David Weber - Worlds of Honor

"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 psychotic ," Justin protested. "Your father died in a grav-skiing accident. We both saw the tapes. Grav units can go bad. Not often, but it does happen."

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."

"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 you , Michael."