Considering how she had yelled at him earlier that morning in frustration, Rhiane did not expect Luke to be in a mood to speak with her, much less compliment the arrangements in her hands. Before she remembered she was mad at him a soft smile spread across her face and she glanced down at the fragrant blooms with a wistful expression. She wanted to believe that they looked like respectable bouquets, that to the average person they were lovely aesthetically, that their sweet smell could compete with flowers imported from abroad, but she doubted it was true. Still, she appreciated her fiance's reassurance and it was just enough to make her warm to a conversation rather than brooding in silence and irritation.

"When we were all little, we didn't have money to buy presents, not just because we were poor but because we were kids, you know?" Whether or not the crown prince actually had the same situation as a youth she was not certain, but perhaps he could logically understand her point, and follow the explanation she was weaving verbally. Child aristocrats might have access to their parents' line of credit earlier in life, but it was dubious that they were given the latitude to make purchases as toddlers, or even when they began their first years of education. "Mom always tried to make our birthdays and holidays special, so we wanted to do something for her, so we'd make her cards, or art projects, or bouquets from whatever we could find, and she always pretended it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. We got older and she admitted to us she couldn't always read Gerard's handwriting, and Edwin's drawings were impossible to decipher, but that the real purpose of a present was to show someone you were thinking of them, that you cared, and she could see how hard we tried."

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, she glanced out the window. It was harder than she expected to visit home. Much as she would like to blame her conflicted emotions or someone other than herself, such as her father and brother with whom she was still arguing, it was her own fault she had unresolved feelings. The Black family household had been a place of great joy, love, and acceptance. Winters had been passed curled up on the rug in front of their fireplace trading made-up stories about ages long past, ribbing each other about idiosyncrasies, laughing at terrible jokes. No matter how tired they were from the fall harvest they would eat together in the evenings to boost each other's morale. Summer brought the oppressive sun and they would always have a huge jar of aloe in the kitchen where they would rub each other down when they inevitably got burned from not covering part of a shoulder or leg. Spring was her favorite, however, because that was when they had the most celebrations, when three of them had birthdays, when their conversations were light and smiles spread infectiously. If only their happiness had not been permanently marred by tragedy she might have still been grinning from ear to ear. Somehow she doubted she'd ever be that jubilant again- especially in the palace, where everyone was against her, where she was unwelcome, and she was only a novelty meant to be bred before slaughtered.

"I wanted to bring something to their... to their graves," Rhiane said, struggling over the word, "to show them.... I don't really buy into there being an afterlife, but I wanted to honor their memory with something personal." In truth she was a very sentimental person. She had kept her distance from her 'partners' of the past because she was self-aware of this fact. The princess elect knew that a singular encounter could be physical only, but if she saw someone repeatedly she would become romantically intimate, and then she would be woefully vulnerable. The death of two family members and the heavy reliance of the surviving two made her more needy than she'd admit, and she was terrified of getting attached, of becoming dependent and reliant upon someone that could abuse her trust. It was why she was thankful that Luke hadn't tried to woo her with trinkets and baubles; if he did, she'd be drawn to him more than she already was, and it would be that much more painful he didn't reciprocate her unspoken affections.

"You should get something for your sister while you're in town," she advised, subtly redirecting the conversation. "You saw how happy she was with my gift basket. If you got her something, anything, to show you're thinking of her, I think she'd be thrilled. I know we don't have the fancy shops of the capital, but her excitement over my gift proves she's not a girl who cares how much something costs, she just cares about the meaning behind it. Edwin and I used to be really close and I'd do anything to have the opportunity to show him how much I loved him. If I were you, I'd cherish every moment, and make sure she knows you do," Rhiane added gently, not trying to chastise, but impart what little wisdom she had.

Little did she know Callista had tried earlier that morning to suggest Luke buy his betrothed an engagement ring. They were, without knowing, two figurative peas in a pod, each trying to selflessly help the other in similar ways. While the only daughter of the queen was trying to improve her future sister-in-law's relationship, the former farmer was sincerely advocating that the teenager have her brother's attention from afar.