"Are you still in pain or are you taking advantage of the situation?" Marie-Celeste asked after ten minutes during which Patrick had not stirred.

"You are taking advantage of the situation," he answered. "You like holding me like this, don't you?"

"I would, if we were alone."

"We are alone."

Marie-Celeste looked aside at the dog that sat wagging its tail expectantly as if it sensed that there was some fun to be had. "We're not. The dog…"

"The dog can't tell my parents," Patrick said brazenly. He did not seem to feel his foot anymore.

"I'm not sure there would be anything to tell," she murmured. "Because --" she quickly removed his hand with a panicky gesture when it began exploring. It was all very well if he kept it in one place, but what on earth was she supposed to do if he started to move it? Do the same to him?

"Because?" He asked in confusion. "Why did you push my hand away?"

"I'm not in the mood," she said curtly. Would that be a good answer? She hoped he would question it, however.

He did not believe that for one second. "Liar. Why?"

Marie-Celeste looked annoyed. "Because I don't know what you're doing, of course," she snapped. "Isn't that obvious? And I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Patrick stared at her in amazement. He had no idea if she was speaking the truth or not. Perhaps she was only testing him to see if he would laugh. "Cellie! Why did you invite me upstairs then?"

"That was just to annoy you," she confessed with an averted face.

He did not know whether to laugh or be shocked. What would she have done if he had done what she had asked? Scream?

"Yes, laugh at me. I'm stupid, aren't I?"

He bit his lip. "Do you want to know what you're supposed to do?"

"Well, that would be nice to know in advance," she said with clenched teeth.

"You can do anything you want. If you don't like me kissing you, you can hit me or tell me so. If you do like it, you just enjoy it or do whatever you like. If you don't feel anything, you do nothing and I'll know soon enough. And that applies to anything I might do," he said mischievously.

"But isn't there some standard procedure?" she pressed uncertainly.

Patrick swallowed. "Don't insult me by implying that we're a standard couple. But step one of the Patrick and Cellie procedure is: turn off your brain." Did she have a brain at all? Perhaps she was a computer. Computers could not do anything on their own either and they depended on standard procedures too. Or could they nowadays?

"Alright. It's off," she said in a small voice.

"What? Already? There wasn't much to turn off, apparently," he mocked. "I don't mind about your brain, really, only that little voice that tells you to be difficult to me when in reality all you want to do is kiss me."

"All I want to do is slap you and you cannot possibly be such a lecher as to want to be kissed all the time."

"No," he agreed. "I like talking too much. But I am a tease." He limped back to his seat and pulled on his shirt, because it was too cold without one.

Marie-Celeste followed him and she sat down beside him. "You think I'm foolish, don't you?"

"Not at all," Patrick answered and stuck a new game into his gameboy. He needed a little time to adjust himself to this new information.

"But it's just so very hard to be good at everything and also be a good example."

He could see that those two were mutually exclusive as far as love was concerned -- in her mind that was. "Not at all."

"Really? How?"

"Listen to Patrick." He started playing a game. "Patrick says…" He had to think about that one first.

"Well?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"Patrick says…he doesn't care as long as you're good to him."

"What if I don't know how?"

"Well, er, you've obviously never gone deeply into the subject of Patrick's desires. Tell you what -- turn on that computer there."

"What for?"

"So you can see that I'm so easy to please that it really doesn't matter how badly you think you bungle things up."

"I don't understand," she said, but turned on the computer anyway. "Well, it's loading. What do I do now?" She sat back down.

"You may kiss me."

"I've seen that series! But Herr Flick limps too!" Marie-Celeste frowned. "He's not your hero, is he?"

Patrick lowered his gameboy and kissed her. "No, he's too passive. I like his nerve, though."

He let her look up his homepage and Marie-Celeste looked it over in amazement. "Last updated on December 6?" she asked. "I didn't know you on December 6."

John went home because Anna had to do some things anyway and he did not want to be in the way. Anna knew he would return and she set about her work quickly, singing documents with one hand while she was holding the phone with the other. She knew she ought to give everyone her undivided attention, but she just did not have the time to do that.

She wished Marie-Celeste were around, because she was anxious to discuss her eventual abdication. It was impossible to take the step without having come to some agreement with her sister about it. But Marie-Celeste was not at home and nobody knew where she had gone.

"She went shopping this morning," said Eliane and looked at Anna cautiously. "How are you? I heard you were not as calm as you looked…"

"Heard? From whom?" Anna asked. She had never wondered how news spread through the Palace grapevine before, but someone had been looking at her very carefully if they had noticed that.

"Doesn't matter," her mother shrugged. She had her sources. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Maman, I want out, but it feels as if things are stuck," Anna complained. "Things don't move fast enough." She could not move on if Marie-Celeste was not there.

"Things move too fast. Don't wish for them to go even faster. Before you know it you'll be in a situation that you can't get out of and that you wouldn't have got into if you had taken things slower," Eliane said seriously. "Think and consider."

"I can't make sense of you. One day you say it's life and the next you say I have to think."

"I meant that you shouldn't look back and that you shouldn't be too hasty. Good things will come again, I'm sure of it." Eliane swallowed. Sometimes good things let you wait for a very long time, as if they wanted you to really realise that you had made a mistake. Then, once you were so penitent that you were on your knees, they would teasingly appear and disappear, making you unsure as to whether they were real or not.

Anna looked curiously at her mother, who did not usually say such things. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, for all of us. You know what you have to do to make you happy. I'm glad you found that out. For other people it's not something they can do themselves, but they will derive their happiness from yours."

"That's absurd," Anna commented. "I don't think I'm that important and why can't those people do anything themselves? I don't want the additional burden of having a group of people whose happiness depends on mine."

"They used to have the possibility themselves, but they wasted it. Now as a sort of compensation, they may benefit from yours," Eliane said gravely.

"Maman, I think you're very pessimistic," Anna exclaimed in alarm. She knew her mother was not the most cheerful person on earth, but this really beat everything. It was no wonder that she was always so serious and gloomy if this was what she was thinking.

"No, it's realistic," Eliane maintained.

Anna shook her head. It was not true, but what could she say? She frowned. "So, if I'm happy, you'll be happy?"

Eliane nodded.

Anna realised another thing. "You're not happy now?" She looked at her mother anxiously. The possibility had never occurred to her and it distressed her a lot.

"No."

John stopped by his parents' house to find Patrick and Marie-Celeste playing with a gameboy and the computer respectively. He had already seen her car, so he had known whom to expect inside the house. However, he had not expected her to sit behind the computer. "Mum and Dad out?" he asked.

"Shopping," Patrick answered without taking his eyes off the game.

"Dad?"

"Beats me."

"I'll wait. What are you doing?" he asked Marie-Celeste.

"I'm boring myself while Patrick finishes that game. I think he keeps restarting sneakily." She looked at Patrick, but he did not react. "We're engaged."

"Oh, really?" John asked politely, glancing at his brother. Patrick still showed no reaction.

"I'm going to ask Parliament for permission tomorrow," Marie-Celeste continued in a conversational tone. "And Anna must do something about that abdication, because I really can't have a brother-in-law who reminds me of Robin Hood."

"Does Patrick know?" John raised his eyebrows. It was getting more and more curious. "He doesn't seem to hear you."

"I heard her," Patrick replied with his eyes on the gameboy. "But I'm not taking her seriously."

"He never does," Marie-Celeste said sadly.

"She's only saying that to annoy me."

"And he's saying that to annoy me too."

"Yep."

"Did you two have a fight?" John asked tentatively. He could not make anything of their behaviour towards each other. It was puzzling, especially when Patrick denied it and Marie-Celeste did not. "Oh, I see," he said doubtfully. "I think I'll walk the dog." Anything was better than sitting here with two lunatics.

"I'll come with you," Marie-Celeste said hastily.

"Yes, leave me woman. The room will be so peaceful without you," Patrick commented.

"I think he wants you to stay," said John, looking from one to the other. Who had Marie-Celeste come to visit if she wanted to come and walk the dog? Why had she come at all? Because Patrick had twisted his ankle, apparently, but should she not stay with him then?

Marie-Celeste raised her chin. "I shan't. Look at how much attention he's been paying me."

"Attention is an abstract concept, sweetheart. I can't look at it. And who's the invalid here?" Patrick called.

"You need peace to recover."

"I'm not hurt in my head," Patrick cried out. "My ankle doesn't care."

"I'm out," John announced and beckoned the dog. They disappeared into the hall. He peered around the corner to see what was taking Marie-Celeste and grinned. "You received a very thorough education, didn't you?" he asked when she appeared finally.

Marie-Celeste thought he was referring to the fact that Patrick had said that she did not know how to kiss and that he had apparently been teaching her, and she turned crimson.

"I didn't know you had your first-aid certificate."

"W-W-What?" She took her coat and pulled it on, looking puzzled.

"Weren't you giving him some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?" John asked. "It couldn't have been a kiss. You've just been bickering."

"You don't understand it, obviously." Marie-Celeste followed him outside and put her collar up higher against the cold. The dog did not seem to mind that it was cold; it jumped around happily.

He laughed at her weary tone. "Probably not."

"You don't do that with Anna, do you?"

"Kiss? Yes, we do." He wondered about the reason for this chat. She had not come out because she liked the dog. Perhaps she needed advice. He snickered inwardly at the thought of Marie-Celeste asking advice. What was the world coming to?

"I didn't mean that. I meant bickering. But…would you tell her she can't kiss or would she tell you?" Marie-Celeste asked.

He frowned at the strange question. "Neither."

"She did it right the first time?"

He wondered why this was such an issue for her. Everything had to be perfect, he assumed. "I don't care how it was done. I liked it. And Marie-Celeste…"

"Yes."

"How many times have you kissed Patrick?"

"That's none of your business."

He knew she would say that, so he was not disappointed. "Well, if he commented on one time out of five, I shouldn't be too worried. But maybe if it was four out of four..." He noticed that she was counting on her fingers and he almost snorted.

"One out of five…"

"Wow," he remarked. He would have guessed at two times. "Did he say anything to you directly?"

"No."

"Well, then! What are you worrying about?"

"But he said it all the same."

"He's a bit dizzy. I shouldn't place too much value on what he says."

"Why is he dizzy? Is that because he liked me before he met me? I've been to his webpages."

"You have?" John asked in surprise. "Well, that's a good thing. I suppose he's got to say something negative to keep him fixed on earth," he guessed. "I think you were just a little too much for him all at once."

"Oh," said Marie-Celeste. "And is Anna too much for you?"

He walked a few paces as he thought about that. "No, because I didn't get her all at once. I got her bit by bit. Not the way Patrick had been building up expectations that were blown apart all of a sudden."

She looked indignant. "Excuse me? I didn't live up to his expectations?"

He snickered. "I don't know, but people are hardly ever the way we expect them to be. Anna wasn't what I had expected either."

"What had you expected?"

"I'm not sure what it was, except that I was surprised and maybe Patrick was pleasantly surprised by you too."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"Five kisses, you said?" he asked ironically. "It seems to me…"

"He might like kissing," she said defensively. Sometimes she thought that Patrick liked her, but at other times she thought that he was only joking, just like she did not know if John liked her or not, but then he was just Patrick in a milder form.

"In that case you should ask yourself why he only took that out on you and not on the other single girls we were away with this weekend."

"Maybe he did. He wouldn't go around telling people."

"It sounds as if you wouldn't even believe him if he told you to your face that he loved you." John threw a stick for the dog, wondering where all the reporters were. If they had interviewed the neighbours, would they still be around?

"Of course not." Her voice sounded less certain already. "But does he?"

"Why don't you ask him? He's got a crush on you, that much is obvious. What do you want with him? Do you love him?"

"Oh! I couldn't possibly say that."

"If Anna could, then you certainly can. He doesn't know what to make of you know. You said you'd marry him, but did you mean it? Do you think he's concentrating on that gameboy right now?"

"Yes."

"No." He could not be sure, but he doubted that Patrick was playing very calmly. And where had he got that gameboy?

"Oh."

"Did you mean it?"

Marie-Celeste was silent and jumped out of the way of the dog. John was playing with the dog now and maybe he would forget that he had asked a question. She hoped he would, but then he looked up expectantly. "I'm not sure it would be wise to marry him."

"That's not what I asked."

"Must you be so persistent?" she asked in reply to his look.

"Yes."

"Did you do that with Anna too and did she finally give in just to have you shut up?"

"She is much sweeter than you are."

"Well, that's really going to get her somewhere in life!" she retorted.

"I'm sorry that you won't be getting anywhere," John said sympathetically. "She at least has the courage to speak her mind when it's crucial and you don't. You'll be circling around Patrick indefinitely."

"I hate you."

"I wonder why you wanted to go out for a walk then. Or did you want to throw the press off balance? Now they don't know which sister I'm seeing. Is it Anna? Or is it Marie-Celeste? Or is Marie-Celeste seeing Patrick? This is bound to confuse them. Maybe you should shout out that you hate me, so they'll know what's what."

"I curse the day that I ever met you Setons," she said viciously and looked around to see if she could spot any journalists. She could not. That was good. She had not considered the possibility that they might be here, of all places. Perhaps they would see her and then what?

"You might get rid of Patrick, but if you want to get rid of me, you're going to have to get rid of your sister too." John did not want to laugh at her out loud, because he felt some pity for her.

"I'm sick of your devotion to my sister. You've known the woman for less than two weeks and you don't even know that there will be a time when the infatuation ends."

"Please don't be upset with me in public. People are going to get the wrong idea about me. I'm a very peace-loving person. If they see me argue with Anna and then a day later with you…"

"I thought you didn't care what people think of you," said Marie-Celeste.

"I care what Anna thinks, or my family."

"Patrick thinks you're a wimp because you do everything Anna says." It was not a literal representation of his words, naturally.

"Since when do you believe Patrick's words? Or do you only believe him if he's not talking about you?" John asked shrewdly.

Marie-Celeste said nothing, but only glared at him.

"And you know Anna. She says so very little that I can easily do everything she says and still take my own decisions in the other 95% of the cases."

"If you're not exaggerating, you're awfully rude to her."

"If you can tell that I'm exaggerating, why can't you tell when Patrick's exaggerating?" he countered. "And Anna happens to be very intelligent. Her opinions are always very valuable. Except her opinion of herself."

"Yes, that's rather low," Marie-Celeste agreed. She was glad the topic shifted away from herself. She did not mind giving her opinion on other matters at all -- she loved it. "It's of because of what the family places the most value on and she feels she doesn't have it. It's like if I tried all my life, I still wouldn't be able to draw, but fortunately people don't expect me to. My father was always very demanding. He would have wanted us to hold speeches in public at fifteen if my mother hadn't forbidden it, but we still had to do it at private gatherings and Anna was already shy before she got a complex from that."

"Why did he want that?"

Marie-Celeste shrugged. "So we could get used to it. I suppose his intentions were good, except that he didn't stop to think about the effect it had on Anna. She wouldn't have got into any trouble if she had just stammered her way through, but she didn't want that, so she made herself invisible and got preached at afterwards."

"You really care about her," she said when she saw his face.

"Yes." He looked at her. "It's so nice to be able to say that about someone, don't you think?"

"Hint, hint, hint! When are you getting married?" She had to get the topic back to him and Anna.

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"It depends on a lot of things," John answered.

Marie-Celeste nodded sagely. "Such as you setting a date."

"If it were as easy as that, we would have set a date already. I don't want to marry a queen, because I don't like big weddings."

Big weddings were a fact of life to Marie-Celeste. Small weddings were no weddings. "Princesses marry in the Cathedral as well."

"For whom?"

"What do you mean?" Marie-Celeste did not understand.

"Who are they pleasing by marrying in the Cathedral? The Archbishop? A friend of mine only got married at the town hall. Very quick and then on with the reception."

"But all the important guests…"

"Whom we don't know…"

"Whom you can't offend by not inviting them…"

"Nobody's going to be offended if we only invite family."

"I don't think you have a clear grasp of what you can and cannot do," Marie-Celeste commented. "Anna would never tell you that, because she's too afraid that you'll leave, but what is one day of discomfort for the woman you love?"

He knew she had a point, but so did he. "One day is bearable, but Marie-Celeste, we're talking about my wedding day here and besides, if both the bride and the bridegroom are obviously not enjoying themselves, what sort of impression does that make?"

"Not a good one," she had to admit.

"The only time I'll suffer a big wedding is when you get married. I promise to attend and to behave. How's that?"

The Prime Minister watched the news. It had not worked. She was much too buoyant. Every time she was pushed under, she popped up again immediately. His only hope now was the President, whom he had visited only half a year ago.

He did not know that the President was being visited by the Minister for Home Affairs and that he had read the report that Anna's secretary had faxed to him. The President had not had time to read all of it yet, but he had a few pages here and there.

"I must apologise on Her Majesty's behalf. She's under great stress at the moment," said the Minister.

"You wouldn't say so if you saw her on TV," he remarked. "But I guess a bomb threat is kind of stressful."

"And you're probably aware of the current political situation in the country. It's stabilising and it will be as of old before long."

"Your Prime Minister is being dismissed," said the President, glad to show off his knowledge.

"Exactly. I heard that you'd come here to mediate?" She made it sound like a question.

"He contacted me and suggested that, yes. I understand that it's a delicate situation. You can't just go ahead and tell the Queen that she's mad and that her lover is mad too. I understand that you have to be really diplomatic with queens, especially when they look as normal as she does."

"She looks normal because she is normal. There is nothing to mediate in. The PM is -- I'm sorry to say it -- out of his mind. He has to go. She's only following the standard procedure in such a case. It may seem odd, but that's because it hasn't happened before yet."

"So I came here for nothing?"

"Yes."

"Impossible."

"Well, you may observe the way we handle things here," the Minister said confidently. "In a civilised way without bloodshed. But I predict that you'll be looking very foolish if you start supporting the PM."

"Where's your guest?" Mrs. Seton asked. "Has she already left? I got her some Spa Citron anyway. For next time. This isn't the last time she's here, is it?"

"She is walking the dog with John," Patrick said emphatically, if a little plaintively.

"How odd."

"Mum?"

"Yes? How's your ankle?"

"Oh, it's okay. John got here and out of the blue, without any reason for it, she tells him that we're engaged. Why would she tell John? And not me first?" This question had been plaguing him all the time and he had not found a satisfactory answer to it. "She said she just said it to annoy me, but --"

"Would she?"

"Yes."

"So, she said it to annoy you. Let's first clear that up. And then we can think about whether she took that for some deep psychological reason," his mother called from the kitchen where she was storing away things.

"Yes, do write an essay on the subject," he groaned.

"Would you like it if it were true?"

"It's not true, so how could I ever think about liking it?" he said evasively.

Mrs. Seton returned and sat down, looking reflective. "It's not true, because you think it's not true."

"No, because she said it wasn't true."

"Can we believe her?" She did not know if Marie-Celeste was in the habit of saying things she did not mean. Perhaps she was a pathological liar or someone who embellished every story.

"No."

"Hmm. Why not? Is she a liar?"

"Only where I'm concerned. She likes to have opinions wholly contrary to mine."

"Then it follows that you don't want to be engaged to her," his mother remarked. "If she says the opposite."

"No, it doesn't, because I do. Sort of," Patrick frowned. "I have serious intentions sometimes."

His mother raised her eyebrows and inhaled. "And does she know?"

"I think so."

"So she should have said that she didn't want to be engaged to you? Or would she have known that you'd know that she meant the opposite?"

"I think so."

"So what we have here is a case of 'I mean A, but I'm afraid that you don't, so I'll say B, but you know I mean A if I say B, so I say A and have you think I mean B.'"

"That's a bloody elaborate way if you want someone to marry you," Patrick said sarcastically. "Why does she want me to think that she doesn't want to marry me, unless she really doesn't want to?"

"It's a defence mechanism."

"One more step and you'll be mentioning mental lexicons again," Patrick groaned.

"Well…" Mrs. Seton's eyes shone brightly as she considered the idea of introducing the mental lexicon into this discussion. "I think I might. I think you've coded her words so that you automatically reverse their semantic content in your mental lexicon. It's an interesting idea."

"Y-Y-Yeah," he reached for his gameboy again.

"It would be comparable to knowing the different meanings of words that sound the same -- for example -- ja, tak, or da. You'd have a separate lexicon for Marie-Celeste, in which all negations are reversed."

"Ugh!" Patrick emitted.

Mrs. Seton sighed. It was a pity that Patrick was so unreceptive to linguistics. She pulled the phone towards her and dialled Anna's mother, who would certainly have Anna's number.

Eliane had later gone back on her words when she had seen that her answer distressed Anna a lot. She had not known if this had fooled Anna, but it was likely that Anna had understood that her mother did not want to talk about the subject at that moment. She had not wanted to make Anna worry even more, but it had happened nevertheless. They were both feeling guilty.

"Eliane?" a voice broke through her thoughts as she walked through the halls of the Palace, sometimes stopping to look at paintings to see if they could give her any comfort.

"Yes?" Eliane looked up in annoyance at Sophia. Sophia was one of her mother-in-law's henchmen and therefore to be eyed with weariness.

"Have you seen Eduard?" Eduard was Sophia's brother.

That was an innocent enough question. "Edouard?" Eliane deliberately gave the name its French pronunciation. "Yes."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"I need to talk to Eduard."

If Sophia thought that she could produce Eduard at once, she was sorely mistaken, Eliane thought. She had seen Eduard before, but the Palace was big and he could be anywhere. "I will pass on your message," she answered curtly, not in the mood to be polite.

"And about your daughters --"

"What about my daughters?" Eliane asked defensively.

"Sister!" Eduard called with all the reverence a much older sister deserved. "May I interrupt your conversation with notre cousine?"

"What is it?" Sophia asked.

"I have something to show you about our grandfather's memorial day." He gave Eliane a quick glance, but she did not meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about the interruption, Eliane." He apologised, although from her posture he guessed that the interruption had been more than welcome.

"You needn't be sorry since I was only asking her where you were," said Sophia briskly. "What have you got?"

Eduard showed her the documents and Eliane walked away.

"She's always in such a foul temper," Sophia remarked. "No amount of friendliness can get her out of it. But she remains beautiful, I suppose," she said a little enviously. "And exploiting it. Did you see if she's no longer wearing her wedding ring? So soon after our cousin's death! Someone said she wasn't. Did you notice, Eduard?"

Eduard declared that he had not and was glad that he could claim an engagement to visit the opera with Charles-Louis, who would thankfully not bother him with such details. It was good that there was always somebody to amuse oneself with in such an extended family, but the disadvantage of its size was that there could never be many secrets, especially with his sisters and the other old ladies. He should have asked whether Sophia was still wearing her own wedding ring. He thought not. But then Sophia would never be suspected of trying to look appealing to the opposite sex. She was too old and Eliane was not, only in her mid fifties, a mere girl to Celeste and Cornelia.

He caught up with Eliane outside her apartments. "Eliane…"

"Yes?" she answered cautiously.

"As-tu un peu de temps pour parler avant que je vais à l'opéra?"

Attempts to speak French were always met with goodwill on Eliane's side and she smiled. However, if he wanted to talk, it might not be such a good idea to do it in French if they wanted to discuss in more sophisticated phrases. "Who are you going with?"

"Charles-Louis."

An indulgent smile passed over her face. "He's such a good boy."

"To take a lonely relative out for entertainment?" Eduard asked with a little sarcasm.

She shook her head to signify that he should not see it so crudely.

"You know it's true and that I'd rather go with you."

That was a bold statement. "Louis is better company," she smiled guardedly.

"Eliane…there's been a change in you since last week. Can't we…" He paused. "You're alone and I'm alone." She smiled only briefly, but still she smiled more often nowadays, he thought. "Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked. Eliane shook her head, but there was a light in her eyes that had been missing for a very long time. It was a hopeful sign. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek. "Think about it."

"Yes."

"Can I go to a party?" Alexandra asked as soon as her mother came into the room.

"Non," Eliane said automatically. "Quelle fête?"

"Oh, just a party over at Raymond's for no special reason. Can I go?"

"J'ai dis non."

"Why nooooooot?" Alexandra whined.

"T'as dix-sept ans et tu dois faire tes devoirs."

"I don't have any homework."

Eliane was not in the mood for a discussion like this. She felt herself blinking too rapidly -- tears were rising and she tried to hold them back desperately. Life as a single parent was not easy. She could not send Alexandra to Alexander anymore, just when the girl began to be difficult. Alexander. He had left her alone with a difficult teenager. Why had he not waited a few years before dying? She glanced at the door behind which she had just been talking to Eduard. Perhaps she should marry him so he could keep Alexandra in line. It was no solution. Alexandra would never accept a stepfather's authority.

Alexandra watched a tear trickle down her mother's face. It unnerved her. Mothers were not supposed to cry, least of all hers. Her mother had been a queen and some people still called her that. She should be above crying. What was she crying for? Because I'm not listening? That only raised contempt. "Let me go," she pressed. "Stop your stupid crying. It's not going to work."

Eliane's hands trembled. She had really mismanaged her life. Her husband had died and left her with all these problems that had only become apparent long after his death, which meant that they had to be her fault. Alexandra had not been difficult two years ago. Anna had not been in a mess. The only one who had been in a mess had been Eliane herself, but Alexander's death had not helped to improve that. Now the only carefree person seemed to be Marie-Celeste.

What could she do if Alex went to that party anyway? Nothing. Where were her other daughters? They sometimes interfered and forbade Alex things because they thought she was too lenient. She was, of course. She was a bad mother. She had not succeeded.

Alexandra found her mother's tears annoying and a very bad strategy. Does she really think that I'm going to be impressed? Not so!

The phone rang and Eliane answered it. It was Mrs. Seton asking for Anna's number, but she seemed to sense that there was something wrong, because she asked her to dinner. But how could she go? How could she leave Alex alone? Would Alex sneak off? She had never done that before, but there was always a first time for everything. She brought up Alexandra hesitantly, not being able to voice her fears in front of Alexandra herself, but saying that she did not want to leave her alone all the same. It was no problem. Alexandra was welcome too.

"I don't want to go. It's boring," said Alexandra.

"Tu dois."

"No, I don't. I'm seventeen. I want to go to that party."

Eliane had enough of it. "Ma patience a des limites," she snapped. "Il ya une condition -- tu peux y aller, vas-y! ça m'est égal si tu vas ou non, mais si tu vas, je ne te veux plus voir ici. T'as dix-sept ans et si tu crois que c'est assez pour vivre ta vie seule, alors, essayez-le."

Alexandra was silent. Did her mother really mean that she was no longer welcome if she went to that party? She did not want to try it out. What if it was really true? It was one thing to try and get her way by nagging, but another to be kicked out of the house. She pulled a discontent face. "Chantage!" Blackmail!

Eliane knew Alex would not have the courage to go through with it. She was already backing down, although she had to give herself an attitude as she did so.

"Bien," Alexandra said grudgingly. "Mais je ne l'aimerai pas."

Since they would not go to please Alexandra, it was not relevant to know that Alexandra would not like it and Eliane was unimpressed by her words.

Patrick looked up when Marie-Celeste entered. He frowned when he saw that his brother had his hand on her arm. He was about to speak up indignantly and wonder where John had found the nerve, when John pushed Marie-Celeste towards him and deposited her rather ungallantly on the couch next to him.

"In case you're just as blind and deaf as she is, Patrick, here's something coming your way," John announced, grabbing Patrick's hand and placing it in Marie-Celeste's. "Feel it?" They both looked at him warily and he grinned.

"…And we turn now to our correspondent at the school. Is there any more news, Michael?"

There was an image of the reporter in front of the school. "Indeed there is. The Queen has just left in her helicopter. As I said earlier, everyone was very surprised that she came back. The rumour goes that the Prime Minister was behind the bomb threat to scare her, but such an accusation is of course unfounded so long as the case hasn't been properly investigated and the investigations have only just started." There were a few shots of Anna arriving and leaving, half of which had already been broadcast.

"Is there any significance in the fact that she left together with her friend?" the news presenter asked.

"Well, it was understandably a surprise to the people who didn't know he was there, but I was in that café they later came out of and where he played cards with the helicopter pilots and I wouldn't say there's any significance in it."

"Have you got any images of that?"

"No, he requested that we didn't film the Queen, because she doesn't like it and she wouldn't have come in if he had phoned her that we would film. I got to see her relatively au naturel now and I have to say that it does make a difference."

"Why did she return? Do you know?" the presented interrupted. Talking about Anna au naturel was more something for the commercial TV stations. They, as a public station, had to focus on more serious aspects, although she would question the reporter later, off-screen. "Was she affected?"

"Of course she was affected. I didn't get a clear answer as to why she returned, but I assume that she wanted to finish what she had started. And she obviously loves children, so she might have returned because of that. After the visit I spoke to a few students about the visit and they were full of praise."

There was an image of a girl, again against the same background of the school. "She was really nice," said the girl. "And we appreciated it a lot that she came back. She really thought about us, you know, because I heard that she told the headmaster to send us to pubs so we wouldn't be cold. He was going to make us wait outside."

There was also a boy with an opinion on the matter. "She even took part in some silly games that some people had come up with and when someone mentioned her boyfriend all the teachers would look really paranoid, but she only had to laugh. I guess because she knew he was waiting for her somewhere and that he really existed. I saw him afterwards when they went back to the helicopter and he threw a snowball at us for fun. He can really throw far! We wanted to throw back because we were sure that the Queen would laugh if we hit her, but we couldn't throw that far."

The image switched back to the reporter. "Do you think she's becoming too despotic?" asked the presenter with an abrupt change of topic -- she obviously had a list with prepared questions. "She's suddenly taking over power."

"I doubt that she's after power. I got the impression that she'd rather have no power at all. She's quite shy."

"On what do you base that conclusion?"

"My personal observations and the words of people who know her better. Her friend said that she wanted only ten wedding guests. That doesn't rhyme with a despotic nature, I think."

"Tell us more about that wedding. When will it be? Have they decided that yet?" What an unforgivable slip into the vulgar, the presenter chided herself. However, the damage was done and she could only look very serious as she awaited the answer.

"No, they haven't, but it's unlikely that it's going to be a public affair, considering that he seems to abhor that as much as she does." He was better at avoiding the vulgar traps that lurked all around.

She saw a chance to salvage things. "What's his influence on Anna?" There. That sounded a lot more professional.

The reporter shrugged. "He was there against his will -- I can't imagine anyone willingly come along to spend a few hours in a pub playing cards with the helicopter pilots. But he had enough influence on her later on when she became a little nervous. Well, you saw how they left. She didn't look very nervous anymore."

Again, it was tempting to stray, but the presenter could restrain herself, if barely. "What about the president's visit? Did she say anything about that?"

"She went home for that, but I didn't hear anything about it. Apparently she sorted it out to her satisfaction, because she returned. It definitely wasn't as important as the visit."

The President was wondering what role to assume. Obviously Friend in Need or Powerful Friend in Need would not be appropriate now where the Prime Minister was concerned. Perhaps he could be Powerful Saviour to the Queen. At first sight anyone would choose the Queen's side. He had forgotten what she looked like, but there was an incredibly nice picture of her down in the lobby. He should have remembered such a face. It was a pity that not more heads of state looked like that. Unfortunately they were mostly old and ugly, for young and handsome politicians inspired distrust in people for some reason. Unless they were female, then they merely inspired something else, he thought. The older and uglier, the more serious you were taken. Brains increased along with the wrinkles. Bar that thought, he said to himself as he looked into the mirror. It was a misconception on the part of the masses. He returned to his original line of thinking.

Anyone who had read the reports as far as his assistants had would choose the Queen's side too. They had acquainted him with the most important things and it seemed to him that she was completely innocent and under nobody's influence.

He would have to support the women in this case: the Queen and the Vice Prime Minister. Women were devious enough creatures on other occasions, but this time it had been a man. The President wondered if the Queen had ever turned the PM down, considering the grudge he bore her.

The Minister frequently worked late and she expected that Anna did too. Anna used to sometimes, when she had still been single. When the Minister called her, she had the choice between dining with John -- wherever he was -- and a working dinner with the Minister and their advisors. The former would not run away, although the choice was infinitely more appealing, so she chose the latter.

"Quite frankly, I'm exhausted and my brains functions at only half its normal speed," she said when she had trouble following the discussion.

"We'll keep it short, Madam," the Minister promised and she gave Anna only a brief summary of the day's parliamentary proceedings. The dismissal procedure was irreversible now and the inquiry was also progressing well. "I've been to see the President," she said finally.

"I spoke to him over the phone. I didn't want him to take over the Palace and to subject everyone here to his ridiculous security measure. Imagine you'd come here tomorrow," she said to her political advisor. "And you'd be strip searched."

He agreed that it did not seem a very agreeable thing to undergo.

Anna was closer to hanging over the table than to sitting upright. "What did the President say?"

"Not much, but I told him he couldn't do much here."

She nodded appreciatively. "Whose side is he on?"

"He's a fool, but his staff are alright," said the Minister. "I think he'll be a harmless fool from now on."

"Good," Anna yawned. "What do we do now?"

"The investigations will continue."

"Perhaps you could give some consideration to the reactions that your relationship has caused," her PR advisor suggested with a discreet cough when there was a lull in the conversation.

"You mean, get engaged?" Anna asked. "All the people who criticise us for moving too fast ought to know how much we're actually forced to move fast."

He was silent.

"Well," she said. "I want to abdicate."

"Are you sure?" the Minister asked, a little shocked.

"Yes, Marie-Celeste will be better. Could you take the necessary steps?"

"Madam, you shouldn't take such a decision lightly and just because you feel we are pressing you to get married," said her advisor. He did not want to be the cause of a too hasty decision.

Anna looked down and sighed. "I'll give it another few days, but I doubt that I'll change my mind. Or shouldn't I take John's wishes into account?" she asked uncertainly. "I've never had to deal with this before. Should I just ignore what he wants? I do want it myself, but if I hadn't met him I would have perhaps stayed on forever. I'm not sure how I'll feel about it if it turns out that I just did it for him. I'm not sure I'd like that. Maybe I should give him more time to get used to it and maybe he'll change his mind. Right now, he's all too apt to find things ridiculous that I've grown used to, such as that there's a maid to turn on my heating before I wake up. That's the first thing to go, I'm sure of it. He wasn't too enthusiastic about it this morning. Of course I could turn on the heating on my own, that isn't the problem, but the problem is that he's not going to be able to accept it over a longer period of time, so one of us needs to change lifestyles and I think his life wouldn't give me as much trouble as my life would give him. Or do I see this wrongly?"

The Minister was surprised that Anna would admit such things. However, had she been the boyfriend she would have been a little wary of maids entering the bedroom as well, assuming that he had really been there, as Anna had implied. "What does your mother say?" There did not seem to be anyone else who was qualified enough to give the Queen advice except the previous Queen, although she did not know Eliane personally.

"My mother has problems of her own," Anna said unhappily.

"I'm sorry to hear that." The Minister wondered if that meant that Eliane did not show any interest in what Anna was up to.

"I can't ask her. She's having dinner with John's parents."

"And your grandmother?" She had been Queen as well.

"Grandma probably thinks my mother chaperones us," Anna grimaced. "She's so old -- I wouldn't dare tell her that John stays the night," she said wryly. "And John's mother is really nice, but she would always let John's wellbeing prevail over mine. She'd tell me to quit, probably. But if I don't want to stay on and Marie-Celeste doesn't want to succeed me, then what? Alexandra is too young and a republic isn't all that attractive either."

"It isn't?"

"I suppose as a politician you'd see things differently, but you have to have either a king or a president in a country and isn't a king much easier? You don't have to worry about electing him and he doesn't really have a lot of power either, but isn't it comforting that he's an objective party who can interfere when things go wrong? And if things don't go wrong, he's lucky and he'll just be a stable presence who doesn't change faces every four years. He might also have no function at all, but I doubt that anyone would like being there purely for the ceremonial tasks."

They knew Anna would not, definitely, although they had been under the assumption that she did not like having a function either. She had struck them as being unhappy with her position and now she was defending it, seemingly. "But isn't it unfair that one family is favoured over the others?" the Minister asked. She thought that Anna had always seen this as unfair and that she had resented the fact that she had been the chosen one.

"Favoured? I shouldn't call it -- I don't know how to defend the choice of family that should produce the kings. My family was probably important in the past, but that doesn't mean that I still have the same qualities as that one ancestor who was rewarded or who just grabbed the power and made himself king -- I don't remember my history lessons. But at least his descendants are above suspicion and with a president you never know if he's a president just to have power. I mean, you can't even tell with a prime minister! It's a sad thing that I should be in the position to defend an institution I'd rather not be a part of. I don't think it makes me very credible." Anna looked doubtful.

One of the advisors shrugged. "Just because I see the need for doctors doesn't mean I want to be one."

Anna gave him a thoughtful look. "That's right. But it still doesn't make me very credible to myself. I might say something entirely different tomorrow, because I used to think almost the opposite. Stupid relic from the past, that sort of thing. What and how do I want and whom do I want it with? And why am I telling you this? I don't tell people things." She looked slightly alarmed. "I hardly recognise myself." Here she was, informing these people she barely knew of her private thoughts. She did not share her private thoughts. And they had developed as she spoke, so they were rather new to her as well. They were not yet perfected by reflection -- or was it distorted by reflection, rather? Were these thoughts true or would reflecting on them separate the wheat from the chaff and leave her with her true thoughts? Was thinking good or bad?

Alexandra did not often go to other people's homes unless they were approved friends from school, although they were usually invited to the Palace rather than the other way around. She usually wriggled out of her mother's visits, but on this occasion she preferred to come rather than stay home, even if she was not liking it. And she was prepared to show her mother that she did not like it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Marie-Celeste.

"That needn't concern you," said Marie-Celeste cattily. She did not really know what she was doing there, so how could she tell Alexandra?

Alexandra glanced at the young man with the bandaged ankle. "Did Cel forget to kick your other ankle as well?"

Patrick gave her a funny look. He wondered if she had a behavioural problem. Not even Marie-Celeste would say such a thing.

"Can I do it?" she asked.

"Mum, why did you bring Alex?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"Speak French to her, Cel. She doesn't understand you. Pourquoi m'as-tu amenée, Maman?" Alexandra asked.

"I hoped the boys would give you a good thrashing," Eliane answered.

Alexandra looked amazed, not only at the words, but also at the fact that she had never heard her mother speak any other language than French fluently. "Y-Y-You always make me think that you only speak French!" she said accusingly.

"To you, yes, but we're in company now."

"Why do you speak it to me?"

"So you'll pass at least one subject in school," Eliane said dryly. "If you must speak, please speak about something everyone can speak about. I'm sorry Anna couldn't come," she said to Mrs. Seton. "She had a meeting."

Alexandra found herself next to Mr. Seton who talked to her about school, as if she was interested in that at all. Out of mere politeness she answered his questions, correcting the image her mother had sketched of her. "I pass two subjects in school -- no, three," she said solemnly.

"Which ones?"

"French," she admitted grudgingly. "Gym and Maths."

"Three out of eight is a noble score."

Alexandra looked at him doubtfully to see if he was teasing her, but he looked extremely serious. "Out of nine, actually. We also have Religion."

"Yes, but it's not cool to pass Religion, is it?" Mr. Seton asked perceptively. "My students never used to think so."

"You don't teach that, do you?" she asked in alarm.

"No, I used to teach Physical Education. But umm…with three out of nine there's not much chance of you leaving school this year, is there?"

"No," Alexandra answered with clenched jaws. "I've heard that before."

"How come you don't pass English?"

"Well, I can speak English, but they shouldn't have put English on Wednesday afternoon…after two free periods, you know?" she asked defensively.

"I'm very offended that you don't consider my native language interesting enough to stay at school for," Mr. Seton remarked, overdoing his accent a trifle.

Alexandra did not know where to look or what to say.

"Why aren't you good at the other subjects?"

"Because my mother isn't good at anything but French and Maths."

Mr. Seton wondered if Alexandra could only be good at the subjects her mother was good at. Perhaps her mother did her homework for her. "And your father wasn't good at anything at all?"

Alexandra shrugged. "I can't remember. He didn't help with my homework because he was very busy, but I'm sure he would have been good at everything."

He nodded. "True. All fathers are good at everything, aren't they, John?"

"Sure, Dad!" said John.

"Love's bad for the brains, son. I'll ask you again next year and maybe you'll understand." He saw Alexandra looked confused. "Sorry about that. Inside joke."

"Oh!" John realised what his father meant. "But I don't know yet."

"You don't? Tell your mother so! She ordered me to repaint your old room!"

"What?" John asked, but his mother was in the kitchen at that moment. "Oh well, never mind. It wouldn't hurt to paint my room."

All eyes turned from Anna's confusion to the entrance when a figure appeared on the threshold. He looked in searchingly, then dropped his bags and advanced towards their table. The Minister figured it was Seton from his athletic build and the way his eyes remained on Anna as soon as he had located her. Anna turned when she noticed that their attention was engaged by something behind her and her face lit up into a smile.

"Your little sister deliberately gave me the wrong directions," John announced. "I think I saw the whole Palace and some parts of it more than once."

"My sister?" Anna asked.

"Your mother asked me to see your sister home because I was leaving anyway, but I'm never going to do that again." He looked rather annoyed.

"Where's my mother?"

"She's still talking to my parents, of course," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. He wanted to go to bed. "I mean, being talked to by my mother."

"Calm down!" Anna urged. "Pull up a chair and sit down. Your wobbling makes me dizzy."

"Dizzy?" he frowned in concern. "Already?"

"John! Sit down! What's the matter?"

He obeyed and sat down. "Your mother obviously decided that I was to spend the night here, because she asked me to take your sister with me, but I thought I'd better check with you first, not that I could stay over without your consent anyway, because I haven't got a clue where I am or where to find your room."

Anna looked at him quietly and began to draw something in her notebook and tore out the sheet. "This is a little map. Use it if you want."

John had been studying the other people around the table. He recognised the Minister for Home Affairs and some of the advisors. This was obviously a business meeting. He took the little map and looked at it. "Thank you. What if I don't use it?"

"Then you'll have to wait for me or lose your way," she replied.

"Will you be long?"

"I don't know. We were just discussing abdication," she said, glancing at him.

"Oh. Can't I ever get away from that topic? What do you think occupies our dear relatives most?"

"Patrick and Marie-Celeste," Anna said promptly.

"Not if Patrick and Marie-Celeste are there. No, it was all speculation about what you were going to do. They asked me first, but I can't answer for you, so they began speculating. I left as soon as I could."

"Why can't you answer for me?"

"Because I don't know if you like that."

"I do! You say it much better anyway. Tell them what I should do," she indicated the people around the table. "Because I don't know."

John shook his head. "It's funny how you don't seem to know your own mind when everyone else knows it perfectly." He looked around the table. "Sorry. I won't tell you. There's nothing wrong with either her mouth or her mind."

The Minister thought it a point in his favour when Seton had said that he did not want to speak for Anna in case she did not like it, but he was being a little cruel now, in front of strangers. Although Anna did deserve it a little. She was much too unsure of herself.

"John!" Anna cried in embarrassment.

"Think, darling. What do you want in five years' time? Remember that I've been shopping with Charles-Louis and that we've exchanged family secrets," he grinned at her affectionately. "The secret desires of our siblings. I shared Patrick's and he shared yours…"

"And what are my secret desires?"

"Well, I'm sure you know that better than I do, but I don't think it involved being a queen." Unless it was a queen who had a country house with a fire, a gorgeous husband, six children -- five years from now? John wondered -- and two golden retrievers.

"I don't think anyone's secret desire would involve that!"

"There you go! The mere fact that you can't imagine it ought to tell you something." John got up and nodded at the rest of the people. "Good night," he said politely. "Don't keep her too long." He ruffled Anna's hair. "She's got to counsel me still." They should not think he knew everything. He needed Anna's input too, but then in other fields.

John had taken Alexandra home, Patrick and Marie-Celeste had gone upstairs to watch a film on TV, and Eliane was alone with the Setons, when the doorbell was rung.

Mr. Seton went to answer it and returned after a few minutes. "Do you know a young man named Shallowy?" he asked Eliane. It was all very well if people came to the door asking if Eliane was there, but he could not go and let them all in, even if they claimed to be nephews and cousins. After all, she was a princess.

She frowned at his mangled pronunciation of the French name. "Who?"

"Shallowy, sounds French."

She recognised the name now. "Ahh! Charles-Louis! Yes, I know him. He's a nephew -- or something like that."

"Did he go to the opera?"

"Yes."

"Well, Shallowy is at the door with his father's cousin and their car broke down -- well, I'll show them in." He disappeared and a few seconds later he returned with Charles-Louis and Eduard.

They greeted Mrs. Seton politely, Eduard introducing themselves with all of his last names, but Charles-Louis merely as Louis Ditto. Mrs. Seton had no idea that his last names would be the same, but she had heard about Charles-Louis and she studied him with interest. He was the one who had bought her boys those nice suits. The uncle looked a bit stern, though not unfriendly, because his smile was genuine if brief.

"What happened?" Eliane asked, glancing from one to the other and leaning slightly forward in her seat.

"My car has a flat tyre and I didn't have a spare one," said Charles-Louis. "So we thought we'd walk home and then we came through this street and we saw your car --"

"How do you know it was my car?" Eliane interrupted.

"The number plates," Eduard answered, looking at her.

"We didn't know what you'd be doing and where you were, but then we walked on and we saw Marie-Celeste's car parked next to this house, so we rang the bell to ask you if you were going home in the next half hour or so. Don't feel obliged. We can walk too. Ahhh!" he cried when he noticed the pictures on the wall. "I know them! Now I understand what Marie-Celeste's doing here too."

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