The task that Rhiane had requested Tobias's assistance with was of a personal nature: she wanted to remove her paintings from her room. Her chief motivation was Luke, whom she assumed would find them to be nuisance, both as an eyesore and because they took up space in the already reduced accommodations of her personal home. Had she been able to accomplish this task on her own she would have. Unfortunately, the best place to relocate the paintings was Edwin's abandoned room, a place she still emotionally could not bear entering repeatedly. Pragmatically there was nothing wrong with temporarily storing her beloved artwork in a room no one used. Even if Edwin was alive he would not have been offended. In life he had been supportive of all her interests and hobbies, scolding Gerald if he didn't laud her with praise and appreciation for her efforts and accomplishments. Because she had never been allowed to grieve properly, she had unresolved feelings towards her departed brother, and survivor's guilt overwhelmed her quickly when her resolve flagged. The bodyguard didn't have the same reservations having never met the deceased.

"What are you going to do with them?" he asked pointedly after carting the first armful through the bathroom that connected the two bedrooms. "Do you want me to have them packed to bring back to the castle with us?" Tobias proposed respectfully, understanding she was a bit self-conscious about her landscapes and portraits, but hoping that embarrassment or insecurity wouldn't result in her disposing of them entirely.

Rhiane shrugged with feigned apathy. "Queen Camilla won't approve of them I'm certain. Besides, for the time being I'm in Luke's room at the palace, and it would hardly be appropriate with his decor. I'll let my father make the decision, but considering he's still angry over everything, they'll end up in the trash sooner or later. I was never really good with a brush anyway," she added dismissively, finding it easier to ignore her talents than acknowledge them. If she did the latter, it would be painful to concede how much she had sacrificed in becoming the princess elect, about how she had stifled herself to a role of acting on a world stage, her audience oblivious to the depths her soul, while she acted as a breeding mare for the royalty.

"May I keep one?" Tobias inquired softly. His cousin would be beside himself with fury. As possessive as Luke was, Tobias was confident that he would be livid if the surviving canvas of Rhiane's artistic impression was anyone other than himself, but the stubborn, proud, arrogant heir to the throne was unlikely to stoop so low as to ask for a gift, much less display it where staff could ponder about his taste or attachment. This was a flaw the two relatives did not share.

"You want to keep one?" Rhiane repeated incredulously. She stared at her protector and then sighed, "I suppose, but it's amateur, so promise me you won't tell anyone I'm the one who did it. Since it doesn't fit with the image the crown has for me, it might reflect poorly if anyone knew I was the artist." Had he been less gentle or considerate she would have refused. It was hard to say no, however, to the single friend she had made within the capitol, and the only member of the entourage that didn't actively look down upon her for her commoner birth. Before Anelle's interference, she felt she had been making some small progress on endearing herself to a few others, but now she doubted there had been any headway made at all.

"Thank you. I will be right outside your door until his highness joins you," Tobias assured after he had transported the paintings. Silently he had decided to wait until morning to choose the one he would keep; he wanted to mull over the selection and view them in better lighting.

For the hours that Luke spent in his meeting, Rhiane grew increasing angry, despondent, resigned, and agitated (in that order) while she waited. She had undressed completely and burrowed under the covers, an extra blanket pulled on top to dispel the seasonal chill, the house's walls not as perfectly insulated and other buildings. At first she had stewed in her negativity, damning her betrothed, his mother, and the image manager equally, but then boredom had persuaded her to find work to keep her occupied. A few messages to her friends later and she had pulled up their business records on one of their outdated hand-held devices, making notes on the budget, the accounting, the purchases, the equipment, and the expenditures. Accompanying these markings she gave recommendations and advice, pointing out places where there were surplus seeds, crops that were not as profitable, or repair shops had added unnecessary surcharges. She had made it through three, and was beginning on the fourth, when she started to grow increasingly drowsy.

By the time her fiance had slipped into their room, she had drifted off to sleep, turned on her side, the device's screen dimmed from inactivity and having fallen to the floor. She did not sleep nearly as peacefully as when she had company. Tossing and turning over the last half hour she had been visited in her conjoined dreams and nightmares by ghosts, by unspoken fears, by haunting memories of a car crash for which she took full responsibility and an attack on the clinic that ought to have culminated in her death. Tobias had refrained from entering since she hadn't yet cried out. While he heard her twisting and turning, it would have been a poor excuse for rushing in on his undressed charge, and not even his blood ties would have saved him from dismissed from his position. All he could do was glower when Luke passed him on the way in; this was, at least in Tobias's mind, almost entirely his fault.

He could not have known that Luke had hundreds, if not thousands, of copies of messages and forum posts made by the rebellion, albeit with identifying information of the senders and recipients redacted. In them he had been one of the people calling for the 'rescue' of Rhiane from oppressive conditions, worried about her mental state, her physical well-being, and the cruelty of those who surrounded her. Now, more than ever, he was convinced that her liberation's schedule needed to be accelerated. Luke would never admit his feelings, never be willing to defend the former farmer against others, never realize how precious a person she was to lose, and how much his actions would damage her. If he could manage to abduct the brunette, if he did it sooner rather than later, she would never return to this life where she was the least important individual on everyone's itinerary.