During the entirety of the economical conversation Rhiane listened with unwavering intensity. She kept her features placid, and her body language that of relaxed composure, but her piercing gaze was shrewdly dissecting the ventured opinions. Occasionally she would allow a bemused smile to alight upon her lips as if she found a particular statement to be quietly humorous. This perplexed the other aristocrats. They took great pains to avoid addressing her directly but they certainly noticed the changes in her expression that all but criticized their beliefs. Luke had already proved he would not be their ally in soliciting a verbal response from his fiancee, something they could belittle and chastise, and thus they were resigned to suffer under the occasional sign of her clever belittlement. What could they say? None could very well request she refrain from smiling.

From the moment that Anton Fuerello grinned at the princess elect, more eager to overlook her absence prior, she paid him slightly more favor than the rest. Most of the time she remained silent during the discussion. The few times she ventured to speak it was to give a nuanced commentary about something in which she was uniquely knowledgeable, such as the stock fluctuations of a company which she had followed closely, or the proclivities of farmers required to utilize regular crop rotation. She also also would nod her head in agreement with Luke when it suited her, or Anton, but none of the rest. By all appearances she ignored those in attendance of her same sex. Besides being women they had little in common; they had no interest in business and she did not care to participate in their petty games.

The topic was suitably distracting that Rhiane, who was not eating nearly as enthusiastically as she had in the past, took twice as long to finish her meal as she might otherwise. What she lacked in speed she made up with in table manners. The ladies watched her like predators eager to find a basis on which to criticize her etiquette. They found none which fouled their impression of her that much more. The peasant had prepared herself extensively for social situations such at these; at a minimum she knew how to keep herself from committing an offensive breach of protocol.

"Yes, we do have another pressing engagement," Rhiane confessed as a servant rushed over to pull out her chair for her. As she rose she leaned forward out of necessity ever so slightly, the elegant draping of the fabric gifting the male nobles an ever more tempting portrait of what they had arrogantly derided earlier. It was not a scandalous act, as she hadn't bent low enough to be overtly seductive, but it would breed jealousy for the crown prince that was whisking her away presumably to his bed that evening. Standing was not all that much better. Sitting for a prolonged period of time had caused her skirt to inch up her thighs until she smoothed it back down to its full length.

"Thank you again for your time. This has been a most enlightening day. I look forward to telling both the queen and our esteemed nation what has transpired," she said with a sweeping gaze. They weren't privy to the details of the arrangement with the queen and her future daughter-in-law. Not only was that private and personal, they were a far distance from the capital, and would have been one of the last to be brought into her inner circles. Nonetheless this made them all incredibly nervous. With Rhiane there was no guarantee she would not somehow let it 'slip' on broadcast they had ruthlessly disrespected her. Similarly they could not tell for certain if she would confide to their monarch how the queen's own judgment was questioned through her selection of her son's fiancee.

Their farewells had prompted the waiters to alert the bodyguards, whom had been waiting outside, to gather at the entrance for their charges. Tobias reappeared, as had Lia and Octavia now that the package had been sent in transit. Rhiane plucked Tobias's coat from the back of her chair, not wanting it to leave behind, and made her way towards the door unless otherwise halted during her procession. She longed to be rid of the pretentious squabbling highborn that thought their lives were filled with struggles. No life was completely free of stress, yet they continuously underestimated the pain of the lower class, and moaned with such sorrow while they had a great amount of control over their fate.

Now that she was on the precipice of going to the event she actively looked forward to she felt her arm began to throb. The changes in temperature had been unkind to the healing process and the pain medication from earlier, that she did not know Luke had mixed into her juice, had begun to wane in its strength. She sorely wished for a nap. It felt like a disservice to rush to the fields to tour the farms when she was exhausted. Fervently she wished there was magic in the world that would grant her refreshment without the time constraint or risk of nightmares. Perhaps there would be a way to coax Luke into a hot spring excursion later- not that she wanted to share a bath with the heir to the throne. Her anger from earlier had been diminished by his leap to his defense but not been erased. That had had called commoners lazy seared into her psyche. Rhiane felt positively compelled to exemplify just how hard-working and dedicated her peers were, even if meant foregoing more nourishment, medication, coats, and sleep. She would prove him wrong.