Waiting until Anelle had finally left, Rhiane sighed and looked towards her guard with an unreadable expression. "Would you do me a favor and ask Tobias to step inside, then ask Sebastian to come see me? There's something I'd like to discuss with them both," she said as calmly and kindly as if she had not been in a showdown of sorts. The staff had almost taken for granted that she would always have a pleasant disposition since it had not faltered in the weeks she had been princess elect. Now the illusion had been shattered and while they did not fear her, they had become to appreciate she was an unexpectedly complex individual, someone they may have underestimated on account of her low birth.

"Certainly," the guard said with a slight bow as she turned and departed to find the two men in question. Both beauticians immediately got back to work, but the tension in the tent was palpable, and the former farmer felt guilty forcing them into being an audience for her private dispute. While it was true they were not her friends, and they had probably been witness to worse conflicts within the castle over the course of their employment, she had personally contributed to their discomfort. Little could be done about the actions of others, but she was determined not to follow down a path of treating servants as second class citizens, regardless of whether or not they themselves looked down upon her.

"Don't worry, I only intend to call one person Satan today," she joked lightly, and she caught a smile from the make-up artist. The other woman gently dabbed at her face with a sponge, evening out the peasant's complexion, yet retaining the bronzed tone that she had become famous for. "I'll take full responsibility for what I said. If either of you is asked directly to provide a report of what happened, I will not hold a grudge if you divulge everything, although I hope you won't tell them one of the guards laughed. There's no sense in dragging anyone else into the trouble I'm sure I've just landed myself in," she told them as they worked. The cosmetologists glanced at each other but said nothing. She didn't expect them to respond. The longer she was surrounded by the nobility, the more certain she was that she was probably the first person to show genuine compassion to anyone that found themselves on the lower steps of the aristocratic hierarchy.

"You asked to see me?" Tobias inquired as he pushed aside one of the pristine tent flapped and stepped inside.

"Yes. Would you do me a favor and guard the tent's entrance? You don't need to do anything except prevent Anelle from interrupting us," she said, her eyes meeting us, an unspoken understanding exchanged between the contact. Lia and Octavia would balk at the order, loyal to the crown above all else, and defenders of rigid standards that made Anelle her superior. The cousin of the crown prince, however, was faithful to her interests, and she was certain that she caught subtle cues in his body language and countenance that belied he actively disliked the image manager under his aura of stoicism.

Nodding slowly he stepped around Sebastian as he exited, the latter of which was walking in cautiously. The bodyguards outside Rhiane's tent looked on in obvious confusion as Tobias took up a post [i]directly[/i] in front of the entrance, planted so firmly that not even Nolan or Luke could have tried to brush past without his permission or inciting an altercation. Her fiance wasn't forbidden, despite their argument earlier that morning, but she would cross that figurative bridge if his highness deemed her worthy of a visit. Until then, she could rest secure in the knowledge that would have a sanctuary impregnable to the redhead for a little longer.

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked, knitting his brows together in concern.

"I just called our image manager Satan to her face and ordered her out of my tent," she admitted with a shrug and a ghost of a grin upon her lips. "The schedule is so tight today I can't get away from my chair. Will you go cut some flowers in the garden for me?" Rhiane requested more softly. "I want to take a bouquet from the house when I..." the brunette drifted off, swallowing hard, unable to finish her sentence. Gerald would butcher her plants with the best of intentions and her father, Hubert, wouldn't be able to bring himself to help if he knew what she intended to do with them once he delivered them to her. Years after her mother's death, it was a taboo subject for more than a casual mention. At night she could occasionally hear him weep quietly into his pillow about the vacant spot on his bed that used to occupied by the person whom he loved most in the world.

"It's a wonderful idea," Sebastian reassured before his silence was misinterpreted as disapproval.

"There's something else I'd like you to do. Could you make a call for me? I still need to finish getting ready for my day around town- you can even make the calls after we've packed up and are on our way to the first destination in town," she flashed a smile that her brother-in-law inherently recognized as scheme. Internally he groaned. If she was plotting something related to this tour, it would likely 'stir the pot' so to speak.

"What sort of phone calls?" he slowly asked with his brows creased with worry.

"Here, hand me your device," Rhiane beamed, beckoning him over until he obliged. While he observed she keyed in a phone number and a name, one that would mean absolutely nothing to the two ladies in the tent if they were to glimpse it, but that he knew immediately. He didn't even need to ask [i]what[/i] he was supposed to say or do once he reached the person on the other end of the number. It was that of one of their neighbors down the road, whose second son had become a teacher at the school, the very one that was included in the day's tour. Perhaps this would have innocuous enough under ordinary circumstances, but the second son had a fondness for the only daughter of the Black family, and had been one of her flings. Without a doubt he was being asked to make certain their guide at the school that afternoon was the man in question.

"Are you sure about this?" Sebastian sighed, not at all pleased at being drug further into a lover's quarrel he was trying to resolve, not be an accomplice to growing larger.

"Absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?" she replied. He couldn't point out that it would make Luke jealous because that [i]had[/i] to be the point. Feeling frustrated and unappreciated, she was trying to prove to herself and her fiance that she was not without value. Tobias might have made the royal possessive, but this was lobbing another grenade onto the pile, since Rhiane had a dalliance with the educator, and he was not just a 'threat' in which she had shown interest. It did not matter that before the heir to the throne Rhiane had no desire for romance in her life whatsoever; Giorgio represented the fact that she was not an object of which he had taken ownership, that they had no honest vows of commitment, and that an interloper could be found if she put forth a minimal amount of effort. Sebastian could decline, but if he did she would find another way to have her way, and it might be exponentially less subtle.

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" he asked rhetorically before audibly exhaling with resignation. "I'll make two bouquets, but I can't promise they'll be as good as what the florist could arrange."