"Yes, I am quite worried," she candidly admitted with sincerity. The proprietor of the bakery and her daughter would see it only as an affectionate exchange, none the wiser that this was an abnormal confession, ignorant of the fact that the couple were carrying on with their engagement without a romantic aspect. In their own way the masses were seeing more of the truth than either the future bride or groom. As the pair told themselves it was a political arrangement they were participating in for arguably mutual benefit, their lies had begun to wear thin, and their honest feelings were bleeding out onto the surface. Surely the queen realized the charade that had begun with fooling the populace was now only fooling her son and daughter-in-law to be as they tried to deny the fact that their attraction was more than a shallow physical affair. What worried Tobias the most, more than Rhiane being beaten down by the nobility, was that she might be that perfect match for the cousin that did not deserve her in the slightest.

Mentally the princess elect attributed her concern to the fact if he faltered that she, as a convenient target of the aristocracy, would be blamed instead. If they were going to do a job she wanted to do it well, she further reasoned, though her heart knew that despite all her frustration, all her anger, and all her ire, she cared much more about it than she had divulged. Through all her thoughts of abandoning this tour and striking out on her own, she did not wish malice on him, only that he might eventually see the virtues of his father and stop following in the footsteps of his mother. Perhaps it was this shred of hope buoyed by fondness for the man buried beneath the crown that kept her by his side.

Quietly she observed the exchange between the business owner and Luke, certain that she would need to intervene at some point. Surprisingly he didn't immediately refuse the instant coffee with royal indignation. Blinking back her shock she stole a glance at Eve, the daughter, just to make sure she had heard him correctly. It was so out of character for him to be so agreeable with common establishments, beverages, and people, that she didn't know whether he was in the throes of caffeine deprivation, was trying to appease her, was attempting to keep himself from creating a scene with the media poised outside, or if somehow the last two weeks had rubbed off on him more than she anticipated. Caught so off-guard by his order, there was a prolonged pause as she belatedly realized he had asked her if she wanted a cup as well.

"No thank you, but could you pack me some water or juice, whatever you have? Caffeine in the morning will disagree with me," she said congenially with a bright smile and a wink towards the flustered women. The younger girl barely suppressed a giggle, not that Rhiane minded; she wanted to break the ice without leaving room for speculation why she wouldn't want the typical breakfast offering. The former farmer feared it would give her the jitters during a nerve-wracking day, that it could upset her digestion in a most unfortunate manner, but she was also incredibly apprehensive about whether or not they had been so cavalier with their prior romps. Proceeding with caution seemed the best course of action.

"You are full of surprised today," she murmured as she took the bags from her fiance and opened the one she guessed from the weight and shape contained the torrone. Sebastian would be appalled she was having such a confection for her first meal of the day, but she rationalized she had something healthier in the tent, and a taxing day such as this meant a reward in advance would keep her spirits higher. Breaking off a piece of nougat she popped it in her mouth and let the silky exterior melt away on her tongue. The Black family had been too poor to justify purchasing cakes, cookies, and candies. Their late matriarch had been an excellent cook with no love for backing. Sometimes her mother had tried when they had a special occasion to celebrate. The sentiment was what mattered the most, the outpouring of warmth and understanding, of emotions more profound that could be articulated. Scarcity had transformed sugar into being  a sweet reminder of what happiness they held onto for a time.

Taking a cup filled with apple juice from the mother baker, she popped off another piece of the torrone as she swallowed the one she had given herself. "Will you have a taste?" she asked, holding it up high enough she could feed it to him if he agreed. It was a strangely intimate gesture on her part, one absent any need to prove to anyone what they were or were not, devoid of ulterior motive, empty of malicious plot. For a few seconds she was merely a woman who wanted to share something that brought joy to her to someone she liked, someone that might be hungry, someone that she wanted to infuse with a morsel of cheer.