"I guess," he said, finally answering her question, "I wondered because Dad liked him so much. I thought he might have pushed him at you."
"Like he was pushing you into the Navy?" Elizabeth asked, easily following her brother's train of thought.
"Yeah."
"No, marrying Justin was all my idea. From the time I first met him, I realized he was special. Fortunately, Mom and Dad agreed. All they asked was that I finish college and reach my majority before we married."
Michael swiveled the seat of the chair and looked up at her.
"Are you going to have to go back to the University now that you're Queen?"
Elizabeth squarely met brown eyes so like her father's that her heart caught in her chest and her own eyes were hot with sudden tears.
"Don't you really mean `Am I going to have to go back to military school now that I'm Crown Prince?' "
"Yeah."
Elizabeth shrugged. "That's up to Mom, isn't it? I'm certain I'll be consulted, as will the new Regent's Council, but I'd guess that Mom's word will win out. Crown Prince or not, you're still her son and the Navy is a very acceptable profession for a prince. If you want to do something else, you should start by talking with her."
Michael didn't so much get up from his seat, as erupt, leaving the chair rocking on its heavy base. Fists clenched, eyes suddenly streaming tears, he faced an adversary neither of them could see.
"I . . . I don't know what I want!"
He bent his head, too proud in his young manhood to ask for the hug he so obviously wanted. Elizabeth embraced him.
"Oh, Mikey, Mikey. . . ."
This time the Prince didn't correct her, just gripped his arms around her waist and bawled into the shelter of her body.
"Beth . . . Beth . . . We . . ." He sniffed, brought the words out more clearly. "We fought before he went away. Dad wasn't happy with my quarter report—said that I wouldn't get into the Academy with those grades, Prince or not. I told him I didn't care. . . ."
Sobbing engulfed him. Elizabeth squeezed her little brother, wishing she could radiate comfort to him as Ariel did to her. The treecat caught her distress at the boy's unhappiness.
Elizabeth might be Ariel's human, but he was fond of her brother. Jumping from the table, the 'cat set his true-hands against Michael's leg and purred loudly.
Eventually, Michael's tears stopped. Releasing him, Elizabeth wiped away tears of her own.
"I . . . I'm going to miss Dad, Beth," the boy managed. "How can you be so brave? Aren't you scared about being Queen?"
"Yes," she admitted, "but I have you and Ariel and Justin and Mom and lots of other people to help me. I only wish I didn't need to be Queen quite yet. I wish Dad . . ."
A sob rose hot and thick in her throat. She felt Ariel's soothing mental caress, although the 'cat's true-hands still rested against Michael's leg. With the 'cat's support, she managed to choke back the sob.
"I wish things were different. I wish that we could follow the plan we designed—college first, then some on-the-job training. Now I don't have a choice."
"And I still do." Michael looked at her, the beginnings of a mature resolve forming beneath the tear streaks. "Thanks, Beth. You've been a lot of help."
"Good." She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "There's still time before dinner. Let's go upstairs. The next week is going to be filled with the coronation, the viewing and the funeral, along with all sorts of public receptions. This may be our last chance for a bit of peace."
"After you, Your Majesty," Michael said, with a deep bow and a flourish of his hand.
The Queen giggled and, scooping up Ariel, preceded the Crown Prince from the room.
In the Crown Chancery of Mount Royal Palace a very exclusive council met. They numbered five: Queen Mother Angelique, the Duke of Cromarty, Duchess Caitrin Winton-Henke, Dame Eliska Paderweski, and Lord Jacob Wundt.
One was wife, another sister to the late King; the remaining three had been his close associates, both professionally and personally. Only one thing could have drawn them together at a time when each longed only for privacy to mourn, to compose thoughts and lives torn asunder by the King's sudden death: their loyalty to the King and his ideals . . . and to the abstraction that was the Star Kingdom of Manticore.
That did not mean their sorrow didn't show. It sat at the table with them like a sixth member of their party, one they did not mention but whose presence they all felt. And King Roger, though his body even now was being autopsied and prepared for public viewing, made an almost tangible seventh.
"Coffee, Allen?" Dame Eliska pushed the carafe across the table's polished wooden surface.
The Duke, slim and elegant, his hair showing silver that had not been there when he began his tenure as Prime Minister, shook his head. "I don't dare. My stomach is roiling."
"Tsk, tsk, Allen," the Queen Mother said, her teasing tone almost convincing. "Prime Ministers should never admit to possessing either upset stomachs or nerves."
"I'll remember that," Cromarty promised. "Still, I haven't been Prime Minister very long. Given current events and the inevitable challenges my majority is going to face, I almost wish another party would take over."
"Pshaw," was the Queen Mother's only response.
"You've been Prime Minister longer than poor Elizabeth has been Queen," reminded Lord Wundt. "Poor, poor child. What a terrible burden she must bear."
"My `poor, poor child,' " Angelique said almost tartly, "is now your reigning Queen. Such comments forget the dignity of her office."
Jacob Wundt had been the Lord Chamberlain for the House of Winton since the middle of Samantha II's reign. Whip-thin, tall, and balding, he had seen Samantha succeeded by Roger and now would see Roger succeeded by Elizabeth. It was his quiet, sincere desire that he not see the throne change hands yet again.
His position, privy to the workings of the Royal Family yet not one of it, granted him patience with the Queen Mother.
"Of course, Your Majesty," he said softly. "I stand corrected."
It was Caitrin Winton-Henke who looked sharply at her sister-in-law.
"Angelique! Your grief is no excuse to forget yourself. Jacob said nothing more than what each of us is already thinking."
Angelique Winton would not have accepted a reprimand from anyone else, but Roger's beloved sister had always been friend and confidante to the impoverished commoner who had found herself elevated to Queen.
"Jacob," she said, turning to face the Lord Chamberlain, "I apologize."
Knowing the Queen's pride and temper (a temper Elizabeth had inherited in full) better than most, Wundt accepted her apology with a smile.
"We're all weary, Your Majesty, and likely to be more so before the next several days have passed."
"And Elizabeth will be the most weary of all," Winton-Henke added. "Thank goodness she has Ariel to support her."
Eliska Paderweski cleared her throat. "And if we are to support her to the best of our abilities we must get on to the business at hand."
Dame Eliska's first ambition had been to serve as a Manticoran Marine but, on medical leave following injuries received during an action against a Silesian pirate base, she had discovered a talent for handling people and paperwork. This, coupled with the ferocity of her Marine training, had made her an ideal member of the Palace administration. Over time, she had risen to serve Roger in the coveted role of Chief of Staff.
"I don't wish to sound callous," Paderweski continued, "but I've already received numerous requests for interviews with Queen Elizabeth. I refuse to push her, but an official statement from the Palace would be helpful. Until a formal Council of Regents is appointed, this group must make a few temporary policy decisions."
"And," Cromarty added, "when Parliament convenes its special session tomorrow morning before the formal Coronation, I should have some idea of what the royal pleasure will be."
Duchess Caitrin Winton-Henke lifted a hand for attention. "Why hasn't Elizabeth been asked to join us?"
&nb
sp; "I wanted to give her some time to recover from viewing the holo of the accident." The Queen Mother's voice broke on the last word. "She watched it three times and, despite Ariel's support, she was very upset. I thought it would be easier for her if she had an opportunity to rest."
"Perhaps." Caitrin Winton-Henke tilted her head in a mannerism that recalled her brother. "I'm not certain I would care to have my fate discussed without my presence."
"Discussed only," Cromarty reminded her. "We can't decide anything for her. As difficult as it may be for us to accept, the college girl of yesterday is our Queen today. We can advise, but we cannot do a jot more."
Silence filled the small room, broken only by Queen Mother Angelique reaching to refill her coffee cup.
"Then shall we proceed?" Dame Eliska said briskly. "As I see it, we have three issues in front of us: the choice of a Regent, the selection of the Regency Council, and Elizabeth's marriage."
Cromarty nodded. "If we could begin with the Regent, that would be helpful. The Regency Council, most probably, will be formed from those candidates we select."
Dame Eliska activated a note pad. "An obvious candidate is Queen Angelique; another is Duchess Winton-Henke."
No one protested her nominations. Angelique had been married to King Roger for almost thirty years, for twenty-five of which he had been King. Her astute knowledge of politics was respected within the Palace. Although, in the interest of presenting Roger as a strong, decisive monarch, she usually refrained from public statements of policy, those times that she had chosen to speak had left no one in doubt about her understanding of the important issues.
Caitrin Winton-Henke had retired somewhat from palace life after her brother had provided first Elizabeth, then Michael to separate her from the likelihood of inheriting the throne, but Samantha II had not permitted her second child to grow up in blithe ignorance of political realities. Even though she had been Crown Princess comparatively briefly, Duchess Winton-Henke took seriously the responsibilities that went with being a member of the peerage, and her husband made most of his own decisions in consultation with her.
Her title of "Duchess" might be only a life title, a reminder (along with the Winton name that she added to her husband's when she married the Earl of Gold Peak) that she was sister to the King and one that she would not pass on to her children, but those who knew her considered her a perfect example of what a duchess could be.
"Earl Gold Peak's Centrist leanings—and thus those of Duchess Winton-Henke—are widely known," Cromarty noted. "Some may protest that a Centrist Prime Minister and a Centrist Regent would deprive the Opposition of a fair opportunity to influence policy. The Queen, of course, is above mere party lines."
"True," Dame Eliska agreed. "Do you have any other suggestions?"
Cromarty toyed with his empty coffee cup. "Perhaps a member of the Crown Loyalists would do. They regularly ally themselves with the Centrists, but they're not precisely of our ranks. Their respect for the Monarchy is absolute and should make Elizabeth's dealings with her Regent easier."
"Good point," Angelique said. "Any off-the-cuff suggestions?"
"Howell, Ayre, and Dugatkin all suggest themselves," Cromarty said promptly. "Even if one of them isn't selected as Regent, I think a place on the Regency council for at least one of them would be wise."
"Remember," Caitrin reminded them all, "Elizabeth is past sixteen. She must make the nomination. I suggest we present her with this slate and let her make the final decision."
"I second that motion," Jacob Wundt said. "Elizabeth is certain to have ideas of her own. We would be foolish to waste time refining our choices further."
Dame Eliska drew a line under her list and started a new page with the heading "Marriage."
"And the Queen's marriage?" she asked.
"I suggest," the Queen Mother said, "that I issue a personal statement reaffirming my support for Elizabeth's choice in her fiancé. I cannot believe that Elizabeth will not want to marry Justin."
"True," Wundt said. "He was with her at the holo viewing earlier today."
"Timing for the marriage could be an issue," Paderweski warned. "Too quickly and she may be seen as callous. Too slowly and concern about the succession will be inevitable."
"Elizabeth's coronation is tomorrow," Wundt said. "That and the King's funeral will feed the public desire for ceremony for a time. Perhaps asking her to delay her marriage until a politically sensitive moment would be wise."
"It very well might sway the Commons," Cromarty admitted. "After Elizabeth's engagement, support for a few of King Roger's less popular policies rose there. I'm not certain a wedding would help much in the Lords beyond the Crown Loyalists."
Dame Eliska drummed against the table with her stylus. "It's hard to say. I can have my staff conduct some discreet opinion polls."
"Good idea," Caitrin said. "On such a personal issue, I would prefer to present Elizabeth with more than our own conjectures."
Nods rippled around the table.
Paderweski scribbled a note, then said, "If we could take a few minutes for a distasteful subject before we adjourn, I would like to discuss protocol and arrangements for the funeral. It's been almost twenty-six T-years since the Kingdom dealt with a monarch's funeral. We're going to need to politely brief many of those who will be attending."
"I," said Queen Angelique, "have attended at least one. If I might beg to be excused?"
She pushed her chair back from the table and unshed tears glittered in her dark eyes.
"Your Majesty," Wundt said promptly, rising as well.
As one, the group rose, and Caitrin Winton-Henke looked after the retreating widow, remembering the society gossip nickname from many years before.
"Poor little beggar maid," she whispered.
In another conference room, in another part of the same city, another very exclusive council was meeting. As with the council in Mount Royal Palace, several of the members would be recognized as public figures; unlike the royal council, it was the most heartfelt wish of these councilors that their meeting never become a matter of record.
Willis Kemeny, Ninth Earl of Howell, was perhaps the most nervous of the lot. A husky man whose chocolate brown skin suggested a crossover with the House of Winton some time in the past, he was a highly placed member of the Crown Loyalist party. His name was one of those bruited about as a possible successor when old LeBrun retired as Party head.
If pushed, trim, fashionable Lady Paula Gwinner, Baroness Gwinner of Stallman, would call herself a Liberal, yet a perusal of her voting record would reveal expedience rather than allegiance to a particular political philosophy. The youngest person present—a mere twenty-eight T-years—she defended her erratic votes as a reflection of her zeal in studying each issue. Most critics when caught beneath the glare of her golden-brown eyes chose to agree rather than argue.
Neither Marvin Seltman nor Jean Marrou were members of the House of Lords, but they each had held seats in the Commons for many terms. Their attention to the issues that would influence their constituents had made them popular and fairly secure. Marrou was even developing a following outside of her own district.
The last member of the group, Major Padraic Dover, was the only one who did not hold a seat in Parliament, yet in many ways he was the one most privy to the inner workings of the Palace. A native of Gryphon, he served in the Bordeaux Battalion of the King's Own Regiment. For the last eight years, he'd served as a liasion between the regiment and the PGS.
It was Dover who raised his wine glass in an ironic toast.
"The King is dead! Long live the Queen." His voice dropped in tones equal parts menace and triumph. "Our Queen."
The fierce emotion in his voice could not escape his allies. Earl Howell frowned slightly.
"Elizabeth is not yet `ours,' " he reprimanded primly. "True, King Roger has been dispensed with, but we have yet to complete the maneuvers that will enable us to adequately influence the young Queen."
Ma
rvin Seltman, short, dour, ambitious, and embittered by the status quo, nodded agreement.
"But with the King dead," he said, "the field is much more open. Are those of you in the Lords ready to deal with the issue of the Regency?"
Howell and Gwinner nodded.
"We've instigated a whispering campaign in the Commons," Seltman continued. "It's difficult. Our house has always supported the monarchy strongly, but we're not really looking to undermine the monarchy—simply to suggest that a Regent who is too close kin to Queen Elizabeth won't be in a position to objectively direct her actions."
"Good," Howell said. "I've been doing the same in the Lords. The Crown Loyalist's unstinting support of the monarchy stands me in good stead there. After the special session tomorrow, I'll have a better idea of what's being planned."
"Cromarty," Padraic Dover added, "is at Mount Royal today. I doubt that the visit is purely social."
"Certainly not," Howell sniffed. "Cromarty's Centrists may have been effective toadies to His Late Majesty, but he wasn't of their social circle."
"Duchess Winton-Henke is also at Mount Royal," Dover said. "Her husband and children are due this evening."
"Winton-Henke is a likely candidate for Regent," Howell said. "If you should hear anything that can be used to undermine her . . ."
"Of course I'll pass it on," Dover said. "However, I'm more interested in learning what you're doing regarding Justin Zyrr."
"We're doing everything in our power to delay the wedding," Jean Marrou spoke for the first time.
She was a naturally quiet woman, blind from birth. Her optical nerves would not respond to regeneration therapy simply because there had never been anything to regenerate. The reason for her blindness was uncertain, but she believed, as her parents had, that her mother's exposure to a strain of Artemesian measles brought in by a Solarian League trading ship had caused the damage.
Although the Star Kingdom had long traded actively with other systems, Jean Marrou's upbringing had made her fiercely isolationist. King Roger's policies of trade and expansion made certain—as far as she could tell—that quarantine procedures would be inadequate and that other innocents would be exposed to diseases like that which had ruined her eyes.