane and Prince Alessandro as the cause for their delay in their tour schedule.

The escapism provided by two hours filled with the release of sexual tension and lust had almost made her forget about her trauma. Her appetite began to fade as she watched the sensationalist piece speculate about the extent of the injuries, which were currently under wraps, and the true identities of the so-called revolutionaries. It was hard for her to not relive the panic she had felt when the SUV sailed through the air, when she had seen Luke gasping for breath beside her, when assassins had burst into the clinic bathroom with weapons and taunts. It was surprising that the monarchy had said anything but it was not at all shocking the coverage exclusively vilified the coup. Rhiane could understand why they had thought this might be a good strategy for dealing with the rebellion but she worried it might just incite them.

Naively Rhiane thought this could not get worse; however, the reporters knew what sold was capitalizing on tragedy. The screen shifted from a desk with two men and a woman debating military approaches to this threat, which they all predictably endorsed, to a sombre middle-aged lady in a tailored blouse and skirt suit. Behind her an oversized image of a woman with long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a charismatic smile emerged into view. Rhiane was mortified. For years she could not bring herself to look at a photograph of her deceased mother and now it had finally found its way to nation-wide broadcasting. Her bother and father would be enraged and horrified at the lack of respect being shown.

"As we all know, Princess Elect Rhiane Black is the daughter of the late Violet Black, a citizen of New Rome who lost her life in the plague of seven years ago. Miss Black also lost her brother..." it trailed on but Rhiane looked down rather than confront what would be the smiling handsome face of Edwin Black. It made sense. Sooner or later they would find a way to incorporate her past to help convince the masses how the rebellion was cruelly targeting someone that did not deserve their scorn. Rhiane was a much more compassionate figure than anyone else in the royal family with the exception of Callista, but the farmer was a pawn, and princess was a treasured daughter who wouldn't be used so callously.