There were certain insults that offended Rhiane more than others; slights that impugned her practical sensibility were among those that made her the most upset. For a moment she simmered over the implication that she had failed in procuring medicine the day prior. While she appreciated that Luke had spent most of the day toiling in the fields with her father, brother, and brother-in-law, she had been quite busy trying to single-handedly tackle the renovation that her family had refused to begin. Managing was one of her talents. Despite her abilities, it had been a challenge, and something as small as making certain there was an item they never personally [i]wanted[/i] to use was so trivial it had never entered into her thoughts. Her lips pressed into a thin line. The former farmer had used the past tense purposefully, saying they had been too poor to afford pharmaceuticals rather than use the present tense to mean it was still true. Of course, the crown princess carelessly disregarded this nuance because it was convenient and gave him another avenue with which to criticize their lack of financial security.

Unintentionally her mind traveled down more unpleasant paths as he turned his back on her and made a call to Anelle. Briefly she struggled to put a name to what she felt, but a moment's pause brought to light the singular word: unwanted. He depended on his staff, on his mothers, on fellow aristocrats to meet his needs and engage him in meaningful conversation. More importantly, her attention was acutely pulled to the belief he would have been happier had their lives never intersected. If her mother had never died, had she never entered the contest, had she never won, he would have been more content with himself then when she interjected herself, challenging his philosophies, rebelling against his plans, ruining his relationship with a successive movie vixen. Rhiane didn't quite pity herself, but more and more she wondered if she was deluding herself into thinking that he was capable of seeing her as more than a peasant.

"I'm sorry that you don't feel well and have a hangover, I'm sorry that you have so much work to do, and I'm even sorry that you had to come to my home town," she began to address him, looking at his back since he refused to look at her. Perhaps he was annoyed by her nudity, but she was frustrated by how innately dismissive it was to have him turned purposefully to in the opposite direction. "But I won't apologize for how inconvenient it is for you that we grew up in poverty, or that yesterday I didn't think to buy pain reliever that no one in this house has wanted or used in years, or for my father doing things you dislike. Not once have I held you responsible for decisions your mother has made that I dislike," she pointed out. And she didn't. While she had major philosophical disagreements with the queen and was of the opinion that the current course of the kingdom would drive it into dissolution during her lifetime or her children's, she refrained from holding Luke personally accountable for decisions the monarch, despite the possibility he may have played a part in them. She knew he opposed his mother on some matters, private or political, and was his own person. At that same time, he seemed to be all to willing to impute the perceived sins of others to whom she was related or shared a socio-economic status. To say it was grossly unfair would be an understatement.

The day was off to a poor start. Not only had Luke's mood soured once he discovered she didn't have a single tablet to help mitigate the dull ache left from the previous night's drinking, she could already foresee another day of disagreements. Anelle wouldn't be able to stop herself from sniping at the princess elect's artwork, and she knew the servants would be biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing at the amateur paintings. In between defending her hobby, she'd have to act as a buffer between the lower class and Luke, navigate the town in a way that would be flattering and meet the approval of both the press and palace, and somehow not completely break down emotionally while visiting the graves of the late Violet and Edwin Black.

"I appreciate you want to take the canvases with us I just..." she paused and then sat down on the bed, running a hand through her hair. "It's already an uphill battle to have anyone treat me with decency, much less kindness, and this would just be another invitation for anyone and everyone to find an avenue for insults. Unless you can claim they don't embarrass you at all, we should leave them behind to rot. The less aspects of myself that the castle knows, and the more I hide, the easier it will be to transition into the role I am supposed to fill there," Rhiane said delicately. She had noticed that he said they wouldn't embarrass him [i]as much as the other day[/i], and odd choice of phrase unless they were an embarrassment, yet another way he could be jabbed and jeered into humiliation. As willing as she was to wage into war for vaccinations, healthcare improvements, and better representation of workers, she didn't know if she could risk having a passion ridiculed. Already she was not good enough for any lord or lady; she did not need to give them flaws to exploit, ammunition that would wound her soul.

"Why don't you stay here, rest, do all of the conference calls you have scheduled, read all the reports you didn't have a chance to get to. I'll parade the media around on my own," she stated, "There's no reason you have to feign interest in this place. You'll have a better chance to talk to Sebastian without me getting in the way," the proud brunette added bitterly, obviously thinking that her position as a burden was unchanged.