The second went as smoothly, the third without a hitch. He was moving into the fourth, concentrating on gaining the velocity to imitate Angelique's flourish at the end, when he felt the ski jump under his feet.
He was far too experienced in the vagaries of the grav ski to believe that he had imagined the sensation. Temptation to ride the jolts out arose—although he had never competed publicly, he knew that he was among the best grav skiers in the Star Kingdom. But he also knew too well that his kingdom would be thrust into turmoil if anything happened to him.
Almost as swiftly as temptation rose and was rejected, his left hand was reaching for the tab that would release him from the grav ski and onto the stand-by grav pack. Another jolt, this one a buck that must be visible from the ground, shook his hand from the tab.
Over the com Angelique said, 'I'm closing to help, Roger.'
'I'm holding, love,' he responded, continuing to fumble for the release.
Then, impossibly, the grav ski failed completely. The velocity he had brought into his last spiral now turned against him, ripping his hands away from the release tab.
Below him the salt sands glittered bright, hard, and utterly unforgiving. He died with the sound of his wife's scream in his ears and the sensation of a distant heart breaking from grief.
Elizabeth III, Queen of Manticore, stood with her fiance, Justin Zyrr, in the small antechamber into which they had retreated after viewing the holo-video of Roger III's death.
After the first play through thirteen-year-old Prince Michael had bolted from the room, sobbing wildly. His relationship with his father had been affectionate enough, but recently acrimony over Roger's insistence that the boy enter the Navy had colored their meetings. Now those disagreements would never be resolved.
Normally, Justin would have worried about the boy, but he had no attention to spare from the tall, slim young woman who stood like a statue carved of mahogany, her features eloquently displaying her grief. Physically, they were not much alike.
She was dark of skin, hair, and eyes. Blond and blue-eyed, he was day to her night—a fact that the news services had happily seized upon and turned into iconography. At twenty-eight, he was the elder by a decade, taller, broad of shoulder and chest, but with a long, lean build. His posture was vaguely military, a remnant of his single term in the Army.
Gradually, Elizabeth's expression changed, resolution sculpting the grief into something firm and purposeful.
'I just don't believe it was an accident,' she said, her first words since they had entered the room.
Justin gathered her into his arms, felt some relief as she relaxed within his embrace. It would have been almost too much if she had rejected the small comfort he could give her.
'Accidents do happen . . .' he began.
'I know they do,' Elizabeth interrupted, 'even to members of the House of Winton. Edward the First died in a boating accident. His sister succeeded him. Her name was Elizabeth, just like mine.'
Her laughter held a ragged, almost hysterical note.
'Maybe it's bad luck to have an heir named Elizabeth,' she continued. 'Make a note of that, would you, my dear?'
Her treecat, Ariel, who had been sitting on a tabletop observing the conversation, gave a reproving 'bleek.' The Queen glanced at the 'cat, then pulled back within the circle of Justin's arms to look up at him.
Her eyes, dark brown behind velvety black lashes, were wet with the tears she would not shed in public— not when her bravery was needed to reassure both her little brother and her many subjects.
There had been little enough time for tears in the scant hours since King Roger's death. Directly following the verification that the King's accident had been fatal, she had been summoned from her Introductory Manticoran History class at the University and taken to a small student lounge. There, amid much-used furniture and vending machines, she had learned of her father's death, taken the Monarch's Oath, and accepted the loyalty oaths of the Speakers of both Houses of Parliament.
From the student lounge she had been whisked into a press conference where—pushing away the prepared statement—she had spoken of the King eloquently and from her heart.
Roger III had been a popular monarch; his sudden death hit his people hard. As the first monarch to receive the prolong treatments, his people's unspoken expectation had been that he would rule for decades to come, his wisdom guiding the Star Kingdom of Manticore into the increasingly complex politics of its fifth century.
'Ariel seems to think I'm being too rough on you,' Elizabeth said, softly, through her tears. 'I'm sorry, Justin.'
'Apology accepted,' he said. 'You've been through too much recently. I don't expect you not to snap.'
'But I do,' she said firmly. 'I am the Queen. I'm afraid I'm not permitted to snap. Not even at my fiance— perhaps
Justin laughed. 'I'd like to say something gracious like: `Yet if your Majesty needs me as her whipping boy, I would be pleased to serve her in that fashion.' Honesty forces me to admit that I wouldn't like that role very much.'
'But will you serve me?' Elizabeth asked seriously.
'Either you personally or as my Queen,' he replied promptly.
He might not be as empathic as a treecat, but he could sense that Elizabeth's mood had shifted. When she pulled from his arms, it was not in rejection, but because she needed to pace. Sitting in a chair near Ariel's table, he watched her slim form cross and recross the room, waiting while she composed her thoughts.
'Justin, I don't believe my father's death was an accident.' She paused, held up a hand for silence. 'Most of us prefer to think otherwise, but assassination hasn't been a stranger to the House of Winton. Remember, there was an attempt on Queen Adrienne's life while she was still Heir, and William the First was actually assassinated by a psychotic.'
'But by a
Elizabeth began pacing again. 'Maybe so, but aside from the fact that my father's security guards always carefully inspected any vehicle he used, I have another reason to believe his `accident' was anything but an accident.'
'What reason?'
'I gave him a brand new ski for his birthday. When I went into his suite to chat with him before he and Mother left for this jaunt, he made a point of mentioning that he was taking my gift with him. I even saw that his valet had laid the gear out to be packed.'
'Yes?'
'Now, I only saw the accident on holo-video,' Elizabeth said slowly, 'but I'm almost certain the ski he was wearing in that accident was not the one I gave him.'
'He could have changed his mind,' Justin protested. 'His security staff might not have passed the ski for use. Or you might not have seen clearly when you were watching the holo. The speeds involved were rather fast.'
Justin forbore from adding that her eyes had been misty as she watched the replay of her father's last moments.
'I know all that,' Elizabeth answered regally, 'but I still have my doubts. That's why I asked you if you'd serve me. I need you to investigate my father's last hours. If he wore a different ski, I want to know why. If he didn't, I want to know if the one he wore was properly inspected. I want to know everything.'
There was no trace of tears in the dark eyes now. She was every inch a queen. Even if Justin hadn't loved her, he would have been commanded by her royal aura. When he nodded his assent, she took both his hands in hers.
'Thank you, Justin. I can't do this myself. I'm going to have too many eyes on me, too many issues to face. I can't even trust my own security staff. If the ski was somehow tampered with, one of them may have had a hand in it. You, I can trust.'
