Disappoint flashed over Rhiane's features as Luke again refused to consider letting her finish the tour by herself. No amount of reassurances that she would travel again in the future could truly pacify her. She knew that what her betrothed might wish to have happen and what the crown would pragmatically allow were far different beasts. There was every possibility that once she was sent back to the palace that they would determine that the threat of the rebellion was too great, the danger too her life too significant, and that her focus would need to be narrowed to producing an heir as quickly as possible. The wedding would still take place, of course, with copious amounts of celebration, broadcasting coverage, and interviews with reputable reporters that would edit the footage favorably, but her chief duty besides providing a positive image for the royalty was procreation. Queen Camilla would consider this concern when reviewing travel plan requests.

What the prince perhaps did not appreciate was how much his lover adored the journey. When out in the public she flourished, her charisma even more contagious and endearing than when digitized on a screen, and skeptics were won over every minute she spoke. She was warm, understanding, encouraging, and did not flounder under difficult questions, critics, or difficulties. For her it was not a begrudging responsibility that she was forced to accept. Every event made her glow with joy and pride, made her smile larger when recounting the day, made fond memories she would forever cherish no matter how exhausted she was immediately after their activities. The Rhiane that had been at the engagement ball was a positive tool for the monarchy to use. Only a week after she had been set 'free' to roam the country she had become more invaluable and beloved, but she had also thrived unexpectedly, brilliantly radiating a sense of fulfillment that had not been there before. The derelict corners of the empire and the decadent estates were equally prized. To imagine having it ripped all away caused her physical pain.

The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel was his throwaway comment that Callie, her future sister-in-law, might try to convince her to attend 'commitments' with her. Rhiane brightened slightly at the prospect as she asked, "Do you really think she'd take me with her?" From what little she knew of Luke's younger sister, she had a feeling that they would be fast friends, as the woman was the only one besides Tobias who had not exhibited a bias towards her due to her previous commoner status. That there was anyone that would [i]want[/i] her company was exciting. Her fiance had been with her mostly due to obligation, the solitary bodyguard that sincerely cared for her was too reluctant to admit he craved her presence, her family was regrettably estranged, and she did not have close platonic relationships of which to speak. A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips when she thought of all the fun she might have with the only daughter of the sovereign.

What reservations she had about the device he insisted she wear melted away when he leaned forward to kiss her. She relished in the idea of him worrying about her attentions turning towards another man (though impossible). Rhiane's countenance reflected her excitement when he alluded to meeting her needs. In her mind they were reaping the benefits of this arrangement, the endorsement of their trysts, and they need not be ashamed. It had, however, developed into something more. Already she was envisioning what sort of messages and images she might send to torture him so he could think of nothing but his return. This had gone beyond the satisfaction of urges. As their lips met he felt the passion behind the gesture. The same temper that had burned so hotly in jealousy, that made her so prone to simmering in fury, fueled her in different ways when she was not distracted.

While she had honestly not meant to make either Annelle nor Tobias envious, at least the latter of the two was. He suppressed the scowl of disapproval he would have worn if it was appropriate. Lia and Octavia raised their eyebrows at each other, finding it somewhat scandalous but not terribly surprising two highly attractive people were being affectionate, even if it was abnormal for a royal and their future bride. By now it was no secret the pair had progressed to intimacy. The frequency- twice in one day- had been more shocking than the display on the plane. Then again, the chemistry would be to their advantage later as if was genuine it would exponentially more compelling for a televised story.

"Fine, I'll wear it," she conceded, "but one two conditions. One, you carve out some time for me this evening that won't interrupt your work where you can put it on me," the princess elect said in a suggestive whisper that made it clear she would otherwise be in a state of undress, as would he. "Two, you make sure the witch doesn't get ahead of herself and try to buy the ring. I know it's not something you'd purchase personally, and I was fine with Luce selecting on on my behalf, but I don't want to wear a piece of jewelry for the rest of my life that an ex of yours picked out. And don't say it's something she wouldn't do. For precisely that reason she [i]would[/i] 'help' and back me into a corner where I'd have to accept."

Taking a deep breath she rose from her seat. Instantly the mask she wore at functions had slid back into place along with her pristine composure. Anelle was the enemy, or at least distrusted enough she earned herself the 'stranger treatment' from Rhiane. There was a blatant lack of amiable familiarity as she exhibited with other staff. "I'd like a few minutes after we deplane to make a statement to the press. Can that be arranged?" she inquired without disclosing what she intended to discuss.