'Always.'
Elizabeth smiled at him, glanced over to where Ariel was purring rather smugly. 'I know.'
'Shall I leave now?' he said, pretending to take offense at her reliance on the treecat's opinion.
'Stay a bit.' Elizabeth sighed. 'I expect that soon enough someone is going to come along wanting to discuss the politics of the succession.'
Justin pulled Elizabeth into his lap. Ariel, deciding that this was a good thing, piled into Elizabeth's lap and began purring noisily, kneading with his true-hands.
'Politics?' Justin said. 'What politics? You're Queen. Michael will be your heir. Right?'
'Only to a point.' Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her eyes. 'By Manticoran law, I must have a regent until I'm twenty-one T-years. Since I'm past my sixteenth birthday, they can't foist just anyone on me. I nominate my regent; Parliament confirms or rejects my choice. We do this until we're both happy. I suspect it could be an ugly time.'
She sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then, twisting in his lap to face him, she twinkled.
'Then there will be the question of our marriage.'
Justin felt a sudden, cold fear that somehow Elizabeth would be taken from him. They had been engaged with King Roger and Queen Angelique's full approval since soon after Elizabeth's seventeenth birthday. Could Parliament force Elizabeth to break the engagement, choose another spouse?
'Question?' he squeaked.
This time Ariel's reproving bleek was for both of them—Justin for doubting Elizabeth, and Elizabeth for her choice of a joke. The treecat rose and patted Justin on the side of his face, his other true-hand resting on Elizabeth's shoulder.
'I shouldn't tease,' Elizabeth admitted ruefully. 'Justin, no one can make me break my engagement with you. I don't even expect it to be questioned. However, the line of succession has just grown shorter by one. Originally, we planned to marry after I turned twenty-one, right?'
'Right,' he answered, his voice back to normal.
'Now I expect there will be some pressure for us to marry sooner.'
'I don't have a problem with that.'
'Nor I, particularly,' she said, 'but there will be those who do. Some will think a proper mourning period should be observed. Others will worry that the distractions of a wedding, a husband, pressure to produce an heir, will distract me from my duties as Queen.'
'So they'll want you to wait.'
'Exactly. After all, there are the cadet branches of the House. My Aunt Caitrin and her children can carry on if something happens both to me and to Michael before I have children of my own. . . .'
Her voice trailed off. Small and forlorn, she leaned her head back against his shoulder, tears trailing down her face.
'Justin, I don't want to think about it!'
'Then don't,' Justin suggested, 'for right now. Don't think about anything at all.'
When he hugged her, he wasn't at all certain that the purring was coming only from the treecat.
A tentative rap at the door to the antechamber interrupted their cuddling. Elizabeth rose from Justin's lap, brushed a hand over her hair, and spoke in a calm, level voice:
'Come.'
The door opened and a member of the uniformed Palace Guard Service entered and saluted.
'Your Majesty, Crown Prince Michael wonders if you would grant him a moment of your time.'
Justin raised an eyebrow. Already things were changing. Yesterday . . . this morning even, the guard would have simply smiled, given minimal warning, and let Michael charge in. Today . . . now . . . until new protocols were established, Elizabeth must be treated with all the deference and protection due to her august rank.
Not seeming to notice the change in procedure, Elizabeth nodded. 'Thank you, Taki. Ask him to come in.'
Crown Prince Michael, Heir to the House of Winton, was widely acknowledged as a handsome boy. Despite the beginning growth spurts that were adding inches to his height, he seemed to be escaping the weedy stage of adolescence. Even at thirteen, he resembled his athletic father.
At this moment, however, not even his own mother would have called him handsome. His eyes were red and his brown skin grubby with tear streaks. He looked at his sister.
'Do I have to bow or something now?'
'Did you to Dad?' she asked calmly.
'Only on court occasions.'
'Well then, what do you think?' Elizabeth said reasonably. 'Don't be pig-headed, Mikey.'
The Prince winced at the nickname, which recently he had decided he'd out-grown. Since 'Mike' was already taken by one of their cousins, he'd started insisting on 'Michael.'
Elizabeth knew her brother perfectly well and grinned. 'You don't need to remind me what to call
Justin rose from his chair.
'I think you two need some time alone.' He kissed Elizabeth lightly on one cheek and patted Michael on the shoulder. 'I'll be in my quarters if you need me. Otherwise, I'll see you at dinner.'
The soon-to-be Prince Consort left without further pause. Michael watched the tall, blond man go.
'He's nice,' he said, almost grudgingly. 'Are you still going to marry him?'
Elizabeth looked surprised. 'Of course. No one could stop me. Why do you ask?'
Michael walked to the table, patted Ariel, and flung himself onto the chair Justin had just vacated. Wrapping his arms around the back, his chin pillowed on the headrest, he looked vastly uncomfortable. Only years of watching him choose similarly contorted poses reassured his sister that he was not purposefully tormenting himself.
'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
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,
