"Are you sure you were seeking approval from the right people?" Rhiane asked somewhat pointedly, though she was not trying to provoke him into another verbal war. "Some are impossible to please, and will criticize what you say and do, because they demand an unattainable perfection. There are others, though, that would give you that approval of your hard work if you only gave them the chance," she added more softly. She knew that as crown prince he felt there was always an opportunity to approve; this she understood. Never getting the gratification of validation, of praise, of appreciation could be detrimental, however, and crush him were he not careful. Silently she wondered if Queen Camilla ever lavished upon him for his accomplishments. As an outsider she had presumed that the sovereign struck the right balance between being too stern and too lenient. As of late she was not so certain that Luke was not operating in a vacuum of positive reinforcement unless it was a sycophant.

"I'm not too tired," she protested lamely as he entwined his fingers but then was overcome with evident concern. The former farmer was lying to herself more than him. The fact she hadn't even buckled herself into the vehicle before promptly falling asleep on the short ride to the mountain oasis was indicative of her depleted energy level. While the hot spring had rejuvenated her, and she was not as listless and exhausted as she had been before arriving, it did not contain magical properties. That she would succumb to slumber before him was all but inevitable. Only her stubborn desire to cling to waking hours kept her fully upright and cognizant.

Just as she was starting to piece together an argument for staying he mentioned watching a movie or the news and ordering wine. Rhiane watched his backside as he drifted away towards the shallow end of the pool in confusion. This interlude of peace and flirting had been a welcome departure from their bickering. She had enjoyed it for what it was, a distraction from all their trials and tribulations, but she hadn't allowed herself to expect that it would impact his feelings about her on a whole. She was still a commoner that had insisted on dressing in peasant clothing, who had refused his plea to wear her designer dress with his coat, who had boldly defied her instructions for how to behave with the public. The event had been a great success. That did not mean, however, he forgave her for her perceived transgressions, and she did not bank on time smoothing over his frustrations.

After a few moments of hesitation she followed behind him, but rather than reaching for her garment, she wound her arms around his midsection. She was not trying to seduce him- though if he was she would not have been upset- but rather than she was seeking some manner of reassurance through physical contact. "You're not still mad at me for the tour?" she ventured. It was a sore topic she knew. Her voice faltered slightly, the late hour and toll of the day making her emotions more exposed, making her words more sincerely vulnerable than they might be otherwise. "I knew it made you angry, but I wanted to do my best, to succeed so that everyone could see how well I could do," she murmured. "I wanted to prove myself."

Rhiane paused. No matter how compromised she was from everything that had occurred, she was still reluctant to solicit an opinion from Luke. Most of the times he was thoughtful and considerate it was not on account of her feelings. Asking him for an objective assessment of her performance was an invitation for another prejudiced blow. Earlier he had not let their intimacy inhibit him from disclosing how mentally inferior he found the lower class to be. There was no guarantee he'd be kinder now than he had then. Before she knew what she was doing she spoke again, her lips brushing against his skin as she tightened her hold. "Will you really stay with me when I sleep?"

She was too proud to admit it, but she was afraid to be alone. Lia and Octavia were fine bodyguards. They would protect her from external threats she had no doubt. Neither woman would hold her when a nightmare struck, or soothe away her anxiety, or understand how terrified she had been when she had seen someone die right before her eyes. Luke came from the same world as the noblewomen did, as did Tobias, but neither was as formal and distant as her female retinue. The thought of relying upon them to rouse her from haunting memories and to watch over her as she tried to rest was more than mildly uncomfortable. In a few weeks or months she might trust them more with her heart, but she did not know, and would almost rather brave the horrors of isolation than their judgmental company.