Rhiane wholly and completely ignored the interloper- or at least convincingly acted as if she were. She was quite aware that Anelle was provoking her through her flirtations with Luke. The other woman was staking her claim, proving that they had a history, and veritably taunting the former farmer with the past, present, and implied future. It was up to the crown prince to rebuke the so-called Image Manager. When he failed to do so to the princess elect's satisfaction, she tried to drown them out with intense focus on the article displayed on her screen. Words of adulation swam in front of her eyes but so did certain questions buried in paragraphs of praise. Sentences calling attention to the fact the betrothed couple failed to show any genuine affection in public struck her like daggers to the heart.

It was growing harder and harder to ignore the comparisons. She had known when she joined the contest that had bedded all the most attractive and eligible female aristocrats. What she had failed to anticipate was developing sincere feelings for him. Now that she had, she could have easily put aside his sordid affairs, had one not reappeared in their shared cabin and arranged for a date. What was even more humiliating was that she knew whatever time she had spent with him eclipsed the days she had enjoyed Luke's attentions. There were undoubtedly more pictures circulated by the media of her fiance and any of his prior conquests embracing than the two of them. Anelle was not herself the problem. Rhiane could blame no one but herself for forming an attachment with someone who treated her entire gender like disposable toys.

The brunette continued to fixate on her perusing of the news even when she was directly addressed. She gave no indication she heard Anelle when she prattled on about making a list. Rhiane had no intention of complying with such a request. Her hometown was an unexpected and unwelcome stop, she already loathed the person who was trying to give her directions for their itinerary, and she balked at the notion of disclosing such personal secrets to anyone. There was no motivation for her to be obedient. No reward awaited her at the end of this adventure, and it would inevitably open painful wounds as they retraced the steps of her childhood.

Only after the intruder left and Luke wandered over did she rip her gaze from her reading. Rhiane was seething. She had been silently fuming and trying to contain her ire for several long minutes by the time he tried to initiate conversation. The heir to the throne produced the box with the personal device she recognized as having purposefully left behind in the villa in the wake of another another argument. Luke tried to succinctly explain himself and, she guessed, appeal to her through this expensive present. Under other circumstances it would have worked. Lingering post-coital bliss would have made her twice as delighted that he was delivering a gift that nearly matched something he already owned himself.

"Going to my hometown is a horrible mistake, outmatched only by the idea of having our first meeting with my family broadcast," she told him with a bitter edge to her voice. "They won't care that it's being recorded and will be brutally honest. Every detail of this arrangement that the courts and reporters are too polite to discuss, perhaps out of fear of your mother, they will unabashedly discuss. Luke, I have the [i]best[/i] temper between myself, my brother, and my father. They will call the stipend blood money, they will quiz you on what happened to my predecessors, the other prince and princesses elect, they will try to find any avenue to criticize a relationship they are already convinced is fake. Perhaps with some privacy I could defend this engagement, but how will I do that with your other future wife in our entourage? How do you expect me to possibly visit my mother's grave when I..."

She stood up restlessly and paced as she chewed the inside of her check anxiously. The more she dwelt on it the more certain she was that the meeting would be explosive. Ideally she would scream at the other two surviving members of the Black lineage, they would yell back, and afterwards they would be calm enough to find a way to endure the situation with their strong bonds of love. "When I left home to come to the capital we had a fight before I walked out the front door that would make ours look like friendly banter," she sighed, running a hand through her damp hair.

"No, no, absolutely not, I am not going to do a tour of my hometown. If you and that red-haired witch want to frolic through the fields you can be my guest," she declared as she almost vibrated with overt jealousy. "You can decide on what specific locations to visit over some wine, coordinate your performances, maybe even see if she can fit in that absolutely ridiculous dress that I was given to wear around the village." The green-eyed monster envy had started to consume the princess elect and make her even more rebellious than previously. Her threats were not entirely idle. Queen Camilla's leverage had lessened once the rebellion had made it apparent that they had the funds to provide financial security to the Black family members. That, and a recent infatuation with Luke, had been the two figurative carrots they could dangle to keep her loyal to the cause.