The princess elect was subdued and suspiciously compliant as Luke helped her wash her hair. It was a stark departure from either the vacant detachment she exhibited after the clinic or the aggressive independence she typically had in private. Once he had finished rinsing out both the shampoo and conditioner she had filled the tub with water and allowed herself a brief chance to soak. It proved to be more relaxing than tossing and turning in the bed trying to sleep when only nightmares plagued her. Rhiane slipped down into the water up to her neck, making certain her brace was kept dry and elevated as a precaution, and mulled over the news coverage.

Seeing her mother's face so brazenly plastered on the screen had been sobering after the highs of post-coital bliss. Luke might not completely understand the subtleties of her reaction but she doubted he would have been pleased if it was his deceased father being displayed as part of the nation's propaganda. The late Violet Black would not have objected to her image being used to bolster her daughter's reputation, especially after how much aforementioned daughter had suffered taking care of her during her decline, but she would have balked at being used in anything tangentially related to pro-monarchy rhetoric. And that was exactly what was being done. Rhiane's empathetic character was being capitalized upon so as to invoke compassion for her future spouse and in-laws and rage against those who had done her harm.

No sooner had she stepped out, wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, and shuffled into the bedroom still deep in thought than there was a knock at the door. With exhausted resignation she allowed herself to be examined by Dr. Gulsvig without protest so as to expedite the process. The older physician made a couple coy allusions to the couple's morning frolic but she wasn't embarrassed. Everyone had expected them to eventually have sex, or at least for her to fall prey to the crown's prince charms and be so smitten she couldn't control herself, and so she felt relatively little shame. She had not yet abandoned all hope they could return to a more professional version of their relationship eventually. Tangling themselves between the sheets did not change them into completely different people.

The stylists were less subtle in their piqued interest that suddenly Luke and Rhiane were confirmed lovers. More than once she caught them looking at each other over her hair with knowing smiles. There was something about romance, or the perception thereof, that made rational people behave like children. The princess elect stared at her reaction as she watched them erase all evidence of her fatigue, as they smoothed over the blemishes of turmoil with brushes and powder, as they painted her lips with a gloss as if the trauma could be covered physically and stifle the rest. This might be how they were used to coping with tragedy but her resolve to be defiantly different solidified the longer she was in the chair. 

Rhiane's dark chocolate hair shone in the light as they finished coiling it into an intricate design where half was curled upon the crown of her head and the rest was left free. Yesterday it had been frazzled and tangled but today she appeared every inch a model for a luxury brand promising women could have a similarly idyllic mane. As she turned in her chair the dangling V-neck of the dress granted Luke, who was standing and had the advantage of height, a generous view of her cleavage. It was an overtly sensual garment and would make her fetching eye candy for the male aristocrats they would be meeting for lunch.

"Could we have the room?" she asked with a flashed brilliant smile to her attendants. It was the same expression she always had when she was charming the servants into compliance, but there was an edge of authority in her countenance as well. "There's a private matter I'd like to discuss," she explained lightly but there was a fire behind her green eyes her betrothed had seen before. Patiently she waited until they had all exited the room before she stood, slipping her feet into the precariously tall heels that had been selected to accentuate her shapely legs and compliment Luke's height.

"I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish, Ms. Viscomi," Rhiane began politely, "but I do not believe it would be appropriate for me to comment on the rebellion's motivations." What she hid was that she knew all too well that not every member of the revolution was an anarchist that hated the queen. While she did completely agree with their ideologies, the highborn that spoke with her seemed to think that she did not share some philosophical beliefs, and she was not going to feign that the peasants were living in a paradise when she had herself lost two members of her family to their passive negligence. Seeing the late Violet Black reminded her that the coup was violent and terrifying, but so too were loyalists of the kingdom.

Luce Viscomi was surprised by this sudden refusal. Until now Rhiane had been the cooperative half of the engaged couple, the icon that so easily adapted to their strategies, and she had been so agreeable this turnabout was unanticipated. She glanced towards Luke but the former farmer was not considering the matter up for discussion. "It would be out of character. The public sees me an object of great sympathy, who has been seriously harmed, who has a past of loss, who ought to be consumed with trying to cope. If I suddenly presented myself as an expert on the resistance the day after they will know I am only parroting what I've been told. I'll lose my credibility as genuine and relatable," she insisted. But Luke, who knew her better than Luce Viscomi, could surmise this was much deeper than what she said alone. Rhiane was angry, indignant, furious over something, and she had haphazardly funneled all her anxiety into this growing tide that bubbled beneath a composed exterior.

Fortunately Tobias knocked on the door a second later and entered with two boxes in his hand. "Pardon the interruption. Prince Luke's replacement device has arrived as well as Miss Black's device." Rhiane had not asked for such a thing but it was another accessory of the wealthy that they had been trying to persuade her to wear. At the very least it was a security measure. They could monitor the royal-to-be if she kept something on her person that had access to all her methods of communication. Tobias's eyes flickered over to Rhiane's ensemble and settled into a light frown of disapproval before he gave Luke his case.