It was dinner that presented the first complication that sent Luce into a frenzy. Alcoholic beverages were common enough among the poor, especially the hardy farmer folk that were present at that evening's gathering, in both the form of wine and beer. This and itself would not have been an issue two days ago. Unfortunately, the prince and princess elect had both been injured the day prior and had taken various medications necessary to expedite their healing. She had checked and confirmed with the attending medical staff several times that neither of her charges had taken a dose or were otherwise under the influence before the meal was served. Frequently liquor could cause complications when in conjunction with certain prescriptions. Servings of pinot noir, apple cider, and stout were distributed to everyone of age with no objections.

She was watching from afar while plates were being set when Tobias sidled up to her silently. "Ms. Viscomi," he intoned, "may I remind you of this morning?" The warning did not immediately click. Her brows were furrowed for several long seconds before she realized that he was referencing the erotic sounds coming out of the room shared by the currently agitated couple. Normally this would not be any of her business, as she did not honestly care about their private life, but it was relevant to this event. Chances were slim that Rhiane had conceived, yet she could not pull aside the woman and question her on her cycle, and she definitely could not quiz them on the use of protection. They were, after all, engaged for the purposes of procreation. She turned more and more pale. Even if there was a .001%  chance it was her duty to not let any poor decisions be made on the presumption it would not matter later. Opportunists such as the Ferullos would calculate back nine months and slander the royal family were they to ignore the risk.

"I'll intercept this one," he offered, implying the onus to halt the flow from waiters was on Luce. Without waiting for her reply he strode over to the princess elect and leaned over her shoulder when Luke stepped to the side to take one his numerous phone calls. "My apologies, Ms. Black, but in your condition you can only drink water," she said with a gesture towards her arm. He lifted away the wine that had been set before her and replaced it with a glass of benign water. As he passed his cousin he frowned slightly to himself. The fact that Luke could not feign happiness for his betrothed implied a persistent level of immaturity. He ought to have been delighted, because alienating Rhiane would make it that much easier to lure her to the rebellion, but he also loathed to see her in any emotional pain no matter the source.

Luce continued to fret, as was her job, over the lack of communication between the two people in the room that were supposed to be madly in love. Every time she managed to arrange for someone to bridge the divide, either a reporter with a question for both, or someone to introduce themselves formally to the pair, the crown prince had left his seat or the princess elect took control when it was evident he did not want to involve himself in the slightest. It was frustrating. She did not approve of Rhiane's clothing choice- she detested it- but she had large smiles, impeccable etiquette, she was thoughtful and sweet, respectful of her audience without being overtly pandering, she could provide expert advice on a myriad of topics related to the industry, and was everything she could have wanted. Had Luke given half as decent a performance it would have been a success that would earn her praise from the queen herself. No present seemed to notice or care, however, with the exception of herself and the two aristocrats that looked as if they thought they were being subjected to torture.

Shortly after dessert was brought out Rhiane started to wilt. Her desire to remain was strong but there were visible signs that her willpower could not contain. She continued to endear herself to the peasants, especially the elder to whom she'd made some gentle suggestions based on her experience with products and equipment, but she was forced to move her injured arm into her lap to conceal its trembling. Her shoulders had begun to subtly droop. Answers to questions were ever so slightly slower as her exhaustion clouded her mind. Tobias had provided her an out but she was afraid of the repercussions. Luke did not want to stay but she did not know if she left now if he'd consider her a failure and remain angry. She feared not living up to the lofty expectations others held, of being perceived as weak and therefore a burden, of making a fatal misstep, and so she tried to pretend that nothing was amiss.

Tobias pulled out his device and, under the pretense of doing something work-related, sent a personal message to the crown prince: [i]She isn't giving the signal to leave. You're the only one close enough to intervene.[/i] He hoped this would alert Luke. Much to his chagrin he knew Rhiane was more likely to do something to please her fiance than him; but whether the heir to the throne recognized this or noticed she was figuratively dead on her feet he was uncertain. The bodyguard would not offer up any additional information. If the prince knew how affected the stubborn former farmer was when he had exited the SUV on poor terms he might be more insufferably smug.