Tobias gripped the steering wheel more tightly as his gaze flickered to the rear view mirror. He had been intently watching Rhiane the moment she had stepped outside the meeting hall and subjected herself to the merciless cold mountain breezes. The smile that had alighted on her lips for the press was more reserved and strained to his trained eye and her posture more rigid. They had all assumed that when she had been pulled out of the clinic nearly catatonic that she had been broken. Now he was uncertain if they had misjudged, if she hadn't been in shock, and that the heartless projection of her mother's image on royal propaganda hadn't broken her. Whether or not Luke realized the mounting toll on his betrothed he was uncertain. His cousin wasn't acting as if he innately understood the situation, but that could be attributed to arrogance rather than ignorance.

In the years preceding the election of the princess he had become more heavily involved in the rebellion. His identity remained a secret to all but a few among the upper echelons of the resistance, and thus far his double life had yet to be exposed. The goal of the silent bodyguard was to spy upon the palace and, when the time arrived, help to extract whatever hapless girl was trapped by his ruthless aunt. Though his feelings for the sultry brunette had created new complications he was as of yet still devoted to his plan: he would spirit away Rhiane when the perfect opportunity final arose. The ambush of the extremists had nearly foiled him both by making his target a martyr and turning her against his organization completely, but the crown had failed to anticipate every factor properly, and now was veritably pushing the frustrated commoner back to a mental space where she could be rescued.

He shot a quick glance to Nolan who sat beside him. While no words were exchanged his tightly controlled expression still managed to convey that he knew there was an impending explosive response. Rhiane was fatigued, worn, under-dressed for the weather, discouraged, angry, in pain from her arm now that her medication had worn off, distressed at seeing her mother's photograph, and had just been granted two noble-born interlopers that had disparaged her openly on a visit to the people she called kindred spirits. She was a powder keg and the heir to the throne seemed determined to light the fuse and watch the destruction.

"You don't need me to stand in your way?" Rhiane asked incredulously. "What a splendid idea. If you are indeed that confident that you and your dear friends the baron and his wife can create a positive impression with the the masses, as you have proven to be so adept with in the past, then I will gladly request Ms. Viscomi coordinate a separate tour for myself. I certainly wouldn't want to impede your progress."

Her words seemed to echo in the SUV. They had been spoken pleasantly, as if with kindness, but there was no mistaking how deeply offended and irritated the princess elect was. She refused to openly discuss the issue of her philosophies and ideologies with Nolan and the other bodyguards present; short of the procession being stopped and everyone else exiting the car to grant the couple privacy it was not a matter that could be amicably resolved before their field inspection. Only encouragement, flattery, bribery, apologies, or some other empathetic appeal to Rhiane's emotions could smooth things over.

Of course the suggestion was a wretched idea. If the queen had been disapproving of her 'love story' splitting between two parts of the village she'd be apocalyptic about watching press coverage wherein Rhiane was once again missing and, instead of an endearing representative of the peasantry by her son's side, there were two aristocrats. Her absence would lend credence to the theories that the relationship was a farce. Having two highborn people would also, considering the political climate, emphasize the disparity between the farmers and their visitors. It would be nigh impossible to successfully cultivate sympathy. Their differences, the bias, and the favoritism between the classes would been transparent.

Rhiane leaned her head against the window as she stared at the landscape rolling by fixedly. Luke could try to pull rank; anyone could, really, as she had been reminded by Luce all that mattered was her birth. Ultimately she didn't care how they might punish her. Her life felt it had fallen to ruins and all she had control over now was not whether she died, for the reaper pursued her doggedly, but for whose cause she would be slain. At first she had thought it would be fine if she was the sacrificial lamb for the monarchy as she'd have children, and financial security for her family, but the culmination of the last week was filling her with doubts and worries. She wasn't even confident she and Luke were fit to be parents though she had dreamed of a family since she was young.