by David Weber
“Thank you, Captain,” Burgundy said gravely. “In retrospect, I’m only sorry we didn’t push harder.”
“But I think it’s safe to say that the Cabinet’s priorities are going to reflect that new focus in the very near future,” Dapplelake added.
Travis winced to himself. Now what? Was he supposed to say something? What was he supposed to say? What kind of small talk did you make with the King? Thank you for inviting us aboard, Your Highness? I think you’re doing a good job? I like your tie?
The King’s eyes shifted to something behind Travis. “If you’ll all excuse me,” he said, starting toward the gap between Metzger and Travis, “I have a small matter to attend to.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Dapplelake said, again apparently speaking for the group. Travis quickly stepped aside, the King and two more of his bodyguards swept past, the King sending a final smile in Travis’s direction as he left.
“Again, congratulations,” Burgundy said, craning his neck as he looked at someone further along the deck. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I need to speak to.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Metzger gestured to Travis and Lisa, and the three of them turned and headed in the other direction.
And with that, it was suddenly over.
Beside Travis, Lisa seemed to wilt a little. “Well,” she said.
“Well what?” Metzger asked, sounding amused.
“Just well, Ma’am,” Lisa said. “I’ve—first time I’ve ever met royalty.”
“Well, I suggest you get used to it, Commander,” Metzger said. Travis threw her a sideways look, but the amusement he thought he’d heard earlier was gone. “You’re a rising star, and nowadays that suggests you’ll eventually find yourself up to your collar in politics.”
“Wonderful,” Lisa muttered.
“Fortunately, that’s still a ways in your future,” Metzger soothed. “Right now, Cazenestro and Locatelli have that role sewed up. But they won’t be around forever; and when they go, it’ll be up to officers like you.” She shifted her gaze to Travis. “And you, too, Lieutenant,” she added.
“I hope not, Ma’am,” Travis said. “If Commander Donnelly isn’t up to it, I’m certainly not.”
“You will be,” Metzger assured him. She raised her eyes to the horizon, where only the tallest buildings of Landing were still visible in the distance. “But as I said, that’s the future. For now, I believe they’re setting up an appetizer bar at the stern. Let’s show the politicians and MPARS officers how to do a proper reconnaissance in force.”
* * *
Sophie was standing half-concealed in one of the cabin hatchway alcoves, partially shielded from the brisk sea wind, when Edward reached her.
To find that his half-seen glimpse a moment ago had been correct. The Crown Princess wasn’t alone.
Apparently, she’d brought a date.
Edward clenched his teeth. Of all places, and of all times.
And of all people.
Sophie smiled at him as he approached. Her smile slipped, just a bit, as she saw the look on his face, but she had it back in place by the time he reached the happy couple. “Hello, Father,” she greeted him, ducking her head in respect. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She took the arm of the young man at her side, easing him just a bit closer to her. His face, Edward noted, wasn’t nearly as calm and controlled as Sophie’s. “This is Peter Young, eldest son of Hadrian Young, Earl North Hollow.”
“Your Majesty,” Young gulped, bending deeply at the waist as if hoping a sufficiently deep bow would render him invisible.
Edward could only wish that was true.
“Yes, I know,” he said, nodding curtly to the boy. “A word, Sophie. If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Young?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Young said. He bowed again, then eased gingerly past Edward and hurried away down the deck at a quick, stiff-backed walk.
Edward looked back at his daughter. Her eyes were apprehensive, but her jaw was set firmly. Silently, he motioned to the cabin door behind her. Her lip twitched, but she obediently reached behind her back, found the knob, and opened the door. A moment later, they were alone in the cabin, the door once again closed against possible interruption.
“Let me guess,” she said with a sigh. “I should have asked your permission to bring a date along.”
So she thought of it as a date, too. Wonderful.
“But I did clear it with Colonel Jackson,” she went on. “And North Hollow has been doing good work with the Survivor’s Fund that Aunt Elizabeth set up—”
“Sophie,” Edward said, holding up his hands, palms toward her. “This isn’t about Peter Young, or even Sophie Winton. It’s about Crown Princess Sophie.”
Sophie frowned. “Excuse me?”
“In case you’ve forgotten,” Edward said, “let me remind you that the Constitution stipulates that the monarch must marry a commoner.”
Her eyes widened with surprise and a hint of outrage. “Dad, I’m not planning to marry him,” she protested. “It’s one casual date.”
“And every marriage on Manticore started with one casual date,” he countered. “What happens if one of these casual dates turns into something more? Are you ready for the heartbreak of having to say good-bye to him?”
“So what, I should never have any friends with titles?” Sophie bit out. “Friends sometimes turn into husbands, too, you know.”
“Which is why you have to guard your friendships, too,” Edward said gently. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I really am. I never meant for this to happen to you. But this is the reality, and you’re going to have to accept it.”
Sophie looked away. “It’s not fair, you know,” she said in a low voice. “None of it.”
“Once you’re Queen you can try to get the Constitution changed,” he said. “But I’ll warn you, it’ll be an uphill battle.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment the cabin was silent. Then Sophie took a deep breath. “Well, at least you’re not going to make him swim home,” she said with a touch of the old Sophie sense of humor. “That was how you looked when I first saw you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You aren’t, are you?”
“Of course not,” he assured her. “But that does bring up another point. Everyone aboard is all right and will understand. But there will be people at the dock when we return who may not. There will probably also be some watching who revel in spreading rumors and innuendo. I’d rather not pump hydrogen into their bonfires, if you know what I mean.”
“So you do want him to swim home.”
“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to put him in one of the aft cabins when we get close to Landing,” Edward said. “I’ll instruct Major Fergueson to let him out once the rest of us have disembarked and are on our way to the memorial service.”
“Right,” Sophie said. “Like having Peter skulk around under the radar isn’t going to raise some eyebrows.”
“Only if the eyes beneath those eyebrows actually see him. If we do this right, they won’t.”
“I suppose.” Sophie sighed again. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you.” Edward started to turn back toward the door, then turned back. “Oh, and he will be in the cabin alone.”
“Dad!” Sophie said, sounding thoroughly scandalized. “I said it was just casual.”
Beneath his feet, Edward felt the slight change in vibration as the Samantha’s engines slowed. Right on schedule. “Right,” he said. “I forgot.”
“Well, don’t.” Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Aunt Elizabeth said there were costs to being Crown Princess. This was one she didn’t mention.”
“I know,” Edward said. “And again, I’m sorry.” He lifted a finger. “But there are some advantages to being the Monarch,” he said. “Namely, getting to do things that everyone else tells you you’re not supposed to.”
“Right,” Sophie said, frowning slightly. “Like what, drinking red wine with fish?”
“Like
this.” He crooked the raised finger back toward the door in invitation. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
* * *
Travis had spotted the boats approaching rapidly from astern shortly after they cleared the horizon. He’d pointed them out to Lisa, and they’d had a short discussion on whether or not they should alert anyone. But then Lisa noticed that the King’s Own at Samantha’s stern were also watching the approaching watercraft and were showing no signs of alarm. A few minutes later, as the approaching vehicles resolved themselves into a pair of sleek hydroplane racing boats, Samantha’s engines changed pitch, and the yacht began slowing to a stop. Again, the guards showed no concern, and Travis put it behind him.
Until he spotted Princess Elizabeth standing by the rail staring at the approaching boats.
And the King’s sister did not look happy.
“Over there,” Lisa murmured, pointing at an empty section of railing as some of the other guests began wandering curiously sternward. “Come on.”
“What?” Travis asked, hurrying to catch up as she headed off. “Why?”
“I want to see what’s going on,” Lisa said over her shoulder. “Snap it up—the King and Princess Sophie are on the way.”
They were in Lisa’s chosen place by the portside rail—downwind from Elizabeth, Travis noted, where the presumed upcoming royal conversation would carry well—when King Edward and Crown Princess Sophie reached Princess Elizabeth.
Apparently, the warning Travis had read about letting the King speak first didn’t apply to family.
“You aren’t serious,” Elizabeth said in a low voice.
“I’m very serious,” Edward assured her. “And really, you’re worrying about nothing.”
A couple of people in civilian clothing, apparently realizing they were in the eavesdropping zone, moved politely away from the rail. Lisa, behind Travis, nudged him to move a little closer.
“The sea is smooth, the wind is perfect,” the King continued.
“And at three hundred kilometers an hour it doesn’t take much of a wave to—”
“And this is the last time.”
Elizabeth broke off.
“What do you mean, the last time?”
“Just what I said: the last time,” the King repeated. Travis could only see half his face, the other half blocked by his sister’s head, but he looked very serious. “At least, for a long while. Sophie understands that in her new role as Crown Princess she has to give up this kind of activity. I thought that as a gift to her she and I could have one last outing before putting the hydroplanes away. And the hang gliders, and the eddy-spinners, and all the rest of the excitement in her life.”
“Now you’re just trying to make me look bad,” Elizabeth said. “So you’re not going to be doing your usual racing thing?”
“No racing,” Edward assured her. “Just a father and daughter getting out on the water to feel the wind in our faces. Actually, I’m thinking we’ll just go on ahead and make sure everything’s ready for the luncheon.”
“You won’t be doing any crazy stunts?”
“Well, I won’t,” Edward said. “Sophie, are you planning any crazy stunts?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Sophie said solemnly.
“The King’s Own has cleared the whole area?”
“Out to five kilometers.”
“The boats have been thoroughly checked out?”
“Two times each, by two different techs.”
“And you’ll keep it under two hundred kph?”
The King and Crown Princess looked at each other. “If it’ll make you feel better, yes,” the King agreed.
Elizabeth’s shoulders heaved in a silent sigh. “And I can’t stop you anyway, can I?”
“Please, Aunt Elizabeth,” Sophie said. “Can you just be happy that I’m getting one last ride before I have to be all upright and proper?”
“And boring?” the King murmured.
Elizabeth shook her head. “You two are hopeless,” she said. “Fine. But if I have to watch this, Sophie, don’t expect me to come watch your next hang gliding, too.”
“Fair enough,” Sophie said. “Thank you.”
“Now that that’s settled,” the King said, “it’s time to get suited up. Your gear’s in Cabin Three, Sophie. Last one in their boat is—”
“Edward?” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice ominous. “You said no races.”
The King frowned briefly, then smiled and inclined his head. “I did, didn’t I,” he agreed. “Fine. Sophie, last one in their boat is last one in their boat. Good enough?”
“You know, even a King isn’t supposed to mock his younger sister,” Elizabeth said. “But fine. Go suit up, Sophie. Just promise me that when you get to Triton you make sure your father doesn’t eat all the crab cakes.”
“I will,” Sophie promised. She gave her aunt a quick hug, then hurried forward along the deck.
“You be careful,” Elizabeth said, almost too quietly for Travis to hear. “And keep her careful, too.”
“I will,” the King said, taking her hand. “And I promise: it will be the last time. At least until she’s Queen and can drive you crazy with these things without my help.”
“Yes, that makes me feel so much better.”
The King gave her a final smile, then headed off after his daughter.
Lisa tapped Travis’s arm, and together they drifted away from the rail.
“What do you think of that?” she asked.
Travis shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“It is a little risky,” Lisa conceded. “There are a lot of things that can go wrong when you’re traveling that fast.”
“I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Travis said. “I just don’t think it fits the proper mood of the day. This is supposed to be an afternoon of gratitude, with an evening of solemn remembrance following it. Doesn’t seem right for the King to head off on a hydroplane jaunt as if this was just another afternoon’s outing.”
“Maybe,” Lisa said, a bit doubtfully. “But then, he is King. He kind of gets to do whatever he wants.”
“I suppose. But as King, shouldn’t he also do what’s good and proper?”
“I suppose.” Lisa pondered a moment. “Tell you what. When you get to be King, you can make out a list of good and proper things for future kings to follow.”
Travis frowned sideways at her. Was she mocking him?
Probably. But that was all right. Somehow, jibes from her didn’t hurt. “Great idea,” he said. “I’ll start campaigning for the job tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Lisa said. “For now, let’s just campaign for a few of those little nut clusters on the appetizer table.”
Travis craned his neck. Those clusters did look good. “Is that an order, Commander?”
“Absolutely, Lieutenant.” She nodded toward the table. “I’m going in. Cover me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As Edward had expected, not everyone approved of his decision.
No one said anything, of course. He was the King, and unless a decision impacted national security or national finances no one else could claim a vote in the matter. But it was evident in their expressions which ones were neutral, which ones were mostly positive, and which ones were flat-out against it.
Edward’s wife Cynthia was studiously neutral on the whole thing. Like Elizabeth, she didn’t personally care for that kind of sport, but long experience had taught her that it was a necessary stress release for both her husband and her daughter. She’d also learned over the years that both of them knew what they were doing, and that objections didn’t get her anywhere anyway.
Which was a lesson the rest of them would do well to learn, too. Edward was the King, he wanted to do this for his daughter, and they were therefore going to do it. Period.
Still, as the two hydroplanes pulled away from Samantha’s side he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. If this was Sophie’s last outing for the next twenty or thirty T-years, it
needed to be Edward’s last, as well. A King’s responsibility was to lead by example, especially within his own family.
The one upside of the whole thing was at least Elizabeth wouldn’t be giving him That Look anymore whenever he wanted to do anything even remotely dangerous. It was a look she’d figured out when she was eight, and she’d only improved on it since then.
And of course, since her husband’s tragic and violent death four T-years ago, her fears for her brother’s safety had come with an extra edge of guilt and grief attached. Edward would be just as happy to never see That Look, in that context, ever again.
“So how does this work again if we’re not racing?” Sophie’s voice came through his earpiece. “I forget.”
“We just ride elegantly and genteelly across Jason Bay,” Edward said, settling himself snugly in his cockpit seat and peering through the bars of his safety cage. Fifty meters in front of him he could see Sophie strapped into her own seat, her red wetsuit/life vest combo brightly visible through the cage bars.
“Genteelly means fast, right?”
“Up to two hundred kph, yes,” Edward said. “We promised Aunt Elizabeth, remember?”
“I suppose,” Sophie said, a bit of grump in her voice.
“And no donuts, bouncers, or bootleg turns, either,” Edward admonished.
“Yes, yes, I know.” Sophie huffed out a sigh. “She can really suck the fun out of everything, can’t she?”
“Sure can,” Edward said. “It’ll serve her right if you decide not to take her name when you become Queen.”
“What?” Sophie gasped indignantly. “She told you that?”
“It might have come up in casual conversation,” Edward said, smiling. “Or it could have come from one of your bodyguards.”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“No, probably not,” Edward conceded. “But take that as a handy tip for the future: if you’re in public, everything you say could eventually become public knowledge. You’ll want to remember that.”
“Oh, I’ll remember it, all right,” Sophie growled. “And if I do take her name, I’m going to spell it wrong. So there.”
