"No, I didn't watch a lot of news," Rhiane admitted with a casual shrug of the soldiers. "Other candidates in the contest were deeply distressed by my lack of knowledge on your personal past. Third place could last all your known paramours [i]by height[/i]." Quietly she tried to imagine how her betrothed might react to such an avid, starstruck woman as his counterpart for the next decade, the mother to his future children, and a bedfellow. Luke had a robust ego but little tolerance for sycophants. While he found her lack of respect and reverence for his status frustrating, and their philosophical differences grating, she would be willing to wager that a lovesick puppy would be even more annoying. In their eyes he could do no wrong, but to reach that cognitive dissonance they had to sacrifice portions of their wit and, perhaps most importantly, they slowly became unable to think for themselves without being told the 'correct' opinion to have. Third place was a sweet woman- but she would have been a disaster for his image. The crown prince's possible misgivings aside, a meek and subservient princess elect would have given credulity to the rebellion's claims the engagement was a sham, and the commoner bride-to-be a puppet.

Her bedroom was the smallest in the house. Hubert and the late Violet Black occupied the master bedroom and give the next largest bedroom, which had its own attached bathroom, to their eldest child, Gerard. Edwin was born next and had the next largest for his use. Rhiane, the youngest and "baby," was given one of the two remaining (the last was left empty for a guest). The addition of Sebastian and the death of her mother and brother could have resulted in a shuffle of the bedrooms. Technically the patriarch of the household did not need the most space as a widower, and the only couple in the house could have pit it to better use. Somehow, however, it was easier to maintain the status quo. It was as if the family passively believed that if they did not talk about it, and did not acknowledge it, the pain of their losses might disappear of its own accord.

Rhiane's room was tidy, if not slightly bare from her absence. Besides the paintings that Luke had discovered, there was a well worn wooden desk and chair, antique by modern standards, a dresser, a nightstand, and woven rug next to her bed. Unlike the sprawling mattress that was in his home, hers could only fit one person comfortably, and only if they were no taller than she was. Once there had been hand-drawn sketches on the paint, but today's renovators had swept a primer over her etchings, leaving only the canvases revealing her artistic past. Her teacher at the time had praised her talent, particularly in impressionism, and usage of bright colors. In a world in which digital art was so accessible, and her farm's needs were so pressing, she had voluntarily abandoned her hobby out of necessity.

"Gerard drinks like a fish," Rhiane laughed lightly as she pulled on a pair of tight, dark wash, fitted jeans. They weren't appropriate fashion for a ball, or even a press conference, but they were flattering without being wholly scandalous if they were photographed by town folk. "It improves his temper, though, and Sebastian can more than handle him. I'm much more worried about you... or maybe you ought to be worried about yourself. Aren't you concerned that me, as your sober date, might take advantage of you?" Arching one slender brow and smiling coyly, she pulled on a loose sweater with a deep V-shaped neck that hugged her curves. "I can already see the headlines: [i]Devious Farmer Steals Handsome Prince From Bar! Palace Shocked! County in Panic![/i]"

"On a serious note, do we need to take our bodyguards? Or do you need to send Anelle notice of the change in plans? I made a list, as promised, by the way," she added as she tugged on some heels and hopped over to her cleaned clothes. Tucked into the pocket in careful, flowing writing were potential spots they could visit: her old school, her mother and brother's graves at the cemetery, the local community center, a park with a botanical garden, and a nearby supply store that helped her when she first took over the farm's management, and whose owners with which she remained on friendly terms.

Deferring to his judgment for a change when it came to the staff employed by the crown, she busied herself with cleaning up her paintings, taking the time to sort them mentally as she tried to find a space under her bed in which they could be stored. Much as she enjoyed Tobias's support and friendship, she wasn't certain that he'd make the best dinner company, and Nolan even less. Lia and Octavia would be even worse. If they did not scoff at the other patrons of the restaurant, they'd undoubtedly find it an underwhelming experience for the end of the day, and attract the wrong kind of attention. Rhiane was not petty. She did not feel she needed to compete with other women when she was not actively seeking romance; all the same, until she was on better terms with the pair, she didn't care for their company. Perhaps she was becoming insecure about the fact even they were more Luke's type than a peasant, regardless of physical beauty.