What started as genuine glee when he took a bite turned into indignation when he took more than half the bar without one singular chomp. Nothing bothering to disguise how scandalized she was on her features, she quickly pulled away the bag like a petulant child, almost sulking over the substantial loss to her sweets. She was mostly playing but she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed he had taken so much. For Rhiane all gifts were precious and, perhaps on this very special day, it was an even grander gesture that she was reluctant to share, even with her would-be benefactor. This blemish on her charitable attitude had also been glimpsed when he had snatched the cannoli she coveted on their first date.

Truth be told she was possessive over the few rare items that were presents. Her father and brother especially were the sort of people that felt uncomfortable outright declaring their affection, so they expressed themselves by thoughtfully bringing home the best apple from the orchard, setting aside a basket of her favorite berries from the harvest just for her, or discreetly trading for household purchases that were fitting of her aesthetic over their own. It was not her 'love language,' but she had come to appreciate what these tokens represented. That her room back at the castle was so bare was a combination of her estrangement from her family, not trusting the palace to safeguard her 'commoner' baubles with sentimental value, and because their presence would be a painful reminder how poorly she was regarded by those around her.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than taking half of my torrone if you want a rain check for standing me up last night," she grumbled quietly enough that the words only reached his ears. Rhiane was realistic; she knew that despite his supposed confession in the vehicle before the market he might at any time decide he was done with interacting with her more than required. The need to produce an heir would not disappear, but he could limit their physical contact after the wedding to when their chances to conceive were highest, and be as quick about it as possible. The expiration date of their marriage or the fact she was enslaved to it did not mean she could not have her own terms. Just like any other woman, she felt somewhat spurned he spent the entire night with his mother and an ex-girlfriend, and needed him to make amends of sorts before the slight was mitigated. She wanted to feel important, desired, wanted, not a toy when he was bored or desperate.

She blinked as he whispered in her ear that it was considered improper to eat while walking. This was such an absurd rule of etiquette she was distracted by how irrational it was rather than how she had put him in an awkward position. The masses would have gossiped if he refused her offering she belatedly realized, and she was left wondering why he had humored her: to boost his own image, to protect her from the ever-critical aristocracy, because he was famished, or if he wanted to make her happy. Some of her joy deflated that it had been such a tactical decision. Every attempt she made to bridge the gap between herself and those of the upper class, be it Like or a bodyguard of high birth, was fruitless, as if she were constructing a grand arch over an endless chasm. The sole individual that had wholly embraced who she was and supported her was Tobias.

Taking a nibble out of the diminished torrone, then sipping at her juice, she took a moment to gather herself and reply in more hushed tones. "There's merit in you trying to keep their favor, but I've no incentive to keep trying to win it. We both know I could be the daughter of a deity and they'd still find me at fault." Perhaps it was not entirely true- there were exceptions to every rule- but it certainly felt to her that it was a fruitless battle. Rhiane would not keep expending effort if the only outcome would be that she would go to bed each night more discouraged and tired. If a few crossed the line, nice to her, passively approving, or merely congenial, she would have cared about the impact of her delicately consuming a nougat bar as she toured the market.

As they stepped out into the sunshine the villagers crowded around (as did the press), though they did not try to push past their security. In the capital city Luke was the golden prince who was adored, and he had his admirers in the town, young women swooning over his height, his physique, his blue eyes, and every other detail of his appearance. More numerous than his fans, though, were Rhiane's ardent admirers, young men enticed by her curves, women who admired her strength, children who wanted to be her when they grew up, or marry someone like her when they grew up, senior citizens who were glad she represented them and could be their voice with her compassion, married couples excited about the impact she could make on her future. Her name was yelled, and pieces of cloth and paper were waved around in an attempt to get autographs. This was the closest many of them would come to her and mayhaps their only opportunity to meet her before she departed, with no guarantee she would ever return.