

Alexandra

by

Kay Brown

Copyright © Kay Brown 2013

Published at Smashwords

CHAPTER ONE

The Beach

Alexandra rode out to the beach in the gloomy evening. She had grabbed her weapons, just in case. It was a dark night, and it was hard to see much of anything; visibility was just about a mile.

When she got to the shore, it was clear that a large vessel was approaching. Seconds later, artillery was being emplaced, big guns. The main commercial docks were a short way up the river; it had been many years since cannon fire had been exchanged at the pier. The sea was still rough, but with the perversity of war weather, the winds were just beginning to calm.

The ship, as it approached, looming in the dark, looked menacing. Suddenly, there was cannon fire from a smaller vessel aimed at the approaching enemy. Evidently some frigates had been put out to defend the shore.

People were beginning to gather along the beach; in the dark, Alexandra could see knives and clubs, as well as swords and pikes, and the glint of the equipment of the army. Suddenly, there was a cry from a little to the west. Nothing could be seen from that far away. Finding herself alone, Alexandra felt an impulse to head out west along the shore road. Someone followed her on foot, calling her. It was a woman's voice.

"Highness! I mean—Your Majesty!" Alexandra cursed whoever it was. She turned and asked whoever it was to shut up. "Alexandra! Get back here!" It was Miriam, Alexandra's close friend, and a member of the Palace Guard. Miriam had taken a crossbow bolt to her shoulder just that afternoon. Poor Miriam had left her horse, but could not see Alexandra in the dark, and was soon left behind.

Alexandra was all alone on the shore road. The army was spread along the beach. She wondered why they did not light it up, so they could see better. She assumed that they didn't want to make it any easier for the enemy. But wasn't it the enemy who would be helped by stealth?

Suddenly there was bright light in the direction Alexandra was heading, and she saw a boat being beached, and a number of enemy soldiers rushing ashore, and a number of her own soldiers rushing to attack them. There were about a dozen coming off the boat, and just four facing them. She watched in awe as the four soldiers, all women, fought like maniacs. In mere seconds, twelve bodies lay on the beach. An involuntary cheer escaped her lips.

Alexandra dismounted, and led the horse off the road and tied it to the fence of a house. There was a great deal of poverty in this part of the country, and people lived in stone houses just within sight of the beach. Alexandra got out her crossbow, her pride and joy. It was the best kind available, with all sorts of machinery to make loading easier, and the range longer. Tonight, if she had to, she would kill.

She quickly tied her hair back, and looked out to sea. The light they had rigged only made it harder to see. Even as she wished they would turn it off, they did, only to reveal two more boats approaching as her vision adjusted, one further west, and one much further east.

Alexandra felt calm. She waited until her sight returned, and the nearer boat was just about fifty yards away. Aiming carefully, she shot at one of the enemy soldiers furthest at the back, at a distance of over sixty feet, in the dark, on a floating target, and the man fell into the water with a cry. They were all men; Bernians did not send women into battle, and these were seasoned troops. With a cry, another group of four defenders fell on the survivors. Carefully, Alexandra aimed at another. The problem was to avoid hitting her own fighters. It was almost impossible. But again, in seconds, the light was turned on, and the invaders were downed. One woman soldier had her arm hanging useless.

Boats were coming in all the time, now, up and down the beach, and Alexandra kept to her strategy of picking off the rearmost enemy soldiers, covered by the darkness. It was a cowardly thing to do, but it was a cowardly invasion in the first place.

It continued for almost an hour. Alexandra walked up the beach, heading steadily westwards, fearful that some boats may have gone so far west that they were beyond the army line. Suddenly she heard a gasp. She felt a tug on her tunic. In a flash she whirled round, her sword ready. All she saw was a tiny shadow—two shadows. Curse the lights! Then one of them scuttled forward, and she saw it was a child. The whites of its eyes were showing all round, and it was gesticulating towards the water. "Look there!" she heard an urgent whisper.

She turned back, and there, stealthily, a boat had landed, completely unseen. Soldiers were coming ashore even as she looked.

Creeping around a pile of driftwood, Alexandra got off three quick shots, and got three of them. Still no Northern forces had seen the boat. There was confusion, since Alexandra could not be seen in the dark. The next shot got the leader in the face, but the direction of the bolt had been noted. The remaining men rushed in Alexandra's direction, and she heard scuffling behind her. The confounded kids were dogging her.

Silently, Alexandra got up, her sword ready, and whirled into battle. They seemed to be moving too slowly; it was easy to get behind their guard and hack them down with short blows. In no time she had three more down, but there were several left. Ignoring all but one, she resumed fighting. One more down.

Then they began to surround her. Then everything happened at once. Alexandra gave up her silence, and began to yell. Her own guard heard the commotion, while she was engaging two of the enemy, and the lights were brought towards her, blinding her and the attackers equally.

"It's a girl," said one of them, and began to press her. There were four of them, and she stumbled. Picking up a handful of sand, she hurled it in their faces, and they backed off for just long enough for her to get her footing again. Suddenly her attackers were being pelted with stones, aimed expertly.

It was ugly fighting, but she was fighting for her life. She killed another one, and then she faced only one; the army had arrived. Then she made a vicious cut to the man's neck, and he fell with a cry.

More boats landed, further towards the town, and the defenders headed towards them, taking the lights. Alexandra was alone again, with dead bodies all around her, in the dark. She checked herself; as far as she could tell, she had only a small cut on her thumb, and a sprained knee. She turned round, cursing.

"Where are you?" she demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

There was nobody. She stopped cursing, but insisted a little more politely that they should show themselves. "Come here, I want to talk to you!"

Cautiously, the two shadows approached. They were dressed in smocks. As they came closer, she could see them better. The moon was coming out.

One of them froze, and her eyes went wide.

"Your Majesty!" she gasped. "I didn't recognize you!"

"That doesn't matter! Why did you interfere in the fighting?"

"I knew all along!" said the other. "I knew! I knew!"

Try as she might, it was impossible to scold them. They were dancing around in excitement, as if they had done the fighting all by themselves. Suddenly they stopped.

"Look, you're bleeding! You're hurt, you're hurt! Oh, Megan, she's hurt!"

"What? Where? Just my thumb . . ."

"No, your knee, look!"

She suddenly realized that her leg had been nicked, and was bleeding into her breeches, a blot of stickiness behind her knee. It wasn't a sprain. The muscle was still sound, but it was hard to walk.

"Oh, shit," she swore. She had been wiping her sword, and now she put it away. "Help me to my horse," she asked.

They came up to about her chest, and were really tiny little things. When she put her weight on their shoulders, clearly it was more than they could bear. She limped along, pretending that they were helping her, trying to forget that more boats were landing all the time.

"Well, what are your names? I must remember my saviors, after all."

"Majesty, you know us! I'm Sara, and that's Megan! Remember?"

CHAPTER TWO

The Arrival of Genevieve

The pier stretched almost a quarter mile out into the bay. The shore was crowded with horses and carriages, and people in their best clothing, and they were looking out to sea, awaiting the landing of three ships that were still a short distance from the pier. The ships had colorful sails and graceful lines; as they grew closer, the crowd on the shore swelled with latecomers, the ships began to furl their sails, coming in on their motors, each of which was driven by powerful men on treadmills. Gradually, the figures standing at the rails of the ship became visible, their colorful clothes, in contrast to the beiges, browns, greens and dull golds of those on the shore, were all the colors of the rainbow.

"Look at all the colors!" a young lady in her early teens remarked to her companion, her voice full of wonder. "They're all dressed up for her! It's for the wedding, I suppose."

"Every day's a wedding for them," said Megan, disapprovingly.

"Well, no need to get upset; we may as well get used to seeing some color during a feast!"

Megan shook her head vehemently. "All the time," she insisted. "They don't have any plain clothes over there, only this fancy stuff. I've been there."

"Okay, okay," murmured Megan's companion. She looked around her and up along the road from the city. She nudged her friend excitedly. "Look, here she comes!"

The sour face of her companion lit up with pleasure at the sight of a young rider, as everyone made way for her horse. She rode tall in the saddle, wearing only a brown quilted tunic with cap-sleeves that left her arms bare, the short riding-skirt of the royal guard, dark hose, and calf-boots. Not a hair was out of place, her face was serious. Megan gazed adoringly as she passed within a few feet of the two of them. She saw a thin line of what must be anxiety furrowing the rider's forehead.

As the horse and rider reached the pier, there were many hands to take the reins of her horse, and the young rider joined a group of nobles that stood a little apart from the people. Among them was Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir, a young noble a year or so junior to the young rider herself. They exchanged a few words, after which the new arrival turned to look once again at the approaching vessels. An elderly man who stood near the young rider seemed to be quietly remonstrating with her, but she shook her head.

The first of the ships was coasting slowly to the pier in a perfect approach.

"I believe that's her Highness, in blue," the old man said quietly.

"Which one? The one near the gangway?"

"No, a little further astern. Standing near the girl in green."

"Oh, yes. I see her."

"Go now, Your Majesty!" murmured the grey-haired gentleman who had stood at Alexandra's right.

Alexandra took a deep breath, and marched regally forward.

"There she goes," Megan said, excitedly. "How beautifully she walks ..."

Her friend sighed. "I wish I could be Lady Sophie!"

"Sara, you're so silly!" dimpled Megan. Then she sighed too.

Sara giggled softly.

Genevieve watched from an upper deck as the gangway was lowered, and a line of honor guards went down and smartly assembled in two ranks on either side of the pier. On the further end of the pier, the Princess was striding down, her face grim and expressionless. She seemed to be wearing only a sleeveless vest and a short leather skirt, hardly fitting to welcome visiting royalty, Genevieve thought. But they were a Spartan folk, not given to pageantry and display.

The two girls had met when they were much younger, but Alexandra had changed almost beyond recognition. Genevieve breathed slowly and forced herself to relax. Her mother stood just behind her, making the occasional noise that Genevieve knew to express disappointment. The Queen, was not easily insulted, but the austerity of their welcome was pushing her tolerance to its limits.

The beach was filled with a vast throng, watching for a glimpse of their Princess Consort-to-be. They were quiet, only a soft murmur to be heard under the sound of the rustling of the few trees near the shore, the lap of the waves, and the noise of the two sets of guards positioning themselves. A small company of musicians stood ready. Higher on the beach there were many horses tethered, and on a side stood the horse guard, still mounted.

The band on the ship played the national anthem of New Hope, and everyone was looking at Genevieve. She headed down the gangway, holding her skirts carefully. A few yards away, the Princess watched her nervously. She was an inch or two taller than Genevieve, solidly built, and solemn-faced. Her grey eyes crinkled in a slight smile. She was trying to put Genevieve at ease.

The crowd on the shore spontaneously and unexpectedly began to cheer, and Genevieve smiled up at them, taken by surprise. And the princess's face also relaxed in a warm smile. Genevieve held out her hand to Alexandra, who took it in her own and bent over it gracefully.

She turned next to greet Genevieve's mother, Queen Anne, who murmured a few words of greeting to her daughter-in-law-to-be, and Alexandra replied in her clear, high voice. She turned and offered her arm to Genevieve, while the senior noble to her right offered the Queen his arm, and they slowly processed up the pier to the cheers of the warm-hearted children.

"She's pretty," Megan conceded, "at least from a distance."

"Yes, she is," Sara sighed. "Well, she doesn't have to do any work. All she has to do is smile, and have babies. No fighting, no riding, nothing ..."

Megan shook her head as she led the way down to the water, in a direction opposite to the general flow. Sara and she had decided to go look at the ships up close. Sara wanted a good look at the foreigners, the next best thing to traveling South across the sea.

Finally, Genevieve and her party were in a coach by themselves, bound for the Palace. "She seemed pretty tight for a bit," the Queen remarked softly to Genny. "She's had a rough time, the poor thing. She's only got a bunch of men advising her. She could do so much better there..."

"I don't understand that! I thought there'd be loads of women in the Palace!"

"There usually are, dear. But they were all older, and went into retirement at the same time. Beate wasn't expected to die so young."

"Could you stay a bit longer, Mother, please?"

The Queen shook her head. Contact between the countries had been minimal until recently, when the late Queen Beate of Norsland, Alexandra's mother, had begun the strengthening of economic and cultural ties with their neighbors to the south.

They looked about them. This was Genevieve's first visit to the country. It was late Spring, and it was a warm spring this year. The coastal areas were home to fisher-folk, whose homes lined the seaward side of the shore road, while on the landward side, across from the strip of fisher homes, were small businesses and homes of more middle-class citizens. Further inland was a dense forest, sporadically interrupted by farms. Still further inland, mountains rose, blue in the distance.

The road turned inland parallel to the river, and they approached a modest city with a fortified central area. Within it rose the stone pile of the Palace, and by its side, other government buildings, by the look of them. As they drew nearer, it became clear that the buildings were larger than they appeared from a distance, though none of them were as tall as those of Genny's home in New Hope.

As she stared out the window, feeling the strangeness of the place, her mother squeezed her arm. They weren't really very close, but as Genny thought of her mother leaving, she realized that she was dearer to her than she had ever admitted to herself. She looked at her mother, whose face was turned to look out the other side.

The young Northlander Queen rode up next to the carriage window on her mare, as if by accident. By the way her face colored, Genny knew better. Alexandra turned and smiled awkwardly down at her.

"How do you like it so far?" she asked. Her high voice made her sound so young! She felt a surge of excitement go through her; she had no trouble smiling back.

CHAPTER THREE

Genevieve Enters the Palace

Alexandra studied the face of the young woman who was to be her consort. The girl smiled at her with no appearance of timidity. Alexandra felt her own smile becoming glassy. She was attracted to women; that had been known for a year or two. (In this time and place, unions between women and unions between men was somewhat more common than we are accustomed to. Still, society was generally conservative in other ways.) But aggressive girls turned her off. Some eight years earlier, Genevieve, the young princess in the coach, had been a quiet, solemn girl. It had been her shy, gentle nature that had drawn the young Alexandra. Since then, Genevieve had obviously matured into a confident young woman.

"It's lovely," Genevieve said in her warm contralto. At least she didn't sound stuffy, Alexandra thought. She spoke beautifully, without affectation.

"Did you have a good voyage here?"

"It was almost perfect," Genevieve said.

Shortly Genevieve, as well as the visiting Royal family and entourage, was made comfortable in her own suite in the guest wing of the Palace, far from Alexandra's own quarters. Minimizing contact between the couple was supposed to heighten the excitement.

A large proportion of Norsfolk were lesbian or bisexual, though the society was not dominated by either sex. Fortunately, the entire planet had a far larger than usual percentage of people of alternate preference, and a royal bride was usually not hard to find if it so happened that the heir to the throne had an alternate preference.

Shortly after Queen Beate and her family had returned from visiting King Frederick of New Hope eight years ago, Alexandra had confided to her mother that she thought she was a lesbian. Beate had laughed, saying it was far too early to decide.

"But you are, Mama, and I think I am, too!"

Beate had only smiled. Alexandra was an only child, and Beate loved her. But being wise, and too level-headed to make careless decisions that could affect her child adversely, she encouraged Alexandra to make friends among both sexes, and had her train in the elite Palace Guard with a mixed group of young nobles at athletics and arms. She had attended school with many of them, and as Alexandra grew older, she made friends, yes, but not close ones. At dances, she partnered her girlfriends by preference, though she danced with boys, too. But she was reserved and quiet, a serious child, like Beate's lover and consort Atlanta, who had died in a riding accident when Alexandra was a baby. Alexandra had inherited her second mother's grave dignity, and her straight hair. Before Beate could see whether Alexandra had inherited more than just her grey eyes, Beate, too, had died of an incurable disease that had left the nation in shock. That had been just a few months ago.

The coronation would come first. Alexandra would be Queen, Genevieve would be Princess Consort, and their children would rule Norsland. New Hope, across the Southern Ocean, had a constitutional monarchy, and their succession would be decided by Parliament, from among the royal candidates available.

A week later, Alexandra and Genny would be married, and Genny would be crowned Queen consort. Until then, this strict chaperoning of the two girls would continue. Genny rolled her eyes when her Queen mother reminded her about the tradition.

Genny was kept entertained, though. She was taken, along with her lady-in-waiting, young fourteen-year-old Heather, escorted by the lovely and delightful Lady Sophie, a young Northern noble, to watch athletic events all day. There was riding, wrestling, fencing, running, and, of course, swimming. In the South, all these sports were held separately for women and for men, but here in the North, both sexes entered the same events. The Norsfolk were very physical. Alexandra was tops at swordsmanship and swimming, and was among the top three finishers in all events.

"I hear she excels in unarmed combat," the Queen told Genny in their rooms on the second day when she returned from having watched a wrestling meet. Genny had seen Alexandra wrestle a muscular young man, who eventually went on to win the weight class. It had been acutely disconcerting for Genny to see her prospective mate in a clinch with a young man. But, by Gordon, Alexandra was superbly muscled. ("You must be proud," Lady Sophie had murmured, her eyes devouring Alexandra, as had been Genny's own eyes.)

"Well, she was beaten by a fellow called Nicholas," Genny said now, pretending not to be excited.

"Oh, not wrestling. This is different. It's real fighting. They don't show that kind of thing in public."

"What kind of thing?"

"Fighting, child. It's an old, old art. You'll hear all about it, I expect. Eventually."

Genny frowned. Unarmed combat that was not wrestling?

The evenings were devoted to theater and music. A troupe of actors had come with the royal party on their ship, and their play was received with great applause. Then musicians of both countries had performed at a concert.

The next morning, Genny, Heather and Sophie turned to smile at each other after Alexandra won the swimming relay for her team. Gordon, she was beautiful in the water.

"Are you having a good visit?" Sophie asked, eyes wide, anxious that Genny should enjoy herself.

"Yes, thank you very much!" Genny smiled winningly at Sophie and looked to Heather for her reply.

Heather was very definitely into the opposite sex. She sighed and blushed, and the other two giggled. "I can't stand another minute of looking at half-naked boys," she said under her breath.

Sophie's eyes twinkled, but surprisingly she agreed. "It's hard, I know." She looked at Genny through the corner of her eye. "It must be hard on you, too!"

Genny only shook her head and looked away. The guard who was assigned to them was heading their way. He had initially stuck close to them, but Sophie had talked him into giving them a little space. Now she went up to him and talked for a little while, and he gave them a worried look and backed away.

"What did you tell him?" Genny asked.

"I said we were going exploring a little." She led the way out of the pool area, through the maze of little streets around the athletics complex, into an older part of town. "It's quite safe," she said. "We can get lunch out here."

They explored the street, and met up with a group of young people who were, like them, looking for a snack. Luckily, Genny and Heather had not dressed too flamboyantly, and Sophie introduced them as members of Princess Genevieve's entourage.

"Hello, I'm Heather, and this is ..."

"Claire! I'm Claire," said Genny at once. It was a favorite name of hers. Sophie gave her own name as Susie. The others introduced themselves, and quizzed the visitors about their home city. Sophie watched and listened, as 'Claire' and Heather graciously described their home, without comparing it with Stefansberg to its detriment.

The food was wonderful, and Genny ate vast quantities of it. She had money with her —which Sophie did not, to her embarrassment— and the whole group left the eatery together.

"Where do you go now?" they asked the group of three girls. "Come with us, we will show you more of the town!"

"No, we have to be back," said Sophie quickly, steering her charges back towards the Palace.

"You're so quiet, Princess," Sophie said, as they settled on a park bench where their guard could see them from the guard-tent, but not overhear them.

Genny sighed, hunched over, staring at the ground. Heather put her arm around Genny's shoulder protectively. They had never been very close, but they had gotten to know each other on the boat.

"It's a little boring at night," Heather admitted. "We're with the older courtiers, and ..."

"...It's terrible," Genny finished for her.

"You don't get to sit with Princess Alexandra?" Lady Sophie had not attended the evening entertainments.

Genny's head hung lower. Heather leaned across her to shake her head sadly at Sophie, who looked indignant.

"Why not? I'd have thought they would encourage your — er, your ... bonding?"

Heather shook her head. "It's against tradition. Didn't you know?"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "That's so silly! Gordon help us!" Sophie was exasperated and amused at the same time. "Well, I'll try and sit with you both tonight," she said. Genny raised her head to look at Sophie hopefully. "I'll try to think of something," promised Sophie.

CHAPTER FOUR

A Risky Meeting

"What does she say?" Alexandra asked Sophie. The young noble had quietly slipped up into the Palace and hunted Alexandra down in her rooms.

"Oh, she's ... she's enjoying the games. The evenings are a little dull, though, I expect!"

Alexandra smothered a sigh. Sophie could see she was very tight.

"I saw her last evening; she seemed to be enjoying the concert," Alexandra remarked slowly.

"Can't you arrange to sit with her?"

Alexandra blushed.

"It's against tradition, apparently."

"How are you going to get comfortable with her, if you never get to talk to her?"

"Is there a problem?" asked Lord Horvald, Alexandra's senior advisor and secretary of the treasury, walking up.

"Just ... girl-talk, Lord Horvald," Alexandra said quietly. But there was steel in her eye, and Sophie cheered silently. Horvald smiled kindly, and Sophie almost forgave him all his glares at her in the last few months.

"I'm glad Lady Sophie has a chance to talk with you in private," he said pointedly.

"What's the harm in Princess Alexandra sitting with Princess Genevieve, Lord Horvald?" Sophie asked.

Horvald made an expressive gesture that indicated that it was a matter he preferred not to go into. "Very soon she'll have all the female company she needs, Sophie!"

"Do you need to see me now, Horvald?" Alexandra asked politely.

"No, Your Majesty," Horvald said, smiling rather gravely, as he bowed and walked away.

There was a long silence after Horvald left.

"I'd like to see her," Alexandra said, so quietly that Sophie could barely hear her.

Thinking furiously, Sophie got an idea.

"Shall I bring her out to the cemetery after the concert?"

Alexandra's eyes were so full of gratitude Sophie laughed. Alexandra kissed her cheek shyly and hurried away. Sophie was surprised by the unexpected expression of affection. Alexandra and Sophie had never been really close; Sophie had decided to be more friendly with the young queen-elect rather on impulse.

Genevieve enjoyed the concert that evening. Alexandra's court, anxious to show that their monarch was a woman of culture, had Alexandra singing a short aria at the beginning of the second half of the concert. It was a traditional love song, in which Alexandra accompanied herself on the harp. She had an unaffected, pure mezzo-soprano, and her singing was accurate, expressive enough, the kind of voice that singing coaches would have loved to get their hands on. Alexandra had kept her eyes firmly on her music, until she had acknowledged the applause with a gracious smile and nod, and taken her seat. Her eyes met Genevieve's for a second, but it was too brief.

The rest of the concert consisted of music in praise of Alexandra and Genevieve, composed for the occasion, as well as patriotic choral pieces praising the two nations, sung by special choirs.

Afterwards, Genevieve and her mother were the center of attention. Alexandra was nowhere to be seen, and Heather was fading. Genevieve found herself being simpered at by a horde of tall, blonde North-women, exclaiming how charming she was, asking her if she was enjoying her stay, in their awkward northern accents. Genevieve managed to reply graciously, but only her mother's presence kept her calm. Her mother seemed to know a surprising number of the old ladies.

Suddenly, Sophie was there at her side, her cool fingers squeezing her arm.

"Oh, you've made a friend, I see! Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir, how nice to see you, my dear!"

"Lady Lena!" Sophie murmured, a polite acknowledgement as the other women greeted her. They were old, old; some in their eighties, or even nineties. But Sophie smiled at them, and turned to smile at the visiting Queen, Genevieve's mother.

"May I take her Highness to visit some friends, Your Majesty?"

The Queen was quite agreeable, but Lady Lena looked doubtful.

"Outside the Palace?"

"No, right here, in the Palace, Lady Lena!"

"I don't know ..." began one of Lady Lena's friends, but Lena decided it could do no harm, and at the Queen's nod, Sophie and Genevieve made their escape, with Heather dragging along behind them.

"Where are we going?" demanded Genevieve.

"To the cemetery. Hurry!"

"The cemetery? Yikes!" said Heather.

"Keep it down, Ladies" Sophie hissed at them, as they hurried past tables filled with refreshments which Genevieve eyed longingly; she had not eaten a proper supper. Heather snatched a plateful for her and hurried after the others.

"This way!" Sophie slipped into the small private library of the royal family, and out a back hallway. It was poorly lit, and Heather looked about her nervously. Then another hall, with large portraits on either side, then a room full of ceremonial clothes, and another dark room, and out through a creaky door. There, in the light of the moon still low on the horizon, was Alexandra, with two of her friends.

"Through the Chapel!"

"How else?" demanded Sophie.

"Good thinking," murmured Alexandra.

Alexandra and Genevieve were suddenly face to face. They looked at each other a moment, at a loss for words.

"Hello, your Highness, and welcome to Stefansberg! I'm Judit, sergeant-at-arms, and this is Miriam, of the Royal Guards!"

Genevieve's practiced charm came to her aid, and she dimpled at the two young women, both of them about the same age as Alexandra and herself, and a year or so older than Sophie and Heather. Both girls held her hand a trifle longer than necessary, and Genevieve encouraged their flirting. Through the corner of her eye she saw Heather sneaking one of the canapes, and Genevieve was reminded of her duty.

"You must know Lady Sophia," she said graciously, as Sophie murmured something, "and the hungry one is my compatriot, Lady Heather Ogilvie!" The girls laughed. "Would you pass those round, Heather, if there are any left?"

The snacks were duly passed round, and the ice was broken. The soldier girls had a rough humor that encouraged Genevieve. They began to talk about the games of the mornings, and Judit slyly suggested that the sight of their Princess engaged in athletics must be strongly stimulating to Genevieve's eyes. "Nobody has our Princess's musculature," she declared.

"A pity your skirt is so long tonight," Genevieve remarked, looking slyly at Alexandra's formal attire. The girls laughed uproariously. Alexandra could be seen to blush even by moonlight.

"Did you enjoy the song, Princess Genevieve?" asked Miriam. "Her Highness put a lot into it on your behalf!"

"Mimi, be quiet," Alexandra said, quietly, embarrassed.

"Can she be truly as modest as she appears?" Genevieve asked, as Alexandra's friends chuckled, but Heather looked surprised. Genevieve was not a smart-mouthed girl, as a rule.

"Don't say that, Genevieve," Sophie exclaimed. "The guards are having fun with the Princess, that's all!"

"But Heather, don't you think it must take some gumption to roll around on the ground with a young man, clad only in a singlet and briefs?"

The guards exclaimed that that was quite different.

"That's the way it's done, you Highness," they hastened to assure her. "It is an ancient sport, and always conducted that way. You surely have it in the South?"

Genevieve ignored them, looking firmly at Alexandra.

"I would like to learn," she said. "It looks like a lot more fun than staying in my room with my mother!"

They all laughed at that.

"We can certainly do a lot better," Alexandra admitted. "Perhaps all this chaperoning is a little overdone."

There was a pause in the conversation. Then the irrepressible Judit grinned, and suggested that Alexandra at least give Genevieve a kiss. Soon they were all clamoring for it.

"There will be time enough for that," Alexandra said, blushing. Sophie giggled nervously.

"What's the harm in it?" Heather asked with a smile, rather bravely, Sophie thought.

"See," said Sophie, "Heather won't tell!"

Genevieve took a step closer to Alexandra, and boldly raised her lips for a kiss. Alexandra shyly obliged.

"And there it is! The South leads the way!" crowed Judit. To Sophie's consternation, before she could react, the two guards had taunted the Consort-to-be into kissing them both, as well as young Heather.

Genevieve's kiss had taken Alexandra by surprise. The brush of her breasts on hers, the warm softness of her lips had burned into her. The girl's very forwardness was startling.

"You must be tired," Alexandra murmured, sensing Genevieve's mood. As she reached out to gently guide Genevieve back into the building, Genevieve gripped Alexandra's arm, feeling the strength of the woman who would be her lover. Alexandra stood still, smiling, until Genevieve let go.

"Hungry, and sleepy," Genevieve admitted.

"I'll get you more to eat," Sophie promised. "Come on."

True to her word, Sophie led Genevieve and Heather down to the pantry, and found more food for her. The servants smiled shyly, but warmly at their future Princess Consort, offering her all sorts of things to eat. What a charming girl, they all agreed, murmuring among themselves.

Genny put her head in to tell her mother that she was back. "Oh it was lovely, mother! Thank you for letting me go with Lady Sophie!" The Queen smiled, and said she was glad Genny was beginning to enjoy herself, and wished her good night.

"Come on!" Genny said to Sophie. "Come see my room!"

"I've got to go," said Sophie uncertainly.

"Please!" begged Genny. Heather was asleep on her feet. "Spend a little while with me!"

"All right," said Sophie.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Coronation

The minute they were alone in Genny's room, she pulled Sophie close, and kissed her repeatedly until they were both breathless.

"Princess ..." Sophie gasped, trembling, "it has been hard for you, hasn't it?" Her heart was still beating like crazy at the suddenness of Genevieve's attack.

"I'm so sorry!" said Genny, aghast at what she had done.

"It's all right," Sophie murmured, her hand on Genny's cheek.

Genny was breathing hard. She got off the bed and undressed, as Sophie sat up and watched. She stripped down to her shift, and climbed into bed, her face quite red.

#

The Coronation was a splendid ceremony. There was a procession into the Hall of State, and after prayers of dedication, the crown was placed on Alexandra's head, and she was named Queen Alexandra II. She was led to the throne by the elder statesmen of the land, including Sophie's father, John Gustafson. The symbols of office were placed in her hands, after which the nobility approached the throne to swear their loyalty.

From an enclosed space high on the side of the ancient hall, Genevieve and her mother and Lady Sophie watched, with the latter murmuring the significance of each part of the ceremony. Sophie was pretty as a flower in a pink gown, and Genevieve resplendent in royal blue. The Queen wore cream edged with purple, and sat quietly watching, neither aloof nor excited. Genevieve looked at her mother with admiration, wondering if she would ever attain that degree of serenity in her lifetime.

Alexandra was regal in an ankle-length deep burgundy gown, her hair pulled back in a tight braid, as always. Her eyebrows had been neatened, and she looked less rough, more distinguished. The maroon cloak she wore covered her arms, and she wore shoes, not boots. At the end of the ceremony, Alexandra addressed her people from the steps of the Hall of State. She promised to work hard, be just, and protect the land and its people. And she said that she looked forward to the day, very near, when she could present to her people a consort who would help her with her duties. There were rousing cheers.

#

It was a troubling day for Genevieve. It was as though that last tantalizing meeting with Alexandra tormented her. Suddenly it was no longer possible to meet with Alexandra in cemeteries, in the quiet of the night. Just as Genny was coming into herself, feeling the urges of her womanhood raging through her, she had nobody to share them with.

She went into Heather's room and forced a kiss on her, but Heather was plainly unhappy with that. "Ask Sophie," she begged, scowling. "She'd probably enjoy that stuff. She's Northern, after all."

"I'm sorry, Heather! I don't know what's come over me!" said Genny, red-faced, almost in tears.

Heather punched her arm. "It's okay," she said.

Genevieve begged Sophie, when she next saw her in private, to come into her room.

"Oh, please, not today!" Sophie pleaded, and ran off.

#

"And what did she do?" Alexandra asked Sophie.

Alexandra had appointed Sophie as her Lady-in-Waiting. Sophie was flustered at the end result of her involvement in Alexandra's personal affairs. Until recently, she had been studying to join the legal profession, in her father's footsteps. Nothing could possibly have been further from Sophie's mind than to be the personal aide to the Queen. But she had discovered that the young Queen simply had no one else she could rely on, certainly no girls her own age. It would have been inaccurate to say that Alexandra clung to Sophie; but the new Lady-In-Waiting found herself Alexandra's chief consultant on matters of the heart.

"We just kissed, Your Majesty," Sophie said, blushing in acute embarrassment.

"What do you mean, kissed?"

Sophie looked up, her face screwed up in a frown. Alexandra knew Sophie well enough to be able to tell an angry frown from this particular one. Sophie was worried and unhappy.

"That's all it was, Your Majesty."

"What was it ... just a little peck?" Sophie nodded. "On the cheek?" Sophie shook her head, avoiding the Queen's eyes. "Was she rough?" Sophie nodded. The young Queen was getting red in the face. Sophie finally met her eyes. "I don't like her forcing her attentions on you, Sophie!" she said, and Sophie's heart sank.

The younger girl heaved a long heavy sigh.

"I told her it was all right, your m..."

"Just Alexandra is enough, Sophie. Get on with it!"

"She—she's a lusty girl, Alexandra; she ... she kissed me ... real deep ... several times ... with her tongue and everything ... and then she was all upset. I feel so sorry for her!"

"Lusty!"

"She begged me again, this evening!"

Alexandra looked miserable.

Sophie felt her body tightening with the frustration she was feeling on Genny's behalf. Some women did crazy things when the need got into them, she knew. Sophie had not led so sheltered a life as to be ignorant of the needs of women. The young Queen, Sophie knew, had no lovers at all. It would have been easier if she had. Still, in these days before the marriage ceremony, it was in poor taste to be too obvious about things.

"I'd like you to move into the Palace," Alexandra had told her, when she had appointed her Lady in Waiting. "Come on, let's talk to Lady Elizabeth."

Sophie had followed her to the royal housekeeper, and they had discussed where to put Sophie.

"I'd like her as close to my room as possible," Alexandra had said firmly.

"Well, there's a room adjoining yours, my Lady," Elizabeth had said. (Alexandra had just moved into the Royal bedroom.)

Alexandra turned to Sophie. "Until the Princess decides otherwise, that's where you'll sleep." Sophie smiled politely and thanked them both. After Elizabeth had taken her leave, Sophie had said she was humbled by Alexandra's trust in her. The young Queen smiled. After talking a while, they had walked slowly upstairs to the Royal Suite, and found the room. It was already being made ready for Sophie. The maids curtsied and left, leaving them alone. It was then that the discussion had turned to Genevieve's feelings and behavior. It was most uncomfortable for Sophie to understand the passions both the Queen and her consort-to-be were feeling.

They looked at each other, and something passed between them. Impulsively, Sophie held out her arms to Alexandra, and the young Queen slowly came into them. It felt strange to be held so close by her; she was so big and strong, and she exuded an almost physical sensation of power, young as she was, and Sophie knew it was all in her head. Still, Alexandra was one of the most solid young seventeen-year-old girls alive, Sophie was sure.

"It's going to be all right," Alexandra said, as if to convince herself. "I'm so glad you're here, Sophie!"

CHAPTER SIX

Trying to Sleep

Alexandra lay in her bed, sweating. She had been a child of eleven, when they visited New Hope. She remembered clearly, the Princess Genevieve, all golden curls and soft, delicate lips, and large hazel eyes.

They had hit it off famously together, and Genevieve had lavished the affection on Alexandra that the only child had craved. Genny's adoring eyes had captivated her, and released the instinct that had lain latent inside her. One night, she had crept into Genny's room, as children often do, and found her fast asleep. As she slipped into bed beside her, Genny's soft lips, her budding breasts, and all the secrets of her sleeping body were revealed in the bright moonlight. As Alexandra worshiped Genny with her adoring eyes, the sleeping girl had sighed, opening herself to Alexandra in her sleep.

It was a night that had haunted them both ever since. For Alexandra, her obsession had eventually led her to realize her nature, and her desire for Genny had never faded. For Genny, it was a recurring dream, a memory of a lover who was mysteriously associated in her mind with Alexandra, because Alexandra, athletic and beautiful even then, had been her hero at that time. She had not quite realized that Alexandra was in fact her dream lover.

Alexandra paced up and down the bedroom. As much as Alexandra longed to have that soft, sweet eleven-year-old beauty in her arms, the beauty in that room at the other end of the Palace had blossomed into a startlingly mature young woman.

The long, soft, wheat-gold hair had become a little shorter, and warmer-colored, more honey and less wheat, the waves more pronounced. The large hazel eyes were no longer the enormous orbs, the pools in which Alexandra had drowned, yet they were indeed large, beautiful and compelling. The little nubs of breasts, the tender, translucent skin, the slim gazelle-like limbs were gone. Her breasts were full and firm, her skin was flawless, with that alabaster quality that was so highly priced in women. She was all curves; her walk was a seduction. She was a bold, flirtatious coquette, impeccable though her manners were. She could drive anyone mad with desire. But all that she seemed to have gained in sensuality seemed to have been stolen from the innocent girl Alexandra had desired half her life.

She found herself in the doorway to Sophie's room, staring at Sophie in bed. Sophie was still childlike in her body; her translucent skin, her large eyes, her slim body reminded Alexandra of that child-Genevieve, the angel who haunted her dreams. Alexandra sank onto the edge of the bed.

Sophie was awake instantly, slowly twisting to look up into Alexandra's face, her eyes half-closed. The night was warm, and she wore a thin shift, and her breast slowly rose and fell with her breath. "Lady Alexandra ..."

"Shh," Alexandra said.

"You're falling in love with her," Sophie said, a smile in her voice, inexplicably wise in the ways of love.

Alexandra laughed unhappily.

"I fell in love with her a long time ago!"

Sophie was disbelieving. "You only saw her the other day!"

"Oh no." She stroked Sara's arm. "Long, long ago."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven. ... I was crazy about her, Sophie!"

Sophie smiled. It was an angelic smile.

"I thought you'd have to learn to love each other!"

But the young Queen only shook her head.

Genny grew withdrawn and preoccupied. Alexandra found herself busy with matters of state of whose existence she had never suspected. Sophie began to help the young Queen with her personal correspondence. New Hope wanted a regular mail service between the two countries, and envoys began to arrive from the other neighboring states, all wanting friendly relations with Norsland. The running of the city itself, the maintenance of the army and the Palace guard, the process of finding a cabinet of advisors and ministers, all these took the young Queen's time and attention, and Sophie helped tirelessly.

On the third day, late in the evening, Sophie approached the wing that contained Princess Genevieve's bedroom. The guard at the entrance to the hallway bowed politely; favorable opinions about Lady Sophie were spreading through the ranks of the Royal Guards. She was dressed in a mid-calf-length grey gown caught at the waist with the maroon and gold cord the Queen had asked her to wear in the Palace. It obviously signified some authority; no one ever stopped her any more. She hurried silently to Genevieve's door, avoiding being seen by the entourage of the visiting royal party, which had swelled greatly with more visitors from New Hope as the wedding approached. Some of them had met with Alexandra in the afternoon, in Sophie's presence, at Alexandra's request. They were planning to establish a large cultural mission in the city. So far, Alexandra had not thought of inviting her future consort to participate in the planning, which, Sophie had thought privately, was a grave mistake. But Sophie was yet not confident enough to interfere with matters such as that.

She knocked on the door softly, and waited. She looked anxiously up and down the hall, but it remained deserted. She bit her lip. She had every right to be here; she had been accepted by the Novaspirian royal party as Genevieve's friend and liaison. She leaned close to the door, but could hear nothing. She knocked again, louder. After a pause, the door opened.

"What are you doing here?" Genny demanded. She was dressed in a robe, ready for sleeping.

Sophie dropped her eyes. "I took the night off, in case you wanted to talk," she said softly. She looked up into the thoughtful hazel eyes that peered at her through the half-open door. She must have sounded rather strange, Sophie thought, her composure eroding away.

The princess silently opened the door wider and stood aside to let Sophie in. Sophie curtsied and entered.

"Where have you been all this while, Sophie?" Genny struggled for some vestige of her normal graciousness, and found that it hadn't completely left her. "I'm sorry," she said at once, hearing the rudeness in her own voice.

Sophie replied with her eyes and her hand. Her eyes told the suffering Princess that her harshness had been forgiven, all in silence. Then, in words, she told Genny that she, Sophie, had become the Queen's lady-in-waiting and her personal aide, all rolled into one. "And at night," she added, looking into Genny's eyes, "I have to listen to her talk about you!"

Genny was wide awake now. Sophie noted the intenseness in her eyes. She gestured for Sophie to be seated.

"She mentioned that you had met when you were both eleven. Do you remember?" Sophie asked.

Genny's eyes widened. "Did she tell you ... about that visit?" Sophie nodded, smiling. "What did she say?"

Sophie studied Genny's face a long time. The signs of Genevieve's awakening were clear to read. What seduction could she have possibly exerted over Alexandra when she was eleven?

"Whatever you did to her, you made her your captive!"

Genny stared at her thoughtfully. They were seated on the bed.

"Did she question you about me — did you tell her ... anything?"

Sophie nodded, not avoiding the eyes of the young woman before her, but carefully showing no arrogance, no defiance. "I told her all, your Highness. She suffers too—try to understand!"

Genevieve shook her head, her lips showing her determination.

"I forbid you to tell her anything more. Promise me! Promise me, or leave now!"

She spoke quietly, but all her rank and imperiousness was behind her words. Oh, she was a Queen, all right! She was born to it, in spite of her easy manner with Sophie in the past. She was waiting impatiently, her eyes wide and intense.

It was the first time that Sophie's loyalty to the two girls had been in conflict. A look at Genevieve told her that the Southern Princess's nerves were so frayed that she needed comfort desperately. A royal princess, brought up to her duties, should be up to a mere week of anxiety. What was that to lifetimes of suffering that royal consorts often endured? But the bride Alexandra had chosen was not the royal vegetable that a consort should be. She was passionate, more passionate than Alexandra, more passionate than anyone Sophie knew.

The clouds drifting across the face of one of the moons drifted across the drop of light on the floor. Sophie saw the golden-brown head bend to watch it.

"Will you stay the night?" Genny asked, in a near whisper.

"At least a part of it," Sophie replied. "A goodly part," she added, as Genevieve turned her anguished eyes to her. Gordon! The girl had Sophie eating out of her hand. What an amazing personality!

"Did she send you to me?"

"I asked to come." Sophie watched Genny think about that a while. "Get into bed, Highness, it is too cold for standing about," she urged, softly.

Genny nodded and climbed in under the sheets, and Sophie slipped in beside her. The princess pulled the sheets over them both. It was getting cooler, and the girls instinctively drew together for warmth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A Phone Call

The Queen had settled down to read, when the ancient instrument next to her began to chime. It was hardly audible, like the chimes of a clock, but she recognized it for what it was, a telephone, such as her husband King Frederick had on his desk, only beautifully executed in ornate style. Reaching out, she lifted the receiver and placed it to her ear.

"Yes?"

The nervous voice of a young man sounded in her ear. "A call from King Frederick, Your Majesty! He was sure you would be awake!"

"Yes, I was awake, young man. Where should I go?"

"Just stay on the line, Your Majesty! I will connect you. Speak now, please."

"Anne?" It was the voice of her husband, the King.

"Yes, Frederick, I can hear you!"

"How is everything going? How are you? How is Genny?"

"Everyone is well, and ... things are proceeding as well as can be expected!"

"Good, good. What do you mean, as well as can be expected?"

"Well, they're keeping the girls apart. It's tradition. Genny is very tight, Fred. I think she's ... how secure is this line, do you think?"

There was a slight pause.

"Not very, I imagine. Be careful."

"Maybe you should come, or at least talk to Alexandra."

"I have. But what can I say? Tell her to take Genny on a walk?"

"You know Genny, dear. I don't know how much help a walk will be, but it would be a start, I suppose. I spoke to Alexandra, but her people are all around her, like l— well, she's kept very busy."

"That's not good." There was a pause. "I'm coming over."

Hundreds of miles away, King Frederick stared at his desk moodily, his ear to the phone. Genny was a late bloomer. Finally things were kicking in, but the timing was all wrong.

"Have you talked to her, Anne?"

The Queen squirmed. She had left the birds and bees to her husband. She had planned a final discussion on the eve of the marriage ceremony, but she saw now that it had been a foolish idea to leave it so late. "No, dear. You know how I hate that sort of thing!"

"Anne!" his voice was full of reproach. "Can you get her to the phone?"

"She has one in her room," the Queen said. "How do we get their attention?"

"I'll call again," the king said, frowning. "Goodbye, dear, and don't get too anxious."

"I apologize, Frederick, and good night."

When the phone began to chime, Genny gasped and froze. She buried her head in Sophie's breast, and they held each other tight and trembled together.

Genny was the first to recover.

"It's only a telephone," she declared. "It must be for you?"

Sophie frowned. "No one knows I'm here!" She sat up, as Genny let her up.

Genny frowned. She shook her head. The phone began to chime again.

She settled herself against the bedstead and cautiously picked up the receiver, and spoke into it as she had done years ago in her father's office. Sophie was lighting a lamp.

"Yes?"

"Genny! It's me, your father!"

"Papa!"

"Are you surprised? I thought I'd call you and talk for a bit. Are you awake? Are you alone?"

"Y-yes!" Genny looked at Sophie, her eyes wide. In the near-dark, they could just make out each other's faces. "I'll go," Sophie breathed into her ear. "No, wait!" Genny commanded her, equally silently, emphasizing it with a stern gesture. "Let me put on something warm," she mumbled to her father.

"Good heavens," he exclaimed. "It's probably cold as heck, isn't it!"

"Yes," Genny agreed, and laid the handset carefully on the night stand.

She turned to her companion, eyes wide, her hands in her mouth.

"What shall I do?" she breathed, leaning close to Sophie. "Please stay, while I talk to him!"

"But you need privacy!" Sophie exclaimed, almost soundlessly.

"No, no, no; please wait," Genny pleaded. They stared at each other a long moment, and Genny leaned close and softly pressed a kiss onto Sophie's startled lips. She drew away slowly, and mouthed, Please wait once more. Sophie nodded.

As Genny got comfortable, Sophie settled beside her, and Genny, who leaned back against her and picked up the phone again.

"All right, Papa, I'm comfortable."

"I spoke to your mother. She says you're lonely and nervous, darling." She was her father's favorite, and they had a special connection. "And I hear they're keeping you away from Alexandra."

Genny leaned back against Sophie, giving a soft sigh of pleasure.

"Yes, yes ... she's told you most of it."

"Made any friends?"

"Yes," answered Genny softly. "A wonderful girl ... her name is Sophie."

"Sophie—what's her family name?'

"Sophie ... Sophie ..."

"What?" demanded Sophie, in her other ear in an urgent whisper.

"What's your surname?" demanded Genny, covering the receiver.

"Gutrunsdottir!"

"Sophie Gutrunsdottir. I had almost forgotten!"

"Sophia Gutrunsdottir. Trudy's girl."

"I suppose. I haven't met her family. I haven't met any families here!"

Sophie was holding her close. So many things were being done ineptly. Genny felt sorry for the girl who doubtless took the blame on herself. The masculine culture of the place was ironically maintained and sustained by women, and there was no one who could take care of the more nurturing, caring aspects of hospitality. All this Genny realized now, cradled in Sophie's loving arms.

"Your mother has been too restrained, I can tell."

"We've both been sort of paralyzed, I suppose," Genny murmured. "Now that I've talked to you, I know I should have thought of ... more creative ways to keep sane!"

"Ask Mama to insist that young Sophie takes you out. Tell her to ask Senator Horvald to arrange an excuse to visit the university. Or the hospital. Ask Mama to call for Sophie's parents."

"Oh yes! Good idea! Oh thank you, Dad!" She sniffed. It was frustrating to think that her lack of imagination had imprisoned her. She and Mama had acted like a pair of chickens. "I feel so stupid!"

"You have to learn how circumstances work on your mind, sweetheart. This has been a dangerous lesson to you both. I'll be there soon. Until then, take charge!"

"I will! Good night, Papa!"

"Good night, love. Give your Sophie a hug for me."

"I will!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

Genny Explores

"He said to give you a hug."

"He knew I was here!"

Genny relaxed into Sophie's arms. "I think he has a sense that ... you will become a good friend. I need all the friends I can find in this place, Sophie." She raised her lips to Sophie, and Sophie kissed her.

In the morning, Sophie rose early, and having changed, began to plan. It was an excellent idea to introduce the Princess Genevieve to Sophie's mother. They were close relatives of the royal family, and eminently respectable, even if her parents had kept away from Palace politics with determination. Queen Beate had visited their home on several occasions, in disguise, and spent time with her mother; they had been close friends.

"There you are!" The young Queen burst into Sophie's room, where she had been seated at her little table.

Sophie got to her feet and curtsied, and Alexandra came to her and hauled her up. Sophie was allowed one curtsey for a day in private, but no more.

"How is she?"

"Pretty bad when I found her, My Lady. I left her much improved."

"Can you tell me?"

Sophie dropped her eyes. "She made me promise to keep silent."

Alexandra sighed. It was only to be expected. Her curiosity about all matters relating to Genevieve was impossible to bear, but Genevieve's peace of mind came first. She put her arms round Sophie and hugged her. Sophie's arms crept round her in answer. "You are a treasure, Sophie."

"You have to make things easier for her, My Lady."

Alexandra drew back, to stare at her.

"What can I do?"

"She needs to get out! She is almost a prisoner in the Palace! I have some ideas. To visit my mother. To visit a nursery. The hospital. The university. To go shopping in the city!"

Alexandra nodded. "Not shopping. We can't have that. But the other things — let's see to them. I have a few minutes before Horvald begins to pester me."

"May I go home and arrange for the visit?"

"The minute I'm done with you. Give you parents my greetings, and ... Sophie, convince them that my thanks are genuine and sincere."

"I'll be happy to, Lady! What about a letter?"

"Yes; come on, let's write one," she said, leading the way to their office. They had two chairs, side by side, at the Queen's enormous desk. Alexandra sat and wrote a brief but eloquent letter, and signed it. She showed it to Sophie.

Sophie read it quickly, and looked up, her eyes shining. She nodded. They were so close now that they needed few words to understand each other.

Things moved rapidly, once all parties had realized what needed to happen. First of all, Miriam was assigned as Genevieve's personal guard. Then, mid-morning, Genevieve and Heather, and a small guard contingent headed out on the first of a series of visits that had been arranged for her to places of interest in the City, this one to a large City nursery.

She was received graciously by the young women in charge of the nursery, which was a place where children too young to be attending school were looked after, while their mothers worked, or took care of family business. The toddlers sat in groups playing with toys, or eating, or being changed, or what have you. The infants, all shapes, sizes and colors, were clean and happy, and curious about their visitor. Genny, dressed in a full skirt and a riding coat, sat and talked to a few of them, taking pleasure in their silly little questions and artless charm. Those in charge began to relax, falling under Genny's spell in minutes. They approved of the gracious young woman, her vivacity and warmth, her clothes — colorful, but not too colorful, of good quality, but not ostentatiously so — and her tidy hair, pulled back in a fashionable bun in the southern style. Her speech was clear enough for even the children to understand.

She took her leave, and mounted the horse with no help, sitting side-saddle with relaxed ease. With a regal wave at the adults in charge, she was off, as the guards cleared a way through the little crowd that had gathered to see the new Princess-Consort-to-be.

"You ride beautifully," Miriam smiled. "Not many of our girls can ride side-saddle!"

Genny dismissed the praise with a shrug. "I like to wear long skirts, and it's awkward with anything but a side-saddle. I can manage a gallop, once I get to know the horse. I wish I had my own saddle here!" She explained that her own saddle had some features that made it possible to do more than ride sedately as they were doing. Or she could wear riding skirts.

As they talked, they arrived at the College of Physicians. Of course, in Norsland, many of the physicians were women, and there were several of them ready to welcome Genevieve, and to conduct her around the place.

Genevieve's preference was well known. In this world, one's sexual preference was not a thing to be discussed with shame, but an essential matter, one which had a bearing on one's comfort, how one dealt with the society around one, and the expectations that were placed on one. Many women who preferred female lovers were awkward with men. This would have been an unfortunate characteristic in the Queen Consort. But as Genevieve went round the beds speaking to the patients, men and women alike, it became clear that she was equally warm with both sexes. And it was not merely a surface warmth, but something that came from her heart.

She stood relaxed, her hands clasped in front of her, holding her gloves, as she spoke with each patient about whatever matter came up. If one said he was a sailor, she talked about boats. If one said he had broken his arm in an accident, she talked about that. She talked to a woman soldier about battle training, to a sick mother about her children.

In the children's floor, however, her hands reached out to touch them and comfort them, her face alight with the pleasure of meeting them. She was transformed by greeting these ordinary members of the nation with whom she had come to live.

When it was time for lunch, Heather went back to the Palace, but Miriam conducted the Princess to the side entrance, where Lady Sophie waited for her with her own horse, a pretty black-and-grey mare who danced with eagerness to be off.

"It should be enough if just you come with us, Captain Miriam, don't you think?" asked Sophie.

"Just the three of us?"

"It isn't very far, Captain!"

"All right, people," Miriam said, turning to her escort, "Thank you very much. Dismissed!"

The three of them rode easily down the country road that led back to the river. Genny was all admiration for Sophie's little mare, who danced all the way to their destination, flirting with Genny. "She's usually very sedate!" blushed Sophie, embarrassed by the antics of her mount.

"Well, the Princess has charmed everyone she met today," said Miriam, grinning. "Her kiss still burns my own lips, I can tell you honestly!"

Genevieve blushed. "I can see you're not going to let me forget that incident," she said, pretending to grump.

"Oh, never! As you come down the steps after your marriage ceremony, I will point to my lips!"

"You wouldn't!" exclaimed Genny, eyes flashing. Sophie giggled helplessly.

"Yes I would!" declared Miriam, unrepentantly. Her curly hair and baby-blue eyes gave her a mischievous appearance. Indeed she looked like a boy, slim and tall. In addition, the mounted guard wore breeches, making her look more boyish than ever.

Sophie's mother was waiting on the steps with a smile as the group of three approached. Genny jumped lightly to the ground before Miriam could help her dismount, and handed the reins to the guard Captain, smiling. Miriam was pleased that she had a sense of humor; there was no sign of annoyance on her face. A groom ran up, and Miriam departed with him and the horses, as Sophie's mother called after her to say that there were refreshments for her.

Trudy, Lady Gustafson, saw her young daughter arriving with a dashing young Captain of the Royal Guard and the Princess. The Princess's honey-gold hair brightened the slate-blue skirt and brown velvet riding jacket she wore. Her face was all curves and dimples, a bonny girl, with bright hazel eyes.

Her hand was small and chubby, though well-proportioned, when she offered it to Trudy, but soon after, the young thing put her arms round the older woman and gave her an impulsive hug.

Trudy usually took longer to size someone up. But this child pressed herself into Trudy's heart with the trust that comes from true innocence. Sophie hung back, smiling, until the Princess was done with her mother, and then stepped forward to receive the hug and kiss that was her due.

"I hear that you are being kept prisoner!"

There was just a hint of rolling of eyes, but Genny smiled and shrugged. She seemed reluctant to speak candidly at the door. Trudy conducted them inside and Sophie took the Princess's coat. Once she was comfortably seated, the young visitor replied.

"I find myself very tense," she said honestly. "The approach of marriage has made me — nervous, and anxious, and ..." she shrugged, and managed a smile. "The Queen is still a stranger to me, Lady Trudy. She frightens me, a little."

"But you're a princess, Genevieve; you expect to marry a stranger."

"I'm not as much of a princess as I thought I was, then!"

They all laughed.

"Alexandra is a wonderful girl, Princess. I knew her mother well. There is not an ounce of cruelty in her."

Genny dropped her eyes. "So I'm told," she murmured. "At least now I have Sophie. That's something."

Trudy saw Sophie color slightly before she quickly got herself under control. Sophie had given her mother no clue about how things stood. All they knew was that Sophie was Alexandra's personal assistant, and slept in the room adjoining that of the young Queen. Trudy longed to have more time with her daughter, to learn what was really going on. From the looks on the faces of the two girls, they were quite deeply involved with each other, and that could be dangerous; the harder Alexandra fell for Genevieve, the more dangerous it could be.

"Sophie," her mother said, "Would you go check on the food?"

Sophie left obediently. She trusted her mother, and she had come to trust Genevieve. Whatever they chose to tell each other, Sophie knew that they both loved her and cherished her too much to hurt her. She headed out to the kitchen.

Evie, the cook, was delighted to see her.

"Thank goodness they've sent you back, Lady Sophie!"

"Just for a visit, Evie! How's lunch coming along?"

"It's all ready. Oh, I hope her Majesty doesn't mind fish. Fish and mutton is all we had in the house."

"She's just 'Highness'," Sophie corrected her. "Fish will be fine. She isn't the picky type. She does like fresh bread."

"Does she? Good. She's such a sweet little thing! I only saw her for a second. No, the Queen herself is coming to lunch; didn't you know?"

"What? Today? Now?"

"Yes! I'm in such a fluster!"

"But ... how much time do we have? Mother is giving the Princess advice about the birds and the bees! Oh Gordon! Why didn't she say something?"

"Help Inga to do the napkins, Lady Sophie, if you don't mind!"

Sophie, still in a daze, headed out to help Inga, the little maid who was practically Sophie's foster sister. The silly girl had no idea how to fold the things. Sophie took one and showed her, and Inga hurried to try her hand at it. She was still in her school clothes; presumably she'd grab lunch and run back to school.

"What's she like, Lady Sophie?"

"She's very nice," Sophie said absently. She had to warn Genevieve.

"That's what I heard," Inga rattled on.

"It's all ready," Sophie announced, as she interrupted the téte a téte. "But Alexandra's coming to lunch!"

Genevieve's eyes grew wide. "You were going to tell me, weren't you?" she asked Trudy accusingly. Trudy grinned.

"Only when we were finished talking!" Genevieve pretended to glower at her, as Trudy kept talking. "The visit will do more than all the advice I've given, dear. She really is a sweet girl."

Just then there was a clatter of hooves, and after a pause, knocks on the door.

"Wait here!" said Trudy, with a smile. She rose gracefully, and headed out to greet her royal visitor.

"It's a foul plot!" Sophie said, looking at Genny aghast. "I promise I had nothing to do with it!"

"You must have suggested to Alexandra that ..."

"I didn't! It's all her own idea. Here they come!"

The young woman who walked in was a complete surprise to Genny. She wore only a mid-thigh-length loose dress in a heavy fabric, and leather sandals. Her hair was pulled back and braided, military style. She looked shorter than Genevieve remembered, and much younger. She blushed as she approached them, with Lady Trudy trailing behind her.

"It was kind of a rotten trick, I know," the Queen apologized, "but if you had been told, it would have ruined your visit!'

"I expect it would have," Genny admitted, having recovered her composure. She stepped forward and raised her lips for a kiss.

Holding her gently, the young Queen kissed her softly on the lips and stepped back, flustered. Genny seemed little affected by the brief intimacy. Alexandra looked around, saw Sophie and nodded and grinned with relief. She turned to include Lady Trudy in the circle.

"Lunch is ready," said Lady Trudy, "if you want to eat right away."

"In a minute," said Alexandra, slightly breathless. "Why don't we all sit down?"

Genny and Sophie sat back on the divan, while Alexandra sat on the straight chair that was closest. The hem of her dress, slit front and back, rose a tad bit, showing off her very pretty legs. They were well-muscled, marred only by a few small scars on the knee, and one on the left shin. Coloring slightly, Alexandra adjusted her knees into a more modest position. Genny moistened her lips, acutely conscious that her attraction to the Queen was clear to everyone.

"If you get to do a little visiting in the mornings, you won't have time to worry," Alexandra said, looking right into Genny's eyes.

In the bright daylight, Genny could more easily compare the seventeen-year-old girl she had agreed to marry with the eleven-year old child she had imagined herself in love with for so many years. Alexandra certainly was not pretty, not quite, but she was beautiful. There was strength there, and character, and grace. She affected Genevieve in a different way than did the gentle Sophie, seated next to her.

"Thank you for setting up the visits," Genny said graciously. "I'm a lot more relaxed than I was—yesterday!"

"I'm a mess too," Alexandra admitted. "You have no idea how happy I am to escape!"

"I should have mentioned that," Sophie murmured to Genny. "It might have helped!"

"Why? I assumed that your advisors took care of everything!"

"They'd have been happy to," the young Queen replied, a little grimly. "I have to watch out all the time that they don't undo a hundred things my mother set in place."

"Oh goodness! Are they trying?" asked Lady Trudy.

"Constantly! Reduce trade with New Britain. Postpone the opening of the Embassy. Refuse this. Close down that. Send away the other. Dismiss so-and-so!"

"But Horvald ..."

"Horvald is under a lot of pressure from certain quarters." The Queen took a deep breath. Then she looked up and smiled awkwardly. Her eyes flicked to Sophie, and softened affectionately.

"You haven't told me some of this," Sophie reproached her. "If I had known, I could have helped you resist these people!"

Alexandra shrugged. "I've tried to keep you out of the politics, Sophie. I don't want you to make enemies at the Palace."

"You tell her everything, Alexandra," insisted Genevieve, eyes flashing. "She's brave enough to help you, and charming enough not to make enemies, either!" They all laughed at Genny's vehemence.

"I think you've gotten to know her well!" said Alexandra with a grin. "Yes, I'm going to do it! We'll start today, Sophie; we'll sit down together and go through mother's journal. That way they won't catch us off guard!"

"Excellent idea!" Trudy and Genny exclaimed together. "Time for lunch," Trudy added firmly.

Alexandra and Genny were placed next to each other on one broad side of the big old table, and Sophie and her mother sat across from them. (Sophie's father was away for lunch.) Sophie surreptitiously watched the couple in front of her; Alexandra's healthy appetite warring with her nervousness with her companion; and Genevieve eating daintily, her small hands fastidiously managing her food, her eyes glancing occasionally at the young Queen with shy interest. It was a warm, friendly meal, once the couple began to get comfortable with each other. Trudy assured them that Miriam and the other guards were being fed comfortably. It was just as well that they had a little privacy to plot together, if they were of a mind for it.

"If only you will let me eat here every so often, Lady Trudy, at least until the ceremony. Then, if Princess Genevieve thought to join us, it would take much of the pressure off. Wouldn't you agree, your Highness?"

"Genny, please."

"What?"

"Call me Genny!" she blushed bright red. " 'Genevieve' is a horrible long silly name, and I prefer not be called that by my friends."

"Genny," murmured Alexandra, trying out the sound of it on her lips, her eyes on her plate. Sophie watched Genny study her companion, her own lips saying the name with her. "Perhaps you could return the favor, and call me Alexandra?"

Genny nodded, turning back to her plate. "That's what I called you, remember?"

It was Alexandra's turn to blush.

Soon they were acting more like lovers, serving each other, and Sophie fully expected them to feed each other. But it did not happen that day. After the meal, Alexandra and Genny murmured to each other, and disappeared into the indoor garden.

"Sophie is a wonderful girl," Genny observed, once they were in the garden, after the silence threatened to turn them into nervous wrecks.

"Yes, she is," said Alexandra, continuing to look awkward. She was glad that the princess could not read her mind. "Are you having second thoughts about ... the whole thing?"

"I'm not afraid, Alexandra," Genny said, meeting her eye. She blushed suddenly. "But the wedding does hang over me, sometimes too close, sometimes too far away!" The color drained from Alexandra's face.

Genny had compassion on her. She looked so young and defenseless in her little-girl dress. It was a fashion she had seen in the city, but the Queen looked so utterly girlish in it.

"You are at least forthright in your speech! I must give you credit!"

"I'm afraid I will shame myself before I — I come to your bed," Genny said. "Perhaps you would prefer me to be less forthright!"

"Sex is only a part of what we must have together, Genny," the Queen said, very seriously. Her clear, high voice was childlike, but the gravity was that of a woman much older. "We will have love, and children, but there must be peace, and stability, and prosperity for our people, and your father's people."

"But sex is what will keep us sane and happy. If we aren't sane and happy, we can't begin to do the rest, Alexandra."

"I know," whispered Alexandra. "I can't wait either, to tell you the truth."

In a heartbeat, they were in each other's arms, and Genny was surprised by the passion in the taller girl. Her high voice, her short dress, the braid, they all conspired to obscure the feelings that burned in the Queen. She abandoned herself completely to Genny's kiss, melting into her arms.

Afterwards, they clung to each other, unwilling to let go. Whatever they would or would not have, they had this moment.

"I said I would be back at two," Alexandra said, and Genny could hear the reluctance in her voice.

"I'd like to see you tomorrow, then!"

"I will be here!" she promised. And drawing away with the greatest reluctance, she hurried into the house, meeting nobody's eyes. A few seconds later, Genny heard the thunder of hooves leaving the grounds, heading up the road with a couple of guards racing after her.

"She's heading the wrong way!" Genny cried, as she ran out to watch Alexandra ride away. The Queen rode astraddle, unconcerned with the expanse of leg the short skirt exposed.

"I think she doesn't want to ride straight back; they'll probably approach the Palace from the northwest. She obviously means to come here again," Sophie said, thoughtfully.

CHAPTER NINE

John Gustafson

All through the day, and that night as well, Genny pondered her brief time in the company of the young Queen. Alexandra had been almost a completely different person at lunch — youthful, awkward, honest, vulnerable— than her public persona. At the meal she had been attentive, considerate, amusing. In the garden she had been passionate and open. But when she rode away, there had been an athletic hardness, completely opposite to everything else. Alexandra, whatever else she was, was incredibly sexy.

The next morning, as promised, the young Queen sat down with Sophie, and together they went through the late Queen Beate's journal. In it were itemized all the changes she had instituted, all of them, in the view of the two youngsters, changes for the better. Alexandra pointed out a dozen different things that had come up that week, which would have directly reversed the changes made by her mother.

"I'm glad we have done this, My Lady," Sophie exclaimed. "How could you imagine I would want you to have to resist such things by yourself?"

"Your parents preferred to stay out of politics, Sophie, and ... until you were established as an impartial, honest, responsible person, I didn't want you to be seen taking sides on these matters."

"How can I not take sides?"

"I suppose that's true," Alexandra sighed. "It's hard to even remember half these things!"

"Two memories are better than one, My Lady!"

Alexandra looked at her with a pained expression.

"Can't we give up the 'My Lady' business?"

But Sophie insisted. The advantages the illusion of being a mere subject far outweighed the advantages of familiarity.

Two mornings later, both Genevieve and Alexandra had come to treasure the daily lunches at the Gustafsons. It gave them a release from the pressure of being kept apart the rest of the day, an opportunity to compare notes, to begin to learn each other's ways of thinking.

"Where's Genny going today?"

"The weaving mills, My Lady. It is a handloom industry established to provide employment to abandoned women."

Alexandra looked doubtful. "Is it good to acquaint her so soon with the weaknesses of our society?"

"It is a strength, Your Majesty. Many of the women are not so much abandoned as unhappy in their marriages, and unwilling to stay with their parents. Not everyone is cut out for the army!"

"That's certainly true," the Queen admitted.

"Abandoned women are a bigger problem in the Princess's land. Perhaps we could inspire some good changes there."

"King Frederick arrives early in the afternoon, I remember. We have to be back early from lunch."

"Lunch will be at eleven today."

Alexandra was silent for a few seconds.

She went into her closet, and reappeared shortly, dressed in the same brief sleeveless dress she had worn the previous several afternoons. Close up, it was a rich, dull-gold fabric, with elaborate panels at the side that enabled the Queen to wear it while riding, and it was worn with self-colored briefs underneath. She turned for Sophie to braid her hair. Sophie untied the leather thong, combed the hair out, and braided the thong into the hair, the way the Queen liked it, and then whipped the thong firmly around the end, to keep the hair in place. The young Queen swung the braid about to check if it fell the way it should, and thanking Sophie, headed out. "I'm going for a ride," she called back. "If anybody comes looking for me, say I'm gone until King Frederick's ship arrives. I'd like an escort back from the pier."

"Yes, My Lady."

Sophie waited, already mounted, for Genevieve to return from visiting the weaving center.

Genny and her escort were right on time, a little after ten thirty. Miriam dismissed her troop, and they set out for the Gustafson residence, Miriam needling the two of them as usual.

"I must find out who has your fancy, Miriam, and then it will be a more fair situation," Genny said. "As it is, politeness requires me to accept your jibes about her Majesty, and I dare not claim to care for anyone else, even if I do!"

Sophie's heart stood still. Would Genny suggest that her heart was not set on Alexandra, even for a joke?

"Aha! Then there is someone else! Could it be me?" asked Miriam, teasingly.

"That is for me to know, and for you to find out!"

"If there is the remotest chance, I must woo you ardently!"

Genny laughed heartily. "You may court, but you must not woo!"

"There is a difference?"

"Certainly! Ask your friends! Or ask Lady Sophie here!"

Sophie blushed.

"Please leave me out of your teasing," Sophie begged. "I know very little of such things!"

"May I bring you flowers? Are flowers allowed, Lady Sophie?"

"Yes, certainly" answered Sophie. She knew that to court was to pay pretty attentions without the expectation of marriage. Flowers were an acceptable ritual of courtly love.

They reached the house, and no sooner did they ascend the steps, than Alexandra thundered in at a gallop and reined in her mount. The spirited black mare reared as she brought it under control. She handed the reins to Miriam with a quick one-handed hug, and stepped up to Genny. All seemed to still as she kissed the Princess.

"May we retire to the garden now, Lady Trudy? We will both have to leave in a hurry after lunch. Indeed, you could all join us at the beach!"

"Beach? Why?"

"Princess Genny's father is due to arrive shortly after lunch. They sailed last morning, and were sighted by our patrol boats."

"I will come, certainly. I don't know Gustafson's plans."

"Is Papa home?"

"Yes, he's reading. Go talk to him."

Alexandra and Genny disappeared excitedly into the garden, and Sophie found her father reading inside the house.

"Papa!"

"Where have you been, Sophie?"

"Alexandra has appointed me her secretary-cum-maid. I thought you knew!"

"What about your studies?"

Sophie shrugged. Her father was a professor at the university, a doctor of the laws, and a respected teacher. He had wanted Sophie to follow in his footsteps, and so had Sophie. But an invitation to the Palace was a hard one to disregard.

"When she tires of me, I'll come back," she said.

Her father smiled. He knew his daughter's worth, and she could do more good for the kingdom at Alexandra's side, even if she didn't do herself very much good.

She came into his arms and they enjoyed a long hug, before he quizzed her about matters in the government, and how Alexandra was managing. Her words pleased him, both for how much she understood, as well as for the promise of the new Queen and her consort.

"They're here now?"

"Yes, in the garden," Sophie said in a low voice. The window overlooked the garden, and she was anxious her father should not stare. "They're very much in love, struggling with their feelings," she revealed.

"It's just one more day," he said. "They can hold on that long."

"They're both very passionate, Papa!"

"I thought of Alexandra as a cold fish!"

"Hush! No, Genny has changed all that!"

"I should have had Trudy invite them all to visit. We're distant relatives."

"We are? Why didn't I ever meet them?"

Her father shrugged, getting up. "People are always pestering royalty; they don't have the time to visit relatives!"

"The poor girl was frantic with loneliness!"

Her father nodded.

"What happens after lunch tomorrow?" Genny was quizzing the young Queen.

"I think it would be nice to go round, greeting everyone together. Usually it's just the aristocracy, but we might greet everyone that happens to be around. I don't see you as the snobbish type!"

"I'm not," admitted Genny. "I expect I can get away with a lot more on my wedding day that I ever can, afterwards."

"Exactly! We could talk to people we normally would never meet!"

"That's going to be fun!"

Alexandra smiled happily and nodded agreement.

"After that?"

Alexandra looked rather grey.

"In the afternoon?"

The young Queen blushed. Lady Trudy appeared at the door, inviting them to lunch. Behind her stood a grey-haired gentleman with a kind smile. "Genny, meet my husband, John Gustafson! John, this is Princess Genevieve, Frederick's daughter."

"Delighted to meet you, Genevieve. Your father is a cousin of both Trudy's and mine, and so is your mother!"

"A lot more distantly!" added Trudy.

"Really? I had no idea!"

"Hello, Lord Gustafson! I was enjoying your garden!" Alexandra said shyly.

"It's good to have you visit, Alexandra! I meant, Your Majesty! Where are my manners!"

Alexandra blushed and said that he could call her Alexandra any time, in private.

It was a happy crowd round the table that lunch. Miriam and Judit had also been invited, and the sandwiches and pies were passed around with much good-natured kidding back and forth. Miriam asked the Queen's permission to give the Princess flowers, which was graciously granted, at which Miriam immediately went out into the garden, and returned with a couple of bedraggled violets.

"My undying love, Lady Genevieve!" she said, giving them to her on her knee, and Genny took them carefully, and promised to treasure them forever. Judit laughed until she was in tears.

John Gustafson could hardly take his eyes off the young couple in front of him. (Against tradition, Miriam and Judit were seated at the head and foot of the table, while the hosts and the royal couple sat facing each other.)

"I cannot think of anything at this time, except that you are the handsomest couple I have ever seen!" he said, his dreamy eyes underlining the conviction of his words.

"Please don't say such things, Uncle Gustafson, until the ceremony is over," Alexandra said gravely. "I live in fear that something will go wrong!"

"Nothing will go wrong, darling," Lady Trudy murmured. "Every couple has these fears. But the marriage ceremony is nothing. There is plenty thereafter, of course. Love alone is never enough. Friends, health, children, all must help." Trudy looked from Miriam to Judit, and to Sophie seated by her side. "Most of all, friends must help."

The young folks stared at each other, as Lady Trudy resumed her meal, as if she had been merely the mouthpiece of a prophecy.

"I'm sure you did not intend to frighten us, Lady Trudy."

"Quite the opposite." Lady Trudy swallowed another bite. "When things go ill, do not blame yourselves too much. Likewise, if things go well, you must be humble. That's all the wisdom I have learned. Relax and eat, Alexandra and Genevieve; you are both innocents, and no one deserves better than you both. Everything will surely go well. Eat, now!"

Somehow, the mood at table improved, but Genny looked thoughtful for a long time. They did make a charming couple, so different in appearance and personality, so alike in their innocence, determination, and unfailing courtesy to all.

CHAPTER TEN

King Frederick Arrives

After lunch, the youngsters rode out to the beach, while the old couple got into the family carriage. When they arrived at the pier, a large welcome party waited there, anxiously looking about for their missing Queen, and her bride-to-be. There was a great murmuring and craning of necks as they rode in together, with the increasingly popular Lady Sophie.

"Who is that?"

"It's Lady Sophie Gustafson, Sara. It's her shoes you were given."

"Is it, really?"

"Yes, Sophia Gutrunsdottir."

"Oo, is she the same as Gustafson?"

"Yes, yes. Oh how pretty the Princess is!"

"And the Queen!"

"Ohh!" Megan was overcome with desire for the young Queen, and felt faint. Sara had to help steady her.

The ships approached the pier, as smoothly as they always did. Presently King Frederick marched down the gangway, a heavy grey-haired man of slightly greater than average height, dressed in blue velvet and dark pants, to join his elegant wife, Queen Anne, and his daughter, the royal Princess Genevieve, who had so quickly endeared herself to all whom she met.

The band played the national anthems of both countries as the guard stood at attention. Then, standing on the gangway, the visiting King addressed the cheering crowd.

"These are happy and pleasant days for all of us, citizens of Norsland. My people of New Hope send their greetings to you and your Queen. We stand with you all, both in these good times, and against all misfortunes that the future may bring. May our unity halve our sorrows, and double our joys!"

The simple folk cheered the stylish Southern king, because they had seen the comportment of his daughter, and approved of her.

The man now embraced the young Queen, and seemed to be making her blush, as his daughter and wife remonstrated with him. But he seemed determined. Lord Horvald stood close, smiling encouragingly. Alexandra took her place on the gangway, as the visiting king and his family joined the rest of the royal party on the beach. The young Queen looked a child, her bare arms and legs looking defenseless and vulnerable.

"My people! Let us welcome gladly King Frederick, of our neighbors to the south!" There were loud cheers. Her high voice rang loud and clear over the crash of the waves. "We appreciate the King's sincere assurances of support in good times and in bad. In our turn, we must be ready to share in their sorrows, if any, and to extend our help where possible, to earn the right to rejoice in their successes." There was a murmur of approval. "Indeed we have the will, and the strength to do it. Our late Queen Beate, may she rest in peace, left us a government that is strong, a society that is healthy and well-educated, and a people of imagination, willingness, patience, and courage. Let's look to the future, and keep ourselves strong, so that we may be worthy allies to King Frederick and his great people of the south! Long may prosper New Hope and Norsland!"

The cheers were deafening, and the look on Alexandra's face was beatific. John Gustafson could hardly believe his ears. Sophie hurried to be the first to show her admiration for her Queen's stirring words, and received a shy embrace for her trouble. Suddenly everyone wanted to congratulate the Queen on her rousing speech, but she looked through the crowd for her future bride. Sure enough, there she was, her dimples firmly in place, her eyes shining. The crowd parted to let them meet. Alexandra kissed the hand she offered, and then kissed her lips, which she also offered, more shyly. The crowd went mad with delight.

"Ohh!" sighed Megan; and Sara, for once, was at a loss for words. Nobody could possibly adore the new Queen and her consort more than they two. They fought the crowd to get close, until they came up to the ring of guards. Wordlessly they gazed up at the brave, beautiful and strong guard. It was a pretty blue-eyed girl with curling black hair.

"Well?" she asked the two girls with a stern look. Even with her scowl, she managed to look friendly.

"Please, Major, this is Sara, and I'm Megan. Sara wants to thank the Lady Sophie for the gift of shoes!"

"Gave you her shoes, did she? Nice of her."

"Yes, she did," nodded Sara solemnly. "May we? Please?"

"Hang on." The guard turned round, her heavy hands firmly on the shoulders of the two girls. It so happened that Sophie looked round, and smiled at her. "Sophie! Someone to see you!"

"Oh no, you called her!" gasped Sara, her eyes huge. The guard nodded to her encouragingly, and turned to the task of discouraging the crowd behind the girls. She successfully scowled off a score of eager citizens, by which time Lady Sophie arrived.

Sophie looked uncertainly at the guard and the two young girls, barely fourteen years old, all eyes and arms and legs. The guard whisked the girls behind her, and got back to holding the cordon. Luckily the disciplined citizens of Norsland were not hard to control. $416720

.0"zWhat's the matter, girls?"

"Lady Sophie, this is Sara. She wants to thank you for the shoes!"

"Oh! I remember those! How do they fit?"

"They're wonderful, Lady Sophie!"

"She'll take all the shoes you've got, Lady Sophie!"

Sophie laughed.

"Do you girls have sisters?"

"Not me," said Megan, "Sara has sisters. Three of them."

"Older or younger?"

"Older, Lady Sophie. One is in the Palace, Jillian is her name. You may know her. One rides for the mail, and one is married, and lives at home with her baby."

"Ah. So you must get plenty of shoes."

Sara looked at her feet and shrugged. Then she looked up with a grin, which plainly said that the shoes were pretty well used up by the time Sara got her hands —or rather, her feet— on them.

"And who are these young ladies?" asked a new voice. Megan thought her eyes would fall out of her head. It was the Princess Genevieve, promised of the Queen, and behind her stood the Queen herself! Nobody saw the guard smile to herself.

"This," said Lady Sophie to the Queen and her Intended, pleasantly, "is Sara, who has three older sisters, one of whom is Jill, who works at the Palace, another of whom rides for the mail, and another who has a baby, and lives at home with them. And she also happens to have given a good home to a pair of my shoes! And this is Megan, her friend!"

"Good taste in shoes, Sophie," said the Princess, smiling at the girls after a careful inspection of Sara's feet. "It was good of you girls to come out to see my father arrive. He likes to give a speech now and then!"

"It was a fine one. And so was yours, my Queen!" This was addressed to Alexandra, shyly.

"I thank you," said the Queen. Sara now saw that she was a young thing, no older than Jill, and had a similar high voice. Everyone knew that the Queen sang.

"Will you come to our wedding, girls? And to the lunch afterwards?" asked Genevieve.

"We would never miss the wedding, but the lunch: that I don't know," said Sara, frowning in concentration. "Perhaps it is for the older folk?"

"Perhaps," said Alexandra, uncertainly, and they could see that the Princess was very displeased.

Sara could hardly keep her eyes off the Princess, just as Megan would not stop staring at her young Queen. She was rewarded with a kindly smile from her, which made Megan's face blossom like a rose.

"I hope there will be better times ahead, for people such as yourself, young Megan," said the Queen, looking gravely at her.

"Oh, I'm sure they will be, my Queen," said Megan fervently. She could not take it in that her Queen would dress so simply. But now as she looked more closely, it was a rich garment, which shimmered in the sunlight, and it was edged with maroon piping, for the Queen's colors.

"For my part, I'm glad you came to meet Lady Sophie," said the Princess, "or I would not have met you!" Lady Sophie nodded agreement, with her sweet smile.

"And so am I glad to meet you, your Highness," said Sara, overcome with her own temerity.

The Queen solemnly shook hands with them both, after which the other two ladies could hardly do otherwise. They said goodbye, and the girls backed away past the cordon. Lady Sophie turned to follow the royal couple, giving the guard a sly punch on the arm.

"Better times, indeed! Why is it that the people cannot share in the festivities, except to watch the ceremony and the meal from a distance?" demanded Genny, refusing to leave the beach.

"What would you have us do, Genny?" asked her father, as her family and the Gustafsons stood around in a circle, with Lord Horvald and a couple of elderly women aristocrats who had been present at the pier.

"Can't we provide some refreshments for anyone who would come? Is Alexandra to be Queen only to the upper classes?"

"Horvald," quavered one of the ladies, "the girl is quite right. When Beate and Atlanta were married, everyone who cared to have one was given a memento of a small packet of food. There was a little souvenir inside, a pin that said simply: Beate & Atlanta. They were so in love!"

"Atlanta was much loved in her homeland," Frederick said. "She was beautiful."

"See what I have to put up with?" grumbled Queen Anne, shaking her head at Alexandra.

"The Princess, too, has an eye for good bones," said the Queen, in a rare fit of humor. Genny glowered at her future bride, then laughed in surprise.

"I remember it too," said the other old lady. "Look, Horvald, if it is the expense that is the issue, I will contribute a hundred guineas, and I'm sure Lena will, too. I think it would make all the difference. I quite agree with you, dear girl."

"This is embarrassing," said Horvald, getting a little red. "The lunch is hosted by King Frederick, and I'm reluctant to put him in a position of having to feed an unlimited number of mouths. Princess, it was a good thought, but not a practical one!"

"Horvald, let's compromise. What is the total population of the city?" asked Frederick.

"Your Majesty, that is close to fifty thousand souls!"

"Fifty thousand pieces of royal cake, Horvald. I can afford it, if your staff can manage to bake it. And fifty thousand glasses of wine. Let's begin, man. They must be baked and wrapped, ready to present to each guest!"

"Then that will be all. Alexandra and I will personally greet every guest, and hand them the refreshments," said Genevieve, firmly.

"Good heavens!"

"It's my wedding, and that's how I want it."

"It's an excellent idea, Horvald," said the Queen, weighing in with Genny, and Sophie joined them. "King Frederick," said the young Queen, turning to her fellow-monarch and future father-in-law, "it is a burden I will gladly share out of my personal funds, which must surely be up to the challenge."

"Your Majesty, the evening's entertainment is hosted by your house. Don't be too eager to burn the candle at both ends!"

"I'd like to speak with you privately, Horvald, if I may," said the Queen. She led him aside and talked to the poor man until his ears burned bright red. He came back and nodded agreement to the others.

"Sophie," said the Queen, "you, I and Genevieve will be in charge. We will send the word out that we are baking the cake ourselves. We only must find kitchens with the capacity to bake a few hundred cakes. We will bake all night! And so there will be no time for pre-wedding nerves."

"Oh Alexandra!" Queen Anne wailed. "You will both be rags at the end of it! Surely there will be no trouble having professionals do it for you?"

"Let them, Anne," said the Gustafsons, smiling. "Splendid idea," seconded King Frederick. And the company left the beach.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Wonderful Idea & The Wedding

Sophie was laughing fit to burst, as they rode off. "What a wonderful idea! It will be a wedding to remember!"

Genny gazed at her bride-to-be with adoring eyes. "It is a brilliant idea," she admitted. "And I know a rich, but simple recipe." They were riding back together, with Miriam and Judit at the back.

"It may be tactful to consult with the kitchen staff. If there is a traditional recipe, we may have to compromise."

"That's true," admitted Sophie. "We have to listen to all the advice, after which we can pretty well do what we want!"

The kitchens of the Royal Guard Barracks were soon volunteered for the cake project. (A private caterer was commissioned to feed the Guard for the day for no charge, to make the kitchens available to the girls. It was his gift to the Royal couple.) Meanwhile, word was sent out that all were invited to partake of the wedding cake and a glass of wine, regardless of their station in life. It would be indeed a wedding to remember!

There was a brief consultation with the royal kitchen staff. They themselves were committed to preparing the grand dinner for the following night, and could not be asked to help. Horvald politely insisted on being present when the Queen and Princess visited the kitchens, to make sure that undue pressure would not be applied for help from that quarter.

To Genevieve's surprise, the traditional wedding cake of the Northern continent was the basis for the recipe that Genny was familiar with, except that the Southern recipe substituted honey for sugar.

"Honey! Why, that is a wonderful idea! But where will we find such a quantity of honey?"

Both girls were surprised at how willing everyone was to help with their insane plan. Once it was understood that the baking would proceed in many small batches rather than one enormous one, it was seen that the plan was very easy to implement indeed. Sophie prepared a schedule of helpers, so that there were never more than a dozen well-wishers helping the royal couple at any time. The first batch of ingredients was measured out carefully, and Genny proceeded to mix it with great enthusiasm. When she was tired, Alexandra took over, with Sophie helping to add the ingredients. Meanwhile, a series of vessels magically appeared, of the exact measurement capacity for the recipe, standing near each ingredient, ready for the next batch.

The ovens were heated, and the batter was poured, and in went the first cake. The enormous ovens had a rotating shelf so that a batch could be slid in whenever it was ready. The second batch was ready in half the time, and the third batch in even less.

As Genny's strength began to flag, in walked Lady Trudy and Queen Anne. And so it went, steadily through the afternoon and evening. Genny was encouraged to surrender more of the responsibility to the younger girls and young fellows who arrived to help, and as she rested, she visited with a steady flow of Northerners, most of whom she was meeting for the first time. The cakes were sliced into little blocks and carefully wrapped, and placed in trays loaned for the event. Then the trays were stacked and left in a cool pantry.

By supper time, half the cake was made, and everyone took a break for the light meal. Then the baking resumed. Later that evening, seeing that the Princess was practically asleep on her feet, Alexandra insisted that she should lie down on a couch that was made comfortable for her. The kitchen was warm, and Genny fell asleep in seconds. Instead of having the privilege of speaking with her, the volunteers of the late evening had the privilege of watching the princess sleep, and they exclaimed how young and sweet she looked.

It was almost two in the morning when Genny woke. Alexandra was patiently beating at the bowl, keeping a worried watch on the clock near the oven. Genny could smell the cake burning.

"Oh Alexandra," she sighed, hurrying to the oven and rescuing the scorched batch. As it happened, only the lining was burned, not the cake. "It's fine," Genny admitted. "But sit down. Where's everybody?"

Alexandra collapsed. Her legs felt like noodles, but she felt awake and happy. Unable to give intelligent answers, she simply sat and smiled, watching the girl who had taken the bowl from her hands. Across the way, there seemed to be something going on, but Genny concentrated on the batch she was making. Everyone else seemed to have gone home.

Finally, Lady Lena came in, and counted the trays.

"Sixty thousand. We're a little over," she declared. "And there's more in the oven. You did well, Guinevere! I admire your determination!"

"It's Genevieve," she said.

"Genevieve, of course! Pardon me."

Genny only smiled. Lady Lena was pretty sharp under those wrinkles. "Anyway, it was Alexandra's idea. I had my doubts, but ... I won't ever doubt her again!"

"And Sophie's planning, don't forget!"

"Oh yes, she's an organizer born!"

"I heard talking," said Sophie practically falling into the kitchen. "Oh, you're up!"

"And we're done!"

"And we have a hundred thousand canapes over there! Asparagus and cheese!"

"Are you serious? They're my favorite!"

"You go straight to bed, Gen. Right this minute."

They turned to look at the Queen, who had stayed on her feet the whole time. She was just about to close her eyes.

It was two in the morning. Another late night.

Genny was led off to her bed and tucked in, while a number of guards took the young Queen away, despite her efforts to look after the departing princess. "You'll see her tomorrow," they kept saying.

Genny awoke to the sensation of soft hands shaking her. "Wake up, dear," she heard a familiar voice, low and calm. Genny opened her eyes and saw that it was light already, and the room lamps were lit. She looked around, and saw her mother.

"Where's Sophie? She can dress me, Mother. Where's Heather?"

"Right here, Gen," said Heather, coming around where Genny could see her. She was not dressed yet, but ready to go.

"Go get Sophie!" Genny said urgently.

"I can do it, love," her mother said. "Heaven knows I've done it often enough!"

"No, no; I want Sophie to be here!"

There was a long silence.

"Let me do it, darling," her mother pleaded. "It is my last chance to dress you, you know? And you have me, at least; Alexandra has only Sophie!"

Genny blushed a bright red in shame. In her love for Sophie she had forgotten all about Alexandra. She had never realized what it must be for an orphan to be married. Who was there to be Alexandra's family? It dawned on her just how important this day was, to Alexandra. From being a family of one, she would belong now to a family of two. Of many, rather, for Genny's family was a large one, willing to open itself to anyone who needed comfort or shelter. Her shame was all the greater, therefore, because of the knowledge of her strength and her richness in her family. Wordlessly she hugged her mother.

"I wasn't thinking, Mummy," she said quietly. "I'll bathe and be back."

It was good to have Heather in the bath with her. She giggled the whole time, but she was affectionate, and did a good job of scrubbing her back. Genny was too exhausted to be nervous about the wedding; it was a matter of getting dressed, and turning up in the church.

Heather's clever little fingers massaged the herbal mixture into her scalp, and helped rinse it out in clear, cold water. Then Genny sat in the tub as Heather poured several bowls of water over her, and helped her to towel herself dry. Then Genny helped Heather bathe. Heather's hair was shorter, and it took less time. Once they were swathed in towels, Heather allowed her to give her a sisterly hug. Ever since one day she had tried to kiss her, Heather had danced away from her clutches.

"I'm sorry about trying to kiss you," Genny said so only Heather could hear.

"It's okay," Heather said, generously.

Layer by layer, Heather and Queen Anne helped Genny put on her clothes. They were made of modern fabrics, to mimic the heavy, traditional layered skirts that a bride wore for a wedding, but lighter. Genny wondered what Alexandra would wear. Probably a man's suit, she thought. Probably a military uniform, such as kings wore for such occasions.

Finally, she was ready. The full skirt billowed, just touching the floor. A short train swept behind Genny, and the flowers were delivered, a lovely posy of blooms from the South that had been kept on the ship.

Her mother was in tears, though her face wore a radiant smile. It's my wedding, but my mother looks more lovely than I! Heather, too, had stars in her eyes. "You look super," murmured the kid.

"Can I come in?" demanded her father from the door, and hearing nothing, marched in.

"Go away, Fred, you're not supposed to see her."

"Nonsense! That's the bridegroom. What's happened to your brains, woman?"

"Be quiet, can't you see I'm crying?"

Genny felt tears coming to her eyes, too, and she laughed at her parents holding each other, and little Heather gazing at her on the side, her hands clasped together with pleasure at the sight.

A young man she didn't know was at the door. His eyes opened wide in undisguised admiration when he saw Genny.

"Whenever you're ready, your Highness, your Majesties!"

Marching through the Palace, past the hall of the portraits, they arrived at the hall of vestments, and there stood a lovely woman, dressed all in maroon. It was a full-skirted gown, with a slight bustle at the back, with leg-of-mutton sleeves, but no train. And like Genevieve, she held a posy, hers were of deep red roses.

For a moment they looked at each other, taking in every detail of the glorious moment, and then they walked slowly forward together to the top of the aisle, to the stirring sound of the magnificent organ. As they came to a stop, Genny looked once more through the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her. Her hair was braided, as always, but instead of the leather thong, it was braided with a rose-colored ribbon, to harmonize with the deep red of the gown. For the first time Genny noticed how lovely and long were Alexandra's eyelashes, how sensuous and full her lips, and how her hands trembled, holding her bouquet of flowers. She saw the rise and fall of her breast, and she knew that she wanted to belong to her more than she wanted anything in the world.

"Do you, Alexandra, take this woman Genevieve, to be your mate, in good times and in bad, through all adversity, to protect her and cherish her until death parts you?"

"Yes, I do," said she gravely and quietly, in her clear voice.

"Do you, Genevieve, take this woman Alexandra, to be your mate, in good times and in bad, through all adversity, to protect her and cherish her until death parts you?"

"Yes," said Genny, "I do." Her voice sounded husky and hoarse.

"Do you have a ring for your mate, Your Majesty?"

"I do," said the Queen, and Sophie stepped forward with the ring on a pretty little salver.

"You may place the ring on the hand of the princess," said the bishop gently. Her hand trembling, Alexandra gently put the ring on Genny's finger. It was a plain gold band that seemed a trifle loose on her finger, but her eyes were too full of tears of happiness to see it clearly.

Genny heard the bishop ask her about a ring, and she nodded, not knowing who had it. Then Heather stepped forward, and sure enough, there was a ring. It was a handsome ring, with a square setting of a modest ruby. Genny took the ring, and before the Bishop had quite instructed her, reached for Alexandra's hand. Her fingers were long and calloused, in spite of some attempt to soften them with lotion. A giggle escaped Genny's lips as she put the ring on, and Alexandra tugged her hand away, suddenly shy. Genny slowly released it, longing to keep possession of those fingers. For the second time in a week she was falling in love.

The good bishop's voice rang with triumph. He declaimed that, by the exchange of vows and rings, and by the laws of the land and the holy laws of the church, they were now mates, and if any sought to part them, they did so at the peril of their immortal souls. "You may now kiss each other!" he said.

The entire church held its breath as the girls turned to each other, and pressed their lips in a chaste kiss. Alexandra's face as she looked at Genny was radiant. Her canines are rather prominent, Genny thought to herself, but they give her face character. And how dreamy-eyed she looks!

"And now, Your Majesty, the coronation."

On a black satin cushion lay the crown of Norsland. The Queen ascended the dais, and sat on the simple wooden throne, and the crown was placed on her head. Then the crown of the Princess Consort was brought to her on a second velvet cushion. Genny was led forward to kneel before Alexandra, and the beautiful circlet was placed on her head, to cheers from the audience. Alexandra drew her to her feet, and led her to the throne that stood next to that of the Queen. Genny was seated, with much rustling of fabric and arranging of skirts, and blushed and smiled, as Alexandra quietly joined in the cheers and applause of the people.

The cathedral choir sang an anthem that seemed to echo the exultation that burned in the hearts of both girls, as they shyly held hands. Then it was time to go out, to greet the populace. There was wild cheering as the organ played a recessional, and the newly wedded couple walked down the aisle to the entrance, with Genny's hand on the Queen's arm. Genny reached out to take Alexandra's hand, and it willingly came into hers. She felt inordinately pleased to have regained possession of the calloused hand of the Queen.

Outside the church there was a huge multitude, waiting to greet the young couple. They smiled and waved and waved, as they gave cheer after cheer. They were chanting something that wasn't quite clear.

"What are they saying?"

"I don't know, but they seem to be happy!" said Alexandra, all smiles. As she waved to her subjects, the Queen turned to smile at her bride, her delight threatening to crack her face entirely in two. "Are you happy?" she asked Genny, never doubting the answer.

"Yes, of course! How could you ask?"

Suddenly Alexandra handed her bouquet to Sophie, and took Genny in her arms and crushed her in a passionate embrace, and the crowd went wild.

Shortly afterwards, the newlyweds found themselves with a long table at their side piled full of little packages of elegantly- wrapped slices of cake, greeting their guests and well-wishers, and handing out a package of cake to each one. First came those who had sat in the church, aristocrats and members of the government, leaders of the people. Then came the ordinary people, businessmen, teachers, lawyers, physicians, city guards, members of the army and the navy, restaurateurs, builders, vendors, farmers, and others of all callings and no calling. And there were Megan and Sara, bright-eyed and wearing their best, and they were given a piece of cake each, an asparagus sandwich from Lady Sophie, and a paper cup of wine. And Queen Consort Genevieve kissed them both, her eyes shining.

"I'm so glad you came!" she said, wiping her eyes.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Just Married!

Once the last piece of cake had been handed out, the Queen and her consort walked among their families and friends, including those who had helped with the baking, drunk with excitement, and each other, and the strain of baking all night. They embraced King Frederick and Queen Anne, and Genny's brothers Fred and Justin, whom she had no idea had been in the country at all. She saw them ogling Alexandra and glared at them, making them laugh. Sophie got the biggest hugs of all. It had been a morning to remember, indeed.

Lady Trudy and her husband came to greet them again, and said it was time to rest.

"Go and rest. Lie down. Be your best for this evening. This evening will make you strong, and powerful, and effective. There's a lot to do. Go and rest."

"Do you need help, your majesties?" Sophie asked softly.

"I can take care of her, Sophie. But come along; you need to rest, too!"

"Later!" insisted Sophie.

Genny clung to Alexandra's strong left arm, as they walked back, through the hall of vestments, the portrait gallery, the long hallways, up the steps, and along another long hallway. Genny let go of Alexandra's arm, and stood back to watch her walk. Alexandra kept turning back with a puzzled smile, but Genny motioned her to keep walking. It was so strange to see Alexandra in a gown! It accentuated the grace of her walk.

"Why?" asked Alexandra, laughing nervously.

"You walk beautifully; I never noticed before," Genny said, smiling, and hurrying to catch up. Alexandra turned to watch her, as she ran up, blushing.

"When I saw you, all dressed, like an angel, I—I ..." Alexandra shook her head, at a loss for words.

"Where are we going?" Genny asked, looking round at her unfamiliar surroundings.

"To our bedroom!"

"But ... my things are still back there!"

Alexandra held Genny's wrist and drew her forward, until they were at the entrance to her chambers. A young guard stood watch at the turn-off.

"Have the Princess's belongings been brought?" Alexandra asked him.

"Not yet, Your Majesty. A cart was sent out earlier; they may be waiting for the Princess's entourage."

Genny giggled. The word 'entourage' sounded just a little overdone. The guard blushed and dropped his eyes.

"Excuse us," said the Queen, smiling at him. "We're newlyweds, as you know. We're allowed to be a little crazy!"

"Certainly, Your Majesty!" he said, graciously.

Genny couldn't stop giggling until they were inside Alexandra's room, and she saw the enormous closet, half of which had been cleared for her own things. There was a large bed in an alcove, and a couch on one side, as well as an enormous desk, and several chairs. And Genny's laughter evaporated.

She was gazing at Alexandra, who stood waiting. She looked as pretty as a picture, beautiful in the simple elegance of her wedding gown. The Queen had just been married in a ceremony where her partner had a traditional role, that of the bride. As much as Alexandra, too, must have longed to be the one dressed in white, she had had to allow Genny to enjoy that part, and had been content to be a foil for Genny, with patience and imagination, and flair. As she stood straight and tall, the rather understated three-quarter-flare gown falling beautifully about her, she looked both utterly feminine, and utterly regal. Her hair looked just festive enough for the occasion. And the girl looked just elegantly severe enough to be recognizably a Queen.

"You are so beautiful," said Genny, lowering herself to sit on the couch, "that you break my heart!"

Alexandra walked slowly to her, and knelt at her feet.

"Happiness makes a woman beautiful," she said, her voice rough. "And knowing how happy I am, I must believe you! At this moment, I feel beautiful."

It was a special moment, which Genevieve remembered for a long time. They simply looked at each other, until Genny reached out a tentative hand to touch Alexandra's cheek. The kneeling girl closed her eyes with pleasure, holding the Princess's hand to her face almost possessively.

"Come," said Genny at last, "let's put the dresses away carefully! They may come in useful someday again." Alexandra rose, and they went towards the enormous wardrobe together.

For half an hour, they were just girls together, playing dress-up. But at the back of Genny's mind, there was the fear that when the time came she would panic, and the evening would be a disaster. Alexandra was strong and rough, a military woman, trained in weaponry and combat. She was tender-hearted, but her rough hands told Genny that her loving would be painful. But Genny must learn to endure, even enjoy her lovemaking.

They were down to their shifts, bras and panties. They were both finding it difficult to breathe.

"Will you wish to make love now?" Genny asked in a small voice. "Won't it be strange in broad daylight?"

Alexandra heaved a long shuddering sigh.

"If I said no, I would be lying. I have longed for this moment ever since you arrived, Princess!" Alexandra's voice trembled with something that frightened Genevieve. "But I will let you take the lead ... I can see you're scared."

"Let's close the windows!" Genevieve suggested, trying to keep a whimper out of her voice.

"All right," murmured Alexandra, though she longed to see her mate, naked, as should have been her privilege. Once the drapes were drawn, it was as dark as late evening. She left just a sliver of sky, to see by.

They undressed themselves. In the near-dark, Genny watched Alexandra as she stripped nude, and stood waiting. She was tense, Genny could see. As she stretched to loosen her muscles, she was so beautiful, Genny's knees felt too weak to support her. She slowly sank to her knees, in awe of the perfection of Alexandra's body. She was a goddess, with the body of Diana the huntress, and the face that surely could have been that of the goddess Athene herself, severe, intelligent, a little reserved. At that moment, she also looked uncertain, concerned, and anxious. It might as well have been broad daylight; in her anxiety, Genevieve could see almost perfectly.

Slowly, Alexandra came to her, and bending low, drew Genny to her feet. "Come to bed," she said softly. Genevieve's sense were filled with the musky fragrance of Alexandra's nearness.

"I'm afraid!" cried Genny softly, following her, her free hand helplessly covering her nakedness.

"But why?" Alexandra stopped and turned, not daring to touch her, except to hold Genny's small hand in her open palm. "You know I'd rather die than hurt you!" Her eyes were full of sorrow, as well as sternly controlled lust. Genny could see in her eyes how much she wanted Genny, and that this delay was pure torture for the girl. Genny's eyes were unwillingly drawn to the girl's crotch, where pink folds of flesh seemed to be flowering before her very eyes.

"Okay!" whimpered Genny, climbing into the large bed as if it were a guillotine. "H-here we are, all n-naked together!" Genny felt desperately afraid, and desperately sorry for the young Queen whose problem she had become. "Please believe me when I tell you I love you!"

"Genny," Alexandra breathed, reaching out her hand, and with a cry, Genny buried her head in the pillow close to her, and curled herself up in a ball.

Alexandra felt a painful wave of frustration. She looked down at what had frightened Genny, and saw her body, flushed and ready for the act of love. Slipping close to her new bride, she drew the sheet over them both.

She began to caress the back of the terrified girl. Patiently she stroked her, pouring all the love she felt in her heart into the long, slow strokes that she prayed would relax her, allow her to rest a few hours, to be able to face the evening. As she stroked, she talked to her, and told her about her love, her hopes for the future, for children, for long hours holding hands together in the winter evenings, her hope for someone who understood her mind, even when no one else could understand her.

"Perhaps you don't believe me, Princess, but ... I understand you. Every word you ever told me has gone straight into my heart!" Genny closed her eyes even tighter, and wept bitterly. Alexandra's words, too, were cutting straight through her heart, and it was breaking.

She felt Alexandra's breath warm on her neck, and the soft touch of her lips. She felt the tips of her breasts brush her back, and her panic was mixed with her own awakening desire. The young Queen had lost her tight control, and had begun to make love to her. Since she could not kiss Genny's lips, she was making do with her back. She was softly crying, ashamed of forcing herself on her new bride. Genny could feel her tears, wet on her skin. She was saying she loved her, and kissing her hair, her ears, whatever parts of her she could.

Once the urgency of Alexandra's lovemaking had subsided, Genny began to relax. She could feel the muscles rippling under Alexandra's skin, and she longed to give herself to the young Queen. Perversely, she hungered for Alexandra's strength, to be conquered by her, to feel the excitement of submission. But it was too late; Alexandra lay defeated on Genny's back, breathing heavily. Her warm body blanketed Genny in an amazingly sensuous way, and her face lay inches away, and her warm breath felt good on Genny's skin.

Genny struggled, and Alexandra quickly took her weight off her bride.

"I'm sorry!" they both whispered at once. Thoroughly disheartened by her failure to control herself, Alexandra begged forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Genny said. "I — I think the next time, I ... it will be all right!"

"Don't apologize," Alexandra whispered. "Just being so close to you—it's enough to drive me mad!"

A long while later, as Genevieve gradually lost her fear of the other girl, she was completely charmed by her innocence.

Later, they were able to recover from their embarrassment over the unfamiliar experience of such intoxicating intimacy. They retreated into a childlike playfulness as they planned what they would wear to dinner. They dressed each other, even as they teased each other with subtly erotic games. Earlier, while still naked, they had explored the little food closet for snacks, and been startled by a knock on the door. Dressing hurriedly, they had found an embarrassed Lady Elizabeth, delivering Genny's belongings. Now they were fully dressed, Genny in green, and Alexandra in a deep rose, which was a gentler shade of the maroon, which was her royal color. "I want to be young and unthreatening tonight," she confessed. "I want them to believe that I am not seeking to impose my will on them, but to lead them in doing what they want to do anyway." Genny murmured her acquiescence. It was a most honorable goal. "Given all the information and all the choices, I trust the people of Norsland to make the right decisions."

"To let them make their mistakes is democracy; to refuse them when they are wrong is dictatorship," recited Genny, from her lessons in philosophy.

Alexandra hung her head. "I'm afraid I will be a dictator," she confessed. "I'm not ready to give away all my power. Someday, perhaps, it will happen. I may not be so strong as to allow it in my reign."

"But together, we may have the strength!"

Alexandra stared at her, and marveled.

The dinner was a triumph. The light in Alexandra's eyes, and the smugness of Genevieve's smile were noted by those who were watching for such things. Genevieve, if possible, was even more radiant than she had been that morning, charming everyone with her warmth and intelligence.

Presently, Alexandra proposed a toast to Genevieve, while the gathering went mad with their cheers. Then there were toasts to the Queen and Consort, to the visiting Royalty, to their nations, to the people, to anyone that anyone could think of.

The floor was cleared for dancing, and Alexandra and Genevieve blushingly danced the first dance. Alexandra was a wonderful dancer, and Genevieve was light on her feet, and the cheers were genuine for them, when the dance was over. Then one by one, other couples joined them, and Genny found herself dancing with every man and woman present. "This is the happiest day of my life," said one of her partners, eyes misting with adoration, and she assured her that it was the same for her. And it was the truth.

Sophie was a little drunk, and hiccupped softly as they bade farewell to the guests. In the end, it was just the three of them, looking at each other in the hallway outside the Royal bedroom.

Tears dripped from Sophie's eyes, but her cheeks did not know it.

"You two look radiant," she accused. "I have to go to bed all b-by m-myself! It just isn't fair!" she grinned, her tears flowing.

"Come on," Alexandra told her, "we'll tuck you in! Your chance will come, sweet girl. You don't know how pretty you are tonight!" They walked her to her room, undressed her, and tucked her into bed, already almost asleep.

It was going to be a cold night, and the furnaces had been fired. Alexandra stole a glance at the girl who walked beside her. How warm would she like the room at night? Did she sleep naked, or dress warmly? Did she insist on cuddling, as Alexandra's mother used to like to do? It made Alexandra too hot, and she had deplored it. Genny's hand felt warm in hers, and she was just learning to know —and enjoy— her odd trick of squeezing Alexandra's hand every now and them. She was a whole new stranger about whom Alexandra knew only a few, ultimately irrelevant, things. She knew Sophie far, far better. It was easy to understand Sophie.

"It's going to be hard in the morning," Alexandra said in a low voice, masking a sigh.

"Why?" Genny asked softly, her head inclined to one side to look at Alexandra with gentle puzzlement. There was tenderness in the little motion, and unconscious coquetry, something that made Alexandra smile with pleasure.

"Because Sophie has this routine, you see. She wakes me up, and I tell her what's going to happen, and she braids my hair, and we plot and plan what we will do, and ..."

"It will be messed up because I'm here."

"More or less; yes."

Genny gently tugged at Alexandra's arm, making her face her.

"This first night," she said, "don't load it with worry, my Queen! We're only two girls, falling in love after we have pledged to each other! Let us be only — lovers, tonight!"

There was so much to learn, Alexandra thought; of course it was impossible to do all at once. She was right. Even now, Alexandra was searching her face for calculation, deceit, manipulation. It was a habit, the habit of suspicion.

They were in the enormous room that served as Alexandra's personal suite within the Royal Suite. It had numerous sections that could be partitioned off, but which had all been opened up in the time of her mother into one enormous space, the size of an entire humbler dwelling.

"I'm so glad we —made love this afternoon," Genny said, looking down at the bed, her hand on the fastenings of her gown. In the soft light of the oil lamps, her face was colored high.

Without a word, they turned to undress each other, Genny with more practiced hands. She had spent more time with noble girls her age than had Alexandra, even if it had not involved sex, but rather only dress-up games. She undid Alexandra's braid without hurting a hair, and when Alexandra was down to her shift, she kissed the back of Alexandra's shoulder, and clung to her briefly. Then she turned, and Alexandra tried to steady her hands as they took off the layers of clothes from Genny's more softly curving form.

"Here," said Alexandra, fetching her a robe. It was a little chilly, and she dreaded the moment when Genny would insist that the heat be turned up. Genny put on the robe quickly, suddenly bashful. "Would you like to use the bath first?"

"Let's go in together," suggested Genny.

They were both aroused, but there was something else, too: the delight in invading the privacy of someone who belonged to you. She was helpless against your invasions, and it was pure pleasure. They did their toilettes together, laughed at each other's peculiarities, surrendered to each other's demands about various unfamiliar rituals.

"Go ahead to bed, Genevieve; I'll be with you soon." Alexandra felt hot and sticky, and wanted just a little more time. Genny dropped her eyes and went out. But at the door she turned, only her head showing, to ask a question. She felt awkward and undressed in front of Alexandra.

"Which side do you sleep on?"

It made no sense to Alexandra; she had slept alone for so long. She stared at Genny in confusion. Genny blushed and made an awkward gesture of resignation. "Oh, just finish and come along," she mumbled as she went into the sleeping alcove.

Having scrubbed herself until her skin was slightly raw, Alexandra brought the lamp in with her, and laid it by the telephone. Genny watched her, and then slid away, making room for her. Alexandra fixed the picture in her mind, determined never to forget it. Her heart was close to bursting with excitement and anticipation, despite the fact that they had made love so passionately mere hours before.

Alexandra slipped into bed, having pulled off the robe, and hung it over the bed head. Genny was turned to her, her beautiful, clear, shining eyes dominating her perfect oval face and full lips. As Alexandra looked at her, she made still more room, thinking perhaps that Alexandra felt crowded.

"It's so odd," Alexandra said, with wonder, "I'm not alone in my bed anymore!"

To her amazement, she saw what could almost be fear in Genny's eyes. But she held out her hand to Alexandra, silently asking for comfort.

It was a long, wonderful night. It began with hours of pure tenderness. Then Genny had insisted that all the lamps should be doused, and they surrendered to passion.

"I didn't know I could be this way," Genny said, as she lay breathing hard on Alexandra. "Only you could be so patient with my ridiculous demands." She kissed Alexandra tenderly, as if in reparation for her treatment of her.

"Surely we're well matched," Alexandra replied.

"But you're a fighter; anyone expect those who fight to be — well, physical!"

Alexandra laughed.

"I have no one to compare myself to," she confessed. "I was a virgin in every sense."

"Alexandra!" Genny breathed, for the sheer joy of saying it, and inserted the tip of her finger between Alexandra's lips, and between her teeth. Seconds later, she was fast asleep.

Alexandra lit the closest lamp, and watched Genny as she lay sleeping. The image of the child that she had cherished for so long reposed side by side with that of the sleeping young woman, her consort. The impossibly long lashes were still there, the nose was the same, the planes of her face were now fuller, had more character. The lips, too, were more sensuous, and now had more meaning for Alexandra, since she had kissed them thoroughly, and been kissed by them, but the expression on them was the same. The determined chin was exactly the same.

The range of emotions Alexandra remembered in Genny's younger self were varied. She had been an intelligent, curious, attentive girl. Alexandra had arrived just as Genny had fallen in love with a newborn colt, and Alexandra knew well how full of adoration those hazel eyes could be. And then they had turned on Alexandra herself, and deep pleasure and a sense of unworthiness had shared Alexandra's breast. But now Genny's expressions were a kaleidoscope that could portray everything from impatience and scorn and acute disapproval to flirtation, admiration, and white-hot passion.

Even after she had turned the light out again, Alexandra lay awake, longing to see her lover's body in full light. She was awakening all sorts of desires in Alexandra that surprised and alarmed her.

The next morning Alexandra awoke late, to find Genny standing uncertainly at the door to the bath. She was playing with her long honey-blonde hair, looking uncertainly at the sleeping Alexandra. The moment her eyes opened, Genny's face melted with pleasure. Something changed inside Alexandra, that her mere waking should give the girl so much joy.

She came to the bed, and held out her hand to pull Alexandra up. She led her to the toilette, and urged her in, and shut the door, offering to braid her hair as soon as she had washed her face. Her quick southern speech was utterly musical, a dance of words in the air.

When Alexandra emerged, Genny was dressed in a demure calf-length skirt and blouse, and was slowly and carefully brushing her own hair, holding it to a side. Her movements were utterly graceful, grace Alexandra had never seen. It was a special thing they seemed to learn in the South.

"Come on," she said, "sit down, and I'll comb out your hair."

"Oh, I'll do it," Alexandra said, unwilling to be a burden to this King's daughter.

"Nonsense," she said, "your hair is my province, Your Majesty. Please sit." Her smile counteracted the severity of the words. She chose a comb from the several she had placed in a tray on Alexandra's toilet table, and combed the hair out perfectly. Then she brushed it out, and braided it nice and tight, exactly as Alexandra liked it, thong and all. "I was thinking of how to do it all this week," she said, pleased with herself, "and I finally figured it out!"

"You were worrying about my braid all this week?"

Her smile evaporated, and she took a half-step back. She shrugged. "I had very little to do," she explained.

Sophie must have been watching, or listening, because they heard a soft knock on the door, and when Genny opened it, there Sophie stood, clean and brightly smiling.

"If you need anything, your majesties," she began, ready to flee.

"Come in!" Genny smiled.

"We've been managing so far," Alexandra offered, her face sober. "But there must be something you could do ..."

"What's on the schedule today?" asked Genny softly.

"Very little," Sophie said, smiling. "Perhaps you could visit your guests, say your farewells, that sort of thing!"

Genny clasped her hands, miming satisfaction, as she glanced from one to the other of them. It was good to have no affairs of state for at least one day.

It turned out to be an important day. As Alexandra and Genny appeared together about the Palace, they began to learn the art of doing so: which of them would speak in what situation, how they would stand, how they would dress. Horvald suggested that Genny should be given the Order of the Laurel right away, an honor that was the traditional recognition of the Consort. It would serve as a less ostentatious symbol of her office, just as Alexandra's Order of the Mace served to identify her as the sovereign Queen when she went about the Palace and grounds in her official capacity.

Quite innocently, Genny walked abreast of the Queen, or a few inches behind, not the full pace behind she was supposed to. No one had the nerve to suggest that she should walk behind her royal spouse, and everyone observed that the way it was done detracted absolutely nothing from Alexandra's presence or authority.

Occasionally, Alexandra placed her somewhat forward of her, especially when Elizabeth, the Palace housekeeper and chief steward, took them on a tour of the residential part of the Palace. Genny had intelligent questions to ask, and asked them with tact and consideration. She learned the names of all the staff, and where possible, praised them for services rendered to her specifically in the previous two weeks.

She had to bid farewell to her father and her two brothers. She begged her mother to stay, and the Queen was persuaded to visit a while with the Gustafsons. Heather's large eyes were full of sorrow at the prospect of returning without Genny. Genny had not thought the girl cared for her so much, but apparently just as Genny had imagined that she had begun to alienate her, Heather had begun to appreciate her more.

"It must be disgusting to be kissed by a drunk lesbian, Heather," she murmured privately, apologizing for the tenth time.

"I've decided it wasn't that bad," Heather said, blushing.

"I was a mess," Genny forged on. "But it's still no excuse!"

Heather put her arms round Genny, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Then she looked up into Genny's eyes with a defiant half-smile. "It's okay, Gen. For the last time, it's okay!" Leaving Genny looking after her stunned, she hurried into her room with a giggle and shut the door.

On the weekend, Genny visited her mother at the home of Lord and Lady Gustafson. She was escorted by three guards, led by Captain Miriam Annasdottir, and met her mother in the famous garden.

"I'm terrible at these little talks, darling; and you have no idea how much I want to do the right thing, but I cannot even begin!"

"It doesn't matter, Mummy ... we've had sex several times, now ... she's as inexperienced as I am."

Anne took her daughter's hand with tears in her eyes. "Oh, my poor darling, and that poor child ... she has nobody! And I can hardly talk to her, can I?"

Genny shook her head. Anne marveled, as she often did, at her daughter's composure in difficult circumstances. The child was far too wise for her young age. They were both seventeen, but they acted years older.

"At first, I wondered whether there were right things to do, and wrong things ..."

Anne shook her head vehemently. "Anything that doesn't cause pain or injury ... it's perfectly all right. It's nobody's business what you do."

"Oh Mother! I can imagine some very strange things!"

Anne's smile grew somewhat mischievous. "Do you want me to tell you what kinds of things I'd like to have done to me?"

"No!"

They laughed, and some of the tension was dissipated.

If nothing else, the visit gave Genny lots of new ideas. Though their lovemaking had been satisfying thus far, Genny's feverish imagination and Alexandra's incurable curiosity kept them searching for new ways to amuse themselves in bed, seeking greater and greater intimacy.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Queen plans a Tour

Sophie went home on the weekends, but to her dismay, one Saturday, she found the Queen at her door.

"Can I talk to you just for a minute?"

"Oh, certainly, Alexandra! Come in, sit down!"

"Who is it, Sophie?" asked a quiet baritone voice from inside.

"It's Alexandra, Papa!"

The hidden speaker poked his head out. "Listen, Your Majesty, I will not have you pestering my daughter on the weekend, do you hear me?"

Alexandra grinned and walked past them both into the small dining room in which they ate breakfast. Lady Trudy smiled at her indulgently, frowning briefly at her husband.

"I need to talk to you, too!" announced her Majesty to the complainant.

"Me?" the head of the household asked, lowering the newspaper.

After much banter, John promised to join Sophie and Alexandra in the living room.

"Alexandra has decided to fill the gaps in her knowledge of the country first hand," announced Sophie.

"Aha. Genny's idea, yes?"

Alexandra shook her head vehemently. "I dread telling her. I can't drag her round the country, and we ... we hate to be apart. But I have to do this."

"Is she good to you?" asked John, starry eyed.

"She's an angel," Alexandra said fervently, her eyes focused on something — or someone — far away.

"I think you should take her with you," said the old man. "Why shouldn't she go?"

"It's dangerous. There's trouble in the West."

"Avoid the West, then."

"I cannot!"

Across the Western Ocean lay their traditional allies, from where one of Alexandra's mothers hailed, the beautiful Princess Atlanta. The kingdom of Belgravia was in a time of trouble, and it infected the Westernmost counties in Norsland. Alexandra felt that she needed to understand the situation before she could find a means of ameliorating it.

By the time Alexandra left the loyal and helpful Gustafsons, she was no better off. John Gustafson had suggested that both Alexandra and Genny should make a tour of the entire country, while Sophie thought that the Princess Consort should stay where she could be protected. Alexandra should take steps to ensure the succession, and Genny should be declared Regent. Alexandra nodded wisely, but she did not understand the advice in the least. And she was too embarrassed to ask Sophie what it meant in front of her father.

"Do you know what she means, ensure the succession?" she asked Genny.

"It means ... you establish who ascends the throne if you get killed, of course!"

"I know that, love, but ... how does one do it?"

"Oh. I suppose you write it out, like a will: so-and-so will be my successor, unless I have a child, in which case ... yakkity yak, blah blah blah."

Alexandra stared at Genny thoughtfully.

"You," she said at last.

"Why?"

"Because I trust you."

Genny's eyes shone, and she covered the lower half of her face.

"I'm very moved, Alexandra," she said with a sniff, "but once you're dead, your trust doesn't matter, does it? Whom would the people trust?"

"You, of course!"

Genny shook her head. "Sophie," she said firmly.

But most of all, they had to have an heir. With much careful inquiry, the facts began to emerge.

With the technology available, two women could create a child with genetic material contributed from each of them. They had to have sex over a period including the ovulation of each woman, using a piece of equipment that was essentially in the form of an artificial strapped-on phallus, worn by one woman or the other. The device collected ova from each woman, performed the task of combining them to form a fertilized egg, and released it into either uterus, as they preferred. Surgery could still be used, but the equipment made it possible for lesbian couples to become biological parents, though unfortunately, their offspring would be invariably female. The device was one of the foundations of that society.

In addition, there was a drug that enabled the progress of the pregnancy to be halted for up to six months. The implanted ovum simply remained in place, making no changes in the womb, until an antidote was taken. Unlike the impregnation device, this was an expensive procedure, available only to Royalty, or the very affluent. It was intended precisely to ensure that the desired succession was possible in the unhappy event that one parent was killed.

Alexandra sat on the divan with Genny, gazing into her eyes.

"This is making a mess of our lives," she said, looking utterly dejected. Neither of them was comfortable with frank talk about the mechanics of sex, in spite of the endlessly inventive ways they discovered to make love. Though they both knew that they were ready to use devices — sex toys — it was repugnant to be forced to use one for such a prosaic reason.

"I was going to ask you to get one, anyway," blushed Genevieve.

"I know you were! But darling ... you'll probably hate it because of the reason!"

Genny drew nearer and looked up at Alexandra, her eyes full of love. She shook her head. "I could never hate it, Alexandra ... just to imagine a little baby inside me, a tiny copy of you! How could I not want that?"

Alexandra was shocked.

"But ... we're too young! You're only seventeen! You're far too young to be burdened with the cares of being pregnant, caring for a baby! I want you to enjoy life to the fullest!"

"I know, I know." But Genny was starry-eyed. Alexandra smiled at her indulgently; it wasn't often that Genny was not starry eyed. "But that's me; that's how I am, Alexandra. You've married a silly girl!"

"I remember ... you had this doll in this silly stroller, and you would open your blouse and pretend to nurse it!"

"Yes, I did!"

Alexandra's eyes grew worried.

"I'd like to encourage you to have a career. A teacher, a doctor, a nurse, anything. You have a keen mind, and you deserve more than merely domestic comforts and entertaining."

"Give me a baby, and I'll take the drug!" Genevieve begged. Her maternal instinct overpowered all else.

And so began one of the most intense sexual experiences of the young couple. After weeks of making love in total darkness, they had an excuse to have sex in broad daylight. The first time, Alexandra strapped the device on in the bath, silently bearing the sharp pain as the device slipped inside herself, and approached the bed. She was stunned by the beauty of her lover.

Though she knew every inch of Genevieve's body intimately by touch, she had never seen it in bright daylight. Unlike Alexandra, Genevieve had been gently reared to be a woman of leisure. Yet she had a natural physical grace, a perfection of proportion, such a beauty of body and limb that Alexandra could not help staring.

Genny stared back at Alexandra, wide-eyed. She was the first to speak.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the universe," Genny breathed.

Alexandra stood, feeling as if her skin was several sizes too small. Her breasts, in particular, seemed to be bursting out of the skin covering them. Her mouth felt dry, and she was excited past bearing.

Genny's eyes devoured Alexandra's body, revealed for the first time, accentuated by the leather straps that cut into her muscular torso, the well-defined muscles whose pressure her body knew so well, but which now stood revealed to her eyes, the muscular arms, and, oh Gordon, those incredible columns that were her legs! They were the legs of a runner, a rider, a swimmer, and a swordswoman. She moaned and fell back on the bed, unable to contain her desire for Alexandra. She had been afraid of the pain that penetration would cause, but now all she could think of was to have Alexandra inside her.

Without words, she begged Alexandra to enter her. She practically hurled herself onto the device, and they had hard, violent sex.

"I want to paint a nude portrait of you!" said Genevieve, presently, shyly, but defiantly. She could not get over the impossibly erotic sight of Alexandra wearing the device.

Alexandra took a deep breath.

"Anything but that!"

Genny rested her cheek on Alexandra's breast. It was what she wanted to paint most of all in the whole world — to capture the perfection of Alexandra's youthful beauty. As the years went by, she would remain beautiful, but the nature of her beauty would change as it matured. Her present vigor, her innocence, her joy of life, she had to capture it! She wished she had the talent for sculpture. She could imagine a statue in bronze, of Alexandra, standing, wearing that strapped-on device. It would be scandalous! But it would be incredibly beautiful in any sense of the word.

Two weeks later, Alexandra got her period. Genny ministered to her tenderly, even as she felt the discomfort caused by not having her own. They were now bonded so closely that their cycles were already coincident. The doctor assured them that Genny was pregnant, and that the pregnancy had been halted without harming the embryo—thus far.

As the time to set out on the Royal tour drew near, having made plans for all eventualities, the royal couple found it impossible to part. Genny talked earnestly to Sophie, urging her to persuade Alexandra that it was better for them to stay together; indeed for all three of them to stay together. Meanwhile, Alexandra had begun to feel the same, and one night she persuaded Sophie that, whatever the dangers, Genny's presence on the tour was too valuable to her, and to the people, too. John Gustafson, who had said all along that the tour should be undertaken together, was pleased at the decision.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On the Road

One morning, the royal party set out. They headed for the Royal Lodge at Westholm, across the mountains. It was a central location from which they could make sorties to each town that Alexandra had to visit, principally Westhaven, a small seaport. The Lodge had accommodations for a moderate-sized party, including the Queen and her consort. In addition, there was also a little cottage on the grounds, which would provide additional privacy for the royal couple if they desired it. Based at the Lodge, a small group could make short day trips out to Westhaven, at which location, Horvald had told them, there were several days' worth of disputes to be settled.

The Royal party consisted of Alexandra and Genevieve, Lady Sophie, of course; a company of eight guards; and Bernard, a Palace under-steward, a general aide, and in charge of food for the Queen, and his little eight-year-old daughter Katie, whom Alexandra had allowed him to bring along, in the capacity of a page, as a special treat for the youngster.

Genny frowned on living in inns and guest-houses. "In fifteen years, maybe. But just now we're too young. It feels wrong."

"Perhaps you're right," Alexandra admitted.

"And we need more privacy now, far more than we would when we're an old married couple!"

"True."

"Don't you agree, Sophie?"

"Yes, my Lady."

Genny gave her a mischievous smile, as her mare galloped ahead of them all. With her special saddle which had been brought across from New Hope, she really could gallop side-saddle.

"Isn't she amazing?" Alexandra asked, having tried to chase after her, but giving up. Miriam had gone after her, and seemed to have succeeded in talking Genny into a more sedate pace.

"Yes she is," Sophie agreed.

They camped in a bit of woods, guards were posted, and Genny, wearing a colorful apron, had a cookfire going, allowing no-one near it. "This is my cookfire, and I'm cooking!" she insisted. Sophie, Alexandra and Bernard stood around anxiously. But Genny seemed to have matters well in hand, as she charmed Bernard and little Katie into running little errands for her.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" asked Alexandra, worried and amused at the same time.

"Well, why don't you slice some onions?"

Bernard gasped, and Sophie giggled. Clearly Alexandra had never sliced an onion in her life, and would never have been allowed to, if Bernard had his way. "Come," said Sophie quietly, "I'll show you!"

Alexandra watched Sophie with interest, and soon took over the job. There was garlic, a major ingredient in Southern cooking, which needed to be chopped, and of course peppers and other spices. As the wonderful aroma spread through the camp, the guards came round to watch, fascinated. Genny looked up to count heads, and declared she would have to make two batches.

As the light faded, lamps were lit, bottles of beverages opened up, and dinner was served out.

"This is wonderful!" declared Miriam with her mouth full. Bernard murmured embarrassed agreement. It was certainly a wonderful contrast to the more traditional cuisine of the Palace. Genny accepted the plaudits graciously, expressing her pleasure at being appreciated.

"If we're at the lodge, I can cook more often," she pointed out, "whereas at an inn, I cannot cook at all."

"This is certainly true," admitted the Queen. "But the point is for you to meet our subjects, my Lady, not to be at the Lodge, cooking."

"Don't you worry about that," retorted Genny nonchalantly. "I have a few ideas."

Without quite knowing how, Sophie found herself sharing a little tent with the Royal couple. Genny was plainly delighted at Sophie's indignation. The tent was pitched on a slight rise, and Genny was busy spreading out the fibrous pad Bernard had brought in before he had been shooed out. "Help me spread this thing," she said to the other two, as she clambered on her hands and knees, laying out a large square sheet.

"Your Majesty ..."

"Genny, please, and keep your voice down!"

"Genny, there isn't room!"

"There will be, once we lie down! Stop complaining!" She finished spreading the heavy sheet with Alexandra's help, put down a soft flat sheet over that, and laid a heavy blanket over it. She got to her feet and faced Sophie, breathing a little hard with the exertion. Her eyes searched Sophie's embarrassed face. "We'll just sleep, then, dear; all right?" she said softly. The Queen stood at the opposite edge of the pallet, clearing her throat nervously.

"The guard's tent can be a lot more exciting than you would like," Alexandra observed. Sophie and Genny both looked at her puzzled. There were eight guards, four men and four women, and of course, Bernard and Katie. Genny had assumed there would be segregated tents for the guards, but Alexandra informed her that there were not. "They will be glad to have you, but it will make an odd number!"

Sophie blushed furiously. "I could have shared a tent with Katie," she muttered, feeling outmaneuvered.

"Let's go wash up," Genny said, reaching across to pull at the Queen's hand, while keeping firm hold of Sophie. They found their towels, and headed out to the little pail that the guards had filled for them.

"My father wants to know if you have all you need, Your Majesty!" recited Kate, hurrying up to Genny, and dropping a small curtsey. (Kate was somewhat afraid of Queen Alexandra, but would talk to Genny and Sophie. She was just eight, and Genny adored her.)

Genny immediately crouched down to talk to her.

"Tell him we're fine, love! Are you comfortable in your tent?"

"Yes indeed, your Highness!"

"I want to see!"

And off she went, Sophie cursing silently. Who knew what state poor Bernard would be in! Alexandra went on ahead, shaking her head.

The arrangement was very convenient. There was a barrel full of water, and a pail stood on a tripod from which a faucet could let out a trickle. "You go first," said Alexandra.

"No, you first," Sophie insisted. She wasn't sure how to proceed.

Alexandra stripped down to the waist and politely asked if Sophie would hold her clothes, which she did, pretending not to look. The fact was that the sight of Alexandra's naked upper-body had aroused Sophie almost past bearing. The Queen wrapped the towel around her waist. "I wash down to my breeches," she said, as she proceeded to let the water trickle onto her shoulders and slapped it about herself. She had sweated on the road, and Sophie had no doubt it felt good to be clean. Then she unwrapped the towel and dried herself. She took back her clothes, but wore only her cloak and her breeches. "Now you know how it's done!" she grinned at Sophie in the dim starlight. "If you prefer, you could just wash your face ... or you could strip completely down, and I could pour water over you!"

Before Sophie could respond, Genny hurried up, all excited and pleased. Sophie turned to her in relief. "They have the most darling little tent," she gushed. "I tucked her in, and Bernard looked quite relieved! He'd already washed her, and she smelled wonderful," she added, wistfully.

"I'm done," Alexandra informed her.

"Your options are: to wash only your face, or down to your waist, or completely disrobe and have us pour water on you!" said Sophie, somewhat sardonically.

"Oh, the last, please; I sweat something awful, and I like to have my privates clean," Genny said, all eager to go. "Shall I go next? I'll just put my clothes on that bush over there."

"I could hold them for you, your... er, Genny."

"No, no, you must have your hands free to scrub me down!"

She loved the attention, and she playfully acknowledged it. She squatted down, completely naked, and while Alexandra slowly poured a pail of water on her, Sophie was required to scrub her back. With no shame, she asked for a second pail, and washed out what she called her 'privates,' shivering with the cold. She toweled herself dry, and tied up her damp apron under her arms until Sophie was all washed, and they could get back into the tent.

Feeling rather forward, Sophie followed her example, while Alexandra expressed regret that she had not done the same.

The intimacy of the little exercise affected them, and they fell quiet as they returned to the tent. Silently they dressed in sleeping clothes — shifts and socks — and slipped under the blanket and the top sheet.

"You'll be warmest in the middle," Alexandra said to Sophie. But Sophie rather primly said she preferred the edge, and maybe Genny should have the middle, being least accustomed to sleeping in the open in cold climes.

The light was turned out, and soon the camp was quiet, except for the giggles coming from the guard's tent several yards away on their right. After a while, even that stopped. Sophie lay rigidly on her back, straining to hear anything taking place between the other two, but at the same time trying to convince herself not to. They were whispering, and though Sophie could not make out any words, it was clear that they were being very tender and affectionate.

Sophie was beginning to know Genny as an affectionate woman, not given to jealousy, and she felt a deep satisfaction that Alexandra and her consort had found each other. Sophie's main purpose in life had now become to ensure that their marriage and their rule were equally successful. Sophie had begun to fear that she, who wished them only the best, and would willingly give her life for them, might be the wedge that drove them apart.

Presently, just as she was waiting for the couple to simply sleep, as they had assured her they would, she began to hear the small sounds that indicated that they had been unable to abstain. The sound paused briefly, and Sophie heard Genny's soft voice call her.

"S-Sophie, love?"

"Yes?"

"Just c-close your ears, please! I'm sorry!"

"Don't mind me!" said Sophie, putting a smile in her voice, and turning away from them. She felt a brief caress, and they were at it in earnest, grunting, moaning, and breathing hard. Whatever they were doing it was evidently exhausting, but when they were through with one bout, they started another, until they had done it three times. No longer able to concentrate on it, Sophie found herself drifting off. The last thing she heard was a soft whisper, "I think she's fallen asleep, poor thing!"

When she awoke in the early dawn, Sophie found herself, to her embarrassment, in a close embrace of the naked young queen, and both Alexandra and Genevieve were fast asleep with their mouths open. With great caution, Sophie disentangled herself, and turned away, pulling the hem of her slip down over her thighs. With a soft sigh, Alexandra turned towards her, and snuggled her face against Sophie's back.

Presently she heard Genny wake, sit up and look around, find her nightgown and pull it on, find her robe and pull that on as well, and crawl out of the tent. She heard her greet little Kate with pleasure, and cry a warning that she wasn't fit to come near until she had washed.

Sophie felt a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle shake.

"Wake up, Sophie," the Queen said softly, "it seems to be fairly late!" Sophie pretended to be fast asleep. She did not want to turn around and see the Queen naked. Or rather, she did. It was so confusing. "Heavens, I'm a mess," Alexandra mumbled. Sophie could imagine her stretching that incredible body of hers, and hungered for a glimpse of it. She yawned several times, and pulled on her nightgown, and was gone. There was a hubbub outside, and Sophie felt as if she was missing all the fun. She felt exhilarated and frustrated all at once.

By the time Sophie emerged from the tent, everyone was washed, the royal couple were headed back into the tent to change, all smiles, and wishing Sophie a good morning, and the guards were waiting near the camp table staring at the eggs and bacon, with barely concealed impatience. "Hurry, your Ladyship," called Miriam, "the eggs are getting cold!"

"Go ahead and eat," Sophie said agreeably, "don't wait for me!"

But they did wait, and it was a wonderful meal, and the warmth of the circle of friends made Sophie forget her frustration.

They rode hard for the Lodge. They passed a few wagons heading in the opposite direction, and a carriage headed the same way, and a mail rider just setting out from a post station. There was a short break for a noon meal of leftovers brought with them, and then they pressed on. Now they overtook wagons, and presently, a little after sunset, they turned off the main road to climb up to the hill estate that belonged to the Royal family, and Westholm Lodge.

The light was almost gone when they arrived at the imposing gatehouse of the Lodge. One of the guards dismounted and knocked on the gatehouse door, but nobody answered. "The gate is unlocked, captain," she announced, pulling the heavy gate open, and the party rode in cautiously. Despite being unattended, all was clean and ready; the grounds were tidy and well-kept, the path up to the Lodge clear. There was a combination carriage-house and stables around the driveway, and the guards and Bernard took charge of unloading the animals, while Alexandra, Genevieve and Sophie explored the Lodge, with Katie trailing behind. In a few minutes lamps were lit, and they efficiently made themselves at home, putting their things away quickly, saving the detailed unpacking for later, and making ready for supper. Alexandra and Genevieve decided that the three of them should stay in the cottage up the hill, while Bernard and Katie would stay in the servants' quarters in the Lodge itself, and the guards would occupy the carriage-house and stables, which had a dormitory for guards. Sophie protested that the whole point of the cottage was to give the couple privacy, but they ignored her.

Genny was in a bad mood, for some reason, though she was not crabby. She smiled at everyone, but the smile was strained. She cooked again for them, talking less, and she was only really happy for those few moments when she talked to young Katie, supervising pressing of some garlic, or putting flowers in a little vase, little things that kept the girl occupied and feeling useful. Bernard clearly doted on his young daughter, and Sophie saw the gratitude in the eyes he turned to his Queen's consort.

Alexandra strode around, her arms folded across her chest, trying to stay out of the way of Genny and Sophie. Sophie could see that Alexandra was tuned in to Genny's mood, and it resulted in the Queen withdrawing into herself. Finally Alexandra stepped outside, and suddenly it seemed as if everyone was aware of things not being right.

Genny noticed the sudden silence, and looked up from talking with Katie. She saw Alexandra standing under the stoop outside. The Consort glanced wide-eyed at Sophie, and rolled her eyes. Sophie could sense a silent plea for help.

She joined the Queen outside, and urged her a little distance away for privacy.

"What seems to be the matter?"

Alexandra sighed. "I can only guess, Sophie, as much as you can." Sophie frowned at the cryptic look the Queen gave her. "She seemed ashamed of our —of my— bad behavior last night."

"When?" asked Sophie, before she could stop herself.

"Why, in the tent, of course." She hung her head. "She's right. It had to have been hard on you."

Why would it be any harder than it always is, Sophie wondered, grimly. Did they have no clue what it was like for her to live on the fringes of their pleasure in each other? Last night had been more immediately in her face, that was all.

"How else would newlyweds behave, Your Majesty?" Alexandra scowled at her use of the title, but Sophie had no alternative. "In the absence of a chaperone, it was unavoidable! I could hardly sleep with either the guards or with the servants!"

Alexandra sighed again. "There were alternatives, I suppose, but none of them much of an improvement. We should have been more considerate. But it's over and done with, and no harm taken, I feel sure! It only remains to cheer up Genny. Thank heaven for little Kate!"

As they headed in, they heard Katie's childish laughter, which caused Sophie and Alexandra to smile. That was enough; seeing Sophie and Alexandra smiling, Genny's bad mood evaporated. The preparation was all done, and Genny was delighted to have an audience as she put her meal together.

"I've always hated to cook," she confided, "but no more!"

"Watching you, I feel an urge to try," Sophie confessed, and the Queen quickly added that her feelings were the same.

"I am competent with eggs and bacon," said Alexandra.

"Well, if you wake early, Bernard would be glad to let you do it, wouldn't you, Bernard?"

"Oh, Your Majesty, you must let me make at least breakfast!"

"Oh come on, just one morning, Bernard!"

"If you insist, Your Majesty!"

"Would it hurt too much to say Lady Alexandra, Bernard? While we're on the road? Please?" Alexandra leaned over to look meaningfully at the poor man, who turned red. Seeing that he was about to refuse, Genny chimed in.

"Yes, and I want to be Lady Genny. And that goes for you, too, Sophie. And you know what to call me in private. What's my name, Katie?"

"Lady Genny!"

"And what do you call the Queen, Katie?"

"Queen Alexandra," she stammered, deeply embarrassed.

"Lady Alexandra!"

"Please, Your Majesty, you must not confuse the child."

"It is my command, Bernard. I will listen to your arguments later, if you insist!" said Alexandra pleasantly, but there was just a little edge in her voice that made Genny lower her head and chew her cheek to keep from smiling.

The meal was as superb as the previous dinner. There was wine for them all, and fruit, but halfway through dessert, Katie fell fast asleep, leaning against the Princess Consort. The dreamy look of pleasure in Genevieve's eyes was delicious.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Fun in the Water

After supper, Genny tenderly carried little Katie to bed, and then asked Sophie if she would please come out to the stream with her to wash. They had barely had time to walk around the cottage before it was completely dark. Now the outside was dimly lit by starlight, and Genny stood looking anxiously up at Sophie.

"There's a well-lit indoor bath in the cottage, Genny; you needn't wash at the stream!"

"I just ... want some time alone with you."

"I'll get a gas-lantern, then."

"No, no; that would be a lot more light than we need, and make us too visible to those in the Lodge, Sophie. I'd prefer not to encourage them too much."

"They certainly are a rowdy bunch," Sophie conceded. "I take it you want to bathe al fresco?" Genny's dimples told Sophie that she had indeed discovered the plan. "You don't expect me to do it, in this cold?"

"Oh, come on! You're the stolid northerner!"

Sophie dared not accuse Genny of what she was really concerned about, namely that Genny would indulge in a great deal of horseplay. Sophie sincerely disliked roughhousing in the presence of water.

Somehow, all three of them ended up going to the river together, though Genny plainly wanted Sophie to herself. There was a low table on which to place an oil lamp, and a rail on which to hang their clothes. Alexandra was the first to strip down to her skin, and to wade into the stream. By the time the other two were undressed and ready to wade in, Alexandra was finished, and toweling herself dry with her back to them. It was a shallow stream, and they sat on a convenient rock just under the water surface, pouring water on themselves with two clay bowls they had found at the water's edge.

"Turn around and let us see you, Alexandra," Genny called out softly. Wordlessly Alexandra turned around, regarding her consort with grave eyes. She held her towel bunched on one hand, her weight rested on her left leg, her arms hung at her sides, and her hair fell loose down her back. Genny took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

"I'm sorry, love," Genny said, her voice soft and tender. "I was just teasing you!"

"Are you two brave enough to finish your bath alone?"

"Go on. We'll be fine."

Alexandra pulled on her robe, collected her clothes, and walked slowly back to the cottage. She was incredibly graceful. Her motion had none of the artfulness of Genny's walk; rather it was the grace of the athlete, where every muscle knew exactly what it was doing, and did it perfectly.

Genny and Sophie looked at each other, each seeing the same look of wonder in the other's eyes. With a sigh they resumed their bathing. Then each of them felt the same impulse within a split second of each other; Genny put her arms around Sophie, and pulled her into a hard kiss. Settling in the soft sand of the shallow stream-bed, they twined their legs about each other.

Some time later, they lay heavily in the cold water, warm with their exercise. Sophie lay against the bank, with Genny on her, kissing her face, then resting cheek to cheek.

"Oh Sophie," she whispered, "I hadn't planned this. I know you will not believe me. I ..."

"Shh," Sophie hushed her, holding her close, afraid she would catch a chill. She gently turned them round, so that Genny had the muddy bank at her back. "We must get out of the water!"

"Not yet," Genny whispered. "Oh, I love you so!"

Sophie felt nervous; Genny felt definitely cold to the touch. She pulled her up, and finished washing her, enduring her endless kisses. "Come, let me dry you!"

Once she had been dried by Sophie, Genny lost some of her sluggishness. She heaved an enormous sigh, and looked for her slippers in the dark. Sophie found them, and knelt to put them on. They picked up the towels and the lamp, and slowly walked to the cottage, arms twined about each other, drunk with their secret love.

Sophie pulled Genny back just outside the door.

"You must make love to the Queen tonight!" she insisted. "I don't want to be the means whereby she loses the pleasure of you, my princess."

Genny sighed. "I am all tired and sleepy ... it was a foolish thing I made us do ... Sophie, I'm going to fall asleep in the middle of her lovemaking."

She was so exhausted, Sophie was supporting her almost entirely. It really wasn't fair! In addition, Sophie was the leaner of the two; Genny's layer of fat should have kept her warm without losing energy. But then, Genny always rode like a maniac, and then insisted on cooking. Sophie held her close, frustrated and bemused by the headstrong Southern girl.

"What's the matter? Come in quickly, both of you!" Alexandra had one heavy arm on Sophie's surprised shoulder, and the other around Genny. Genny woke enough to call her name and rest her head on the Queen's shoulder, and then fell asleep. "What happened?"

"We ... spent a lot of time in the water," Sophie said, recovering as well as she could. "She ... she ..."

Alexandra made an impatient sound. "I suppose it was her idea." Sophie said nothing. Alexandra bent, and picked Genny up as if she were a feather, and turned to go into their room. Sophie determinedly headed towards her own room, but Alexandra said, "I put in three pillows, and it's all ready, Sophie. Please come to bed."

So simply, Sophie was in bed with Genny and the Queen.

Sophie had climbed in against the wall, and then Genny had been put next to her, still in her robe. The Queen had slipped in last. The lamps were put out. Sophie lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to Genny softly snoring, and the Queen trying to breathe normally, though Sophie could tell that she was angry, upset and frustrated. She lay on her side, her head raised on her arm, to look across at Sophie over Genny's sleeping form.

"Do you think she will catch a chill in her stomach?" asked Alexandra. Sophie's heart stopped. "After all, she had just eaten!"

They each stared anxiously at the sleeping Princess who lay between them.

"She seems to be breathing easy enough," Alexandra said, answering her own question. She fell back hard, showing her frustration. "It is my fault," she cursed, under her breath. "I started it all!" She made a gesture expressing futility, scratching at her temples. "I displayed myself, naked to her, knowing it would arouse her. It always does. I ... I felt some madness come over me, when I saw you both in the water!"

"Don't blame yourself!" Sophie said, feeling miserable. "How could you know what she would do?"

"Of course, now it is obvious! She is so lusty!"

Sophie could not argue very well without revealing more than she dared. Even now, the memory of that lovemaking, the violence with which they had embraced, the slow, deliberate dance of love that had driven Genny out of her mind filled Sophie with lust just thinking about it.

Alexandra jerked herself up again, and tenderly touched Genny's forehead, and her eyes opened wide. "She is warm!" she breathed, with the panic of one who knows little about illnesses of the system.

Sophie rose to feel Genny's forehead, and the girl moaned. Alexandra sat up in bed, staring at her mate. Genny did feel very warm. Alexandra's worry was beginning to affect Sophie, too.

Alexandra put her head in her hands and groaned softly.

"What have I done? I have brought her out into the wilderness without a nurse! I believed her when she said we could look after ourselves. I am stupid, stupid!" She stared at Sophie, wild-eyed. "What will happen to her, Sophie?"

"There's still no need to worry," Sophie said, uncertainly. "Her fever could be much higher before it would be deemed dangerous."

"Are you sure?"

"Fairly sure. She isn't in delirium; she's just a bit warm, that's all."

"Sleep, Sophie," the Queen commanded. "I'll watch her. Get rest; I will wake you if I need help."

Sophie obediently closed her eyes. For a while she wondered whether it might not be better to argue with the young Queen and insist on watching with her. Then she thought better of it; if they were tempted to comfort each other, it would complicate things far, far more.

Sophie awoke; someone was shaking her. "Sophie, wake up! Listen!"

Sophie looked around, disoriented. Next to her, Genny was moaning in her sleep. It took her a minute to remember where she was, and who was staring at her, her eyes showing how hopeless she felt.

Genny's face was twisted in pain, and she was beginning to groan. Her head was very warm, but not so much as to cause concern. But the groaning was worrisome.

Sophie shook Genny awake.

"Wake up, Genny! Are you in pain?"

"Oh! Oh, my stomach! Sophie ... help me!"

"What does she need?" asked Alexandra, her face a mask of bewildered worry. Then Genny was tearing the bedclothes off, and Sophie understood. She had contracted severe indigestion.

Sophie leaped out of bed, and grabbed Genny's arm, and miraculously guided her out to the lavatory without knocking into any of the furniture. Having made sure the wretched princess could manage by herself, Sophie came outside.

"Oh, good heavens ... what will happen now?" whispered Alexandra. The odor was overpowering, even to the two girls outside.

After Sophie was sure the worst was over, she returned to the princess, to aid her with cleaning up. Genny clung to Sophie, softly moaning, tears pouring down her cheeks. Sophie waited until she was calm, crooning softly to her. Alexandra, from outside, was demanding information.

"It was indeed a stomach chill, Alexandra," Sophie said quietly. "Can you find something sweet for her to drink? Preferably not wine!" Sophie smiled encouragingly. "It's better if you don't wake anybody."

"Yes, yes indeed, Sophie." Alexandra hurried away, and Sophie breathed relief.

They made their way back, and Sophie seated her in a comfortable chair, and covered her in a blanket. Alexandra appeared with a mug. She looked at Sophie wide-eyed, expecting rebuke.

"What is it?" Sophie asked, smiling.

"Water and honey, warmed over the fire," she replied.

"A good choice," Sophie approved. "Make her sip as much of it as she will!"

Alexandra knelt by her beloved, and tenderly made her sip from the mug. Giving the young couple some privacy, Sophie stepped outside, to breathe the cleaner air for a few minutes. She was particularly anxious not to attract the attention of the guards or Bernard. After a while she opened the door to the cottage.

Inside, the couple was arguing. Genny had her hands on the Queen's cheeks, and they were competing to absolve each other of all blame. As soon as Sophie walked in, they gasped.

Sophie smiled. "Have you finished drinking it down, Genny?"

"Yes!"

"Can you drink more?"

"I think I could, yes."

Alexandra hurried off to make more.

"How can I thank you enough?"

"It was nothing ... I should have warned you that it was not a good idea to spend so much time in the water ..."

Just then Alexandra walked in, and they fell silent.

Handing the mug lovingly to Genny, Alexandra stood, hanging her head. Sophie waited until Genny had finished drinking, firmly put the mug on the table, and helped her to her feet. "Now rest," she said, guiding her to the bedroom. Genny was still weak, and Sophie and Alexandra helped settle her next to the wall, all bundled up warmly. She was asleep in seconds.

Alexandra turned and went out. Sophie followed her with a sigh, feeling awkward to lie down with Genny without an explicit invitation.
Alexandra stood, looking out of the window.

"I was watching you," she said.

Sophie caught her breath.

"In the river?" Alexandra nodded. Sophie hung her head. She was too tired to decide whom to blame, or how much. Her behavior had been ultimately irresponsible.

"Our tour is off to a miserable start," she said, in a low voice.

Alexandra shook her head. "We all made mistakes, but you have such a generous heart, Sophie, that you have put things back together again."

"You are the Queen, Alexandra. You cannot be cleaning latrines."

"Ah, but you are also of Royal blood. Yes, I know. You have taught me much tonight."

Sophie was moved to put her arm around the young Queen. She turned and pulled her close, making Sophie gasp. She crushed Sophie close, shocking her.

"Tonight ..."

They stood, in such a close embrace, they might have been one body. For the first time Sophie decided, well, if it happens tonight, it happens. The girl never made the same mistake twice; it wasn't that she did not love Genny; quite the opposite. But she could play on Alexandra's embarrassment and gratitude, and take her to bed.

"You probably want to sleep alone," Alexandra said, drawing away.

"You need to be with Genny," Sophie mumbled.

She got one last hug, and a kiss on the forehead. Alexandra led the way to another room, and made up a bed for Sophie.

"May I call you if there's more trouble?"

"Of course!"

She was grateful. "I thank you! Good night, Sophie!"

"Good night!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Westhaven

Princess Genevieve was awoken by the soft singing of birds. It started out softly, and soon there was a heavenly chorus of chirps and calls all around the cottage. Nothing of her headache was left; she felt perfectly fine. Getting out of bed, she looked out the window, which faced into the garden off to the side of the cottage, and saw a troop of little brown birds marching around the grass, pecking here and there, a sight that made her smile.

That morning, they rode down to Westhaven, a town with a large population of French-speakers. For various reasons, French-speakers across the ocean in Belgravia were dissatisfied with their lot, and the French-speakers of Norsland were restless in sympathy, as it were.

It was the tradition that the ruler of the land, most recently Queen Beate, would hold court in a circuit of several district courts around the country, to listen to complaints, and dispense justice as he or she could. It was often not practical to do this regularly, and the monarch would appoint judges to decide matters on their behalf. Queen Alexandra had neither filled judicial appointments, nor held court until that date. Horvald had set out some days earlier, and had undertaken to hear as many cases as he could, to prepare them for Alexandra's ear.

She now arrived with Sophie, Genny and four guards, and made her way to the district courts, in which an office had been set aside for her. Horvald joined them there in the late morning, and greeted the women with much pleasure. Genny smiled at him in turn, knowing him to be a conservative man with many old-fashioned ideas, but ultimately an honest and fair one. He was fond of them all in his own way, though he was difficult to oppose.

"First, they want to have a ceremonial portion, perhaps a half-hour, and then you can begin to hear the cases. We have time to look at about ten of them now, before the ceremonial opening."

"Go ahead," nodded Alexandra, getting comfortable.

"Now?" Horvald asked, indicating the Princess Consort and Lady Sophie.

"Certainly!"

So Horvald began. They went through the cases quickly, with Genny listening closely. On two instances the Consort interrupted Horvald's recommendation to politely suggest that they should hear the plaint for themselves.

"Why?" asked Horvald, plainly frustrated. He clearly took the remark to imply that he wasn't to be trusted. With great tact, Genny and Sophie convinced him that it could be a simple misunderstanding. When Alexandra took their side, he grudgingly conceded that it would do no harm to hear the plaint once more. One of the cases involved was the second in the list.

The court session was opened with some ceremony, with young Queen Alexandra seated in an ornate chair in lieu of a throne, the order of the mace sparkling on her breast, and the guards at attention. The court pledged allegiance to the throne, and Alexandra said a few gracious words to her subjects that seemed to hit the perfect tone. Genny's eyes glowed with admiration for her Queen. Then the head citizen of the district extended a word of welcome for the new Princess Consort, and to Genny's surprise, there was a loud cheer for her, too, which she acknowledged with a gracious nod and smiles. Sophie was delighted at the way that the young consort comported herself.

The plaintiff for the first case was called forward, and the case was presented. Horvald asked him whether the summary of the facts was accurate, and the plaintiff agreed. Alexandra gave her judgment with kindness and clear logic, and the plaintiff bowed and accepted.

The second case was the one where Genny had expected that there was a misunderstanding. Alexandra instructed Horvald to paraphrase first. When he had done so, she invited the plaintiff to explain the problem in her own words. It all seemed much as Horvald had summarized it, except at the end, when a certain detail made all the difference. Suddenly the plaint was not trivial, and it had to be investigated carefully. Fortunately, between Horvald and the local officials, the facts were made clear, and Alexandra gave a fair decision.

Horvald had learned his lesson. Proceeding more cautiously, judgments were given efficiently where possible, and with greater deliberation where necessary. Finally, Alexandra closed with a few words of thanks to Horvald for his work, and for the officers of the court for their help, and adjourned until the next day at ten.

"Accept my humble concession of error, your Highness," Horvald said to Genny. "You have an excellent ear!"

"Six ears are better than two, Lord Horvald," Genny said diplomatically. "At any rate, you have set up a procedure that allows the complainant to correct a misunderstanding if needed."

"Still, it's better to be aware of a problem beforehand," said Alexandra, and Sophie and Horvald agreed. "Do we have time to prepare, say, a half-dozen more this afternoon, and maybe a dozen tomorrow morning?"

Horvald raised his eyebrows. He was all for doing business fast, but that was pushing the limits of propriety. "We can prepare them, Your Majesty, certainly. But one must beware of doing things in an indecent hurry."

"Let's look at them, anyway."

They were all tired when they arrived back at the Lodge. They had remembered to bring a toy from Westhaven for Katie, and took time to play with her before supper. She was a sweet child, rather timid, but full of innocent fun.

On the way back from Westhaven, Alexandra had remarked that she liked the little girl very much, but that she was finding it hard to gain her trust.

"Tell a story," Sophie suggested.

"I don't know any," complained Alexandra.

"Oh, you must. Something like Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp."

"Remind me again how it goes," she asked.

So after Sophie had tossed a ball around with Katie for a while, Genny and she took her down to the stream to get her clean, towel her dry, and dress her in her night clothes, with Bernard watching from a distance, embarrassed at having his child taken care of by the nobility, and suspicious that they would not know how to do it. But it was all done efficiently and with minimum fuss.

"Do you like stories?" they asked the kid. "Yes, very much!" she replied, smiling. "Ask the Queen to tell you one," they urged her. "She has learned one especially for you!"

Katie shut her mouth tight and smiled, no. Did she want to hear one? A nod. Would she ask the Queen? No. Would she sit and listen, if they asked the Queen? A vehement yes!

"Are you getting me in trouble again?" demanded the Queen.

"It's just that Katie wants you to tell a story!" Katie's face showed dismay at this betrayal of trust. She had hoped the request would be anonymous.

Everyone gathered round, including the guards and Bernard, and Alexandra began the story. She had her own rambling whimsical style that amused not only the guards, but Sophie and Genny. She told it exactly as if recounting an event that had taken place in the town, with none of the formulas that signaled the classic storytelling style. What the account lost in cliches, it gained in clarity.

To everyone's amazement, Katie raised her hand to ask a question. Where was Aladdin's father? Alexandra answered with a little help. A little later, the hand shot up again. Politely the child asked her question, frowning in concentration. Again Alexandra answered as best as she could. It was very clear that the story was real to the child, and far from a fanciful tale, despite evil genies and magic lamps and everything. The ending pleased Katie very much, and she clapped in delight.

"It was as if I became someone else!" Alexandra exclaimed later.

"You became a teacher, I expect, judging from how she raised her hand to ask a question!"

"Perhaps. Perhaps. Or perhaps it is how she was brought up. A very polite child," Alexandra agreed, thoughtfully. "It's a good start."

Again that night, Sophie was being persuaded to join the royal couple in their bed.

"Oh, this is such a nuisance! I will be perfectly happy in my bed, I swear!"

"But we will not be happy without you!"

"Genny, please let me go!"

"Very well. But then I will have to visit you."

"If you insist!"

Sure enough, shortly after Sophie settle herself to sleep, she felt a warm, chubby body insinuate herself into her bed. Without much preamble, the visitor proceeded to climb on top of her victim, undress them both, and make love to her.

"Genny," begged Sophie, "go back to Alexandra. She probably misses you already!"

"Oh, look! It's Alexandra, come looking for me!"

Alexandra stood in the doorway in her robe, looking sheepish. Sophie groaned in frustration, but she had to laugh at the silly little ploy, mostly because her bed was significantly smaller than the royal bed. So, crowded together like kippers, they fell asleep.

When Sophie awoke, she found Genny's head on her breast, and her arm across her body, and her leg across hers. She felt uncomfortably warm, though the feel of Genny's body on hers gave her a strange, soft, tender feeling that made her eyes fill with tears.

"Genny! Gen," she called, trying to wake the girl. Finally, with much shaking and tickling, Genny woke, and looked about her. Her eyes focused on Sophie finally, and she lifted her head enough to give Sophie a big, wet kiss.

It was enough to make her feel as if she walked on a cloud. Sophie marveled that Genny could make her feel so wonderful, merely by kissing, and showing her unstinting affection for her.

Alexandra managed to get Katie talking during breakfast, and asked what she would like from West Haven. Katie smiled and said, another story.

They rode down the twenty-odd miles, and resumed work on the cases. Once again, amazingly enough, Genny showed her uncanny ear for potential misunderstanding. Court went into session at ten, and adjourned briefly for lunch. As Horvald had predicted, there was no time to finish all eighteen cases; four –the least urgent— were postponed for another day.

Katie heard her second story, and Alexandra was very pleased with the progress she made. It was as if she had planned her assault on the child's bashfulness, and rejoiced with each victory. Katie submitted to being interviewed about her school, and about her home, though Bernard kept hovering, fearful that the child would embarrass him or the family.

That night, again, after they had washed and gone to bed, Sophie consented to join the other two in the larger bed.

The royal couple made love furiously, as was their habit, which Sophie patiently endured, and they all fell asleep. Somewhat later, Sophie awoke to find herself lying next to the Queen. Once again, the girl was naked, and in the light through the closed curtains, Sophie could see every detail of her beautiful body.

Just as Sophie began to summon up the courage to reach out and touch the young Queen, her eyes opened, and they stared at each other, both of them somewhat startled. Sophie felt her face revealing far more to the other than she wanted it to.

"Do you desire me, or ... do I desire you?" asked Alexandra, in a whisper.

"I don't know," whispered Sophie. "Sometimes I think I desire all women!" Alexandra nodded slowly. What did that mean? Did she recognize the truth, or had she felt the same? "But you should never fear me, Alexandra, because ... I love you!"

"Sophie," Alexandra said, presently, "you must find a love, and settle down. I want you beside me and Genny forever! I can't endure the thought of having you fade away with a broken heart!" She laid her warm hand gently on Sophie's arm, a tender and characteristic gesture, and paused, searching her face. "I'm a better Queen for having you near. If you love us both, and love your country, heed my words."

"Now, suddenly, you are the Queen!"

"Not suddenly," protested Alexandra, and gathered Sophie in her arms and kissed her.

It was heavenly in Alexandra's arms. Her wonderful mix of strength and tenderness melted Sophie's heart.

"Good night, Sophie," breathed Alexandra, as they both began to feel sleepy. "Sweet dreams!"

"Good night," answered Sophie, feeling like her normal kindly self. Alexandra turned to Genny, and they fell asleep.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A New Warden

The next morning, they had planned to take it easy. The sessions at West Haven were finished, and their next destination lay further north, in the Isle of Skree, from whence, Alexandra had learned, Queen Beate's ancestors had come. They had settled there long before they had merged into the royal line, when they had been mere pioneers, farmers and keepers of sheep.

But to their pleased surprise, visitors awaited them. It was a family who kept a small herd of sheep for the Queen, high in the rolling hills above Westholm Lodge. They had arrived a little after sunrise, and had been entertained by the guards until the Queen rose.

When the Royal Couple and Sophie had finished their baths, dressed and come down to the lodge for breakfast, there stood the shepherd, a handsome man of middle-age, his wife, a tall, smiling, strong woman of an age with him, and four children. The eldest was a bright-eyed woman of about twenty-three, then two stalwart boys of about Sophie's age, and a little girl, just Katie's age, or a few months older.

They had brought gifts: a lamb, quite tame and ready to play with anyone, a large bottle of sheep's milk, and a small wheel of cheese. The boys had seen the party in residence some days ago, and noticed the child. Then some inquiries at the village had told them that the Queen was, indeed, at the Lodge.

The man knelt with dignity and offered his loyalty, pleased that they had been able to come and greet their royal landlord, but Genny felt that the couple had felt slighted by not being informed of the Queen's visit.

"Was it the custom of Queen Beate to send for you when she visited, good farmer?" Genny asked during a lull in the conversation. The farmer and his wife were seated now, the older children visited with Sophie and Bernard, while the little girl and Katie played with the lamb.

The man blushed and shrugged. "Sometimes yes, sometimes not, your Highness," he replied politely.

His wife smiled her wonderful smile, which made her eyes almost disappear, and broke in, to speak for the first time. "When the pennant is raised, your Highness, that is the sign that her Majesty is in residence. It is not always convenient to warn us humble servants in advance!"

"What pennant?"

"Why, the royal pennant," they replied together, and the shepherd continued. "Old Edgar, who is now dead, would raise that, Your Majesty. Not many know that you are here, or the villagers would visit. It was my guess that you wished to keep your visit quiet, to avoid meeting them."

Alexandra looked startled.

"Oh no," she said, "it was ignorance, only. Edgar, of whom you spoke: is it necessary to replace him? What were his duties?"

The farmer, Lars, took a deep breath, obviously uncomfortable in the Queen's presence. "His family it was maintained the small stables the old Queen and her Lady —your mothers, that is— they kept here for hunting sometimes. He had a small farm, you see it over there," he stepped outside the porch to point to the property on the right, now all overgrown with trees. He stepped back inside. He explained at length that Edgar's boys had all married and moved away, and only his daughter was left. "Last winter was hard on Edgar, and the girl moved the old man down to a small house in the town. But he died in the winter, Your Majesty."

"The Lodge seems to be well kept, farmer. The grounds are clean and well-tended. The farmhouse, though, looks decrepit. I do not know how to advise."

"It is the work of Edgar's girl, Magdalena," the woman softly answered the unspoken question. "She is an able woman. She it is who kept the grounds, with the help of whomever she could get. The income from the sheep and the farm goes to maintain the Lodge grounds, but ..."

"Things have fallen apart, because of Edgar's age and illness," the Queen finished, beginning to understand. "Lady Sophie?" Sophie came closer at the Queen's call, and the Queen included her in the conversation. "Lady Sophie is my secretary," she explained to the couple, who nodded gravely, acknowledging the slim, fair girl of noble bearing. The shepherd's children were beckoned forward, as well as Miriam.

"Captain, we're told that there's a pennant that is raised when I am in residence; can you find it, with the help of your friends?" Miriam said that they had been talking about just that, and they would see to it. She escorted the older children on a search for the pennant.

"Sophie — I think we may as well discuss it in the presence of Lars and his wife — the Lodge has also a stables, a farm and sheep, all supervised, at one time, by a man called Edgar." She looked to the farmer for confirmation, and they nodded. "Edgar died over the winter, and there's one daughter, Margaretta ..."

"Magdalena, Your Majesty," offered the shepherd's wife. "We call her Lena."

"Pardon me: Magdalena. It's she who has maintained the Lodge."

"We should have realized there was someone looking after the place," Sophie said, reddening. They had been so pleased to arrive that night, they had not thought it strange that all was so shipshape.

"Yes, but no matter. The income from the farm and the stables pays for the upkeep of the place, but the farm fell to pieces because the girl had to nurse her sick father, or so I understand."

As the shepherd and his wife nodded, Miriam arrived with the neatly folded royal pennant, and the Queen indicated that they should proceed with raising it. The small company of guards quickly assembled at the flagpole, and went through the ceremony for raising it, which Alexandra and Genny watched from inside the Lodge, and Sophie and the children watched from a few feet away. Shortly the sword flag of the royal house of Norsland flew high over the Lodge and the little village at the foot of the hill.

The shepherd's daughters and Katie brought wine and small wedges of cheese and bread and served them all, and they smiled to see the two little ones at work.

"And what is your name?" Genny asked the shepherd's little girl.

"Beate, Your Majesty!" replied Katie at once. Genny gave her a reproachful look, and Katie blinked and stepped back an apologetic pace. Genny looked at the tongue-tied young shepherdess.

"Beate, Your Majesty," she piped, in a voice even higher than Katie's. Her family could barely contain their laughter.

There was a slight commotion at the gatehouse, and shortly appeared a tall young woman of perhaps her early twenties. She had streaky straight blonde hair, the most common kind in those parts, and wore breeches and a coat over a heavy shirt. She had level grey eyes, a lighter shade than those of the Queen, and a large, wide forehead, and thick blonde eyebrows. Her jaw was square and firm, with a little cleft. The shepherd and his wife stood politely as the woman approached the entrance and stood uncertainly. Genny looked at Miriam, who stood watching from the gate.

Bernard quickly approached the young woman and exchanged a few quick words. She had a warm contralto, at present slightly out of breath.

"Your Majesty, it's Warden Edgar's daughter, Magdalena."

"Please come in, Magdalena!" Alexandra, called to her, and she came close and went down on one knee, her head lowered respectfully, then rose to her feet.

"I came as soon as I saw the pennant, Your Majesty!" Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the strangers. She bowed to Genny, whom she evidently recognized as the new consort, and gave smaller bows and nods to Sophie and to Lars and his wife.

"This is my wife, Princess Genevieve, and my secretary Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir," Alexandra introduced, giving the woman the honor of a landed citizen.

"Honored, your Highness, ladies," she murmured, obviously no stranger to manners. In spite of her rough features and simple dress, she had the bearing of one who was brought up in a house accustomed to dealing with royalty not quite as equals, but as competent professionals. There was pride, intelligence, but underneath, embarrassment.

She shifted uncomfortably.

"My father was ill for a little more than a year," she reported, her hands firmly gripped together. "The farm had begun to fail for some time, since my brothers left home. I sold the stock in the stables, Your Majesty, since they had not been ridden regularly since they left. In the end, only the income from the sheep has kept us able to get supplies for the Lodge. I kept the Lodge in readiness, but I have neglected the Farm, Your Majesty. It is as much as I could do, with what I had. I'm very grateful to Lars and Frida."

Her sad tale told, she stood, eyes lowered, for the Queen's response, or judgement.

Sophie cleared her throat softly.

"We haven't gotten to the letters from the holdings, Your Majesty. There is probably a letter from Warden Edgar, asking for help."

"Your pardon, my lady, it was I who wrote that letter. My father was old, and nothing could have helped him. But I had a few questions about what to do. Lars and I talked it over, and it seemed best to keep the Lodge in readiness, in the hope that you would come, and there would be a place to stay."

The Queen suppressed a sigh. "Let's think about it, and we'll come up with a plan before we leave," Alexandra said. Lars, Frida and Magdalen nodded, and their faces showed quiet approval. "There is some time before noon, and the Princess, and Lady Sophie and I would enjoy being shown all this lower part, including the farm," she said indicating it with her hand. "If you need to get back to your work, farmer Lars, we would be glad to send young Beate up afterwards; she is good company for our Katie!"

In the bright daylight, the Lodge and its surroundings were beautiful. A low stone parapet wall was broken by the large stone gatehouse with a small guardroom on one side, which they inspected briefly. It was unused now, the small company having taken residence in the carriage-house.

The driveway led to the Lodge, then round the flagpole to a carriage-house and stables, and a large room in which was kept the gardening tools and such, as Sophie had discovered. The gatehouse was connected to the Lodge by a covered walkway, which continued past the Lodge, up the hill to the little cottage that was presently occupied, of course, by the Queen and her companions. The stream flowed past the back of the property, and into the farm on the right.

All the trees were trimmed and healthy, the lawns trimmed, the stream kept clean and clear, the paths all tidy, and the large open space behind the carriage-house and stables was level and clear.

"This was used when the Queen and her women liked to practice arms, Your Majesty. There are quarter staves and a few blunted swords and such like. There were bows, and such, but ..."

"They need more attention, don't they?"

"Regrettably, yes. One bow I did keep usable."

"This is fine! Perhaps we can amuse ourselves with a little sparring!" Alexandra exclaimed, brightening.

"There is a fletcher in the village," Magdalena said hesitantly, "if you wish I could send out for arrows. Most hunting is still done with bows in these parts." In other words, there were guns, but they were looked down upon.

"Are you an archer, perhaps, Lena?"

"I have used a bow, Your Majesty, and I'm not so bad!"

"I saw your eyes light up! You must join us, then. Now show us the farm."

There was a gate directly to the farm, and a well-trodden path. The central building was a large stables and a fair-sized barn, both forlorn and empty. The roof was mostly sound, but there were visible leaks. Genny exclaimed at the woodwork, which must have been fine at one time.

"All the tackle has been sold, Your Majesty," said Lena in a low voice that spoke eloquently of her regret. "There were many fine saddles and such." The stables were at least clean; they had been cleaned out once the horses were sold.

There was something sad about the old farm, of things waiting, unable to do what they were meant to do. The modest farmhouse had a well-maintained living area, and a large working kitchen, only a corner of which seemed ready to use. On a table lay a beautiful saddle and bridle, and Lena indicated it with pride.

"This one alone we kept, to remember the Queen," she said.

Alexandra turned to her in puzzlement.

"She cannot have come here often; I don't remember this place at all!"

"Oh, begging your pardon, Your Majesty! Indeed you have been here! I remember playing with you when you were but a small girl, five, or six! Don't you remember Lena, who played with you, Your Majesty?"

The two women looked at each other, the one with restrained anticipation, the other with regret. "Those were happy years, but no; nothing comes!" Alexandra looked about in frustration. Surely she would have remembered this!

Lena sighed in resignation, but continued with her reply. "Her last visit was some seven years ago, and you did not come with her. And she used that saddle, because she came by carriage."

"Why does not Lars help you with the farming, Lena?"

Lena hung her head. With some prying, it was revealed that her father had borne a grudge against Lars, one that Lena had not learned the details about. In her opinion Lars was a good fellow, and Frida was a good woman. They had carefully kept out of Edgar's way, except to do their duty with the sheep farm. "Since my father passed, Lars has been all help. His boys help with the upkeep of the Lodge if I pay them, since that is my job." After a pause she added, "And Frida is able with all farm work. If the farm were theirs, they could farm it. Only the stables and the Lodge are beyond them."

"Can you manage it all, if I give him the farm, under your supervision?"

Lena took a long while to think it over. It had been just an idea that popped into Alexandra's head, but hearing about Frida's ability, it seemed the only logical way to avoid abandoning the farm entirely. Lena, on the other hand, seemed to know the ins and outs of how it all fit together, and was more interested in the stables and the Lodge. With help, she could run a small working stables, as large as there was a need for in these parts, and only she would know.

"Yes, your Highness; I believe Lars and Frida could succeed with the farm. Yes."

"And you would manage the Lodge and the stables for me?"

"The Lodge and grounds, surely. The stables: I would need much help for that!"

Lena was a solid girl, and minute by minute Alexandra's confidence in her grew. In addition to her native intelligence, she had that same sense for managing people that Sophie had, and more valuable, the ability to direct her social superiors when she had to. Once she had decided that she would accept the responsibility, she tactfully organized the noon meal, while allowing Bernard and Genny the illusion of being in charge. Festive linen was brought out, the good glassware and china, various mysterious pieces of equipment in the kitchen were introduced to those who had an interest, supplies were sent for, and Frida's eldest, Elly, came to help with the meal, saying that her family would be along, but that the meal should not be delayed on their behalf.

"Alas, I am no kind of a cook," Lena confessed with a smile. "I can cook a deer on a spit, though, when there is no kitchen near. That is not easy!"

"Indeed it must not be," said Genny with admiration. "Do you hunt?"

"Oh yes, Highness," Lena said, and they saw Elly's quick nod of confirmation. Something told them that Lena and Elly were better than friends, or that Elly, at least, admired her tall neighbor. "Often I had to hunt, to keep my father fed."

"Well, let's eat," Alexandra decided, grinning at the guards and the little girls who were making no secret of their hunger.

Lena seated them in the traditional places, with the royal couple at the ends, and the others ranged along the sides. She had quickly realized that the young Queen would not insist on the guards eating separately, and places were set for the shepherd and his family next to the guards, while Lena, Elly and Bernard waited table.

The latecomers arrived shortly, and were seated even as they murmured their apologies, showing their dismay at being seated at the table with the young Queen. She smiled and said it was a special day, and it seemed best to make exceptions to tradition. Once the farmer and his wife were served, Alexandra called for attention, and declared that she had some announcements.

"First, Lena, what is your proper name?"

"Magdalena Ingridsdottir, Your Majesty! It is long."

"I herewith appoint Magdalena Ingridsdottir Warden of this estate on my behalf, with its responsibilities and privileges."

"I thank you, Your Majesty!"

"It will be hereditary; if you have children able to hold the wardenship after you, I will consider them first."

Lena took a deep breath.

"They are likely to be all girl children, Your Majesty."

"Why, is being a warden a man's job?" Alexandra asked, looking round the table in puzzlement.

"In these parts often it is," admitted Lars, with a shrug, and some of the guards nodded. Genny kept her face carefully controlled; it was impossible to tell whether gender roles in this country had associated implications of inferiority or superiority.

"Well then, we are more likely to have women warders from now on!"

Lena's face showed her pleasure and amusement. She nodded thanks again.

"Farmers Lars and Frida, would you do me the honor of keeping my farm, in addition to the sheep? I have hopes that the land may pay for itself once again, with crops and cattle and perhaps even poultry, and support the maintenance of the Lodge. You will be supported by Warden Lena, and keep the farm on my behalf, under her supervision."

"The whole farm!" exclaimed Frida, surprised and pleased.

"It is in poor condition," Alexandra pointed out.

"But it can be restored gradually, Your Majesty. The stables, however, I have no ..."

"Warden Lena must manage the stables herself, and the Lodge. What do you say?"

"My wife and I will be pleased to do it, Your Majesty. We have long wanted to help with it, but Edgar ..."

Alexandra raised her hand with a smile, stopping him. "Your generosity commends you, good farmer. Your holding, too, shall pass to your oldest child, if I am satisfied with her!"

The couple's pleasure was evident. They bowed in their seats, eyes shining. The two boys grinned and ducked their heads, uncertain whether to be pleased. Elly was all smiles, and again her eyes darted to Lena, who smiled down at the table.

Alexandra was justifiably pleased with herself; Sophie knew that there were many details to be worked out, but it seemed to her that the important thing was that the people involved were eager and interested. All around her, everyone seemed happy.

It was inevitable that, after the meal, the thoughts of the Queen and the guards would turn to games, especially now that Lena was present. They had seen the disused equipment, but had not touched it, out of respect for the mysterious warden who had been so conspicuous by his —or, as it turned out, her— absence. With instinctive diplomacy, Lena supervised the setting-up of the afternoon's entertainment, while giving the young guards the impression that they were doing it. Quarterstaves were brought out, and a messenger dispatched for arrows. A target was found, and by the time Genny and Sophie got Katie, Beate and the little lamb happily occupied in a little run nearby, and themselves comfortable in a little pavilion that Elly brought out and they put up with the youngest of the guards, Kurt, the Queen was already sparring with Miriam, dressed in one of the brief tunic-like frocks she loved to wear.

Soon Miriam was perspiring, and she complained good-naturedly that the Queen must be given a handicap. They first tried a heavier quarterstaff, with which she managed to knock Miriam out of the ring. Then she offered to be hobbled. They fashioned a hobble out of a piece of rope, and the sparring resumed. Once more Miriam was knocked out of the ring, and a second challenger stepped forward. But the heavy staff and the hobble finally wore the game young Queen down, and a new champion faced his challengers.

"You fight well!" exclaimed Lena, as she helped her Queen off with the hobble.

The Queen smiled broadly. "I would have tired a lot less without the hobble," she insisted, unable to keep a note of complaint out of her voice. But then she laughed. "I'm certainly not the biggest here, and weight counts for a lot."

"But weight is not all," said Lena, smiling. Now, with her coat off, she looked a lot more solid than she had at first appeared.

"Could it be that you can use a quarterstaff?"

Lena dropped her eyes, as she undid the last of the hobble and stood up. "My father taught me," she admitted with a grin. "But your guards have learned from experts, no doubt."

The Queen could tell a challenge when she heard it. "Well, you should try! One only learns by doing it, don't you agree?"

"Perhaps later," said Lena, modestly.

"Ah, so you want to challenge only the best!"

"Indeed!"

Alexandra laughed heartily. Lena was wasted here. In times of war, she would be a natural for the army.

Those who had been knocked out of the quarterstaff ring were gathering round the target, a simple thing of bundled straw, mounted on a sturdy tripod. No one had brought the simple bows that were most suitable for friendly competition; the guards carried their crossbows and pistols for defense of the Queen, and the Queen herself carried only a knife at her hip, and a sword in her baggage. These were times of peace, and the guards were required for little more than crowd control. There were three bows, the best of those in the armory, and one that Lena brought out from somewhere. They were all good bows, not longbows as were described in the old legends, but good for tournaments, and for defending a fort, or attacking one, for that matter.

Torn between wanting to loose the first arrow, and supporting her friends in the sparring, Alexandra walked to her royal consort, and courteously requested that she should give her royal patronage to the sparring, while she joined the archers. "It makes all the difference to them," she said softly, only for her ears, "that none of the events should be neglected."

Squinting against the sun, Genevieve looked at her Queen thoughtfully, and Alexandra worried that perhaps it was asking too much. But her eyes melted in a smile.

"Of course I will, Your Majesty," she said. "Come, Lady Sophie, let us be patrons of the sparring!"

Spirits had been flagging at the ring, but with the Princess Consort sitting on the side, the sparring resumed with a vengeance. For the first time, the princess really paid attention, and she was amazed to learn how much skill went into it, in fact, skill she could appreciate.

"I would like more insight into this sport," she murmured to her companions, who were Elly and Sophie, at this time.

"Miriam will be glad to oblige," said Sophie, and signaled to the tall beauty, who came at once.

Meanwhile, Alexandra drew, and shot her first arrow, and it was a beauty. It sailed to within an inch of the painted center of the target. Her companions cheered, and she acknowledged their cheers, and turned to see if Genny was watching. But the consort was cheering on a sun-bronzed giant of a guardsman, Eric, the biggest and most handsome of the troop, though a soft-spoken and courteous man. He blushed with pleasure at the Princess Consort's approval, and bowed deeply.

Alexandra had observed all this. Something inside Alexandra seemed to snap, and she knew jealousy for the first time. She suddenly realized that handsome, gentle Eric had been smitten with the new Princess Consort for many weeks; all his awkwardness and blushing suddenly made sense. Genny was always polite with him, and patient, and gracious as a Princess Consort should be. But for a long minute, Alexandra hated the fellow. She steeled herself, and forced herself to be calm, which made her stony-faced. The wise Lena saw, and smothered a soft sigh. The Queen was only human, after all.

"I can hardly do better, Your Majesty," said Lena, sounding properly disappointed.

"It doesn't matter, Warden! Let us see your best!" Alexandra challenged, only her slightly raised voice betraying her stormy emotions.

With instinctive tact, Lena shot close to the gold, but not too close. "Ah, there is a breeze," she said, as if making an excuse.

The sparring and the archery went on for a while, as those who did poorly in the one went to try at the other, and failing there, returned to the first, and so on. Seeing how engrossed Genny was with the sparring, Alexandra returned to it, and found herself facing Lena.

Lena was an inch or so taller than Alexandra, a truly tall woman, and a few pounds heavier. But there was little fat on her; both girls were well-muscled, and they were well matched. From the outset, it was clear that this would be a match to watch. Alexandra was not hobbled, this time, but the staves were padded, at the insistence of the Princess Consort. After Eric had taken a blow to the body, Genny had made the rule, and Alexandra knew it was a good one. In fact, it was better to practice with padded vests, but the vests kept in the Lodge were all perished through age and neglect.

Soon it was clear that it was fortunate that the staves were padded. Lena's blood was stirred, and Queen or no Queen, she was determined to make a good show of her skill. But the Queen was an expert, and had been trained by the greatest masters in the kingdom. After half an hour, they were fatigued, but neither willing to concede.

"Time, time!" called Genevieve. "It is a draw!" she said, afraid for both women, but more fearful of Alexandra's displeasure. Lena saw the look of frustration in her Queen's eye, and glanced at the small figure of the Consort, who looked from one to the other of them, uncertain whether she had done right.

Lena lowered her staff. It would be a breach of honor for the Queen to attack now, and the Queen lowered her staff with a frustrated gesture and a quickly muffled curse. Then she threw it to the ground, and stepped forward, extending her hand in gruff acknowledgment.

"You fight too well for me," she said. "You are the champion!"

"No, no; it was a draw, and I was fresh!" Lena said, taking the hand of the Queen. But Alexandra drew her into a quick hug. Evidently, her jealousy was gone as soon as it had come. Lena let out her breath slowly; the Queen would make a terrible enemy indeed.

Looking around, she was interested to see that the lovely Lady Sophie, the Queen's secretary, was watching her closely. She smiled as their eyes crossed, and looked away. So, Lena thought to herself, the little noble has finally seen a real woman. But it made no difference to Lena; nothing could come of it. When nobles noticed commoners, one always knew who suffered.

"Wrestling!" cried the Queen, but the Princess Consort did not want it. There was an argument, but the consort finally had her way. She pleaded and cajoled, and the Queen abandoned the idea, and consented to go to the cottage to be cleaned and to change.

"What has come over you?" demanded Genny of her Queen, once they were alone. "Suddenly you act like a child, playing up to the guards, making such a show!"

Alexandra froze, and Genny was silent, afraid. The Queen turned to stare at her very slowly. "There are limits to what you can say to me, Genevieve. I know what I have done, and how it must have appeared. It is not your place to ... chastise me!"

Genevieve looked up at her, her eyes full of sorrow and reproach.

"Forgive me!" she said in a small voice. There was a long silence. Then she added, "I only spoke because ..."

"Enough!" snapped Alexandra. Then more quietly, "Enough. I know what you want to say before you say it. Hold your peace. You must grow far wiser than you are now, to advise me in matters of manners and conduct and such." She walked away. "I will wash myself. Look to yourself."

A pail of water had been brought to the door, and the Queen carefully poured half of it into another container, and washed herself, as Genny watched through the open door of the bathhouse. Her mind was stunned; all she could think was that Alexandra washed with great economy, wasting not a drop. I love her so much, even at this moment, she thought to herself. But if I cannot reproach her for a single thing, then I am merely an ornament, not a true mate. Perhaps that is my destiny.

Taking the remaining water, Genny sadly washed herself, and waited until Alexandra had finished changing.

"Why do you not come inside and change?" demanded Alexandra.

"Be-because ... I assumed you would wish some privacy, especially after I had displeased you so much ..."

"Do you think I hold a grudge so long?" asked Alexandra harshly.

Genny had the good sense to simply shake her head and be silent. Cautiously she entered the chamber, and began to change. Where was Sophie? She must have heard the argument, and wisely stayed away.

Sophie had not heard the argument, but rather seen it coming. The two of them had been headed for a showdown for hours, and she did not want to be around when it happened. If she had thought she could help, she probably would have, but she had estimated that this particular eruption of temper would be minor, and quickly forgotten.

As the royal couple reappeared, she stole back into the cottage, feeling very upset indeed. Both of them looked awful; Alexandra like a thundercloud, and Genny like rain. It had been hard enough to sit in the Lodge, with Lena, Bernard, and the shepherd's family out of sight, all of them hearing the distant yelling of the young Queen, very faint but still audible.

"Will you be joining us for the walk up the hill, Sophie?" the Queen had asked, as they passed.

"Yes, in a few moments!" she had said, and hurried up the path.

"Will we be riding?" Genny asked, a little later.

"No, we shall walk," Alexandra said, clearly feeling contrary. Genny clamped her mouth shut. Whatever she suggested, presumably Alexandra would choose the opposite.

Frida and Lars were both proud to conduct the Queen and her consort to visit their little home on the hill, but nervous.

"It is only a small house, Your Majesty, a mere shack," Lars explained. "But we are comfortable. I'm not complaining, you understand? But it is humble, as it should be!"

Alexandra's mood lifted slightly. "Well, let us look at it, Farmer Lars. If it is really too small, perhaps I should help you improve it. After all, you're in charge of the farm now; we can't have you living in too humble a home!"

Lena coughed discretely. It was ironic that the farmhouse, quite a large one, all things considered, was far too big for Lena to keep clean, while the Shepherd's cottage was too small for them. In the fullness of time, of course, once Elly and Lena were married, if that received the blessing of Elly's parents, then it would become irrelevant who lived where.

The path to the home of Lars and Frida wound round the farm and up the hill. There were shorter paths, but they were steeper, and not appropriate for the Queen to climb on foot, and certainly not easy for her consort, who was clearly a gently-reared lady. In fact, the whole company was anxious about the two ladies accompanying the Queen, and not really very much about the Queen herself, who was a warrior, and had the bearing of one who prided herself on being as good as any man.

Halfway up the hill, Genny was a little breathless. Alexandra's anger finally melted at the sight of poor Genny huffing away, her large eyes shifting awkwardly away from Alexandra's gaze, unwilling to ask for help, especially after the words they had shared.

"Let's rest for a second," Sophie said, and everyone thought it was a good idea.

"At least, it makes your home an unpopular target for casual thieves," the Queen joked, and everyone laughed, including the Princess Consort. In spite of her fatigue, she smiled at everyone, and the shepherd and his wife briefly harbored unkind thoughts about the cruelty of their Queen towards her mate.

Finally they arrived at the most lovely little cottage Genny had ever seen. It was made all out of mountain stone, all colors, with a roof of a combination of slate, shingles and thatch. One side of it was set into the hill itself, and the other three sides stood free. There was a small barn, and a large enclosure for the sheep. They were as charming and as annoying as sheep are everywhere, but seemingly a lot more intelligent than most. They pressed against the enclosure in curiosity, but backed away when the sheep-dog ran up and greeted her owners with a sharp bark.

"This is Martha, our dog," said Frida, and the dog came and gave her hand a lick. "She has just had a litter, and they're not quite weaned yet." Indeed, Martha showed all signs of a maternity not yet quite completed. Her teats were engorged, in spite of her attempts at policing her charges. "Off with you, girl, to your little ones!"

"Oh, are they just born?" Genny exclaimed.

"No, they're about a week old, your Highness," said little Beate, as if she was the expert on the situation. Her father smiled, hoping the Princess Consort would be indulgent with the child's precociousness.

"Indeed! I must see them, if it isn't too much trouble!" Genny said, concerned about displeasing the Queen.

"Why not now?" asked Alexandra, with no expression except mild interest. "If it is convenient?"

"Certainly, Your Majesty," murmured Frida and Lars, leading the way to the barn, in a corner of which lay a litter of puppies, the most beautiful puppies ever. Genny was quite lost, though she was careful not to show too much interest in them. Until Alexandra and she were properly reconciled, every little thing had the potential to make matters worse.

Three of the six puppies ran over to Genny with unerring instinct. Their little tails wagged, and they looked at her with interested eyes, and Genny greeted them as if they were her subjects, with graciousness and just a bit of aloofness. She really wanted to pick them up and hug them to her bosom, but she dared not. The farmer and his wife looked at each other, smiling. It would be a small thing to give the Princess Consort a puppy or two, but there were clearly other issues.

Whatever the outcome, Genny's dark mood was gone; the puppies had chased away her sorrow and remorse. Certainly she was still nervous, but it did not hang over her, a burden. She was content to be moderately cautious, as she enjoyed the puppies with her eyes and her ears.

They decided to make use of the availability of their career-conscious mother, and suckled enthusiastically for a while, and then returned to observe the humans.

"Let us go round the house," the Queen said, finally, dragging them away from the pups. "It looks charming, and spacious, at least from the outside," she said cautiously.

And it was the case. Without inspecting every room, it was clear that the house was perfect for a small family, though with four children, they were probably stretching its capacity to the limit. Alexandra stepped to Lena and began to talk in an undertone, and Lena nodded vehemently. So Genny knew that the obvious adjustments were being made, with due consideration being taken into account for the feelings of the shepherd family, since even an improvement in accommodations must be accepted willingly, and not imposed from without.

"The shepherd offered a puppy, if you wanted one," said Alexandra when they were back at the Lodge for supper.

"I thought they might," said Genny, pleased, but not too voluble. "But they are a tad young to be parted from their mother, still."

"How old must they be?"

"Seven weeks," Genny said confidently. "Any earlier, and they are not socialized with other dogs. Any later, and one cannot bond them."

Alexandra was impressed. "You appear to know about such things!"

Genny shrugged, and smiled at Alexandra. "It is one of the few things I know something about," she said. "They were excellent puppies, healthy, and showing a healthy curiosity."

"And that is good?"

"It is a sign of intelligence," she replied. "In the absence of other means of assessing it, it becomes important."

Alexandra nodded thoughtfully. Sophie listened to the exchange, trying to look neutral. It was a welcome relief from the strained relations of earlier in the day. Genny was being unduly cautious, but clearly Alexandra was past overreacting to her. Now Genny's caution was only a mild irritation for them both.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Skree

That night, for the first time at this camp, the three of them agreed to sleep separately.

Sophie had expected that she would be summoned for a spot of counseling, and she was right. Just as she was about to fall asleep in a new room, one they had never used before, there was a knock on the door, and Alexandra was signing to her to come out. As they walked out into the darkness of the night, she saw Genny come out of her room to tap on Sophie's door, not seeing them. The Queen, too, noticed.

"She will knock a while," Alexandra said, in a dry voice. "Perhaps you should go to her now, and I must counsel myself!"

"I don't know how much help I can be to either of you, Alexandra," Sophie said softly. She would have far rather preferred to have nothing to do with it, since Alexandra, at least, seemed capable of intense jealousy.

"I don't need counsel, Sophie, only a confessor." Sophie was surprised. "I was inexcusably jealous, and she pointed it out, and I told her to be silent. After all, I am the Queen!" Her voice, soft enough, rose a little higher.

"This was when you had left our company, was it not?"

"Oh yes; we were on our own, here in the cottage. She waited until I had no one to take my side."

Sophie simply could not help smiling, and the Queen frowned at her, briefly, then let her face relax in a smile.

"It would have been far less forgivable if she had taken you to task in front of us!"

The Queen hung her head. "In all honesty, Sophie, I could have borne even that." Sophie was very surprised. "You, the guardsmen ... even Bernard; I have no need of preserving my dignity among you all. But Lena ..."

"What about Lena?"

The Queen blushed, and then looked Sophie in the eye. "I find myself unwilling to be humbled before that woman," she admitted. "Am I foolish?"

Sophie could not hide her puzzlement.

"Why her? Is it that you admire her, or that the Lady Genevieve admires her? I do not understand!"

"Perhaps it is a little of both," Alexandra shrugged. "Sophie, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. You can be dangerous, because you know too many secrets!"

Sophie sighed. Alexandra had surprised her once again.

"There is nothing to worry about, Alexandra. I was worried for a while, but you've laid my fears to rest!" She smiled. "Anyone who knows herself as well as you've shown me you do, has little to be concerned about. It will all blow away. And Lena will become one of your most loyal subjects, and of Genny's, too. You can both admire her, but there will be, and can be, only admiration. Neither you nor Genny, nor Lena herself can change that."

"What if I ... what if I send for her ..."

"She will not come," Sophie said softly, stroking Alexandra's arm. "And you must not force her. You must enjoy what you feel only in your heart, and your imagination. No more."

Alexandra nodded slowly for a long minute, mulling things over. Eventually she said, "you can go to her now, Sophie; your advice has been excellent ... I need to think on it awhile."

"You make me feel wonderfully wise, Alexandra! This position of mine is getting to be a marvelously fulfilling one!"

"It is your own genius that makes it so, Sophie! Good night."

"Good night," replied Sophie, and silently crept back into the house.

She found Genny's door, and tapped softly on it. A soft, sleepy voice called out to come in. She opened the door and went in, to find Genny in bed, cuddling her pillow. In the light of the lamp, she looked careworn, but not the jumpy person she had been before seeing the puppies.

"Oh Sophie," she called softly, infinitely appealing in the soft light, "I came looking for you, but you were gone ... I suppose Alexandra got you first."

Sophie smiled and nodded. "She did. She told me her side of the story, but it was more a confession than a complaint. She was wrong, and you were right, and for a Queen, that in itself can be a problem!"

"Did she say that?"

"Well, most of it!"

Genevieve sighed. "I too must learn what I may and may not say. Being right is apparently not the only criterion."

"Of course it isn't! The ego of a monarch is easily bruised!"

"What is an ego?"

Sophie dismissed it with a gesture. She was not surprised that Genny was unacquainted with the idea. It was nebulous even to her. "It has partly to do with her belief that she is truly Queen."

Sophie's eyes grew wide. This was an idea she could understand perfectly. "I thought it might be something like that," she said nervously. "I expected that Alexandra the Queen would depart, and Alexandra my beloved would return, but it did not happen!"

"Alexandra the Queen will never retreat. She will only leave victorious. Alexandra your beloved is a soft and gentle girl, who can be banished easily."

"Oh dear Gordon!"

Sophie was perturbed, pondering the implications of the little aphorism she had just laid on the Princess. She began to see that it was a little too tritely convincing, and possibly self-defeating under certain circumstances. Alexandra was not that craven, that she would sacrifice Genny's happiness to her honor. In fact, quite the opposite. But it was necessary to tell Genny not so much what was true as what was effective. The prospect of a consort who gave in to everything Alexandra asked would repulse even the Queen. She had been brought up to honor honesty, even if she had briefly repudiated that upbringing. The two of them were perfectly suited to each other, except that Genevieve had to learn that she should not always pursue a moral advantage.

"Well, all's well that ends well," Sophie said, feeling exhausted. "I hope all will be well in the land of love in the morning; I must admit I have been spoiled by your sickeningly sweet harmony thus far! Perhaps a little conflagration serves to point up the love-fest that it displaces!"

Genny's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Perhaps it is an opportunity for you and me, my sweet Sophie?"

Sophie nearly collapsed. She tried to persuade Genny that the last thing she needed was to be caught in Sophie's bed. She wasn't certain that her argument had been convincing.

Seconds after she was back in her room and had put out her light, Genny was magically in bed with her, giggling, climbing all over her. Sophie remonstrated, but in vain. Genny simply wanted to make love, and she adored Sophie, and it was impossible to make her stop. Only one thing could make matters worse, and that happened with gruesome predictability.

Alexandra came in just as Genny was in the throes of her passion, and not even Alexandra's accusing eyes could halt it once it had gotten underway. She moaned away, her hands all over Sophie, her cheek against Sophie's breast, her eyes on Alexandra. She could not hide what she was experiencing, and Alexandra knew it. Genny buried her face in Sophie's breast and slowly her frenzied movements slowed down. Sophie took one quick glance and closed her eyes. She was curiously unable to savor the humor in the situation. She simply hoped Alexandra would go away, so that she could remonstrate at further length with Genny and send her away too.

"I thought we were sleeping alone," was Alexandra's comment, when it finally came.

"I did sleep a little," said Genny, into Sophie's breast, where her mouth was.

"What's that?" asked Alexandra irritably, as Sophie struggled to control the laughter that suddenly rose from inside her. Sophie was reasonably sure she had heard the first time.

Genny sniffed. With great dignity, she climbed off Sophie, and smoothly covered her with the sheet. "I was just saying good night," she declared. "Good night, my sweet. Shh, don't talk. I love you," she murmured softly to Sophie, and though it sounded as if it was said to a little child, there was honest affection in it. That would upset Alexandra, Sophie thought to herself.

"What are you doing here?" Genny demanded, in her turn, pausing as if it was only Alexandra's person blocking the door that prevented her exit.

"I was looking for you," said Alexandra, in a small voice.

Genny deflated, like a collapsing tent.

The two of them just seemed to stand there for an age. Sophie opened her eyes a crack, and saw Alexandra's contrite face, but only Genny's back, which was hunched with tension. The joking was over; this was serious.

One part of her resented the two of them constantly involving her in their little domestic exchanges, while another part of her luxuriated in their complex three-way relationship.

"I can't just fall into bed with you, Alexandra."

"Well, you had no trouble falling into bed with her!"

"But ... I didn't hurt her the way I hurt you, Alexandra. That was only sex. For you ... I must think about what I said, what I did, and be able to look you in the eye. It's not easy for me."

"Please come when you're ready, then," Alexandra said, and there was a drowned sound to her voice that was eloquent. She softly closed the door and went away.

Genny tiptoed to the door, opened it and leaned outside. She put her head back in and announced in a whisper, "She's gone to her room." She leaned out again, though clearly there was nothing to be seen. "What did you think of that?" Sophie shrugged. "I want to go to her so bad!"

"Go, then!"

"I can't!"

"Oh Gordon!" Sophie said, feeling hysterical. After a second or two there was a half-hearted giggle.

Genny climbed into Sophie's bed again. Sophie cringed. "Dear Sophie," she whispered, making herself comfortable, as if she were a little dog, "all this is very hard on you, I know. What with my falling all over you, like a little sex-starved girl, and creating trouble with the Queen ..." she heaved a heavy sigh, "your room —wherever you are— is so soothing ... I can regain my composure when you are close, so much better than on my own." Sophie closed her eyes tight. She heard Genny lying down, and felt her head on her pillow. She moved over to give Genny room. Genny slowly put her arm over Sophie.

"No, Genny, you really should go. Go to your room." That was the only way things could work out. Alexandra would sooner or later end up there, but it would not happen if Genny clung to her all night. "Give Alexandra a chance of making up to you!"

Genny's arm tightened about Sophie.

"I'm not ready for that yet. You heard me tell her!"

In the end, Sophie didn't have the heart to send her away. She suffered Genny's attentions until she fell asleep for an hour or so, at which point she was awoken, predictably, by Alexandra's arrival once again, this time quietly in the dark. Sophie's bed was once more where all of them ended the night.

In the morning, she found the couple all tangled together. They may have been asleep when it happened, but their bodies evidently were ready to do what their hearts were yet preparing to try.

Though Sophie quite expected everyone to be on pins about the royal tiff, somehow there seemed to be no thought given to it at all. Katie was her usual cautiously sunny self, a mixture of eight-year-old with nothing on her mind, and a grave-faced little page/maid, determined to do something as perfectly as she possibly could. Sophie had volunteered to teach her more mathematics —that is, arithmetic— and reading, in her spare time, but there hardly ever seemed to be any. Today she was helping lay the table and serve breakfast, as she always did, except that Lena, as she had done since she arrived, supervised Bernard, and there was a subtle difference in the style and flavor of the meal as a result. Some things were minor, such as not salting the eggs, but leaving salt on the table. Other things were more noticeable, such as providing both milk and cream. Certainly, they now had the resources of the sheep farm, in addition to the two cows the family owned, which meant fresh butter and cheese, in addition to milk.

The little lamb had been weaned, and seemed content to graze around the lodge, and play with the company. It was not only Katie who seemed to talk to it, but the guardsmen as well. It was intelligent, and listened to their talk, as if it understood, or at least wished to obtain some meaning from the sounds. From this, Genny became determined to keep a lookout for whether domesticated species that were proverbially silly, such as sheep and cattle and chickens, were as invariably silly as one expected them to be. Little Marie, the sheep, seemed an exception. When Elly was questioned about their sheep, she had said that their sheep were just as silly as any.

The courier had arrived late the previous evening, and brought the news that there were important matters piling up at the capital, and that Alexandra, at least, should make a brief visit home before she continued her tour. Horvald had headed home to the capital. Alexandra, however decided to proceed at least to their next stop, to meet Judge Ilsa Evasdottir in the Isle of Skree, before they headed back.

They had an hour or two to take their leave from their friendly hosts of Westholm. Alexandra —in fact all three of the nobles— felt that they had found, in the Lodge, a place in which they could be comfortable. In spite of the undercurrent of silliness between the Queen and her Consort, they had been all very happy. It was hard to tear themselves away from Lena and the family of the farmer. Katie and Beate had sworn to be sisters in a comical little ceremony they observed in semi-privacy, which involved saliva and complicated hand-shaking. Then the two girls hugged, and walked back to rejoin the company, bravely holding back tears.

It seemed to the departing company that those who remained behind looked rather forlorn. Much needed to be done, with their new challenges, but they seemed sorry to see the visitors go. Alexandra was much moved by their affection.

"What did you think about the Lodge, and our stay there, Bernard?" Sophie asked, finding herself riding with the servant and Katie. Katie rode in front of Bernard's saddle, while the lamb, Marie, rode in a pannier of her own on one of the packhorses, occasionally announcing her annoyance to the countryside at large.

"It was indeed pleasant, Lady Sophie," Bernard said, smiling at her. "I believe Katie had a wonderful time." The little girl turned to Sophie and smiled. She would never venture an opinion unless asked, or unless in her excitement she forgot herself.

Sophie mimed the question at her with her eyebrows, and she nodded. "And now you are the proud owner of a lamb!"

Katie's eyes grew large. "The lamb was for the Queen, Lady Sophie," she said gravely.

"Ah, that is a technicality, I'm sure," Sophie murmured. "I will ask her if she needs it."

"I'm afraid it will miss its mother," Katie said, worriedly, and Sophie exchanged a significant look with Bernard. Bernard smiled and looked straight ahead, and Sophie wondered whether, indeed, Katie had a mother living, and if she did, whether the child missed her.

The Guards had chosen to wear rather less conspicuous livery. Their dress uniforms, which they had worn thus far, consisted of red breeches and white tunics, with smart epaulets and gold stripes and braid and what have you. Now they wore brown uniforms, which were usually worn during fieldwork, such as building bridges, or such emergency services as they might have been required to perform.

They broke journey to camp for the night, having purchased a meal at an inn that they passed. They rose with the sun the following morning, and set off again.

After climbing over a pass at two thousand feet, they gradually descended on winding roads to the northwest, until they came to a lower pass, a break in a range of hills at the lip of the high plateau, and saw their road winding all the way down to the sea, and across a causeway to the Isle of Skree.

Even in the early summer, it was very cold in the hills, and windy. Far to the north, they could see snow-covered mountains, as they could see much closer to the east, in the Alps, the main mountain range of Norsland.

Sophie happened to look at Katie, and saw her mouth open in a silent 'O' of amazement at the scene. Everything she saw was new to her, and indeed even to Sophie herself. She had never ventured this far West; her travels had been south and east.

From that point, the road led steadily downhill, with occasional level places for carriages to control their descent, and they passed two small towns, the citizens of which were uncertain who was traveling among them —the guards not having worn their characteristic uniforms— though Sophie had no doubt that some of them supposed that it was indeed their young Queen, with her southern wife. Genny was as characteristically southern as it was possible to be, with her blue skirt, and the way she wore her hair, and the expression of pleased interest on her face. Sophie knew that she herself wore a rather dour expression except when she was particularly pleased. It was just habit, whether one kept one's face sober or pleasant. It was as if the northerners did not want to waste what little pleasantness they felt. Or perhaps it was that it seemed childish to let your face reflect how you felt, like little Katie, and the Norslanders were vaguely embarrassed by the childlike expression of their Princess Consort.

The closer they got to the sea, the saltier the air felt and tasted. This was Katie's first look at the cold ocean they knew as the Atlantic. There was a small harbor here, but on the south side of Skree itself there was a major port, Skreehaven, little used at the moment because relations with Belgravia were just strained enough for trade to not flourish.

The long, 2-mile causeway seemed endless to Katie, as they walked slowly across, with fish following the party along in the water. "There are places at which you can dismount and feed the fish," said Miriam. "At low tide, much of this is dry. It's high tide now."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Queen Beate's Family Home

Skree was a small island, about twenty miles wide by forty long. The northen shore was all stone cliffs, and the Eastern shore little better. The rest of the island had gently sloping pebble beaches, and there were fishing boats everywhere, from large trawlers anchored at various private piers and docks, and small fishing boats pulled up onto the beach. The road off the causeway quickly changed into a more narrow road surfaced with a poured mix, crumbling away on the edges. The houses were mostly thatched, and they were everywhere, on the side of the road, as well as up on the low hills on either side of the road.

Miriam went off ahead and found the way to their destination, which was a small castle in the fort of the city of Skree, called The Fort. It was an old part of town, and parts of the fort and castle were built of materials no longer used or available anywhere. The local guard went through the procedure that established that they were in the presence of the Queen, and they were escorted to the castle with as much pomp as they could provide at such short notice. It was just sunset, an unforgettable moment, as the colors of the Fort were beginning to be distorted by the sun setting behind the castle, when they arrived in the keep of the castle, with the caretakers all a-dither.

A handsome woman of middle-age was the Fort Commandant, Helga Sonjasdottir. "It's been nearly ten years, majesties, since a royal visit! Welcome, welcome to your ancestral lands and people!"

"I must learn more, Commandant Helga," said Alexandra with a smile. "My education about my family was badly neglected!"

Helga seemed to be embarrassed by the remark, and she mumbled something about having plenty of time to rectify such things. "Time makes us old, certainly," she admitted, "but it makes other things better."

Alexandra frowned. "Such as?"

Helga sighed as she led the way to the royal rooms. "All in good time, Your Majesty. I am your distant cousin, and can tell you a great deal, once you are settled!"

Alexandra decided that Helga must be made to recount everything she knew. She would get Sophie to help remember, and Genny, too. Genny had a memory like a steel trap. She would have to write these things down. If only they had a recorder, such as the ancients were reputed to have possessed!

There was a small staff, consisting of a cook, a butler, and the small company of guards assigned on rotation to the castle, one of whom would manage the horses in the large castle stables. Skree was famous for its fish, and the cook — a young woman of around her late twenties — hurried out, eager to obtain the best fish available for the Queen. She was exhorted not to make a fuss about who was in residence, but it was a lost cause. They could see that the whole island would know in short order.

They discovered that the water was slightly brackish, and washing was difficult. The castle water was piped in from a well far inland, and so was significantly sweeter than water elsewhere in the Fort. Still, it was hard to wash up, since the soap simply curdled. There were many local tricks to overcome the problem, the butler told them, but it would take a little time to show them everything.

"We can use the water we brought with us to rinse our hair," Alexandra suggested. There was just a couple of gallons for all five of them. Katie was excused from washing her hair, and so with great care, they used the water as frugally as possible that first night. Amazingly enough, there was a quart left, and they used that for coffee, a special treat for the castle staff.

"The fish is wonderful," the Queen declared, smiling. Jean, the cook, was all smiles at the compliment. "We should eat as much as we can!"

"In a week or so, Your Majesty, you will be heartily sick of fish, if experience is any guide!" laughed Helga.

Alexandra grinned and shrugged. The coffee was brought out, and the visitors insisted that Jean and the butler, Simon, should join them. After a single sip, the islanders sighed with pleasure. The brackishness of the water they ordinarily had to use —even the castle water— prevented the coffee from releasing its flavor.

"To the north is the village of Geneva. Queen Beate's grandfather, and his mother, and her mother, and her mother's mother for many generations, in an unbroken line, all came from Geneva. It is to Geneva you should go, Lady." (On the island, everyone seemed to call Alexandra Lady. There were no nobility in the Fort, or anywhere on the island, except, presumably, in Geneva. So the islanders were not too skilled at titles and nice manners. Helga, being the one most familiar with visiting royalty, was of all of them the most comfortable with titles, but even she asked leave to address the Queen as Lady, or 'my Queen.' The latter was used only for serious emphasis, and rarely.)

"Are there aunts and cousins and suchlike for me still?"

"Well, I'm here, and my family is healthy and very much alive, and so yes, you have family here!"

Genny saw Alexandra's face light up with pleasure and anticipation. Alexandra would not be so utterly alone. Why had her mother, the late Queen, kept her so ignorant of her family? Genny assumed that they were a crude lot, bumpkins who would feel out of place in court. Or perhaps it had to do with Atlanta, the Princess Consort. It was all very puzzling. But Alexandra's attitude was certainly healthy. She had assumed that despite whatever had isolated Beate from her family, that she, Alexandra, would not let it affect her.

"Is Judge Ilsa here in the Fort?"

Helga said that the Judge lived just outside the Fort in her family estate. A messenger could be sent to let her know the Queen had arrived. She would call on the Queen early on the morrow, she did not doubt. Ilsa, she said, was a sound woman, well-loved and respected. Alexandra requested that the messenger be sent, and that she would be ready at nine. "Breakfast at eight, if possible, Jean, and lunch for the Judge and ourselves at half past noon."

Their rooms were interesting. The walls consisted of some hollow material which made a noise when banged, except for the outside wall, which seemed quite solid. The windows were ingenious, with sliding panes, and steel shutters on the outside, which were still unrusted after many centuries.

Though Sophie expected a visit as soon as she lay down, she was pleasantly disappointed. She fell asleep very soon, to the sound of the sea that penetrated even into the Fort, in the silence of the rest of the town.

The morning sun streamed light into Sophie's room, very early. She got up and dressed, to see a spectacular sunrise over the low mass of the southern peninsula of Norsland, a red sky that predicted rain, if not for Skree, at least for the mainland. Just outside her door had been left two bottles, one of which contained a herb with which hair could be washed in brackish water, the other of which was a similar mixture to use on the body, both neatly labeled. Sophie decided to use them right away. Her clock indicated seven o'clock, which was confirmed by the chiming of some large bell in the town. There was a bath across the hall, and Sophie soon found that the herb mixture not only cleaned her face and body efficiently, it did not create a scummy precipitate, but rinsed clean. Feeling wonderful, she returned to her room and dressed, and went in search of Katie. Katie had her own little room, and she eagerly hopped out of bed once she realized where she was. She washed herself with minimal assistance, and they were soon in the dining room, ready to chat with Jean, who had made a wonderful breakfast with all the things Sophie and Katie liked.

Helga appeared soon after, and then the royal couple joined them. There was eager chatter among them, though they missed the interesting comments of the guards who had eaten with them at the Lodge. However, Helga was there. "While the Queen visits with the Judge," she suggested, "the rest of us can go around the town in disguise, as it were, and see what there is to see. If you don't mind, Lady Alexandra."

"But that would mean that I cannot go! Why don't you wait?"

Helga smiled patiently. "There are places you cannot go, Lady. Some not safe, some not convenient, some not interesting! It would be a risk even for Lady Genny, but it would be easier to disguise her than to disguise you, Lady. With your pardon, you are very difficult to hide. You look very like your ancestors, especially on Lady Atlanta's side, and they are well known indeed on the island."

Atlanta tried to get some meaning from those words, but Helga's bland smile told her nothing.

"Alexandra, dear, why don't I go round with Sophie and Katie and Helga, and spot the most interesting things so that you can visit them later with us? You can do the highlights in an official visit of the city, but you can't look at everything!"

As it happened, Genny was sure, from the little she knew of her mate, that she would have enjoyed everything. Helga miraculously made Genny look like a northlander by changing the way she wore her hair — it was only necessary to part it on the side a little differently, pull it tightly back, and braid it with leather, something Genny never did. Leather breeches, thick-soled shoes, a few touches here and there, including a dusting of some powder on her face to make her skin look drier, and she was unrecognizable as the new Princess Consort. Katie was instructed to call her Aunt Jenny, which she did with great eagerness, and with Bernard in tow, and Sophie also adjusted to look more bucolic, they headed out to the town, and had a wonderful time. Helga introduced them as visiting friends, and left Bernard to do most of the talking.

There was a slight difference in speech between the two countries. The Southerners spoke fast, and had a larger variety of vowels. Alexandra spoke a dialect somewhat in-between, with more exact vowels than rural Norsfolk used, but still distinctively Norse. There were certain words Genny had learned to say like Katie and Bernard —mostly to make fun of them, admittedly— and Helga said that if she could speak consistently like that, she would be permitted to talk. She was absolutely forbidden to speak 'southern.'

There was a busy outdoor market, with vendors shouting their wares loud enough to deafen. Katie had been given a small allowance, and she frugally used it to buy gifts for everyone she knew, including all eight guards, and even Lena and Elly, and of course, the Queen. When Bernard asked for whom she was buying a particularly pretty sea-shell, she glared at her father, and flashed her eyes at him. "You know — for her!" The words were spoken as if he was an idiot.

Bernard stared at his daughter a moment until he realized who it was. "Oh. You mean cousin ..."

"Cousin ... cousin darling," Katie suggested, getting red in the face. Fortunately the little pantomime struck the vendor as comic in the extreme, because Genny was blushing furiously. Though Helga chose not to try to understand any of it, she had her suspicions.

"Yes, indeed," Bernard said, feeling foolish. "She'll love it, I'm sure."

It took them all morning to see everything in the Fort, which included old cannon, the lighthouse, the shipyard, and the guard house, where, of course, Miriam and her company were glad to entertain them, and introduce Katie to some new friends she had met as her cousin from Skree. They were touched at the gifts the little girl had bought them. Miriam spoke quietly to Genny, and there was some good-natured ribbing she had to bear for that afterwards, since her new friends were left to imagine who Genny was, and assumed the most romantic thing possible. Genny was grateful that her company of guards were so good at keeping secrets. The garrison was alert to the fact that the Queen was visiting the island, but no one made the connection between Genny and the Princess Consort.

Alexandra's meeting with the good Judge had been instructive in the extreme. She had learned much about the political climate not only on the island but in the West generally, learned about the situation in Belgravia, and learned about how wise and perceptive a woman the good Judge was. She was in her late thirties, and Alexandra needed to find men and women of ability and intelligence of about that age. She needed advisors and people for the government, and the older generation who ran things at present either had to be replaced, or would soon wish to retire due to age.

Their lunch was enjoyable, and Alexandra learned every detail about the morning's expedition from her three representatives. She was soon resigned to the fact that she could enjoy some things vicariously, and the rest she could note for an official visit when she had the time. Katie's gift to Cousin Darling was received with such pleasure that Katie was embarrassed. She received a great hug for her thoughtfulness, as the Judge observed it all with a smile.

That afternoon there was a royal appearance in the audience room of the Fort. The town officially celebrated and welcomed the Queen and her consort, who looked different enough from the woman who had toured the town in the morning to fool anyone.

Again the next morning, Alexandra listened to petitions which she settled with Ilsa's help, just as she had with Horvald. Then, in the afternoon, they prepared to head out to Geneva.

The ride out, in the company of four of their guards, was interesting. The higher the road climbed, the greener the countryside seemed to get. Geneva was a beautiful old town in the hills, in farming country on the banks of a large lake, called Lake Geneva. A river headed out of the lake, and wound down to eventually come out near the Fort. Word had been sent ahead to Alexandra's mother's ancestral home.

They took a road past the town, which wound up the hills, and there, on the left, was a large old home made of stone, surrounded by large fruit trees, with a duck pond in front, and a dog that barked at them until a woman came out to investigate.

She stood on the doorway and having called sharply to the dog, seemed to freeze, staring at the party that was dismounting in front of the steps. Then she called into the house with a low voice. A number of women came out, about twenty of them, ranging in age from fourteen to about fifty, all tall, all built solidly, except for one rather thin girl who made up for her boniness with her height. They all had the same streaky-blonde hair as did Alexandra, and to Genny's eyes they seemed very similar. But the hair of these women was curly or wavy, rather than dead straight like Alexandra's.

"Let me guess," said one of the older women, who wore breeches like all of the others, and who's eyes disappeared as she smiled, "you're the new Queen, Beate's girl!" There was no sign of respect, no bowing, no curtseying. Sophie wondered whether Alexandra would take it amiss.

"Indeed," said Alexandra with a half smile. "And whom am I addressing?"

The old girl gave Alexandra a long, thoughtful grin.

"I'm Sonja, your great-grandfather's sister!"

Within a few moments, the stiffness was gone, as the women saw that Alexandra did not stand on ceremony. For the moment, whatever had caused a rift, if any, between her mother and the rest of her family was forgotten. They only needed to be convinced that Alexandra herself had not inherited the attitude, or misunderstanding, or whatever it was.

Some of the women were not blood relatives but lovers and mates. Alexandra greeted these with a little more formality, and they bowed and gave respect to her title, murmuring "My Lady," or "My Queen," or occasionally, "Your Majesty."

"This is my consort, Princess Genevieve of New Hope," Alexandra said, introducing Genny, who curtsied to the family. "It is proper to call her 'Highness' in public, or Genny inside the house." It was said with a smile, but with the pride that gave them an inkling of the love there was between them, and how much an honor it was for Alexandra to present her family to her bride, and her bride to her family.

"It would have been better if I had known you all before I married," she said, once the introductions had all been made, and they were all on the long front porch, and they were silent. "But here I am, and the first I know of you, I am introducing a wife! Genny married an orphan, but I am no more an orphan!" The hand with which she clutched Genny's arm was trembling, and when Genny looked up at her, a tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped away impatiently. Katie's eyes brimmed with tears in sympathy, though she understood little of what was going on.

"Indeed, you are no orphan," said Sonja, embracing the Queen with rough affection. Soon they were all taking turns to hug their new cousin, and kiss her. (Miriam and her company had made themselves comfortable in the yard, once the indignant canine guardian had been persuaded that the visitors were welcome.) "Come, come inside, and be comfortable! This is your home, Alexandra. It is good to have you with us! Come, Lady Genevieve!" Genny smiled with appreciation: her accent had been almost perfect when she pronounced the difficult name.

The porch was wide, a place for visitors and family alike to quickly get out of the wet, and for the family hounds to sun themselves as they watched the road. Inside was a small seating area in which members of the family could receive their guests, or speak to messengers or official visitors without bringing them into the bosom of the house. Its walls were hung with a variety of fearsome-looking weapons: swords, axes, bows and arrows, and a stout door stood at the end of it, marked with an ominous looking carving of a sword, a pike, a bow and an arrow that eloquently explained what lay behind it. Behind the sitting-room was the door to the main room of the house.

The younger ones took Katie under their wing and disappeared into the house, while Alexandra, Genny and Sophie were given seats of honor in the spacious common-room, which opened into some eight different suites, each of which was home to a branch of the family. This section belonged to cousin Ortrud and her girl and their children; the middle section over there belonged to Sonja and her two unmarried daughters; that section over there belonged to Marja's widow, and so on and so forth. They were a lively bunch, and it appeared that many of them had served a spell in the army, and recently gotten discharges.

There were lots of questions for Genny about New Hope. Several of them had visited the country, to Sophie's surprise, and they wanted to know what Genny thought about this and that and the other Northern institution. The more they got to know Genny, the more they liked her, especially the younger generation. She too, like Katie, was led into the depths of the house, leaving Alexandra talking with the older ladies, her aunts, and aunts by marriage. It appeared that her great-grandmother had married a man, so that her great-grandfather was one of three boys and five girls, the youngest of whom was Sonja. Two of the boys had died before they had children, but the eldest, Hendrik, had two daughters, both of whom married women; in fact one had been chosen as the consort to the Queen. Her eldest daughter was Beate, Alexandra's late mother. And so Hendrik was the last male ancestor on Beate's side. "On Atlanta's side it is different," Sonja said, seeming to choose her words with care. "Those women often marry other women, but they find men to get them pregnant. That way the kids can be either sex." Alexandra nodded. It was clear that Norse culture was not universal in that regard. Even in New Hope, bisexuals and homosexuals had children either with donor parents outside their marriage, or through adoption.

That night, after a scrumptious meal of lamb, the visitors were assigned rooms. Alexandra and Genny were put in a modest little room in Sonja's wing that had supposedly been occupied by Beate when she visited in her youth. Sophie was invited into the bed of one of the young girls. Apparently that was the custom, and it implied no responsibility. In fact the young lady quite openly said that sex need not be involved.

Sophie had asked her, "why were you the one selected to be my, er, room-mate?"

She had merely grinned and replied, "I asked first! I asked soon as I saw you."

Sophie blushed, and the young lady laughed at her discomfiture. "There's lots of room," she said soberly, though her eyes shone with eager anticipation. "We'll see how it goes. If I can't get you drunk enough, we can just talk!"

"Drunk enough?"

The girl, Kirsten, nodded shyly and shrugged. She was sexually inexperienced, she explained awkwardly, and Sophie would be her first. They found themselves in Kirsten's room, with a large bottle of the local beer.

"Want some?" Kirsten asked, with a giggle. She took a glassful, tossed it down, and looked at Sophie cross-eyed.

"I will try a mouthful," Sophie smiled, "but I don't need alcohol to get into the mood, I can tell you!"

"Really?" Kirsten was thoughtful. "But I think I will."

Sophie carefully undressed, and lay her clothes out on the chair. Kirsten took a deep breath, and followed suit. Slowly Sophie began to caress her companion, speaking to her softly, until the girl relaxed, and things moved naturally as they should. For all her size and strength, Kirsten was gentle.

Around them were many rooms with other couples, and when she strained her ears, through the open doorways she could almost hear soft voices talking. Kirsten had left their own door wide open, and Sophie supposed that privacy was limited, or not sought.

They talked long into the night. Kirsten was a good listener, with a lively mind. Though her mind was mostly concerned with sex that night, and she talked a good deal about that subject, it was not all they talked about. Kirsten was also interested in life in the capital, and about her cousin the Queen, and her young bride.

"You are so soft, and gentle! Can you fight?" she asked, after they had been silent a while.

"No, I'm afraid not," Sophie said sadly. "I have shot a crossbow, and learned the basics of that, and used a pistol, but that's all."

"Do you have a father? Then he can protect you," she remarked, reasoning the matter to herself.

Sophie explained that the city guard kept the peace in the capital.

"Of course, that must be true." Kirsten said that skill in arms was a tradition among the island folk. "Everyone learns the basics," she said, "but especially us, in families of women, we are the fighters of the island, and must defend it even if the garrison left."

"Why would the garrison leave?"

"In the past, you see, the garrison has had to withdraw to the mainland, when they are needed to protect the big cities. So we take over the Fort. The island has never fallen to enemies! Even when Belgravia fought and took Westhaven and the surrounding areas, they had to leave us alone," Kirsten said proudly, absently playing with Sophie's hair.

Further discussion was postponed for the sake of more sex, after which the two youngsters settled down to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Echoes from the Capital

The city-dwellers were awakened to the distinctive sound of a rooster greeting the dawn. There seemed to be roosters in every home, and the sound was unforgettable.

Sophie suddenly raised her head, a big smile on her face.

"Hoy!" Kirsten said, reaching out to tug her back into her embrace. "It's only Freddie, the cock!"

"They really do crow in the morning!" Sophie exclaimed, delighted and surprised, letting herself be pulled into a cuddle.

"Don't they in the city?"

"Indeed, no! There are none near my home, and certainly none near the Palace!"

"Huh! That would be strange, not to have the cocks crowing in the morning!" Kirsten climbed out of bed, and Sophie admired her. Kirsten stretched, enjoying having Sophie's eyes on her. "Would you like to see the rest of the house and garden?" she asked. Her grey-blue eyes danced with the pleasure of having a guest. She pulled on a loose knee-length dress with a high yoke that flattered her small breasts, but was loose about the legs. "Here," she said, offering Sophie a similar dress. It fit Sophie comfortably. "Let's go and find Katie!"

Katie was asleep far in the back with the youngest girl in the house, fourteen-year-old Briana, who was called Baby by everyone. After watching the two of them in bed with an indulgent smile, Kirsten gently shook her cousin awake. Katie got up, rubbing her eyes sleepily, but hurried to dress in her own clothes as soon as she realized where she was. Briana pulled on a brief smock in the same material that Sophie and Kirsten wore. ("Gran got a whole bale of it in February, and we made lots of these.") The four of them went out through the kitchen, where a sweet-faced woman was busily kneading dough. One of the older girls was just coming in, having milked the cow, and just fed the chickens. She greeted them with a smile as she went inside. "That's Elke," Kirsten said, "she gets up early, but I bet she'll sleep a few more minutes in bed!"

Katie was delighted with the chickens, and a few little peeps that hid from them at first, then came out to study them cautiously. Sophie thought even the chicks seemed less silly than she had expected. Katie could hardly stand still, she was dying to hold one of the little things. But Baby gently told her that they were too fragile. "Their bones are like eggshells," she explained. "Even your little hands can kill them. So just look, and speak gently to them!"

"They seem thinner than the chickens I've seen in farms," Sophie said, squinting at the chickens. "And some of them are up on the tree!"

"Oh, sure! They come down to eat, then they get up in the tree! These are tree-chickens," Kirsten explained. "They can fly." Katie's eyes were wide as she looked at the two girls who were showing them around. Baby nodded, supporting what Kirsten was saying. "Farm chickens are sillier, and can't fly. These are quite different; they know us, and if they think you're going to kill one, she will fly away. So they're only half tame."

It was quite an unusual yard. All the animals were kept together, though there were some areas out of bounds for them, such as the vegetable plot, and the paddock at the back in which the horses ran.

There was a large well, at which the children bathed, and a large room adjoining it, which was an outdoor laundry, where they washed and hung the clothes, out of reach of the chickens and other birds, who otherwise tended to soil the linen hung out to dry.

"Come in for breakfast!" called Gran Sonja, smiling out at the children from the back steps, and they headed back inside.

Genny and Alexandra looked radiant. For the first time, Alexandra looked completely relaxed and happy, and Sophie began to realize how alone she must have felt. The tightness and rigidity that had begun to ease with that first moment she had called out to her on the beach, which had rapidly proceeded to melt away in the warmth of Genny's affection, had finally evaporated. In spite of her serious commitment to being Queen, Alexandra was still a young girl, and with her mother's death had found herself needing to bottle her own needs inside herself, and be a symbol of calm, regal solidity for the Palace and its occupants. It had been two months, now, and already that control had almost become too much a part of her personality to allow herself to emerge as a simple, fun-loving girl. I must teach her to put her sovereignty on and off as needed, Sophie thought to herself. The country must manage with a part-time Queen. Sophie was beginning to learn that she loved the girl Alexandra too much, and loved Genny too much, to allow the Queen to utterly submerge her own needs in the demands of her responsibility.

Alexandra was dressed in her favorite sleeveless brief dress, while Genny had put on one of the smocks she must have found in the closet. With her voluptuous figure Genny looked a lot more sensuous than the rest of them (who tended to be well-muscled, but not anywhere near as well-endowed as Genny). Her hair was loosely braided and hung forward in a thick rope tied off with a pretty green ribbon, and her smiling face, with its smooth complexion was a contrast to the freckled and tanned faces of Alexandra's cousins, as her wavy, spun-gold hair contrasted with the sun-bleached, frizzy hair of the other women, and the streaky straight hair of Alexandra. Alexandra's hair always caught the attention with its severity. Genny always took time to part it perfectly for her mate, and to braid it carefully; she obviously liked how the severe braid looked on Alexandra. Helga stood talking with a woman her own age, clearly renewing an old friendship.

It was an enormous long table, and the guards joined them. They sat anywhere, admiring the eggs and bacon and other things that were set out for them, in addition to potatoes, and porridge, and bread hot from the oven. Kirsten sat possessively near Sophie, and she found that she enjoyed the feeling of belonging, the feel of Kirsten's thigh and arm against her own, and their feet touching. It seemed not too odd to find her eyes drawn to Genny, who sat some distance away, while the rest of her luxuriated in the nearness of Kirsten.

The meal took a long time, and their hosts explained that breakfast was their main meal for the day. They often ate beef or fish in addition to the other food at breakfast. But, in deference to their guests, they would eat three small meals instead. Helga sighed and said that she missed these large breakfasts, living, as she did, down in the Fort.

They were almost finished, when there was the sound of hooves out in front, and Elke went out to see, followed by Miriam. They had taken the liberty of not setting a guard, since they had been assured that the dogs were reliable.

They returned shortly, with Miriam carrying a bundle. "It was the courier," she said, handing one packet to Alexandra, another to Helga, while she stood by reading a message of her own, remarking that the rider seemed anxious. All eyes were on Alexandra as she tore open the packet, and began to read with a slight frown. Her face became expressionless as she read. She looked up as she folded the message, put it back in the envelope, and reached across to pass it to Sophie. Miriam's lips compressed to a tight line as she continued to read.

"Bad news." Alexandra's eyes seemed to dwell a little longer on Genny and Sophie. "There is trouble on the Eastern border. Apparently there's a build-up of troops across the straits."

There was an immediate indignant response.

"They've just been waiting!" cried one, looking furious. "They think they can get away with an attack now, because they think you don't have things together!"

"What do they want, anyway? What use is that wild country out there?"

"It's the mines, dear! They want the mines," and on and on.

In the excitement, the cousins seemed to forget Alexandra and Genny, who sat among them looking miserable. Genny reached out to Alexandra's hand and held it tight. Sophie began to read.

Reports of a build-up of arms and personnel across the East Border. There is a border dispute that the Republic has been causing trouble about for the last several weeks; we will probably be reminded of it again shortly. Unrest among the Bernian sector of the population of the Eastern province.

Advise stepping up security with your party. A full company follows for your protection. Return quickly. Horvald.

Sophie responded to the terse sentences with a shudder of fear. Kirsten was watching her with alarm showing clearly in her expression. She put her arm protectively around Sophie.

Elke returned with the courier, who saluted his Queen and stood respectfully at the door. Elke found him a place at the table. The family turned to smile a welcome at him, and then resumed their heated discussion. Alexandra, seeing him, asked whether he had additional information.

He stood up to report, but Alexandra motioned him to sit. "Anything in addition to ... news about the East border?"

"What do they say, Your Majesty? Is there mention about the spy cell discovered in the city?"

"What spy cell?" Alexandra was instantly alert. Genny's eyes opened wide.

"I don't know much about it, but one of the new Palace maids was seen meeting with a bunch of foreigners who had rented a house in town. That's as much as I know! They were taken in for questioning."

"Foreigners?"

"From the Republic, Your Majesty."

"What were they here for?"

The courier indicated he did not know. Then he took a deep breath and murmured that the word in the guards was that there was Bernian Republic interest in an attack on the Queen herself, who was known to be traveling in the country.

Alexandra's face went white, and then red.

"You're safe here," Sonja said at once, her face grave.

"I know I am. But I must get back." Genny looked at Alexandra, and at Sophie, and back at the courier.

"I am instructed to go to high alert," Miriam said, her face looking stony. She looked at the courier, and he nodded.

"The full company will be here shortly. The woman who guided me here has gone back to bring them. They were not exactly sure of the location of the house."

"Nonsense," Helga exclaimed. "The Queen's ancestral home is known to everyone on the island!"

Just then they heard sounds of hooves, and sharp commands, and much barking. Elke, as the unofficial liaison with the guards, ran out to see what they wanted, with Miriam at her heels. Soon there were guards all around the house, up the street, and at all intersections in the town.

When Kirsten and Sophie had seen the guards do their thing, they left the other girls staring at them and came back to see Alexandra and Genny, who sat with Helga and Sonja. Alexandra was slumped, the life gone out of her.

"Also," the courier said, swallowing a mouthful, and looking nervous, "I forgot to mention ..."

Alexandra gave him a tired smile and nodded encouragingly. "I saw a column of smoke as I rode across the high pass, Your Majesty. Out to the northeast, in the mountains," he said, and seemed to run out of steam. "I didn't think anything of it, but it seems to have become heavier, like."

Alexandra frowned, but Sonja was quicker.

"What do you mean, heavier?"

"It can be seen from here, madam," he said respectfully. "I believe, if you just go out to the road, ..."

They all hurried out to the front of the house, which faced northeast. But the sky was obscured by several large trees. When they stepped down the front path and out past the gates, they saw a crowd gathered, staring at the horizon, where a grey column was rising majestically from the snow-covered mountains in the distance.

"What can it be?" whispered Genny, clutching Sophie's free arm. "An enormous forest-fire?"

"More like a volcanic eruption," Sonja said. "That's about a hundred miles away."

"It wasn't that big when I was riding over the pass," the courier breathed. "It was just ... a thin column!"

A couple of hours later Alexandra watched Genny get dressed to ride back. She wore breeches, and packed quickly and efficiently. As they came out, Helga and Miriam accosted them, and Sophie hurried up, also dressed in travel clothes.

"Take a ship," Helga advised. "I have a feeling the pass may be dangerous. There's a fault just north of the mountain ridge, and it cuts sharply south, and then off to the east again. There are reports of another eruption, closer to the highway. It's way too dangerous."

"Yes, Majesty. There is a large vessel we can commandeer, and a good wind from out of the west."

Genny's face was full of anxiety, and concern for her mate. Her desire to have Alexandra safe here, on the impregnable island conflicted with her desire to support Alexandra's need to provide leadership at the capital.

There was a telephone in the Fort, said Helga, about which Horvald might not be aware. It was technology that was becoming increasingly unreliable, and the central government was notoriously uncomfortable with electronic gadgets, and even firearms. Unfortunately, the last military action, against the former King of Bernia, had been successful despite the superior armament of the Bernian army. But it had helped that a large minority within the enemy country had been dissatisfied with their monarchy, and it had since become a republic, and the King had been put to death. However, the republic was struggling, and the thinly-populated, resource-rich neighbor to their west must look to them like a reasonable way to raise their standard of living.

Katie kept a firm control on her tears. She knew something bad was happening, but not exactly what. She knew the Queen was in danger, but not immediate danger. It was all becoming a little too much for her, but she was determined not to be a baby.

They returned to the Fort with as good speed as they could. Alexandra and Sophie went straight to the central government building in the Fort, and were conducted to the phone, which had lain unused for as long as anyone could remember. Alexandra picked up the receiver, and addressed the operator. She was connected to Horvald in seconds.

"Alexandra! You must leave the island at once!"

"We are, Horvald, but what more can you tell me?"

"You are in great danger! I tried not to panic you, but there is news of an assassination attempt in the Fort, on Skree. Don't show yourself outside at all. We don't know anything more, except that it's either assassination, or kidnapping!"

"We're coming by ship."

"Be careful! It's a good plan. It looks as if earthquakes might close the main highway."

"We saw the smoke ..."

"Yes, Mount Jarvis is beginning to erupt. Things are relatively quiet here, but the mission to Bernia has been recalled, and the Bernian embassy here is closed."

"Oh heavens ... that sounds final."

Horvald took a long breath. "Well ... don't panic."

"Thank you, Lord Horvald. I will be careful. I will see you as soon as I can; probably tomorrow night." Alexandra hung up, too upset to listen to any last words Horvald might have had for her. She was impatient with the man's unrepentant conservatism, but he was loyal and responsible. She wished Lord Gustafson would take a share of government, but he determinedly stayed out of things. Times were changing, and it was clear there was no place for spectators now.

She returned to the castle. Genny had gone ahead and already packed up their belongings. Helga and Miriam returned shortly from the harbor to report that the ship was ready and willing to leave with them for Stefansberg with a minimal cargo. A mixed crew of the Royal Navy and the original ship's crew were ready to take her out as soon as her Majesty and her party could get on board.

They set out for the harbor, completely forgetting about Horvald's warning. Suddenly, a woman turned round from inspecting a notice, and before they could react, had sent two knives flying end over end directly at Alexandra, who was easily identifiable by her hair and her walk.

"Look out!" screamed Eric, just in time for Alexandra to sidestep the first knife, but the second hit her, mercifully at the wrong angle. Suddenly, Miriam cried out as an arrow smacked into her shoulder, coming from the opposite end of the pier, but within seconds both attackers were dead, shot through by crossbow bolts. The group hurried up the gangway into the ship, Katie huddled against her father's body, trembling with fear, her eyes wide. There was a commotion some distance away, and the sound of gunfire. Apparently more of the attackers were active.

Helga pulled them into the safety of the ship, behind the pilot's cabin. "There's no need to waste time," she said, smiling. "No one was seriously hurt! I think we got them all." Miriam was seated on the deck, also smiling bravely, while a medic bandaged her shoulder.

Genny stepped forward to embrace Helga. They had left the family home in Geneva in such a hurry that she had given only Sonja a brief hug; she had had no time to take farewell of the score of other women who had seemed just a mass of blonde grins at the time, but now were becoming established in her mind as interesting and distinct individuals. Helga was, herself, one of them; then there was efficient, no-nonsense Elke, the dreamy-eyed Kirsten, little Baby, the quiet Hannah, quick-tempered twins Joanna and Deanna, and on and on. Genny kissed Helga on the cheek and quickly stepped back, still holding her firmly.

"Give my love to them all!" she said, her voice grave with concern for the future. She looked for more eloquent words to explain her sense of loss at being parted from these women who promised to be such a source of support and comfort to the woman whose partner she was, but did not find any.

Alexandra took her leave with more restraint, but equal gravity. Sophie gave Helga a quick hug, her mind on the Queen and her consort. They were hustled below decks, Helga went ashore, and they heard the anchors being raised and the moorings cast off. There was an escort of three naval vessels armed with cannon, and all four ships had members of the guard on board. Poor Eric alone was left to find his way on horseback, because he was a very poor sailor. He would take the coastal road, which was much longer than the overland route they had come West on. Of course the sea route was much longer still, but hopefully faster, since they could keep a constant speed without the need to camp overnight, and change horses, and so forth.

They made good time south, anxiously watching the two spires of smoke that were visible all the way out to sea. Within hours they could see a third column of smoke and steam rising, further east. The sky was almost black with smoke. As they rounded the peninsula towards the end of the day, it was clear that the mountain range had become unstable; the volcanoes had visibly changed appearance. Genny began to weep, convinced that the Lodge would be destroyed. She had come to think of it as a possible place for her and Alexandra to retreat, once they had settled into the capital, and life had become a little more routine. She had plans for the three of them, Alexandra, Sophie and she, to visit the Lodge frequently. But in the dark, they could now see that two of the eruptions were spewing lava that glowed a dull red. She imagined that the lodge was right in the path of it. Would their friends see the danger, and escape in time?

At supper in the well-appointed captain's dining room, Genny could not eat. Alexandra ate mechanically; it was part of her training. Sophie pecked at her plate, while Katie was eating with her father, asking him anxiously about things the rest of them could not quite hear. Miriam's wound had become infected, and there was some fear that the knife may have been poisoned. Genny, white-faced, urged Alexandra to eat, her voice low and calm.

Sophie was just falling asleep later that night when she heard Genny's whisper from her cabin door. "Are you asleep, Sophie?"

"No, I'm awake," she whispered back.

Genny slipped into bed with her, and leaned back, to rest her head on Sophie's pillow. Then she turned to her, her eyes glowing in the dark. "Hold me," she breathed.

Genny kissed her with fierce passion. Then she lay spent in Sophie's arms, her face buried in the pillow next to Sophie.

"Shouldn't you be with Alexandra right now?"

Genny eased herself off Sophie, and pulled her hem down awkwardly.

"She's asleep." She gazed at Sophie, until Sophie looked away. Genny reached out to turn her head to face her, and looked right into her eyes. "Alexandra ... Alexandra ..."

Whatever she wanted to say seemed too hard to get out. She began to blink, tears began to drip onto the pillow, and she began to sniff.

"What is it, darling?"

"Nothing ... nothing! I just love you, that's all! Oh Sophie, I love you!"

"I know you do, dear Genny ... I love you too!"

"You don't understand! I ..." She buried her face in the pillow, and pounded it with her fist in frustration.

"Has she hurt you?" Sophie asked, her heart heavy.

"No! Never! How could you think something like that?" Genny was sitting up now, her face wild with indignation. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"But ... but ... you ... just now, you ..."

"Oh ... no, Sophie;" it was as if the life had gone out of her. "Alexandra and I are fine. Everything's fine, okay? Oh Gordon ... why is it so hard to talk to you? It is as if I don't know your language at all!"

Sophie drew her gently back into an embrace, and comforted her until she fell asleep. When she woke in the morning, Genny was gone, back to her own bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Coming Home

It was clear, though, as they approached the harbor at the capital, that things were not going well. They put into port, and Alexandra was met by Horvald with horses and a carriage. Genny and the others got in the carriage, while Alexandra was put aboard a second coach, along with Horvald.

Sophie was looking out the window, when she realized that the carriage was not going to the Palace, but to her own home, southeast of the Palace.

"Wait, hold up!" she called to the driver. The guard looked in at her, a question on her face. "Why are we not going to the Palace?"

"Lord Horvald says it isn't safe, Your Highness. We're going to Lord Gustafson's residence."

Genny looked out across Sophie. "Are you sure? Where's the Queen going?"

"She's following right behind, your Highness. There's a company standing by; she'll probably be escorted by another way to the Palace."

The girls looked at each other, wide-eyed. All around them, on the street, guards were stationed at every intersection, crossbows at the ready. The country was at war, and there were spies among them, in the city.

Even as they turned onto the wide North Road, there was a sudden hue and cry in the direction of the City. The guards riding on the carriage called out urgently to the driver to hurry.

"What's happening?" Genny demanded, leaning out the window, and earned a panicked glare from the guard on her side. The guard knew nothing, but he said Genny must keep her head inside.

Once safely inside Sophie's home, things became clearer. A decoy carriage had left from the pier for the City just before the party had set out, with a couple of guards inside, pretending to be Genny and the Queen. It was very likely that in spite of the military being out in force, there were some terrorists still at work in the capital.

"Are those poor people safe?" demanded Genny, meaning the decoys. Everyone looked blankly at her, except Alexandra.

"We don't know, love; at least they were expecting trouble, and knew to duck. One hopes it was an armored carriage. There is one for this kind of situation." In spite of her calm explanation, it was clear to all of them that Alexandra was on the edge of exploding.

"Please, I need to know. Someone brief me on the situation!" Alexandra sat on the closest chair and looked around at the others, her gaze coming to rest on Horvald, and John Gustafson.

"You have declared martial law, Your Majesty. The northern fault has become very unstable, and the people are fleeing south, towards the Capital. As far as we can tell, the fault line crosses into Bernia and is possibly causing severe earthquakes. There was an enormous earthquake last night, reported by people who arrived here from St Johns, and the geology department of the science institute says that the epicenter is in Waterloo. That is a town of thirty thousand people. No one has been seen from there."

Alexandra looked shocked. "Have they possibly gone north, instead?"

Horvald shrugged. "One hopes that they have escaped that way."

"Alexandra ... are these earthquakes dangerous? I thought they just make the ground shake?"

"Those are minor ones. Major earthquakes make buildings collapse, and there is massive loss of life. Especially with stone buildings. And Waterloo was built all in stone." Horvald seemed to relish spelling out the details of the disaster. "Meanwhile," continued Horvald, "the stupid, opportunistic Bernian Liberation Party has sent its militia here, to take advantage of the confusion."

John Gustafson finally spoke.

"I have a feeling they will invade within the next few hours. They are too preoccupied with getting Norslandish resources by force to consider a truce. They don't realize that our emergency medical services and social welfare services could help both countries. They can! We would have been able to give humanitarian aid!" He was seething with anger. "But that's the way these things happen!" He looked at each face, and fastened on the one that was watching him most intently: Genny's face. She was hanging on his every word. "They need someone to blame for their problems. And we're very conveniently here."

"Are we to blame for their problems, Lord Horvald? Give me an honest answer, please."

"They want our mines, Genny. They want our wood, our trained physicians, our farms. Our land. It's a matter of point of view. Poverty makes it appear as if we are to blame. We control the resources that they need. Are we to blame for their poverty? It is a philosophical issue."

Horvald interrupted impatiently.

"The reserve has been called out. The remnants of the units stationed in the mountains have made it here — there are apparently only around 15% remaining. The intelligence nets are trying to find out the situation both in the earthquake zone, as well as to keep a watch on the Eastern border.

"If there is an attack, Your Majesty, you must withdraw into hiding."

Alexandra stared at him.

"Withdraw? Where?"

Horvald gave Gustafson a look loaded with some meaning they shared. "You have options. You could visit your in-laws in the South. You could return to Skree. You could look for shelter with Consort Atlanta's family, in Belgravia." He finally stared at the floor. "But you must be safe, Your Majesty. If anything happens to you, the Bernians will impose a republican government here, and we are just not ready for it, Your Majesty!"

Sophie looked at her father. She knew he was a republican, a strong one. In spite of his love for Alexandra, and his support for her, in principle he believed that a monarchy was ultimately not in the best interest of his country. But on which side of that question would he come down this time?

"Horvald is right. You are right, Horvald; and I believe your estimate of the danger is on the mark."

"They want to get rid of me. I'm an obstacle to setting up a stable republic."

"You and Genny, both."

"Why me?" asked Genny, wide-eyed.

"Because ... you carry her child."

Genny shook her head. She looked into Alexandra's face and shook her head again, slowly.

Sophie began to understand. That night when Genny had been so ill ... she had been violently sick, and it was known that such things could end a pregnancy. Perhaps the kind of situation that Genny had been placed in, a halted pregnancy, was even more fragile than an ordinary one. Some women could tell the moment a fetus died. Genny had never been pregnant before. How could she decide that she could tell?

"No more," Genny said. "If we had time ... I would do anything for you, Alexandra. But it has to be done all over again."

"Did something happen? You should have told me!"

"It does not matter!" Horvald cried, clutching his head. "You cannot stay here!"

A horse was heard outside. A rider had left while they were talking, and presumably this was a response to a demand for information.

It was Miriam.

"There was a sniper with a rifle," she said, once she had entered the room and been given a signal to speak. "Vivien is dead, and the man with her, with a blonde wig, escaped. The building from which the sniper was firing was surrounded, but the sniper had killed himself, or been shot by an accomplice. There are boats landing all up the coast to the east. Nobody can get past the road at St Johns. The western-most volcano is not doing anything much, the others are well on their way!"

Another rider clattered up, and hurried up the steps.

"The Bernian troops have begun to invade," he announced. "The news was brought in by boat a few minutes ago. They're moving slowly down the coast."

"Is it out of the question to simply face them and fight?" Alexandra demanded.

"Units are in place, Your Majesty. We must protect the beaches. But it's an enormous front!"

Alexandra was visibly frustrated. Suddenly she decided that she was heading out. In spite of all the arguments they made against her stirring from the house, she headed out to the yard, and mounted her horse. Miriam followed her, cursing. Genny ran out after them weeping, but Alexandra had disappeared. "She hasn't eaten in hours!" Genny wailed to those in the room as she came back.

Horvald, some of the guard officers and Gustafson sat round the table, thinking hard. Sophie joined them for a while, but gave up and came back to the living room, a look of hopelessness on her face.

"I had decided to really learn to fight," she said, sitting across from Genny, who was barely keeping herself from breaking down. "Crossbows, guns, everything. But ... there's no time. I'm useless!"

"Where did she go?" Genny wanted to know.

Sophie shrugged. "I would guess she has gone to pick up her battle clothes."

"Oh Gordon! She'll be so conspicuous ... she'll be mincemeat in a second!"

"No, she probably won't wear ceremonial gear, my dear, just battle fatigues. She'll be careful. She just can't bear the thought of sitting here and listening to hopeless reports."

"Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go into your room and talk?" whispered Genny. Sophie nodded, and led her to the back of the house, to a cosy little room that was evidently Sophie's own. Genny looked around, as Sophie blushed. It was the room of a child; Sophie had not had time to redecorate it more in tune with her new-found maturity. There were dolls, and childish fancies, and pictures of Unicorns on the walls.
"They'll make us run, Sophie. They'll make us fugitives."

Sophie stared at her. It finally sank down into her brain that she, too, would have to go. If Genny and Alexandra were to go into hiding, Sophie would have to be with them. They could not manage without her. And she was beginning to wonder whether she could manage without them. More than the Queen, her consort, and her personal assistant, they were three girls, in love with each other.

"Where can we go?"

"I know where my heart wants to go."

"To the Lodge! That will be no hiding place, Genny."

"I know. The volcano has probably covered it by now."

"The volcano?" Sophie smiled. "No, it's much too far away. It will be safe from that, at least!" Genny's relief was almost comic. "If ever we're separated, I know where to look for you!"

"Yes, indeed ... I would go there," Genny nodded.

Suddenly there was a disturbance in the house, and they hurried out to see. Sure enough, Alexandra was back, dressed in brown breeches and her field jacket, with a rifle, a crossbow, and other equipment.

"I will be safe," she said, her eyes burning into Genny. "You know I have to show myself!"

"Yes, darling! But don't make any meaningless sacrifices, okay? I'm too young to be a widow!"

"Try not to be bitter, love," Alexandra said. "Anger, yes; hate, no. But I am very angry."

For a moment they clung to each other, and Alexandra hurried away, accompanied by a small group of guards. They went on foot, straight to the waterfront.

"What can I do? What can I do?" Genny was on the brink of hysteria, when suddenly she calmed down with a massive effort. She turned to Sophie.

"Will you come with me to the Palace? Nobody will notice us!"

Sophie was past caring. It seemed better to get out of the house than to stay imprisoned in the place.

They wore nondescript clothing, and slipped away across a fence into a neighbor's yard, and so to the road. Within minutes Sophie was leading the young princess to the Palace along shortcuts she had learned long ago. They hid behind a hedge, eating raisins, while a guard slowly walked past them. Sophie had always brought raisins with her, and now she shared them with her friend.

"Sophie," said her companion to her, as they crossed the street, and slipped in behind the school wall. It was a little village school just outside the city, now closed down because of the unrest. Genny was laboring under a need to tell Sophie something, which the latter had at last begun to guess.

"Sophie, I have told you I love you. Please listen!"

"Yes, Genny."

"When I face the Judge on that Last Day, you will face him with me!"

Sophie stopped and stared at her.

"Do you do not love Alexandra anymore?" she whispered gently. It was not her place to judge the princess.

"I do. As a citizen, and a leader of the people, and my father's daughter, and as a dear, dear friend, I do love her. And I will give my life for her. And I will bear her children."

What Sophie had understood with her mind, at that moment she understood with her heart. It was as if she was seeing a different girl. The love in Genny's eyes suddenly cut her to her heart. As understanding spread over her face, Genny's tired eyes filled with such love and deep satisfaction, that Sophie felt herself being transformed.

It was the miracle of Alexandra and Genevieve falling in love in their distant childhood that had blinded Sophie to what was happening now. Seeing Genny as a woman of childlike faith and unshakable conviction, she had not allowed herself to understand the ambiguity that lived in her. She had assumed that Genny was either wholly Alexandra's or wholly not. But now, it was clear to her that every time Genny had a choice, it was Sophie she chose. It was Sophie she had always wanted, and needed, and whose love and approval she craved.

"Death is very near, Sophie," she whispered. "We have to make our peace with each other!"

Somehow Sophie could not believe that Genny would die. In her mind she could see Genny with children around her, a mature beauty. It was a silly superstition, anyway. Just because she couldn't imagine Alexandra aging and growing old didn't mean that she wouldn't.

When they were finally inside the Palace, Genny took the lead. They slipped through the halls like shadows. Genny had been told that there were Bernians who had gained employment as maids, and that no one could be trusted. Genny led the way to the royal chambers. Both of them had things they wanted to take away. Suddenly she paused.

"There's somebody acting suspicious," she breathed into Sophie's ear. "I'll confront him —or her; you bash his head in, if he's one of them!"

"I couldn't!" Sophie gasped.

"You must!"

"I'll talk, you do it!"

Genny nodded. She backed up until they came to a small room that boasted a large brass candlestick. It was a huge thing, weighing easily thirty pounds. Genny picked it up and they advanced grimly. It was so like Genny to want to challenge a suspect, Sophie was thinking; it would make better sense to brain the person anyway.

It was a man. He was standing at the entrance to the royal bedroom, hands on his hips, one hand thoughtfully stroking his beard. He seemed to be looking for something. Silently Genny padded close, from shadow to shadow. It was late afternoon, but it was gloomy outside. Some of it was weather, but quite a lot of it was the chain of volcanoes that were destroying the land. Genny had gone all the way up the corridor, and was glued to the side of an alcove. Sophie could see her hazel eyes staring at her. She could almost hear Genny in her mind: Call him, get him with his back to me!

Sophie took a deep breath, and made herself the Queen's personal assistant once more.

"Hello, what are you doing here, sir? Can I help you?"

The man started and swung round. He stared at Sophie, his mouth hanging open. He half smiled, and in that moment Sophie knew he did not belong there. He came towards Sophie, not seeing Genny glued to the wall of the alcove.

"And who are you, Lady? All alone here? Don't you know it isn't safe in the Palace anymore?"

Sophie's anger submerged her fear.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Either tell me who you are, and what you're doing here, or leave at once!"

The man pulled aside his jacket, and Sophie saw a wicked knife, and a large gun. Her eyes widened, and she saw Genny step forward. With a fierce cry, she brought the candlestick squarely on the man's head, and he fell, his brains scattered on the floor.

The candlestick slipped out of Genny's slack fingers. Sophie rolled the filthy body over, and took his knife and his gun, and everything she could find on him. Then they faced each other, and clung together, silently expressing their horror, relief, gratitude, and love.

"Go get what you want," Sophie told her.

Genny fussed around the royal bedchamber, and came out with a large bag full of things. Then she led the way into Sophie's room, and picked up a few things for her, too: shoes, underclothes, books, and small articles of jewelry, to which Sophie added a couple of items whose importance Genny could not know. It was a strange feeling to see Genny looking after her this way. Sophie felt confused by Genny. Then they were walking carefully around the dead man, and heading out back into the little-known stairs and doors Sophie knew.

When they finally got back, there was such an angry dressing down for them both that Genny was wide-eyed with shock. She apologized on behalf of them both, though everyone tried to make Sophie take the blame for all of it. ("You should have known better!")

"There were things I needed that you could not understand," Genny said, and refused to elaborate. "At least, it kept me from worrying about her Majesty. What news of her?"

Of course there was none, and so Genny swept out of the room, and back to Sophie's little nook. She leaned against the wall, watching Sophie, her eyes speaking to her. It could be their last night together, or it may be that they were left together, and Alexandra would not return. In contrast to Genny, Sophie was convinced that the mission along the shore road could not be a risky one.

It was the wrong time for romance. If something happened to Alexandra, and they had been making out in Sophie's room, she would never be able to forgive herself, nor would Genny.

"We must wait for Alexandra," Sophie said, and Genny slowly nodded. Sophie smiled, just to think of how easily they understood each other, and saw Genny smile at the same instant. Their smiles broadened, and they sat together on the bed, and simply held hands.

Alexandra burst in an hour after sunset, filthy, exhausted, in tears.

"Oh god," she said, "it was awful! They were so pathetic. They could barely make it ashore; they had practically no weapons, they were half drowned ... we simply couldn't kill them! But if we took them prisoner ..."

"What happened in the end?"

"A storm blew up, and we ended up hauling them up onto the beach, and squeezing the water out of their lungs!" Alexandra was half out of her clothes. "So much for my attempt to be seen defending my country. The Bernian shits are making fools of us all! I hate it!"

It had evidently become known where the Queen's headquarters were. Guards were now hidden all round the house, and the inevitable happened: the general in command of defense of the capital came visiting.

"Your Majesty, I'm glad to see you!"

"General Laura," Alexandra greeted her with cautious enthusiasm. "I was out along the beach," Alexandra told her. She had sent word of her intention, but wasn't sure how far it had gone.

"I was told." She cleared her throat, and said that they had taken prisoners and questioned them. They had been questioned separately, and then all together, and the bottom line was that these were day laborers who had lost employment in the most recent Bernian economic crisis, and were invading on their own initiative. "They have nothing to lose, and possibly something to gain. Whichever side gains the upper hand, they win. They know that we are a kind people; some of them were given aid by the fisherfolk, when they were battered by the storm. They insist that they did not intend to create death and destruction."

Alexandra nodded. It meshed with what she had seen. "They are innocents, and they don't know what they're doing."

A new voice spoke up. "Not all of them."

"Genny!"

"Your consort has essayed a sortie into the Palace, Your Majesty," said Horvald with heavy sarcasm. He had been furious, and still was quite angry. "She probably has first-hand knowledge of the enemy, too."

The general stared, looking very unhappy. Peculiar actions by civilians could complicate things very quickly. A person who is taken hostage was a terrible thing.

"What's all this?"

"Sophie and I headed to the Palace to pick up a few things." Alexandra stared at her, aghast.

"And?"

"There was a fellow snooping around the royal chambers. The guard was missing."

"We evacuated the Palace guard once we knew where Your Majesty was. The Palace is supposed to be empty. The staff was all sent away."

"Well, Genny brained him," said Sophie, unable to keep the pride out of her voice. "He had a gun, a knife, and a good crossbow hidden on him. He was disgusting!"

Patiently, they questioned the two girls, and learned every detail about what had transpired. The general was furious that the security of the Palace had been so easily circumvented. After much discussion about the Palace and other things, the general spoke.

"There are at least two kinds of Bernian involved. There is a small group who hates what we stand for, generally, and I suspect the royal house in particular. Then there are displaced workers, who come for help, for employment. For them it makes no difference whether they end up as immigrants or as combatants. Then there are ideologues, who oppose the monarchy on principle. But I can't think that they're backing this insane invasion. There are left-over imperialists, who just want territory. But that is all for the politicians to unravel." She sighed. "They don't have much of an army, either. We would have known if they were recruiting. There's mostly thousands of amateurs doing their own thing. Our own numbers are very, very small. And we're divided in two; we don't know whether half of our people along the divide and north of it are alive or dead! Without communication technology, we're helpless."

The woman was so discouraged, Alexandra felt her own despair ebbing. The general was a realist; that was her job. Alexandra had the luxury of being a symbol, of disregarding everything except that the country must survive.

"We must survive," she said quietly. "Please have some refreshments, General. I will get cleaned up and join you. Let's plan."

Trudy, who had been silent for most of the day, watching and listening with her face full of worry, rose to conduct Alexandra to the large room that had been assigned to the visiting Queen Anne until she had left. She left Genny to minister to her Queen there, and left with a few words of encouragement. Genny helped Alexandra out of her filthy battle garments, and helped her wash up. Alexandra was going on pure nerves, Genny knew. Alexandra would never forgive herself if she lay down and went to sleep, as she must long to do. There were things Genny wanted Alexandra to herself for, but she was too afraid to make any demands at this time.

After a shower and a change, Alexandra looked wonderful, comparatively, and Genny couldn't suppress a smile of admiration. For an instant their eyes met in a smile, and they shared a tender moment. Then Sophie came in with a plate of food, which the two of them shared. They fed each other, and Genny knew that Alexandra was very much in love with her.

"How can you have so much life, and so much hope in your eyes at a time like this?" She looked into those eyes and wondered. "You're like a burning flame!" She tenderly kissed Genny's hand, making her embarrassed and confused. She feared that Alexandra would melt into a puddle of sentiment at this crucial time, but instead she seemed to come alive. She breathed deeply, and rose to leave.

"I'll stay up for you," Genny said. "I'd better not come and interfere with your planning."

"It may concern us. It may concern you. They will want us to go into hiding."

"I will do it. I want to look after you. If we're together, we can survive anything. You and me and Sophie. You know we can!"

"Sophie?"

"She would come. She is an equal partner in our marriage." Genny looked defiant. "She improves the odds of surviving this, healthy and sane, immeasurably."

"Get ready," Alexandra said. "Pack, get rest, say your goodbyes. Who knows what will happen? I'll be back as soon as I can, to tell you what's happening!"

"Go, love! Give that general ..."

"Laura."

"Give Laura some encouragement. She gives me hope, and then she takes it away ..."

"She is too wise to fight. It's hard to fight, when you see so much."

Sophie came in soon after Alexandra went away. They packed three small bags, with each of their things separately. Then Genny sent Sophie back out to the discussion.

"If you're here, I'll be tempted to ... use your for my comfort. Right now, she's the one who needs more of it!"

"Will you be all right?" Sophie was still finding it difficult to be more intimate when she spoke to Genny. Her habit of addressing her formally kept coming back.

"How did we get into this mess, Sophie? You're only sixteen!" Far too young to be the shoulder a Queen leans on! And Alexandra, hardly out of her childhood. "Go on," she said, smiling.

When Sophie arrived at the planning meeting, they were looking more cheerful. John Gustafson looked a new man. His utter hopelessness had given way to a cautious optimism, and there was a glint in his eye.

Once Alexandra had been given a glass of wine and seated, the others turned to him. He had evidently been chosen to put a plan to Alexandra. Sophie sat nearby, preparing to listen.

"If we somehow manage to survive tonight, things will look a little better in the morning," he began in a quiet voice. "We're beginning to come to the point where the earthquakes are a fact of life, we're not surprised by them any more, and we know the threat from Bernia." He paused to sip at his drink. "While you were away just now, a few reports came in; Major Judit was sent out to survey all the security stations in the capital area, but her real mission was to assess public reaction. She's off grabbing a little supper, but she found one important thing; there's no sympathy for Bernia at all, but some compassion for the refugees. A great deal of support for you in the city. No mass movement to lynch Bernians, which I think is good. But morale is, understandably, low."

Alexandra took a deep breath. The despair she had begun to feel was ebbing.

"You're a good focus for improving morale. Horvald reports that on your tour, people were happy to see you, you made a connection between them and the central government." Alexandra nodded, and exchanged a grateful glance with Horvald. "The problem is how to keep you both safe and visible. And we have come up with an brilliant plan. Listen to this!"

The plan was simple. They would use Genny as a propaganda machine. If she was willing, they would have her tour the country, every town and village, encouraging people, and exhorting them to resist invasion, gear up industrial production, and to resettle the alarming flood of refugees. They needed a moral focus with which to resist the propaganda war that Bernia was waging on many fronts.

"I can't do it." Alexandra shook her head. She looked around her, and saw that they had anticipated her resistance, and got very angry. She rose to leave.

"Please, please sit down, Your Majesty. We won't do anything without asking her."

"And she will say yes! Of course she will! And she will be a target for a hundred assassins! This is the most cowardly, miserable, vicious invasion of any country in the world! These people are barbarians! And I cannot subject my wife to that kind of danger. It's out of the question." She got up and began to pace. "I will do it! Why can't I give the speeches?"

"Because she will be safer! It would be far more cowardly to attack a foreigner, a woman raised in southern society, with her charm, her gentleness. When people see her, they do not see a soldier. They see a fierce woman, but not a soldier! It makes all the difference!"

Sophie watched Alexandra, while part of her mind tried to get around the plan being suggested by her father. Alexandra did not give in one inch. When the young Queen realized that part of the plan was to smuggle her out to Belgravia to help raise support for an allied army, she simply shut her ears and refused to listen. Sophie had to concede it was insane, but insanely, she could see it working. It would put all their strengths to their best use. She could see Genny becoming a hit with the people. She was a hit already with everyone she had met. She could see Alexandra convincing the Belgravians to fight. King Frederick of new Hope's support was already assured; only Belgravia had to be convinced, because of the cost of their aid. They had to be made to believe that if Norsland made promises to Belgravia in return, they would be honored. And Alexandra was the one to make the promises, and make sure that the future of neither people, nor their future generations, would ever be mortgaged to greed, or imperialism, or narrow plans of conquest or militarism, the kind of thing that was destroying them at that moment.

There were more sounds of horses galloping into the compound. Sophie winced to think of how much destruction was going on to their careful landscaping, with horses rushing everywhere.

"Ships, general! Not small boats; ships are rounding the cape! Huge things!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Invasion

Alexandra and General Laura Ritter disappeared into the night. Horvald held his head, then hurried out to the yard to listen and see. A whole company galloped after the Queen and the general. He looked hopelessly at Sophie. "At least they've got some protection," he remarked. Sophie nodded seriously, feeling the strangeness of the scene in her mind. Horvald hurried off with Gustafson, leaving Sophie alone with her mother. Lady Trudy sat silently, her head resting on her hand. It was all she could do to keep calm.

Genny walked in. She held her head proudly, but she moved in complete silence. Pride and humility, bundled together.

Her eyes widened to see the room half empty. She walked over to Sophie and leaned to her.

"I thought I heard hooves? Where is the Queen gone?" she asked, as if she were at a funeral viewing, and did not wish to disturb the guests.

"There is news of ..." Lady Trudy began, and stopped.

"A large vessel is seen to be approaching. They fear an invasion. Alexandra rode off to see," said Sophie.

Genevieve was furious, but kept calm with an effort. She said, through gritted teeth, "Why can't she wait here and receive reports? Why must she go and look?"

"Genny, we must talk, my child." Lady Trudy's voice low and rough. "There is a plan. And you have a part in it. Sit down, and let me try and see if I remember it all."

Genny's face went white. She looked from Sophie to Lady Trudy and back. With sure instinct she guessed that it must be a dangerous plan; or perhaps she could read it in their eyes. She sat in a seat by herself, and stayed calm, except for playing with a fold of the dark blue silk gown she had decided to put on.

"They are sending Alexandra into danger! That's no surprise. She is mad, and so is Horvald." Lady Trudy was at the end of her tether, and Genny grit her teeth and apologized. "Please go on. I'll be silent."

"Actually, it's even more dangerous."

Genny listened wide-eyed to the preposterous plan. By the end of it, she was staring at the floor, not seeing anything in the room.

"Gustafson did not work out all the details, but it is clear: you will have to be heavily guarded, living in homes of well-wishers and even guard camps, for safety. You will travel from town to town. You must explain the war effort everywhere you go. Cannons will have to be cast, mines must be stepped up. Work camps must be established, to manufacture gunpowder. The mines must be defended. Hospitals must be set up, and people must be trained to save lives. Children must be moved out of harm's way. Food must be grown. Cattle must be slaughtered. Battle training must begin for everybody. We must fight everywhere. And you have to make them do it. And you can."

Genny finally spoke.

"I have never done such a thing. You are a nation of fighting women. I was not brought up to fight. But you want to send me out to rouse the people to war? Why? Why me, I who have such pity for these poor people who dash themselves to pieces on our shores?"

"We aren't fighting them, Genny. They surrender in droves. But fighters are coming. We are fighting a defense, not an attack. We don't want to move them to hate. Only to resist! To be determined. They think if they threaten Alexandra, we will all kneel to them at once. But Alexandra will never give in."

"But ... but ... who will help me?"

Sophie's heart cried out: Me, me! I will help you! I love you! But she was struck dumb, and all she could do was cover her face in her hands and hope her heart would start up again.

"We don't know, dear! I, for one, will come with you, if it helps. But I am weak, and these last few hours have shown me that my heart can't stand much more of this. Oh Genny! I wish you could see what I see in my heart! I see you doing it, and ..."

Sophie looked up at her mother. There was a family tradition that Lady Trudy had visions of the future. She never made an issue of it, but there was a look of quiet bliss on her face that Sophie recognized. Nothing happening outside could possibly account for such serenity in the face of a woman who had been so sunk in despair. Sophie, too, had an inkling of the possibilities. She had seen that it could be done —at least the part of the plan that placed Genny in front of the people to motivate a powerful war effort. But Genny had to be convinced.

Sophie walked to her mother and took her hand, and they exchanged a look that spoke volumes. As Genny stared at her, Sophie smiled at the Princess Consort, a royal princess in her own right, so cruelly thrown into a war in a foreign land.

"You are too young for this responsibility, Genevieve. This is not your country. You are not a warlike person. You have not yet enjoyed the marriage you have made so recently. But you can make people love you, dear Genny! And I know you will be safe. You will be unhappy, but you will be safe. If Alexandra were to do this, she would be assassinated within a week. But you: it would be cowardly to attack a woman who is not a warrior. If the assassins were to kill you, even the Bernians would turn against their own forces!" Sophie could feel a holy exultation racing through her veins. "If you could only believe in yourself, it will work!"

"What must I do now?" Genny asked, a small, doubtful smile lighting her eyes.

Sophie could hardly restrain herself. She ran to her friend, and hugged her and kissed her, like a thing gone mad. But then she sobered up. "I have no right," she murmured. "It is too much to ask. But it is war. Father is right. We must shake ourselves, and face our problems. And if you can have the courage, then we can all find courage. That's the secret."

"What you must do," said John Gustafson walking in briskly, "is pack your things. Be ready! As soon as our plans are firm, we may have to travel. Have you eaten, Highness?"

Genny shrugged. "A little here and there ... who can eat?"

"Eat again. Food will be hard to find, and the time to have meals even harder. You may have to eat while riding. Sophie, please see if Evie can provide Genny with a small meal. A packet of little eats that may be eaten while traveling should also be prepared. We may all have to go with Genny, and hand the house over to the army. They do not seem to wish to use their own buildings any more!"

Alexandra, about an hour later, regarded the two young ladies who had helped her overcome a boatful of Bernians. All up and down the beach there were horrible cries of men and women in battle, and Alexandra shuddered to think of all the blood that was being spilled at the water line.

She had just learned that the names of the two girls were Megan and Sara. The names sounded familiar, but then they were common enough names. There must have been a dozen Megans alone among her schoolmates. It was a fashionable name, and Sara was even more common.

"Remember, when King Frederick visited, the day before your wedding?"

"Oh yes, I remember now! Sophie's shoes!"

Suddenly there was the unmistakable sound of another boat being pulled ashore. The three of them froze.

"You cannot fight, Majesty! They will kill you!" breathed Sara. Her hands gripped Alexandra's arm painfully. "Do not move, my Queen! They cannot see us!"

"But — they must not come ashore!" Alexandra gritted out. What was she doing, arguing with a pair of children? "Let me go! I must delay them!"

"No!!" they hissed in chorus, this time. They hung onto her like limpets. "They cannot see you in this dark!"

They were very close to a low parapet wall. The rear enclosures of these poor houses of the subsistence fisher-folk served to protect their boats, and provided a little space for the youngest children to play. This close to the sea, the soil would only support a few stubborn trees, and a few blades of grass. They slipped inside the wide-open entry, and hid behind the gate pillar. If the searchlamp were lit, they would be seen.

The girls crouched behind the wall beside Alexandra. She dared not shoot, because the direction of the arrows would be obvious.

The boat was a mere fifty feet from them. The invaders came ashore, and finding no resistance, looked about, and headed towards the road, going past the house, outside the enclosure.

"Where are they going?" breathed Megan.

"Into the town, to cause trouble! What else?" replied Sara.

"Did you see all those knives and guns?"

"They had guns?" Alexandra demanded.

"Yes! Didn't you see? Long ones, on their backs!"

Rifles. In Norsland, of course, it was illegal to own a rifle, but anyway, Bernians owned guns. The Army, of course, was equipped with guns, as was Alexandra, but her conditioning was to avoid using it except as a last resort.

"We must stop them!" said Sara, just as Alexandra came to the same conclusion.

Painfully, they dragged her out to the road. It was a black scar on the pale ground, and the enemy soldiers skulked along on the landward side, keeping to the shadows of the trees along the road.

Alexandra took a deep breath, and pulled out her gun. It was a machine pistol with twelve rounds. She armed it, put on the safety, and gave it to Megan to hold. Then she primed the crossbow. She made the girls get behind a wall that ran perpendicular to the road, towards the sea. Once more she aimed at the rearmost man with her crossbow, and shot him through the back of the neck. He grunted once, and fell. His companions froze, and looked around them. One of them bent to look closely at their fallen comrade, but another hauled him away. Alexandra shot both of them slowly and deliberately.

It was madness. These men had come ashore, and no one was any the wiser. How many more had succeeded in evading the army?

Her question was soon answered. There were shouts up the road, and the men began to run. Alexandra heaved herself onto the road, and let loose another bolt. This one caught a man on his buttock. They began to shout that someone was shooting at them, and a group of them turned to shoot back. They knelt on the road, and pulled out their rifles. There was a shot, but Alexandra was untouched. She let loose another bolt, and the man went down. It was unbelievable; even with their rifle it appeared that they could not outshoot a crossbow.

The moon went behind a cloud. Megan slipped up with the pistol.

"Make a noise, Highness! Or they will think you're helpless!"

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind them. An adult voice was telling off the young ladies in no uncertain terms.

"Let me have the crossbow!" the voice demanded. Without thinking, Alexandra handed it over, and took the pistol. She fell back into the shadow, and let loose a careful shot. Meanwhile, her invisible supporter had gone across the street and was struggling with the crossbow. Suddenly one of the children was scuttling across to join him. Two more shots, and two more hits. The enemy rifle was firing steadily at them now, hitting nothing except the walls. Finally the crossbow began to work, and a man fell with a cry.

It went on for what seemed an age, with the crossbow bolts and the pistol shots taking their toll. Finally there was no one to shoot at, and no returning fire. Alexandra's three helpers converged on her, and she was surprised.

"Bernard!"

Bernard was stunned.

"Your Majesty, all alone here ... unprotected! What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, Bernard, I came out to find out what was going on . . ." Alexandra could hardly talk. Reaction was setting in. ". . . I guess I found out!"

"She's hurt, Uncle Bernard, her knee is bleeding!"

"Can you walk?"

She had been walking just a minute ago. But the adrenalin was gone, and her knee refused to cooperate. It was pure torture whether she moved it or not.

Lights had come on in the closest house, presumably where Bernard had been. With his help, Alexandra was taken inside the humble home.

It was a stone cottage on the land side, right up against the shore road, with a stone wall all around, higher in front, to protect against the sea breeze. Inside it was warm, with lots of old, beautiful furniture lovingly kept. And there was a welcome surprise: Katie! Bernard introduced his mother, a sweet lady of around seventy. Evidently everyone knew everyone else; Megan and Sara chattered with Katie, while they all made Alexandra comfortable on the one big reclining chair.

Bernard and his mother apologetically cut away her breeches around the knee.

"It is a very shallow, clean cut," the old lady said calmly in a soft reedy voice. She proceeded to clean it out with some solution which seemed to contain alcohol, grinning merrily as Alexandra winced. There was lots of advice from Sara and Megan. Those two were irrepressible, absolutely comic together. Katie shared a giggle with Alexandra, listening to their silly remarks.

"I have to get back," Alexandra kept saying.

Bernard looked at her helplessly, with the three girls around him, and his mother seated on a stool, binding Alexandra's wound with a bandage.

"If you could walk, Your Majesty, we could take you back, but otherwise, I must fetch a carriage."

"My horse is tied just across the street, near the second milepost," she told him. "I'm sure I can ride!"

"We'll go get him!" said Sara and Megan, and they disappeared.

The old lady looked at Alexandra with a smile.

"You won't be riding for a while, Lady Alexandra! It will be too hard to get you on that horse!"

"Even worse, Your Majesty, I have a feeling that the town may be in the hands of the enemy. All is chaos."

"But ... Sophie ... Genevieve ... the Gustafsons! They're all there, waiting for me! Oh, how stupid I have been! They must be looking for me!"

"Everyone must be looking for you, Your Majesty ..."

"Oh bother the Majesty ... just call me Alexandra!" To her horror, a tear began to roll down her cheek.

Alexandra was more frustrated than she had been in her life. The past several weeks had been outstanding in the frustration department, but now she was clearly causing major security problems. She found herself tearing at her hair. Bernard quickly caught her hands, and began to murmur soothing words, promising that he will try his best to find the army or the Palace guard, and let them know where she was.

It made her deeply sorry to see Bernard dressing up to go out looking for information. She called him back. "It doesn't matter, Bernard, just relax; I'm sure they'll come looking for me!"

"This is quite far from the city, your— Lady Alexandra. We're at Orchard Street; that is, at the fourth milepost! I'll just walk up to the corner and see what there is to be seen."

Soon they were all alone except for Katie and the old woman. The old lady told Alexandra her name again: Lilia. "These are terrible times, Your Majesty," she said gravely. "I've led a good life, you know. But I think of little Kate; what kind of life will she have, if these outsiders take control?" Alexandra only nodded, looking sympathetic. "They tell me you killed twenty men, all by yourself! Is that true, Lady Alexandra?"

"Twenty?" Alexandra tried to think, but her mind was a blank. She had never taken a life until that very evening. "It could be, I suppose." She looked at her bandolier; the crossbow quarrels were mostly all used up. She had started out with thirty-odd quarrels, altogether. Together with the pistol and the sword ...

There was a noise at the door, and Bernard hurried in, looking frightened.

"More boats have landed, Your Majesty!" They could hear, faintly, gunfire being exchanged on the beach, and shots towards the city. There was confusion all up and down the beach road. Some of the younger people who lived in this part of Stefansberg were joining in the battle. "There is one section of the road, where gunmen have taken a house, and are firing at anyone who goes along the road. We will have to go inland, across the old cemetery, across the schoolyard, through the Palace grounds ..."

"Where is this house they have taken?"

"Right at the second milepost!"

"Oh, the poor horse!"

"Oh, the girls got the horse; it's in the back. Someone had heard about you, and brought the animal to safety before the house was taken."

While Alexandra got to her feet and hobbled out to the back, Bernard was heard conferring with his mother, and running out to the street. Shortly Sara and Megan appeared in the back, and began trying to explain something to Alexandra as they hauled her indoors.

"See, we have this gang, see, with some of the older kids, Nathan, Ivan, Alana, and those people. They have swords and cudgels and things. They were headed downtown, see, but now this boat has landed, and these foreigners are walking up and down the road, and nobody's here to stop them!"

"Tell me again! What's this about a gang?"

Bernard hurried in and carefully shut the door.

"Your Majesty," he said, talking fast, "we'd better disguise you. I think word has got out that you're stranded in this part of town. There's enemy soldiers looking for you."

Alexandra was thunderstruck. It was impossible. A fugitive in her own Capital? If she had been uninjured, she might have pulled it off, masquerading as an ordinary citizen, but a youth with a knee wound was just too suspicious. She had to hide. Finally Sara suggested the flat roof of one of the back rooms. If she could climb up, she could hide under the eaves of the main house.

Fear gave her strength. She heaved herself up onto the flat roof using a bench, and all her weapons were passed up to her. Even weapons left in the house would possibly result in mayhem. There was just enough space under the eaves for Alexandra to hide.

"Are you all right?" Sara asked in a low voice.

"I'm fine!" Alexandra said. "Make sure there's no signs of blood in the house!"

"Yes! Don't worry, you'll be fine!"

Far away, Alexandra could hear smashing glass and breaking doors. Only the old and feeble were left, and there were some bullies among the enemy troops, evidently. From her hiding place, Alexandra could see that an efficient dragnet was coming up the road, very intently hunting. It didn't take much imagination to know who the quarry was. Being stuck up there in the cold, unable to move, it was very frightening. If she were to take pot shots at the men advancing inexorably across the back yards, checking every dark corner, she would draw attention to the house.

She heard them come up to the house. There was one really obnoxious bully, and he entered from the front.

"Well, good Norslander! How are you this fine evening?" Bernard stammered that he was well. "I see you have had a visitor! I wonder who she is?"

"It is my daughter, sir. She lives here."

"Does she, really? May we see her, please?"

"It is past her bedtime, sir. Please take what you need and leave!"

"What do you think we are, petty thieves? You think we want your trinkets? Where is this girl?"

Katie whimpered in fear, and there was a commotion. Meanwhile, the fellow in the back was looking everywhere, and Alexandra was too frightened to breathe. She could have killed him in a heartbeat if not for the fact that little Katie and her family were effectively hostages. She shivered in impotent rage. Meanwhile she worried that they would find the horse, but neither the horse nor Sara and Megan seemed to be in evidence.

Disgusted at seeing that the suspicious 'daughter' was indeed a little girl and not Queen Alexandra, the men overturned some furniture, and tried to provoke Bernard. It was clear that they were in a hurry to find their quarry, and terrorizing Bernard was a lower priority. They told him they had their eye on him, and moved on to the next house.

Minutes later, there were shouts, and young folks converged on the enemy company, screaming like banshees. Two shots were fired, but then the five men were beaten senseless and taken out to the road, where their bodies were pounded with clubs, just where Alexandra could see it all, round the edge of the house. It was sickening.

Sometime later, Alexandra was seated, surrounded by a dozen or so young fellow-countrymen and women, armed with improvised weapons. They were furious and frustrated, at the success of the invasion, as well as the fact that Alexandra was trapped.

"Take my weapons," Alexandra said. "I dare not use them; Bernard would suffer the consequences." With cries of satisfaction, the young people took her weapons and shared them among themselves.

"If you could walk, Your Majesty ..."

"Call her Lady Alexandra!" said Sara, seeing her wince.

"... Lady Alexandra, then, if you could walk, we can take you down to Lord Gustafson's home. I know where it is; we know Lady Sophie!"

Alexandra knew there was no alternative. She got painfully to her feet.

"But wait; I can hear gunfire over there!" One of the leaders was a tall, heavy girl called Alana, who had just figured out how to use the crossbow. "It might be better to wait a little while."

"Can a message be sent?"

"Oh, yes, that can be done! Sven, do you know the place?"

"I'll take him!" piped up Sara, with Megan jumping up and down with her. Before Alexandra could offer a response, the three youngsters had disappeared out the back. Sven was a young fellow of about fifteen, and Sara and Megan were around thirteen.

Once it had settled in that this was really Queen Alexandra, the young people became rather bashful. Bernard didn't help by bringing her a drink on his best tray. Alexandra apologized profusely.

"It is nothing, Your Majesty," he said gravely. "Knowing you were behind there, it gave me the patience to keep calm. If I had lost my temper, I would be dead."

"Is it true that you shot twenty men?" asked one of the younger ones who had stayed behind to keep Alexandra company. The others were out, hunting more enemy soldiers. Alexandra now had to try and reconstruct her entire adventure. Luckily Sara and Megan weren't present, or she would have ended up having killed an even hundred.

"If that is so," said the girl thoughtfully, "there must be a score of these little arrows lying in bodies on the beach!"

Alexandra nodded. They could be recycled. "At least a dozen, because some of the men fell in the water."

Soon a couple more of them had disappeared, hunting for ammunition among the bodies.

It was well past midnight when the three scouts reappeared, shortly followed by the highly successful quarrel scavengers.

"The place is abandoned!" cried Megan. "The cook says that they went off in a carriage, taking the Princess! They were looking for you everywhere, with General Laura's people, but you were nowhere to be found. Then there was gunfire around the Palace, and next she knew, everybody was going. You are to join the General's headquarters. That's all she knows. There seems no point in returning to the house, since Lady Sophie and her Highness are both gone!"

"Where is the general's headquarters? Last I knew, it was in the castle!"

"We don't know, Your Majesty," said Sven. Is it the same as the Palace Guard?"

"No, Sven, it is the army! I will ask Julia," said Megan, and did one of her disappearing acts.

All up and down the shore road, blocks were falling into enemy hands, and being taken back by the fierce defense militia. The army was nowhere in evidence, though no one on the west side of town knew anything about the east side of town.

The constant uncertainty of the situation was driving the young folk crazy, while Alexandra's mind was a fugue of what she was to do. In one of the few moments when her mind seemed to surface for a breath of reality, she heard Alana take a deep breath from the doorway on which she was leaning, and let it out.

"Someone has to take charge," she said, into the silence. "Or no one can sleep tonight."

That snapped Alexandra out of her funk.

"Are there many other bands like yourselves?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, yes, Lady Alexandra. There are ..."

"There are four ... no five! Six more!"

"And how many people altogether?"

It turned out there were almost fifty young folks they knew, and they suspected more. Alexandra began to talk slowly. She asked them to send out for one representative from each group. She outlined a plan for controlling the territory they had gained, and a means for staying in communication with all the groups. There was no need to stay up the whole night. They would mount watches, and take turns to sleep. Soon the group scattered, and strangers appeared and greeted her with surprise and pleasure. The story of her adventure had got around, and grown in the retelling, she didn't doubt. She quickly explained the basics of what she had already described to Alana's group. It all depended on efficient division of labor, and eliminating duplication of effort.

In no time at all, quiet descended on the several blocks controlled by the six or seven gangs, which had now become essentially a single unit. There were watches placed all along the street, as well as looking out to sea. Spies had been dispatched to learn what was happening in the castle and on the east side. And finally, Alexandra fell asleep, with Megan and Katie by her side. Sara had been called home by an irate family.

Alexandra was up not much later than usual. Her leg hurt like crazy, but somehow a pain-killer was found, and she felt better. There was a good breakfast; Evie had sent food supplies back with Sven and the girls. It was good to know that at least Evie knew roughly where Alexandra was. Sven had given her an indirect way of locating her, in case Evie were to fall into enemy hands. Alexandra had grinned and given her approval.

She sent out word that she would like reports when possible, and promptly reports were sent back. The army had left a small guard around the Palace itself, the most easily defended part of the castle, and withdrawn from the city to regroup. The enemy units had overrun the town briefly, but had disappeared. There was fear that some citizens were helping them go into hiding, or that the enemy had taken over a house in the suburbs just outside the City. All the ships had departed. There were scores of bodies all up and down the beach, but almost a thousand enemy troops had landed. Alexandra could hardly believe her ears. Fortunately, someone had informed the garrison at the Palace that Alexandra was safe in the hands of the shore militia.

Shortly word arrived to say that Alexandra should go to the castle. An escort would be sent for her.

"I feel safer here," she said, quite sincerely. The failure of the army had been dramatic, and Alexandra was not yet comfortable putting herself in its hands. "I don't know what happened to it," she said, speaking about the Army.

"It is a very small army, your m— Lady Alexandra," said Alana, who was visiting. "As you know, the total strength of the army is something like ten thousand men and women. And a few thousands are lost in the north and east, I believe."

"Is it that bad?"

Alana shrugged. "About the East, no one knows. Perhaps there has been an invasion there already. The bastards grabbed the opportunity when the earthquakes hit." Alana had the look of one who was being eaten alive by frustration. "I feel sick to think of it, my lady. I do not blame anyone. After all, we are civilized people. One gets used to thinking that war is a thing of the past!"

The group in the house had grown. There were some older folks too. Sara's father was there, now thoroughly involved with the militia.

"We were caught napping. But we are not of a mind to hand the country over." There was a fierce murmur of support. "Having buckled to this extent, we shall have to pay the price. We will have to work ten times as hard as if we had been ready to begin with." There were grave nods. "If the Bernians do not go home and stay there, we shall have to enforce a change of government."

There were cheers. Alexandra had to patiently explain that if that government was not successful, in a few years they would run out of food and jobs, and invade again.

"We should kill them all," said a particularly bloodthirsty fellow, Ivan. He grinned at Alexandra, but she frowned and stared him down.

"They are not all greedy, just like we are not all cowards! There are reasonable folks there, too! I must believe that some Bernians children are as innocent as Katie here! This is the problem; we must deal with both the poverty-stricken ones who collapse on the beaches, and the vicious ones who come shooting us right out of the boats."

"The vicious ones take advantage of the poorer ones," said Alana, eyes narrowed. "They have been put in a camp in the castle. We were told that they will have nothing to do with the Bernian Army. That proves that their hearts are with us!"

"Perhaps they will help with the defense," Alexandra said, not quite believing that it was possible.

Later that morning, they made contact with a fellow named Wolf came by. He had a great deal of information, and confirmed that one of the biggest priorities of the war ministry in Freiburg, as they called their capital, was the assassination of the Queen. They had been firmly convinced that the young Queen never left the capital, and had been mightily surprised at the fact that she was not in her chambers in the Palace.

"They searched every nook and cranny, Your Majesty, and the Palace is now secure, I'm told. But most of the staff has been sent home, since there was some infiltration." He went on to say that there were teams of Bernians all over, looking for Alexandra.

On the third day, there was a knock on the door, and Bernard was surprised to see Miriam at his doorstep.

"Well, well, well!" she said, laughing at the Queen, once she had been brought inside. "I see you've been scratched slightly on the hind-legs, you old horse!"

"Captain, please observe some decorum; I am held in some regard in this home!"

"No, I must enjoy your injury. It's what you get for ignoring me and riding off. You do remember?"

"Oh Mimi, forget about that. I have suffered a lot more than a scratched leg!"

"She killed twenty people!" announced Kate, with glee.

Miriam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Twenty?"

"Twenty-one," said Alana grinning. "We retrieved eighteen quarrels, all matching the ones she had on her bandolier, she shot four men with a pistol, and killed at least four with her sword! But Bernard shot five quarrels, and he might have accounted for five. So that leaves a minimum of twenty-one!"

Miriam was clearly impressed. "Aren't you the bloodthirsty one!"

"Where's her Highness?" asked Alexandra, coming to the point.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Scattering

It was late in the evening. Genny took one last look at the house that was so transformed from the gracious home it had been at one time. The lawn was all torn up by horse hooves, and there was an air of grimness over the place that had, at one time, stood for all that was pleasant and warm in the city. She smothered a sigh, and reluctantly stepped up and into the coach. It was the famous armored coach, and had two very small windows. Inside were the Gustafsons, and little Ingrid who was being dropped off at her own home. Life was getting to be too uncertain in the capital.

Alexandra had gone to the shore, and had been last seen riding west. Soon after, there had been an influx of between five hundred and one thousand enemy troops who had landed in boats. This was a major invasion, with a specially designed troop carrier, and it wasn't alone. There were rumors that seven ships had headed out of Freiburg, which was hard to believe. At any rate, there was a massive effort to find Alexandra and put the plan into motion. It was too late to get the lovebirds together for a last tearful farewell, so Genny had to head out with Sophie.

Sophie, seated across from Genny, was miserable. It felt all wrong to have all the support for Genny, and none for Alexandra. On the other hand, Alexandra had acted irresponsibly; she had it coming to her. Their small circle held this opinion, but as the Queen, of course, she had to be forgiven practically everything.

Their first stop was an old house a little north of the town, a mile or so from the Gustafsons'. The carriage was driven along a roadway with a hill on one side, and a wooded valley on the other. Genny and Sophie were let out, and they went up some steps, through a small lobby, into a room which seemed to be unoccupied.

"If we can get this thing working, it will be the best possible beginning!" Gustafson said, looking excited.

A man who lived close by came in, the doors were unlocked, and a machine started up in the basement of the building. "The generator!" said Gustafson, smiling.

Genny was led to a little room, and Sophie and her mother joined her.

"This has to be a good one," Trudy said, eyes bright. "Something like: Dear people of Norsland. We're under attack, and it seems this first enemy strike has been a moderate success. Our neighbors have chosen the very moment when we've just lost friends in the cataclysms of the north. This unprovoked attack will not go unpunished, etc, etc. Your beloved Queen and I are determined to lead you in a most determined resistance, and so on and so forth."

"I must write this?"

"Well, together, the three of us!"

Genny tried the pencil out, and got ready to write, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth.

"Dear citizens of Norsland."

She had a nice, formed handwriting in a classic, rather ornamental style. Once she started writing, the words seemed to flow, with no need for inspiration. When they read it at the end, Trudy was all smiles. She declared it a masterpiece. And it was all genuine. Not a word was faked, not an emotion. It was pure Genny.

The building was a broadcasting station; that is, it was used for a once weekly event, in which a play, or a speech, or a concert, performed in the main room of the station, into an enormous camera, appeared in hundreds of viewing screens in rooms across the country. It was called television, or TV, and was one of the most wonderful inventions of the old masters. The old system still worked; the hard part was providing suitable material to show. The man in charge called it programming. The weak link in the chain of technology was that the receiving equipment in homes and gathering-places all across the country was not in the very best state of repair. Announcements had to be planned days in advance, so that families could plan to watch the thing. Everyone would make sandwiches and head out to wherever the local TV box was housed, and watch the programming. Some of the boxes were tiny, about the size of a person's head, while others were larger, about the size of a person's chest. They were all old, and flickered, and there were so-called experts in every locality who claimed to know whether the cause of the flickering was the state of their own box, or the state of the equipment at the broadcasting site near Stefansberg.

By the time Genny was ready, there was around a dozen friends and supporters gathered around her. Wrapped up in the message, the young Princess was no longer aware of them as potential critics.

"I have to get this right in one attempt," she was saying to herself. She had begun talking to herself aloud earlier that night, and the more tired she got, the more she talked to herself. She stared at the sheets she held in her hands, and finally looked up. "What do I do now? I think I'm ready!"

Sophie was close by her as she was led into a brightly-lit room. There was a table and a beautiful chair, and heavy brown hangings behind it. She was asked to sit and face what was clearly a very elaborate camera. After she had gotten comfortable, a young woman came to her, and attempted to touch up her face. Genny started away, and insisted that she didn't need face color, and anyway, this wasn't the time for it. But they all insisted that she submit herself to the cosmetologist, and the young woman did as much as Genny grudgingly allowed her. She raised her enormous eyes to those who were around her, becoming more aware of them, and clearly a little intimidated. Her eyes found Sophie, and there was a subtle sense of relief, something in the mouth, the corners of the eyes. Without words she seemed to say that it was now or never. She was clearly exhausted, but Sophie also knew that the steel inside her would not allow her to make a mistake.

The fellow in the control room watched the monitors, his attention riveted on the face of the Princess. Her eyes had a hypnotic quality to them, and a face that could only belong to one who was wholly without deceit. If one wanted her to lie, she would have to believe that lie. He wanted more than anything for this broadcast to succeed. He began to speak into the microphone, and watched her start, and look around, seeking the owner of the voice. He identified himself, and where he was — across the glass partition, in the dark — and said that he was ready to record as soon as everyone but the Princess was off camera. "Look in the top corner; that's what the camera sees ... there it is. You don't have to leave, but please get off camera! Thank you. Anytime you're ready, Princess. Look into the camera now and then. I'm rolling the recorders — now."

He watched carefully as Genny's eyes found the camera. She sat up straight, took a breath, and spoke in a quiet, conversational voice.

"Dear fellow-citizens of Norsland. You may not all recognize me; I am your new Queen-consort. A few weeks ago I was married to your young Queen Alexandra, whom I had met when we were both young children. Suddenly, we are all faced with disasters, both natural, and human-caused. Our neighbors to the East, the people of Bernia, or at least their leaders, have seen our land as the answer to their economic problems.

"As I speak now, we have just begun to respond to an attack on our capital city, which is home to fifty thousand people. We, who have given up war for several hundred years, must now decide how to react to this external threat, as well as how to address the problems caused by the line of earthquakes that are burying several hundred square miles of the the central mountains. We cannot bury our heads in the sand. Our young people have been seen on the streets, helping to defend their homes. We have to decide how we will respond to these things as a people, and our response will be remembered for many years."

She elaborated on what needed to be done, what was being done, and how they would be kept informed. As she continued to speak, her voice became just a little firmer, her chin was just a little more determined, and there was just a little more steel in her eyes. At the end, she laid down her papers and gave a few last words of encouragement. "On behalf of your Queen, whose mate I am, and on whose behalf I speak to you, be strong, do not despair, keep well, give help where necessary, and keep in your memory what a noble homeland is yours. Do not let yourselves be destroyed! The Queen gives her love to you all! Good night, and may God be with you."

She kept her eyes on the camera several seconds, after which he cut the recording.

She was amazing. Finally, here was a real human being who came across the camera exactly the way she really was. She sat on that chair as if it were a throne, and in spite of the youth of the girl, there was a look of utter conviction in everything she said and did. And it came across if possible magnified by the camera.

The people in the studio had begun to cheer as soon as he had called it a take. The older folks put their heads into the control room and asked whether it could be aired immediately. Lord Gustafson, the one who had approached him initially, was eager to have it aired quickly. "She said good night, so it should be broadcast tonight. Word will spread, and you can broadcast it again as needed!"

He did not need authorization; he was essentially in control of programming even under normal conditions. And now, he need not wait for approval from anyone. Lord Horvald had approved the project in principle, and this was the Princess Consort, for heaven's sake!

He threw in the big generators, and they screamed to life outside, startling the ladies. He explained over the PA that it was just a large generator. He readied a title card, and made Gustafson read a brief introduction to the speech, off-camera. He cued the video, —he was that confident that it needed no editing— and began the broadcast. After the first few bars of a well-known hymn which served as a theme for the national broadcasting service, he faded in the last few bars of the national anthem, as instructed by Gustafson. The usual opening sequence was followed by the title slide with Gustafson's introduction — The following is a message to the nation recorded earlier today by Her Royal Highness Princess Genevieve, Princess Consort. Then he faded straight into the recorded video, and equalized the sound.

It was perfect. It was as though she was present in the room. Her recorded voice had just a hint of a lisp that was very endearing, and no hindrance to clarity at all. They were all clustered round the large monitor in the control-room, including the Princess herself, standing close to the door with Lady Sophie. It lasted barely nine minutes. As she watched herself in wonder, her face was transformed from showing curiosity to showing deep satisfaction, even pride. Young Lady Sophie, a great favorite in the capital herself, was beside herself with excitement. The man let them talk excitedly among themselves, and turned to look at his assistant and make-up artist, Lulu. She was all smiles. Suddenly the war did not seem so bad after all. They slowly powered down the generators after the pre-recorded broadcast wrap-ups had been run, and began making plans for new war-time segments for the various purposes of the government broadcasts that they could anticipate. Finally, at long last, there would be money for doing what they had wanted to do in peacetime.

Somehow, because of Alexandra being in Bernard's home, and organizing an all-volunteer home guard in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, few folk were thinking of TV as a source of entertainment in that south-west corner of the county. The more middle-class folks further inland, however, heard through the grapevine that there had been a broadcast on the night of the invasion, around two in the morning. The capital boasted several hundred TV sets, in contrast to smaller towns and villages, which often owned none of the sets at all, or just one. The speech was aired again the following morning, and then nightly for several days.

Alexandra saw it for the first time when she had been taken to the temporary headquarters of General Laura in a school building in the town of Luther's Creek, a few miles west of the capital. The school was the site of a major recruitment and training center. Fighters were pouring in to sign up and be issued papers and arms. The playground was now a training field, and various large rooms were being used for everything from sewing uniforms to recycling crossbow quarrels to cleaning guns and sorting ammunition.

Laura confirmed the rumors that Wolf had brought: hundreds had crossed into Norsland, cutting a swath of destruction in the north-east corner of the mainland, confident that they could establish a hold there because of the barrier caused by the subsidence and the earthquakes. An attack was needed over the northern sea, and it had to be done now, in the warmest weather, or it would be impossible once winter set in.

Miraculously, phone lines to New Hope were working, and Alexandra was able to appeal to King Frederick personally.

"I am ashamed to appeal to you at this time, Your Majesty. You have already given me so much ..." Alexandra paused to signal the others to leave. She was finding it hard to keep control. When she had some privacy, she spoke into the phone again. "You have given me so much, and now I'm asking ..."

"Nonsense, dear; what we can give is yours. How can we help? We can send you four troop-carriers with five hundred men in each, right away. Anything more?"

"Actually, that would be wonderful. We could use help with training; our own people are scattered, and our communications system is rather primitive, by your standards. Genny told me that you had working teleprinters."

"Yes; let me talk to Vincent, who knows more about those technical things. Hmm. That will take time, though, dear girl. It took us ten years, once the system broke down and we had to rebuild."

"We're digging in for a long fight, Uncle. We had almost completely demobilized."

There were sounds of worried sympathy over the line. It was almost as if the King was in the room with her, wondering how to help with such a backward neighbor, one which had shunned technology for decades. Patiently, biting down her embarrassment, Alexandra split her attention between Genny's willing father, and her own war staff, who really did not know what they wanted, and what they could use. Finally she had asked for enough of a list of things that she felt comfortable saying that it was enough. She promised that the country would repay in some form. Their relatively isolationist policies had made them weak economically. This war was going to commit them firmly to economic ties to a number of neighbors.

It was nearing noon, when there was a promise of a repeat of Genny's message. Alexandra kept reminding her people that she wanted to be sure not to miss it. Looking at the time, she simply walked out of the circle of people who kept asking her for advice on various minor details that they should have been able to handle themselves. She had seen the TV set in the dining hall, and she limped over there, trailed by General Laura and a couple of staffers. Laura was competent, but she had simply lost her confidence.

Alexandra found a chair as close as possible to the TV, and eased herself into it just as the standard opening sequence came on, with the usual theme music. Suddenly it was faded into the national anthem, and everyone in the room stood at attention, except Alexandra, who hoped she would be forgiven remaining seated. The national anthem was a paean of praise to the Queen, and for the first time since the coronation, Alexandra recalled that it was addressed to her. She sat with as much dignity as she could muster.

As soon as the music died away, an announcement appeared on the screen:

A special re-broadcast of a message from Her Royal Highness, Princess Genevieve, Consort to Her Majesty Queen Alexandra II, on July 9th, 759.

Essentially the same words were read over the slide, in the familiar, calm voice of John Gustafson. Then the screen faded into a shot of Genny, sweet, beloved Genny, seated in a simple wooden chair, against a backdrop of brown velvet.

Alexandra was mesmerized. It was now more than three whole days since she had last seen her consort and her mate, and her body was reacting powerfully. How brave she looked! Alexandra hung on her every word, but her mind still found time to remark Genny's appearance, her nobility, her regal bearing. Gordon, Alexandra thought, she's more of a Queen than I am.

As Genny spoke, starting very quietly, but now her voice gaining strength and conviction as she warmed to her theme, her sentences became a little shorter, more direct, punchier. She laid out what had to be done, and what would be going on all around the country.

"Generals Laura and Edward will be setting up training camps around the country. Everywhere, your fellow-citizens will be volunteering to join our freedom-fighters! We will feed the hungry. We will take care of our sick. Shelter will be found for all! We have been here for centuries, and when the waves of disruption wash away, we will still be here!"

It was a message of hope, and an outline of a plan. Above all, it was a vivid portrait of a girl who was not born a Norslander, but chose to be one, and who was proud to fight on behalf of her Queen.

A part of Alexandra's mind was pondering her own life as an individual, while the rest of her was still Queen, analyzing the potential effect of the broadcast. Someday, many years from now, she thought to herself, she would sit down across from Genny, at supper, surrounded by their children, and wondered at how long a process was falling in love. She had fallen in love with Genny on at least two different occasions. And here she was, doing it again. What did it mean, to fall in love? Alexandra felt a great loneliness, a feeling of being cheated of being with Genny. For the hundredth time she cursed herself for having run off, leaving Genny and poor, loyal Sophie to implement the plan that Gustafson had suggested. At least she would have had a few more precious hours with Genny. If they had chosen not to make love —and Alexandra was coming to be able to live without cleaving to Genny every night; circumstances had brought that about mere days ago— at least they could have held hands, or held each other, something! Above all, she longed for a sign, the slightest little hint, that Genny missed her as much as she missed Genny.

"Queen Alexandra will travel to our friendly neighbors, to obtain help and support for this campaign. When we succeed —and we will, do not doubt that— we will owe our lives and our freedom to our friends in Belgravia and New Hope. However, it is better to owe debts of gratitude to noble friends than to submit to viciousness and brutality. I know that if Queen Alexandra were here, she would tell you to keep up the fight, because help is on its way. I know you long to see her, as do we all. But we each have our tasks to perform, and cannot choose them to our satisfaction."

It was almost as if Genny had heard her thoughts! But it could have meant that Genny longed to see Alexandra no more than did her other subjects. Did she mean that Alexandra was being childish in resisting Gustafson's plan?

As the speech drew to a close, everyone watching was on the edge of their seats, and when it finally ended, there were cheers to raise the rafters. Ever since Alexandra had gathered Alana and her buddies and told them how it was going to be, she had had a sense that it was no longer the end of the world. After this message, which she would have expected everyone to have seen at least once already, she had the sense even more strongly that the country was getting ready to fight. Laura, who had sat next to her, was smiling for the first time in days. Mimi was shouting with delight at Genny's performance. Alexandra knew Mimi admired the consort, and was resigned to it.

Everyone ran off to their own work, leaving Alexandra and Laura alone for a minute. Laura had her hands cupped around her cheeks and she slowly shook her head.

"Your Majesty, I know what needs to be done in this stupid head of mine ... but I just can't seem to remember it. It is as if there is a block, a kind of mental paralysis. I need to snap out of this."

Alexandra had realized this already, but it was a vast improvement to see that Laura herself knew it.

"Why don't we go look at your maps?" she suggested.

"Maps?"

They were working their way to Laura's war room, such as it was. She was eager now; as if the jolt she needed had been delivered. Suddenly a shot rang out, and Laura staggered, hit in the arm.

"Down, down!" she cried, covering Alexandra with her body. Instantly there was answering fire, from the guards at the perimeter, shooting into a tree-crowned hillock past a cow pasture. Two more shots pounded into the wall over their heads before they made it into the shelter of the war room.

Laura was livid. Alexandra made her sit, and examined the wound. By the time the medic arrived, she had rolled up the sleeve, put a tight cord above the wound and cleaned around it, ready for removal of the bullet.

Alexandra was furious. The last thing they needed was to get Laura hysterical again. Luckily, Laura remained calm. But she was afraid for Alexandra. It was hard to say whether the sniper knew that the Queen was at headquarters, or whether it was an attack on the general. "I can deal with an attack, but you, no. We have to get you to safety!"

"But if I can help you get started with planning the defense ..."

Laura hardly winced at the bullet was extracted. She fixed Alexandra with her eye, and suddenly Alexandra realized that the real Laura was back. She meekly listened to the general, nodding occasionally. They would contact the TV broadcasting station, and find out how to contact Gustafson and Horvald. She would put together a re-organized army, promote a number of career officers to Lieutenant rank, and put a plan together. She needed a second rank of people who could implement strategy. That was the weakness in their chain of command.

By the following day, things began to happen. A message arrived for Alexandra to go to the Lodge. The ships arrived, and anchored off the mouth of the creek. The perimeter of the headquarters area was expanded, and the hillock was occupied. There were signs of several people having set up camp on the hill, and having evacuated in a hurry. A sentry post was established there, and barbed-wire fences put around the entire area.

Alexandra's leg was finally good enough for her to ride. Miriam suggested that they take just two others, with them. A company was sent ahead, to station themselves at intervals along the road. Once they were in place, Alexandra and Miriam would ride, as fast as they could. That way, there was help if they needed it.

All went according to plan. The messenger arrived back, saying that the watch was in place. Alexandra gave the General one last hug, and got onto the horse, and headed out with Miriam. The first night, they camped at the home of Lady Lena, in the hills of Jarvik, which had been Lena's family home for generations. The house was on a hill, with a good view of the surrounding country, and easily defended. Lena was at home, and welcomed the riders with a fierce grin.

"Captain! And little Alexandra! Oh, look at you ... what has become of us, eh?" The old lady had tears in her eyes, but quickly recovered. She was dressed in no-nonsense pants and a jacket, and looked far more hale than Alexandra remembered her. She had always been tall, but had been a little stooped of late. Now she stood ramrod straight. She held Alexandra out and looked her up and down. "They tell me you're going to New Hope, or somewhere. It's a secret. But we're on full battle readiness here. Marja is coming up shortly; she just went into Westhaven to enlist. What happened to you? You're limping!"

Over a good supper, Alexandra had to recount her little adventure, well spiced with additional details from Mimi, who had been drilled by Megan and Sara. Marja, Lena's niece who had joined them in time for lunch, was highly amused by the whole incident, and nearly choked on her leg of chicken. Marja was a feisty girl of around twenty. She was crazy about horses, and spent all her time in the family horse-ranch, training her beautiful Arabians and quarter-horses, which were beginning to win races down at the Stefansberg tracks. She questioned Alexandra about the encounter with the five Bernians, and her eyes took on a dangerous glint.

"I don't like any of it. You've been getting in the way of too much shooting. It makes for a great story, but it's very uncomfortable stuff. What do you think, Aunt?"

"Well, she's alive, and she took care of herself! That's all that matters!"

"Suppose she had been killed? She was shot at a half-dozen times, fought five or six men before she took a cut on her leg. Alexandra, I'd say you've used up all your luck. Who's next in line?"

"Actually, it might be Gustafson's oldest boy, who's studying in New Hope; Charles?"

"Oh! Is it Karl? Karl Gustafson? I met him this morning!"

Marja brightened. "Is he back? What's he doing?"

"He's here with the troops King Frederick sent. I had no idea he was in line to the throne! Neither does he, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, he wouldn't; John and Trudy have stayed uninvolved in that kind of thing. A pity; they're both really wonderful people."

"But my point was, Alexandra, if you keep getting in harm's way, Karl will have to drop out of university early!"

Alexandra blushed. "How terrible could that be?" she mumbled.

"It isn't that kind of terrible, darling," Lena said quietly. "The people have slowly warmed to you, after your wonderful mother's shocking, tragic death, and by all accounts they've been won over by your dear Genevieve, such a sweet child. If anything happens to you, it will just be, well, a cruel blow. Bernia is playing with fire, you know. Memories are long; once word gets around about all these attempts on your life, people will be aroused to fury. Bernians haven't really seen the anger of our people yet. We're don't get angry quickly, but once we start killing, it's hard to stop."

Marja licked up the last bit of potato on her plate with abominable manners and a toothy grin all round. She had prominent canines which made her look wolf-like and mischievous. The thought that she would be in harm's way made Alexandra very upset. It also was frustrating that everything she did would be measured against her duty to remain alive. She had long since realized that the risks she had taken while she was hunting the enemy down at the shore were unacceptable. But the constant harping on her actions was getting her down. She enjoyed the notoriety of having fought so well, but she was beginning to resent the accompanying criticism. Miriam was looking at her in a smug "I told you so" kind of way.

Marja's eyes had crinkled up in a smile of understanding. "I bet you didn't know this kind of scrutiny was going to be a regular thing!" Alexandra shook her head ruefully. "Just as well you took your chance! Now you can play the coward, and still point to that evening and say, huh, I did a little fighting too, when I had the chance!"

For a moment, Alexandra relived those mad moments. "Yes," she agreed, "I'm glad it happened the way it did. It gives one a different perspective on sending people out to fight a war. I couldn't live with myself if I hadn't killed someone with my own hands." Alexandra did not sound boastful. "I didn't realize what I had done until three of them were dead. The moment it hit home, I tripped and fell. That's when I got the cut on the leg."

Miriam nodded slowly. For the first time she recounted the story of her first killing. She had run to the aid of four army women facing a boat load of enemy troops, as was happening up and down the beach for miles. "My first stroke got my man in the leg, and then I finished him with my second." She looked ill. "That was the hardest moment. I killed four more, but that first one ..." She shook her head. Alexandra wondered, trying to imagine the happy, cheerful, playful woman killing five men. She seemed unchanged in any way, but the marks were all invisible, deep inside her. And just as easily she could have died. Alexandra closed her eyes, repulsed by the thought. She would rather be killed herself, than have Miriam touched by an enemy sword.

"You're white as a sheet," Marja remarked helpfully, looking at Alexandra.

"Doesn't it bother you, all this killing?"

Marja looked right into her eyes, and the playfulness was gone. "It will," she said, "when I do it. Maybe I won't handle it as well as you have."

Lena let out a long, shuddering breath. "I've seen battle. I was a kind of berserker, you know. They pulled me out of the lines and put me with the artillery. I handled that a little better."

"What do you mean, berserker, Aunt Lena?"

"I used to run up and down the lines, screaming and waving my pike around. It was very dangerous, because everyone had guns."

"Didn't you get hit?"

Lena shook her head. She had been charmed, but no one had wanted to take any more chances. She had been sent out of the hand-to-hand fighting, but of course, the enemy artillery were trying to put their gun out of commission, so they frequently had to take shelter. One time, after the enemy had retreated, they had seen a place that they'd hit. There were four men dead. That was in the old days, where they buried them. "Nowadays, I have no idea what they do."

"Yeah, we bury them," Miriam said quietly. "If some people hadn't hurt their legs, they'd probably have had to come out and help with the burials!"

"Oh Mimi," Alexandra groaned, as Miriam and Marja chuckled together.

The next morning Alexandra hugged Lena and Marja, and headed off with Miriam and her two guardsmen at a steady trot. Mile after mile went by under their horses' hooves, and around noon they passed the two men stationed midway between Jarvik and the Lodge. Late in the afternoon they saw the turnoff to the village, and the Lodge. When they alighted, they saw a carriage, and Sophie was waiting.

Genny had been struck dumb when soon after her second broadcast, the Gustafsons had approached her and said that it made the best sense to send Sophie out to accompany Alexandra to Belgravia. "Her Majesty has been found. She got into a fight on the shore, and has been taken to General Laura's headquarters at Luther's Creek. She's recovered from a little cut on her leg that made it hard to walk." This meant that the second part of the plan could proceed.

They had slept for two nights out in a cabin belonging to Lord Egon Knutson. That night when they went back to the cabin, Genny and Sophie held each other tight, as if they would never see each other again. Genny was so sure of it, Sophie had come to believe it too. "I just know it," Genny had said in a calm, quiet voice. "One of us will die. Or we will never meet again." In vain Sophie tried to convince her that she, Sophie, had a gift for these things, and she clearly saw Genny, a mature forty-five, with children all round her, looking far from dead. But a weird fatalism had overtaken Genny.

She came to Sophie's bed, wearing the impregnation device. She gravely explained how it worked, and said that if Sophie used it on Alexandra, there was a chance that Alexandra would be impregnated with Genny's child. "At least she can continue the line," she finished. Sophie had cried out of sheer frustration and despair, and they had clung together, sharing their misery.

"Does it hurt?" Sophie had asked.

"At first, yes," Genny had said. "Something has to split inside you."

"Oh, that," Sophie had said, dismissing it.

"Come one, let's get this over with."

"Sophie! You're supposed to ... you're supposed to enjoy this! The two women are supposed to be in love, and to really want it!"

"What if Alexandra gets pregnant with my child?"

"What does it matter? What if you get pregnant with my child? If you can live with that, I will be satisfied!"

"That would be wonderful!" Sophie had said, and meant it.

It had made all the difference.

Genny tightened all the straps, and focused, settling herself into the device which, of course, penetrated deep into Genny's body, too, collecting any ova she might have in her tubes. That was its primary task. Genny held the rod in her hand, much as a man would caress his penis as he advanced on his woman, and Sophie spread her legs, desperately wishing she had more to offer. Genny looked utterly erotic, her full, young breasts thrusting out from the slim body, her rounded arms silky and inviting, her flared hips full of promise. Her legs, too, were beautiful; proportional to the rest of her, and tapering into perfect ankles. She still had that layer of soft fat that gave her the smoothness that neither Alexandra nor Sophie had any more. Truthfully, Genny and Sophie made an odd pair, Sophie thin and delicate, with a head a little too large for her body, and long slim fingers, the fingers of the artist that Genny wanted to be.

"Come here," Sophie commanded softly. She moved from her bed to stand beside an armchair. "Sit here!"

Genny, already distracted by the discomfort of the thing she was wearing, looked at her in confusion. Sophie gently seated her, and turning to face her, gently lowered herself onto the phallus. "There," she breathed, as it slipped in without trouble. She was seated on Genny's lap, her weight balanced on her arms, which gripped the arms of the chair. Her legs slipped around Genny, until she was poised with Genny's face looking up at hers as understanding dawned.

"Lower yourself, I can bear your weight, love," Genny breathed.

Sophie allowed herself to settle into Genny's lap, and they embraced.

Because of the thing that bored into her, it was a close embrace, and they sighed, because they were in love, and it was a night for embracing. Sophie opened her eyes, to watch Genny; the touch of Genny's soft little hands on her breasts was pure pleasure. With sure instinct, Genny used her thighs to support Sophie, and with all the means at hand she made love to her tenderly, ignoring the machine inside them both. The pleasure they wanted this night was different; desire was gone from them both. It was as if they were drinking a cup of poison together, though only parting lay before them.

"How long must we keep it in?" Sophie asked, finally, impatient. "Obviously, it has nothing to do with me. What little pleasure I might have got from it is absent, under the circumstances."

Genny closed her eyes and nodded. "True," she said. "It isn't a night for ... passion; what we need is comfort, and tenderness. I wish it had a light, or a dial, or something ..."

Sophie rested her cheek against Genny's. "One day we will all three be together. I know it. We only must believe long enough, and you must keep your love alive long enough." She pushed herself away to look Genny in the eye. "How can you convince the people that we will win, if you don't believe you will be back with Alexandra very soon?" She carefully rose off Genny's lap. She had felt absolutely nothing; she had expected to be thrilled beyond anything she had felt before, but it had only been discomfort.

Genny unstrapped the thing, carefully wiped it clean, and put it away according to instructions. Then they dressed, lay down together, held each other close, and tried to fix each other's faces in their minds. Tonight Sophie was doing most of the talking. She could feel the hopelessness in Genny, and it was her way to feel more strongly than the one to whom she was reacting, in this case her love, Genny. After talking desperately for an hour, while Genny replied in monosyllables, Sophie conceded defeat, and wept.

"Don't cry," Genny said softly, stroking Sophie's tear-streaked cheek.

"I only want you to be happy!" Sophie sobbed.

"Dear, sweet Sophie," Genny said, smiling, ignoring her tears. "I chose well, didn't I! How many men, how many women have the sense to choose a treasure like you, Sophie?"

"I am nothing," Sophie cried. "Look at you! You are ... everything! You are incredible!"

Genny's smile faded, and she looked sadly into Sophie's eyes.

"Would you still love me if I was not so incredible?"

"I don't know ... perhaps if you lost your beauty, and your intelligence, and your loving nature, I would not love you any more. But then," Sophie wiped her cheeks impatiently, "it would not be you, and I really wouldn't care."

"Well ... some things are going to change once you leave, Sophie. I will go on, because I must. This is what the country needs from me. Not to be brave, not to be eloquent. That's easy. But to be without you, love."

Silently, Genny removed a ring she had worn since she was twelve, and had paid a visit to a large store, one of her first visits out of her home, in the company only of guards and a maid. She had paid money for it, a silly trinket that schoolgirls pick up. It only fit her little finger. She solemnly gave it to Sophie. Sophie offered her finger. And so they celebrated their pledge of love, with a little ring. They were exhausted now, not from work, but from feeling too greatly. Sophie's parents found them fast asleep together, when they came later that night to talk to them. And so they left them alone.

Sophie left early the following day in the armored carriage, all alone except for the driver. It was well sprung, and had rubber tires, which made it quite comfortable to ride in. But it was a long ride, and disconcertingly close to some of the line of mountains that were still spewing black smoke.

Genny had been a little cataclysm all by herself. She had refused to get out of bed even to see Sophie off. Sophie sincerely hoped that she would put herself together in time to speak to her first live audience. They were planning to visit Bethlehem, a town very close to the mountains, one of the largest towns in the country, the home of the largest steel-producing plants, where Genny would address the townspeople. It was imperative that Genny did a good job on that speech. General Laura's staff was sending a recruiter, as well as a team who would help hire both older children and older men and women to work in the factories, to release young adults into service in the army.

The carriage was left completely alone; there were no snipers, no bandits; there was no sign that a war was getting under way. They ate while they moved, only pausing to rest and feed the horses. It was light duty, with only one small girl inside, and one driver. But on the upgrades, the weight of the metal armor made hard work for the horses.

By nightfall they were there. Lena, the young warden, hurried out to meet her, and Sophie greeted her with pleasure. She explained as much as she could, and Lena filed it all away in that remarkable head of hers. She led Sophie inside, and within minutes had started a nice meal for them both.

"I'm no great cook," she said, self-deprecatingly, "I wish mistress Frida were here, or even Elly."

"I could go fetch them; I'm sure Gerda will accompany me!"

Lena grinned. "Normally I would simply yell for them!" Sophie indicated that she should go right ahead. She closed her ears as Lena stepped outside and let out a howl that must have been heard for a mile around. There was a call back down the hill, and a few more back and forth. Sophie showed herself, and there, far away was a tiny figure at the edge of the pasture, bent over laughing at the sight of Sophie with her ears covered.

Soon Elly and little Beate were down, helping with the meal.

"I imagined that your family would have moved down the hill by now," Sophie remarked, as she sat and watched them.

"We were planning to do so, Lady Sophie," Elly smiled. "Lena and I will marry on Sunday, and then we move!"

"Oh, congratulations!"

"We've already started repairs and improvements on the house, Lady Sophie. But most of it will have to wait. When we are married, I plan to enlist."

"I see." The joy went out of all their faces. "That does make sense."

It was a satisfying meal. While they were eating, two horsemen rode up, and having greeted Sophie and the warden, one of them headed back. The one who remained behind, a tough-looking woman in her late teens, explained that they had left a line of men along the road the Queen was to travel the following day. Sophie nodded. It was an imaginative plan. They offered the servicewoman a place at the table, but she refused politely; they had eaten on the way. Lena showed her the rooms kept for guards in the carriage-house.

The next day was all waiting. Beate and Lena were good company, while Elly did some chores at the farm and headed up to the house on the hill. They had already started raising chickens, who were beginning to walk around, pecking at their feed. Beate loved the chickens, a few weeks old now, and Sophie could imagine the thoughts going on in that little head, as she turned and grinned at Sophie. Watching chickens eat was as good as anything.

"Is there a TV set in the village?" Sophie asked the little girl.

"Oh, there is one in the Farm, Lady Sophie. No one has watched it for a long time."

"Haven't you seen the Princess talking on the TV?"

"Oh, no, I haven't ... I don't believe anyone has?"

"There is a broadcast every day in the morning, at noontime, and in the evening. It is about time for the noon broadcast."

"I will take you to it, Lady Sophie. We shall need cloths, to clean it off."

They really did. It was a nice old TV, one of the largest she had seen. They cleaned off the thin layer of grime that covered it, found batteries for it, and settled down to wait.

When the broadcast began, the reception was atrocious. Just then Lena happened along.

"You've found the TV? It needs to have the antenna connected."

The powered antenna made a huge difference. Though the battery of the antenna was almost dead, the reception was improved tenfold.

Sophie looked intently at the beloved face of Genny.

"Dear friends, once again I would like to inform you about some things that have taken place, and to encourage you in your own fight against our invaders.

"Queen Alexandra, when I spoke to you last, had departed suddenly, and we did not know where she had gone, only that she had headed towards the shore. Since then we have learned that she found herself fighting a boatful of invaders with the help of two young girls and a friend, and together they accounted for nearly twenty lives! The spirit of resistance is alive and well. There are stories of fierce fighting all along the coast, and news of citizens organizing together to keep watch, share information, and keep neighborhoods safe.

"The Queen is safe and well. Already, as many of you know, King Frederick of New Hope, my father, has sent several ships and fighting men. The Queen will ask for yet more. The armed forces are gaining strength at the rate of several hundred a day at each recruitment point.

"While the army gains strength, and our soldiers fight, others, like you and I, must fight in our own way. Often in war, loved ones are parted, sometimes never to meet, sometimes to be joyfully reunited; only time reveals what is in store for us. No one is too old, or too young to fight!"

Sophie found her blood boiling as Genny kept up her war of words. She was getting better and better at this. She mixed information with new ideas, calls to patriotism, family values, everything. If it wasn't Sophie's father's invention, it was at least a brilliant rediscovery.

The information about Alexandra's exploits was all new. It was because of the fact that there had been so much penetration of the coastal areas that Sophie had originally planned the trip that would take them over the foothills to Skree, where they could take ship across the ocean to Belgravia. The inland villages were difficult to penetrate, and foreign spies would stick out like a sore thumb.

Genny had cleverly woven in a reference to Sophie. The line about having to part with loved ones was a sardonic reference that could not be mistaken.

Genny was coming to a close. "The enemy in Freiburg expects that life has come to a standstill here. Certainly, our lives have changed. But our best revenge is to live well. We must continue to work, to live, to love, to take care of our children in defiance of them. So, on behalf of my Queen, I call you to keep fighting! Good night, and God bless you all!"

"Oh, my word!" Lena was stunned. "I cannot believe any of it!"

Sophie looked at her, puzzled. "I gather not a lot of news comes down here?"

"Oh, there is some, certainly," she said, and hurried to bring a thin newspaper. It consisted of a single folded sheet, packed with war news. It was dated two days ago, and there was a small notice that there were broadcasts planned. There were few photographs, since there were few cameras around. "But I mean, what Queen Alexandra has been up to, and the little — the consort, Lady Genny! I can hardly believe she can talk like that, and she's only a slip of a girl!"

"They're both only slips of girls," Sophie said, bemused. "And I'm younger still."

Lena heaved a long sigh, and leaned back against the wall. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," said Sophie, and Lena's eyes grew wide.

"And you have to go to talk the Belgravians into giving us the help!" Sophie nodded slowly. She herself did not have to do much. But it could happen that way. "It will be a cruel war," Lena said, looking at the floor. "When it is over, you will have lost your youth." She shook her head, slowly, her face showing great pity. "When I was your age, I was so happy, I never thought of anything but avoiding work, laughing, joking with my friends!"

Sophie kept her face expressionless. She thought of Genny, and she knew if she tried to say anything, she would be in tears very quickly. They stood and sadly headed down to the Lodge. She felt grateful to Lena for her kind words. Lena was a decent woman, and her restrained support was just right for the occasion. A little more sympathy, and it would have been disastrous.

Beate and Sophie played Hop-Scotch in the afternoon, walked up to visit the sheep, and saw the Queen riding in late in the afternoon. They headed down the hill, hurrying to be in time to greet the Queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sophie learns the Crossbow

Alexandra hurried into Sophie's outstretched arms. Miriam came round and put her arms around them both in a more restrained greeting. Sophie turned to the smiling captain and greeted her with a smile and a few words. Mimi always made Sophie feel happy with her good cheer and her even-tempered nature.

"We saw Genny's noon broadcast!"

"From all the way here?" Alexandra exclaimed, pausing to smile at young Beate, and to put her hand on her shoulder affectionately.

"Yes! So what's all this about killing twenty-six enemy?"

Mimi let out a peal of laughter, and Sophie observed Alexandra's sour face and concluded that, perhaps, this story was getting a little old.

"Let's go inside," said Sophie, hauling Alexandra and Mimi along into the large sitting area of the Lodge. Lena came to greet them and welcome them, and Elly hung back in the pantry, smiling a silent welcome. Beate stood by Sophie, clearly delighted to have company once again. She had already asked where Katie was, and been told —to her immediate disappointment— that the young lady in question was not going to be there. Drinks were brought, and the framed portraits of the Queen and her Consort, widely available in a color print, duly admired. Mimi had not lost the opportunity to promise Lena a portrait of herself to be hung in a more suitable place.

Mimi, seeing that Alexandra was reluctant to describe the incident on the beach, launched into the version she knew. She kept most of the hyperbole out of it, but what was more interesting to Sophie was that she knew all the principals.

"Our Sara and Megan?"

"Yes indeed," confirmed Alexandra. "I did not recognize them as quick as you would have. I tell you, it was dark, very dark. And the lamps being turned on and off like that, that in itself was frightening."

Miriam nodded vehemently. "That ultimately worked to our advantage, but it would probably have helped to keep them all on the entire time."

"And what were they doing, running about in the dark at that hour, with the enemy invading?"

Alexandra made a gesture of exasperation. "I still cannot understand it. It is as if they can do what they want, those two." Mimi nodded agreement. "Sometimes Sara's family call her home — I don't know how, but they do. But most of the time, they are there. They are precisely where there is the most danger!"

As Miriam continued the story, Sophie and Beate listened, wide-eyed. Miriam had learned enough details by now to give a full account. When Bernard entered the narrative, there were gasps of recognition all round. Bernard was a peaceable man, and the thought of him battling the mechanism of a crossbow filled them all with as much dismay as Alexandra might have felt that night. It had just so happened that she had been out of her mind with the pressures of the moment.

"Our Bernard?" cried Sophie and Lena together.

"Yes, indeed," laughed Miriam. "You might have suspected he lived thereabouts!" She continued the story, and it took the better part of an hour to tell it all.

Then it was Sophie's turn. Her story was told a little more baldly, since much of what took place was in her heart, and in the heart of Genny. She had known that the time would come when she would have to give a report of it, portraying Genny's thoughts and feelings in such a way that Alexandra could understand Genny's decisions, and still take comfort that she had not been forgotten. But Sophie found herself improvising. And the picture of Genny that emerged was one that seemed somewhat cynical.

"She is focused on writing the messages each day," Sophie said, trying her best not to let her guilty feelings show too much. It was certainly true, as far as it went. How a girl of seventeen could do that without emotional support would be a mystery to another girl of that age. "While I was there, I did the best I could to encourage her," Sophie admitted, fully expecting Alexandra to see the truth in her eyes. But Alexandra only nodded encouragement. "The plan was to head for Bethlehem last afternoon, as soon as the noon broadcast was over."

"How was the drive here?"

"Uneventful. We didn't stop anywhere. No snipers, nothing. I was completely ignored."

"Alexandra was shot at, at headquarters," Miriam said in a flat voice.

Sophie gasped. A sniper seemed that much more dangerous than an encounter with swords and crossbows and such. Her face turned red. "Do they hate you that much? I don't understand this!"

"Nobody understands it, love," Alexandra said in a tired voice. Little Beate had covered her mouth in alarm, and watched the older girls with wide, staring eyes. It was a cruel lesson about war. "If I had it my way, I would be glad to find what was best for the Bernians, as well as for us!" Alexandra cried, a thought that had been seething in her mind for days, but never expressed. "That sounds as if I want Norsland to annex Bernia, but that is not the case! If we put our resources together, and share our problems, it is common sense that things become easier for all!"

"That may be," said Lena, in a dry tone, "but if you were to say it, make no mistake that it would be mistaken for ambition, Your Majesty. It is one thing to welcome refugees here. It is quite another to offer your leadership to the enemy people. I don't know much of such things, but I'm guessing."

"You're right, Lena," Sophie admitted. "Especially a country that has been misled for so long."

"Indeed," said Lena, shaking her head. "I only feel pity for them. But now they have to be fought."

Lena sat awhile after supper, talking with Alexandra. Alexandra found that there were two categories of people, as far as her their ability to interact with her. A small minority simply contented themselves with being polite and waiting for instructions. They were, by and large, very uncomfortable with addressing her as anything but her full title, or as much of it as they could recall. The rest, including her present companion, Lena, seemed willing to put aside the differences in their respective ranks, and to express their candid opinions. This had been true all her life; from the nobles down to the servants, as well as the people she encountered in her limited excursions into the city and the countryside. The only difference had been that the ones who were cautious and formal with her had been in the vast majority in earlier times. But as she grew older, she seemed to have acquired a reputation for never punishing anyone for hurting her feelings.

Sophie was on pins. Beate had been escorted home by her older sister, and now Sophie had only her guilt for company. It hurt very much that when she had seen Alexandra once more, she had been reminded of how much she loved the young Queen, too. She was acutely sensitive to every little detail of expression in Alexandra's face, and to the educated eye, her face was a picture of constantly varying, subtle, complex, sometimes contradictory emotions. They were present in layers; to a stranger, an outer layer of polite attention; to her acquaintances: more subtle ways of reading her opinion on most public matters. But to Sophie, there were huge signposts that told her the thoughts that kept nagging at Alexandra's inner mind, the loneliness, the fear, the uncertainly, the anxiety, the impatience, the outrage, the inability to express her affection honestly and openly for even such harmless objects as little Beate. Even Sophie had been surprised at Alexandra's restrained response to the pleasure with which the child had greeted her.

Sophie simply could not help following Alexandra around like a puppy. She tried to stay put in the lodge as Alexandra headed out to the cottage, but suddenly realized that Alexandra would like her there; she was the closest thing to a valet that Alexandra had, and putting away Alexandra's things was something that she did better than anyone. She burst into the cottage awkwardly, and was greeted with a warm smile by the young queen.

"I see you've taken your old room. I think I'm most comfortable in this one," Sophie said, indicating the room in which Genny had slept. Genny's fragrance still seemed to linger there, but it had been well aired, and it had to be Sophie's imagination. Sophie quickly took charge of putting things away, and making the bed the way Alexandra preferred it. She began a conversation about inconsequentials, but in the way of such things with her, it died. Alexandra prowled around the cottage, exploring it. There were various odd items of furniture, and curios and knickknacks there that she had never noticed, and Alexandra brought them out for Sophie to see. They kept running into each other, causing Sophie so much embarrassment that Alexandra began to be over-cautious.

When Alexandra suggested that they return to the Lodge for a nightcap, she said she'd prefer to stay, but then, unable to bear not knowing whether she had aroused the Queen's suspicious with her behavior, she hurried down to the Lodge anyway. The Queen was chatting with Miriam about something quite innocent. Either the Queen was blind, or she was being very cautious indeed, Sophie thought. She had made enough of a fool of herself to knock anyone in the head.

"Oh, dear child, you are a bundle of nerves," said Miriam, surprising Sophie. In her preoccupation, she had completely forgotten about her. "It can't be easy, being thrown into the middle of this disaster." Miriam was a little older than the others, around eighteen, Sophie figured, but she had a relaxed, kindly air that belonged with someone older still.

Sophie thanked her with her eyes, and murmured something inaudible.

"But she manages far beyond anyone's expectations," Alexandra said, regarding Sophie with grave eyes. "It could not have been easy living with Genny, though honestly Genny is very considerate. I sometimes despair of making her express her frustration. She holds it in tight, at least when I'm around." Alexandra said this staring at the floor. Then she looked up at Sophie once more, and added, "with you she is more relaxed. I used to resent that, but it took her a long time to figure me out, I think now. I tend to hold things in, so she did, too."

"But you're an open book to anyone who knows you," said Miriam, seriously.

Alexandra grinned, and Sophie smiled to see the delight in it. "Am I, really? I wonder, is that a good thing?"

"Good for Genny and you, at least!"

Alexandra laughed. She had a lovely laugh, Sophie thought. Her voice was completely out of character with her body, Sophie felt, assessing them objectively. Alexandra was built like an amazon, tall and broad-shouldered, but her voice was a clear soprano, higher than even Sophie's, the voice of a sweet, defenseless woman. And when she sang, it was higher still. In the last several weeks it had dropped somewhat, because of the need to express grave opinions all the time as forcefully as possible. But as long as she lived, she would never have the voice of an army commander.

The other two decided to go watch the broadcast again, and Sophie was left to her own thoughts once more. All sorts of things made her upset. Should she have asked to sleep in the Lodge? Did it sound as if she was courting the Queen's company in bed? And, most of all, how was she to deliver Genny's package consisting of the awful impregnation device, and make the offer Genny had insisted that she make? It had seemed a plausible thing at the time, but they had been in bed, and Sophie hadn't been thinking clearly. Now, as the time drew close, Sophie's mind rebelled against it, repulsed at the very idea. She had hated being impaled on the horrid thing, even when it was Genny who was doing it, Genny, her love, the one for whom Sophie was willing to do anything in the world. The very thought of laying Alexandra down and entering her made her sick. She hunched over in misery, covering her face with her hands. She knew more than ever, now that she had seen Alexandra, that Alexandra needed her far, far more than she had suspected while she was still in the carriage, traveling. Alexandra, for all her apparent aloofness, was not a stoic, solitary soul. It warmed Sophie's heart to recall the look on Alexandra's face as she had seen and recognized her. It had been one of utter relief and pleasure, relief so great it seemed to have surprised even Alexandra herself. Sophie had become Alexandra's right hand, and Alexandra had not realized why she felt so much at a loss when Sophie was not around.

"They're coming back," announced Lena from the nether regions of the Lodge. She had an uncanny sense of what was needed, in this case, warning.

Alexandra walked in, and Sophie could tell from the sound of her footsteps how excited she was.

"That was brilliant!" she exclaimed to Sophie, her eyes wide. "It was even better than the other one I saw!"

"Was it the one about you?" Sophie asked, amused.

"Yes! How well she—she reduced it ..."

"She sort of summarized it!"

"..Yes, summarized it, I should say! And how she used it to make a point! Without an ounce, an iota of exaggeration, giving all credit where it was due! Anonymous credit, but still, a public acknowledgment! Oh, I am so pleased for Katie and Megan, and Bernard!"

"Your friend of the militia, what was her name ..."

"Alana!"

"...Alana, now, she could have used being mentioned by name!"

Alexandra and Miriam both disagreed vehemently. They said it would have made the other leaders envious.

They sat talking about Genny for more than an hour. At first Sophie felt so afraid that she could hardly keep from shaking in her guilt. But gradually she realized that she could be relatively honest about Genny, as long as she avoided talking about what happened in the nights.

"You miss her already," said Miriam, smiling at Sophie, and Alexandra nodded grave agreement. And Sophie had to nod too, because there was no denying it.

"Well, it's been a long day," said Miriam, yawning hugely. She got up, stretched herself thoroughly, twisting about this way and that, and walked over to Sophie and held out her hand. Sophie found herself being hauled to her feet. "Goodnight, Lady Sophie," said Miriam, giving Sophie a good long hug. She realized that Miriam had felt her tension and her sadness, and though she couldn't understand the reasons, wished her only the best. She had become a great favorite with a vast number of people, and she wondered what would happen if they knew her dirty little secret. But she was grateful for the hug, and relaxed into it. "Sleep well!" said Miriam, and gave her a sisterly kiss on her cheek. Sophie smiled and nodded.

"Sophie," Alexandra began as they slowly climbed the little path to the cottage. There were guards all around; the ones on the road had made their way to the Lodge, and they were hidden as far away as the sheep pasture. The place was simply crawling with them. Lamps had been hung everywhere. "Sophie, we're going to be together for god-knows how long," she began. Sophie matched her pace to Alexandra's slow crawl, and nodded. "You must know you are of the Royal Family; did you know this?" Sophie puzzled over that, and shrugged. "The next in line to the throne, evidently, is your older brother, newly returned from New Hope."

"Karl!"

Alexandra smiled at her, and put her arm around Sophie, and nodded. "But you have been so kind to me all these weeks. I have treated you as if you were a body servant. I'm ashamed of that fact."

"Alexandra, I've only done things that I was not ashamed to do. I don't see why you need to be ashamed."

Alexandra's voice became suddenly rough. "I would not be ashamed if you had been my sister. I tell myself, in fact, Sophie is my sister. The sister I have wished a thousand times that I had, but did not. That makes my burden much lighter."

"Sure, Alexandra; that's how I feel, too!" she said, smiling. Oh, what an enormous lie! Still, it would have been a good description of Alexandra's side of their relationship, except for the occasional sexual overtones that had crept in.

"It makes me more ashamed for ... some of the things I subjected you to."

"It was Genny! You were always most considerate. Relax, Alexandra; I'm here, you can stop worrying." It reminded her that Alexandra had seen them in bed together, so things were not so bad. Alexandra knew that Genny sought Sophie out when she was disturbed.

"God give me strength to treat you with the respect you deserve, Sophie. And I'll need it for a long time."

Alexandra's high voice carried in the night air. She knew this, and was speaking very low. They separated as they came to the cottage, because there was a line of lamps around it, and a guard walking round it, very alert. He came to attention as they passed, and Alexandra thanked him. She asked him to be alert, and be safe. He was no good to her if he were to put himself in danger. He dropped his eyes and smiled, and nodded.

Once they were inside, and gone to the hall into which the bedrooms opened, Alexandra paused in front of her door, and came to Sophie once more.

"I need a hug for the night," she said simply. "I can barely stand it, without Genny another night! Seeing her has this effect on me; it reminds me of what I had! Oh Sophie!"

They hugged a long, long time, and Sophie felt deeply sorry for her, even as she felt her pulse racing, and felt her body longing to let Alexandra know exactly what it wanted of her.

That night Sophie tossed and turned, and at times she was certain that Alexandra would appear at her door. At other times she imagined Genny was with her. It all kept Sophie from sleeping soundly. But when she woke up to the sound of birds, and a distant rooster, and after she had washed in the little stream, and dressed, she went into Alexandra's room. (She had been given that privilege long ago; it was the fact that made it seem as if Sophie was a body servant.) Alexandra lay naked, deeply asleep, her legs wrapped around her pillow. I must remember to give her a second pillow, Sophie thought to herself. She looked among Alexandra's clothes and found clean riding-clothes. If all went according to plan, women from Skree would arrive that morning, to help escort them to the sea.

Alexandra awoke at the sound of Sophie moving about, and covered herself. She looked shamefaced.

Sophie smiled, her affection for the Queen temporarily eclipsing all other concerns. "I should have washed your clothes last night," she reproached herself. "I will do it tonight when we stop!"

Alexandra leaped out of bed, disregarding her nakedness. "We had better do it now, Sophie. The water of Skree leaves clothes hard to wear."

Sophie quickly handed Alexandra a loose smock, and they headed out to the stream with the washing, but fortunately they were spotted by Lena, and told that there was a laundry in the Farm, at which the clothes could be washed more conveniently. The two of them headed out to the Farm, and were shown the laundry by the smiling Frida. "Let me wash these for you, my Queen," she offered, but refusing any help, the two girls began to wash.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Sophie, when they were alone.

"You must have guessed that I did, in the state you found me in. We have no secrets, Sophie; if I tried to act the saint, you would only laugh!" Sophie giggled. "And you?" asked Alexandra.

"Not a wink," Sophie admitted, honestly. "It was a bad night. I will be terrible company on the road. Ah, here comes our escort!" she exclaimed, looking out the window.

Alexandra leaned out to see, and there were an entire contingent of her cousins from Geneva, led by Elke, with Baby tagging along at the end. (Actually, Baby was a solid fourteen-year-old, as different from Megan and Sara as it was possible to be.)

The clothes were squeezed out as dry as it was possible to get them without harming the fabric, and put in large mesh bags that Lena lent them. They were to be hung on their backs, to dry as they rode.

They were reunited with the island women with much affection. Kirsten sought Sophie out, and greeted her as if there was something special between them. Sophie was bemused by the fact that Kirsten felt that way. Her glances were not quite coquettish, not quite flirtatious, but Sophie got the clear sense that Kirsten thought of her a great deal.

"I'm so glad to see you safe, Sophie!" she said, with Baby standing close, gazing at the two of them, as if to decide whether there was something going on. "Terrible things are happening!"

"Truly," Sophie agreed. "It was good of you to come!"

"But of course. Did you know that our island was attacked? Our home was attacked!"

Sophie was stunned. "Why?"

"I don't know, nobody knows! They seem to hate our entire family!"

"Alexandra was shot at."

"Was she?" Kirsten looked grim. "I'm not surprised! I hope we can keep you safe on the way down. But against a sniper, what can we do?" They stared at each other, feeling bewildered by these things. Then Kirsten smiled, and suddenly hugged Sophie. "Oh, it's so fine to see you!"

"Likewise," murmured Sophie, grinning. Seeing Baby grinning at her too, she impulsively hugged her too, and got a nice hug back, and a giggle.

"I had decided to teach you fighting when I saw you again, but it's probably not going to happen this time," said Kirsten seriously. "If you're to guard Cousin Alexandra, you have to have a minimum of skill."

Sophie's face fell. It was nothing but the obvious truth, though it would have been stretching the facts a great deal to describe what Sophie did as guarding Alexandra. Nevertheless, she said she would be ready at any moment if there was an opportunity. The other two girls agreed vehemently that they should try.

Everybody got ready, Miriam and the Lodge folks said farewell to Alexandra and Sophie and to the Islanders, and the party set off. They were to reach the Island in time to sail on Monday. There was one extra day, and Elke said they should stay the night at a village they passed on the way up. She was of the opinion that being in too much of a hurry would draw attention to them. "I kept a lookout all the way here," she said as they rode, "and I asked at every stop. There's no sign of anyone suspicious around here. No thefts, nothing. So the hill country, at least on this side, is clear, as far as we can tell."

Then they were off. Sophie was put between Baby and Kirsten, who kept her laughing most of the time. They laughed at everything, including the Bernians, whom they considered to be louts of the worst kind. They were all men, to begin with, and their motives seemed pathetically confused. They seemed to think that the death of the Queen would result in the fall of the government, a sad misapprehension of the nature of a monarchy. Baby was scornful of them for that reason. "We would be sad, but we would be so angry. And the fighting wouldn't stop for more than two minutes, would it, Kirsten?"

"Maybe five," Kirsten replied, making them all laugh. "It's no offense, Cousin Alexandra, but I'm sure you're the last one to think that if you disappeared, we would surrender."

"I know you wouldn't, and it pleases me to admit it!"

"Well, we're riding into danger," said Elke quietly. "There are Bernese boats on the north sea. More boats than we ever imagined! They have got themselves a thousand of them, and if they are in control of the waters, I doubt that they haven't taken the entire Northern Shield. There's no news from those parts."

"Who is in charge up there?"

"Nobody knows! It's time someone found out!"

They stopped for lunch in an open meadow by the roadside, and while the others took their time to get the meal ready, Sophie, Kirsten and Baby were busy practicing break-falls, a method of falling a short distance head-first, and rolling to avoid injury. It was the first time Sophie had ever done such a thing, and she set herself to perfect the skill before they sat down to eat. Through sheer concentration, Sophie was able to master it in relatively little time. Then they set her to diving over hurdles, and soon Sophie could leap across a waist-high obstacle into grass, and rise without being hurt. Suddenly it seemed not so elusive a goal to be able to defend herself and Alexandra.

"You're doing so well! Now some blocks!" Blocks were simply blocking a blow with the forearm, an obvious thing to do under almost any circumstances. But Kirsten was not satisfied until Sophie could do it fast enough, without feeling too much pain.

"Ho, ho, you can't teach her all you know over lunch, children. Let the girl eat!"

Sophie had not felt so good in a long time! She was certain the skills she learned that day would be useful someday, and not too far in the future.

They arrived at the village at which they would stay the night rather sooner than they had expected, with the sun still high in the sky. It was a tiny little inn, hardly larger than the Lodge, so that they wondered whether it could provide the innkeeper a living at all. Elke, meanwhile, had decided that all they needed to disguise Alexandra, and at least make her a lot less recognizable, was to put her hair in two braids instead of one, down the front of her shoulders. Alexandra was amazed that it did, indeed, make her look more common. And the fact that they all looked rather alike made it easier for her to blend in. It was Sophie who stood out like a sore thumb, and the tall, thin Ina, who was constantly made fun of, but who took it with good humor.

They took the saddle-bags inside, and having settled them in the proper rooms, they all trooped downstairs. Elke decided to take the innkeeper into her confidence. "I'll just tell her that Sophie is on government business, and has been threatened with assassination."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Yes. I want some locals to help keep watch tonight."

Alexandra nodded, and sure enough, four local folks volunteered within a short space of time. They looked like hunters, two men and two women, and it was all arranged.

Soon after, Kirsten and Sophie looked at each other, and they ran off to the grassy meadow adjoining the stables, with Baby close behind. Soon afterwards, Sophie was blocking furiously, and doing an occasional break-fall, to keep in practice.

"Fencing, now!"

"Fencing?"

"Sure!"

"I'd rather learn to use a knife!"

"Even better!"

Baby was a wizard with a knife. Even after Sophie having been shown every block there was, Baby could get a knife behind Sophie's guard every single time.

"It's mostly because she's so fast," admitted Kirsten, smiling at the kid fondly. "One of these days, if the idiot Bernese keep it up, she'll be blooded, and then there'll be no living with her!"

"Oh come on, Kirstie, do I ever give you any attitude?" Baby was sincerely hurt at Kirsten's words. Despite Baby's developing admiration of Sophie, she evidently adored Kirsten.

"No you don't, buttercup. I was only kiddin' ya!"

Baby's eyes looked plaintively at Sophie. She shook her head; apparently Kirsten had hit a sore spot.

But they kept up the training, and gradually Sophie got faster. She got to the point where she could block Kirsten, and Baby was thoroughly pleased. "Oh, if we only had a crossbow to practice with!"

"Who wants a crossbow?"

It was one of the village folks who had volunteered to watch with them.

"Oh, sir, we were going to show Sophie here how to use one!"

The man looked at Sophie with raised eyebrows. "How is it a government girl like you don't know how to use a crossbow?"

"Oh, I can fire one, sir; I'm just not very accurate!"

"Are you fast?"

"No, not that, either!"

He was a middle-aged man, wrinkled and weather-beaten, completely grey, and missing lots of teeth. He laughed, and got out his crossbow. "What we need is some old quar'ls," he said. "I'll be right back with a couple." A minute later, having rummaged in his saddlebags, he came back with an even dozen of the things. They were beat up and bedraggled, but he claimed that if you could hit a target with the rotten old things, you could definitely hit it with new quarrels.

Her training was in the hands of three experts. They set up a target of a bale of straw, and Sophie proceeded to learn the finer points of handling a crossbow. There really was nothing left to learn, except to unlearn some poor habits of loading, and to keep shooting. Sophie had learned to load a crossbow any old way, but there was an art to doing it efficiently. Unlike when she had learned it as a child, she was motivated now. She was hitting the target every single time, and more often than not, within an inch of dead center. And she could loose ten quarrels in twenty seconds, if she gave up on the accuracy. She was a natural; she had never discovered it before, because crossbows had never interested her.

Her arms ached, and her head ached, and her calves ached, with all the fetching and bending. But it was all worth it, to see the look in the eyes of the girls, and her new friend Luther, the owner of the crossbow.

"Happen I make them, you know!"

"What, crossbows?"

"Yep. Want one?"

"Yes, please! I would love to buy one, any one at all! I have some money!"

"Well," he said, "you can have this one for ..." he mentioned a price. Kirsten's eyes opened wide. She came forward to take the crossbow and inspect it closely, with Baby looking at it over Sophie's shoulder. It was made carefully with laminated layers of carved wood and metal. It did not look very elaborate; in fact quite the opposite. It looked like a simple piece of wood. But the fact was, Sophie had learned to really shoot with it, and it was the best choice for her.

"You should ask a little less, mister hunter, sir," Kirsten said, smiling impishly at the man. Baby pursed her lips in a silent 'O'.

"Oh, you island folks! Robbers, you are! You know it's a good price!" he said, laughing.

Sophie pulled out her bundle of money, and rounding the price up, gave it to him. "If I can keep the practicing quarrels!"

"Thank you, Ma'am! You'll find it worth every cent. And if it don't, why, you know where to find me!" Sophie smiled into his eyes, and said she trusted him. They talked for a little longer, and then the girls dragged Sophie and her proud new possession into the inn, to show it off.

"Where did you get that?" demanded Alexandra, interested. Baby told her. "Let me see," said she. Having lost her prized crossbow, she was sensitive about the things. She looked it over carefully, and expressed her admiration in a low voice. When they heard what Sophie had paid for it, they were amazed. "I'm sure it's worth considerably more," declared Alexandra. Elke nodded gravely.

Elke rose. "I'm going to have him make me a dozen of the things," she said. "That's an excellent value." Sophie looked bemused but also pleased.

"Ask him for a hundred, Elke. I'll see that you get the money," said Alexandra.

The man had been in the taproom, drinking a glass of ale and chatting to the innkeeper, and when Elke broached the subject of the crossbows, he came in to talk to them, all smiles. "I've been making these things a lifetime, Ma'am," he said to Sophie, assuming that it was she who had requested the crossbows. "I'll be glad to do my bit for the country! There's no better crossbows around!"

"Do you have all the materials you need?" asked Sophie, thinking fast.

"To be honest, not all." He described the parts that were hard to obtain, and Sophie said she would see whether she could get them for him. The man left with a spring in his step, saying that he would be back before dark.

Kirsten took one of the early watches, because she said she would be grumpy if she didn't get some sleep before they rode. So Sophie found herself sleeping cuddled with little Baby. The girl was well on her way to becoming a lusty young woman, and in her sleep she nuzzled Sophie and pressed against her, clearly feeling urges that she could not quite control. In the morning, Sophie found Kirsten snuggled against her on the other side. As she stretched and yawned, Baby's steel-blue eyes opened, and she gave Sophie the most blissful smile.

"Oh, I had the most wonderful dream!" she whispered innocently. Sophie smiled and patted her cheek, and slipped out of bed. Baby followed her to the wash-basins and they walked back together. If anyone was to have a crush on her, Sophie thought, she would rather it was Baby.

That day, again, they rode at a comfortable pace, and when they paused for lunch, they were within eyeshot of the volcano. It was now steadily erupting, spewing smoke and ash in a steady plume to the east, and the forest downhill from it on the nearer side was all burned. What interested them all was what lay on the other side, but there was no easy way to get across safely, and no time.

Practicing their fighting skills was now a well-established routine for the three friends. However much Baby liked Sophie, when it came to sparring, she didn't give an inch. Even in a friendly bout, she gave it her all. They even taught Sophie how to face two antagonists at the same time. Baby and Kirsten attacked Sophie at once, and they coached her how to move to handle the situation. It was all a matter of strategy and geometry; you controlled the situation by controlling your own position. And you had to do it with an eye to the layout of the battleground.

"Let's see what you've learned!" called Alexandra, and came over in battle stance, surprising Sophie. She had been under the illusion that this style of fighting was a secret. Alexandra made a few feints, and Sophie responded automatically, eliciting a soft sound of admiration from Alexandra. The others had formed a circle round them, with Baby a little closer, crouched like a spring, ready to go off. She kept encouraging Sophie with barely audible words.

Alexandra made some more aggressive moves, and Sophie countered them and danced away. She began to realize that it was coming to her automatically now. Then the blows came faster and faster. And Sophie was fighting harder and harder, and Baby was going crazy with her instructions. Suddenly Sophie overbalanced, but rolled harmlessly on the grass. She bounced up with a laugh, and everybody was all over her, hugging her, congratulating her, and Baby was jumping up and down in her excitement.

"Superb! Sophie, your footwork is amazing! And all in one day! It makes me humble!"

"Fight me! Fight me, Cousin Alexandra! Come on!" Baby was tugging at Alexandra, almost out of her mind with eagerness for a trial.

"Don't do it," Sophie advised Alexandra. "She's incredibly fast!"

"How fast can she be? I've been doing this for years, Baby; you know I didn't use everything I've got!"

"Let's see what you've got then!"

"If I throw you two times out of three ..."

"You're on!"

They faced off, and the others watched, Elke looking a little anxious. But Baby was a different person now. The crazy excitement was gone, and she was cool, stepping around the patch of grass, eyes narrowed, flickering all over Alexandra's body, and always coming back to her eyes and her chest, for a clue to what she would do. Baby was the first to strike. Alexandra blocked many of the blows, far faster than Sophie had ever dreamed of doing it, but a couple of blows got in even under Alexandra's expert guard. Sophie was not even competent to judge the quality of the fighting; it was so over her head, she could only appreciate it in the most general way.

Now Alexandra came in, got in a blow to Baby's body, and danced out. They were getting blows in in alternation. Suddenly Alexandra made a move too fast to follow, and Baby was on the ground for a moment. She bounced back like a spring and did a little dance of frustration as everybody laughed, releasing their tension.

The second bout took slightly less time, but it involved more intense fighting. Each of them had gotten the measure of the other. To some extent, the moves they used were designed to enable the other to display their skill at blocking; it was a fighting tradition. Then, after a certain point, it was no longer an exhibition, and using a mix of blows and throws, Baby was down again, and this time she rolled on the ground, groaning in frustration.

Sophie knelt over her, telling her how well she had fought. "Come, I'll help you up," she said.

"Oh, I'm not hurt, I'm just humiliated," said Baby, red-faced but grinning. Sophie was full of admiration for her. The girl was a fighter in her blood; something that Sophie could never be, even if the girls from Skree taught her all they knew.

Baby only got up when Alexandra herself held out her hand to her. Sophie understood what a fighter her young Queen was, when the others had expressed their admiration for the fighting. Baby was by no means the best among them —though she was conceded to be the fastest— but they had all had a chance to assess Alexandra, and she was pleased to have such a knowledgeable audience to judge her. "It's been a long time," she said thoughtfully. "I might have done better the other night, if I had fought with a knife."

Elke laughed. "What night was that?"

"Didn't you hear about it?" Sophie was amazed. None of them had. So over lunch, Sophie entreated Alexandra to tell the story herself. And to her pleased surprise, she did. From her perspective, it was much more interesting. In addition, the cousins had opinions about the wisdom of each stage of the action, and Alexandra was forced to defend her decisions to them.

"That is amazing," they said at the end. "You should never have gone out on your own, in the first place."

"I have said so myself. That's not under discussion." They nodded. "But it made a great difference to how things are being done. The Bernians did us a service; we are now alert, and there's no going back. A hundred-odd lives were lost on our side," there were sounds of shock and amazement, "but I believe they lost several times that number."

"But a number of assassins have come ashore! Who knows how many there are now?"

"And they have rifles," Alexandra admitted, responding to Baby's gentle touch with a sisterly touch of her own.

"I know there are no assassins over the road we came on," Elke said thoughtfully, "and for the next several hours. But once we head down the switchbacks, I don't know. We left the causeway with Bernese boats visible on the north side. They may well have come ashore."

"But they don't know I'm coming."

"That's one of the few things in our favor," Elke admitted.

"And I have a crossbow," Sophie said, facetiously. That provoked a howl of laughter, most of all from Baby. Of all of them, Baby was most worried that Alexandra would be in danger; somehow Sophie could see this. She wondered whether Baby had some kind of insight, prescience. Her own instincts told her that Alexandra would not be killed on this trip, but it would be nice to know that she would not even be shot at.

Perversely, Sophie felt a little better once Baby began to dance attention on her again. There was something sweet and pleasant about being the object of a crush. The important thing was to make sure that Kirsten was not ignored; that would sour the relationship between the two cousins. Kirsten was old enough to recognize what was going on, but not quite old enough not to resent it.

They ate, and began the descent to the next pass. According to Elke this was the last safe portion of the road. They were nervous, but as predicted, nothing happened.

"Now," said Elke at the top of the next pass. "Act relaxed, everyone. We'll only draw attention to ourselves if we tighten up. Sophie, dear, you're likely to be the target. I want you to wear this," she said, and hauled out a vest that looked as if it was made of metal. "It's called an armored vest. It's usually worn inside, but you can wear it outside your tunic, inside your jacket. It's heavy, though!"

"Cool! Let me help you with it," said Baby, and bustled Sophie off into a roadside shelter.

It really was a heavy thing. The vest was clearly ancient, and just as clearly, if the wearer was hit, even if he or she did not die, it was very likely he or she would be knocked out of the saddle, possibly unconscious. Sophie was back in the saddle in less than a minute. She was so burdened by the vest, the crossbow, and Alexandra's drying clothes, that she was hardly able to sit upright.

"What's that on your back? Not the crossbow, Sophie ... oh, by Gordon, it's that silly drying-net!"

"It weighs hardly anything, Lady Alex; it's the least of my worries!"

"Well, I won't ask you for your precious crossbow, so I will take the bag. I'll just feel better. You could hang your crossbow on the saddle, like this," and Sophie did it at once, having passed the mesh bag over to the Queen. Over her warm jacket, the bandolier of crossbow quarrels hung proudly.

Something told Sophie, at this point, that they would be fired at. Despite Elke's warning to try and look relaxed and unconcerned, her eyes scanned the peaks around them constantly. Alexandra saw her, and also grew anxious. Alexandra had great respect for instincts in anyone. Next to her, Kirsten and Baby had caught her anxiety.

They were looking mostly ahead of them. Sophie saw Baby glance back, and her eyes narrow slightly as if she had seen something. Before she could react, a shot rang out, and Alexandra fell off her mount with a grunt. Sophie's heart stopped beating.

The next few seconds were stretched out in Sophie's mind like an hour-long dream. She remembered the look of horror on Baby's face, as well as guilt. She remembered picking up the crossbow carefully, to hold it at just the best position to load it, turning back where Baby had been looking, and seeing the gunman rising for a second shot. The second shot rang out, but passed between Sophie and Baby, hitting no one. She calmly took aim, and shot. As she reloaded, she saw not one, but two more men coming out of hiding. She had the crossbow primed faster than she had ever done it. She aimed and shot twice more. She heard Elke firing her own crossbow. She heard Baby jumping off her mare and running to help Alexandra. Sophie loaded twice more and shot each of the men a second time for good measure.

"You got them all," Kirsten said, in awe. "I don't believe what I just saw."

Elke was down, knife drawn, and running down the side of the hill, and up the other side, leaping over bushes and rocks like a hare. She shouldn't be running with a knife, Sophie thought, as she collapsed.

Kirsten got to her in time. They all got off the horses, and bent to look at Alexandra. If the wound was bad, she might as well be dead.

But by the time Sophie came to where Alexandra lay, she was sitting up, and they were chuckling. Alexandra held out the mesh clothes-drying bag to her; there was a huge dent on the metal ferrule across the top. The gunman had shot the bag, with utmost consideration!

Sophie had to see for herself. Kirsten had assured her that she had shot her targets. She walked all the way up to where Elke was checking the dead men for anything she could find. Sophie had been wrong; she hadn't shot them each twice; there were only five loosed quarrels. Two of the men had been shot in the throat, and one through the heart. The other shots had been through their guns. Exactly where she had placed them.

"You placed them where?"

"The first man in the throat, then the other fellows on their guns, then the second man in the throat, and the last man on the chest."

Alexandra shook her head. "At two hundred feet, at that speed, it's impossible."

"I can do it," Elke said, calmly. "I just didn't, because Sophie was all over him!" They all laughed hysterically. But Elke's shots had hit, too. Not as tellingly as Sophie's. They were all cheered that they had defended themselves so well.

"I don't care," said Alexandra. They had been wondering how the men had known whom to shoot. "I'm just going to keep wearing this thing," she added, causing more howls of laughter. The fact was that they still did not know whether the men had aimed for Alexandra or for Sophie. They really had no reason to shoot at Sophie; it was Alexandra who was being sought everywhere. It was as if they had some kind of miraculous way of finding her. Sophie found it very chilling, but did not say anything.

They set off again. The sight of Baby looking back over her shoulder became engraved in Sophie's mind. She really was a beautiful child. She had large eyes with enormously long, curled eyelashes, full, sensuous lips, a perfect nose and chin. In addition, she had a wonderful physique, and intelligence for anything. In her own little world, she was a Queen. At this particular angle, with this particular expression, alert to the point of jumpiness, eyes open wide, lips dry, Baby was beautiful.

Sophie noted this without quite consciously thinking about it. She, too, kept a careful watch, her eyes combing the terrain below them, and occasionally looking back up the pass. Almost at the bottom, they came across a small group of riders just off the road. Stopping to see what it was about, they found yet another set of three dead men.

"What seems to be the problem?" Elke asked politely.

"These fellows were skulking around here, and they had these guns with them! I just shot them. These are not good times to be carrying guns and skulking!" Elke agreed at once, smiling grimly. "Did you hear gunfire up in those hills? Seemed to come from between those two peaks there!"

"Well, yes," said Elke, and exchanged glances with Alexandra, who shrugged. "We had the same problem," she admitted. "They took a couple of shots at us, but we killed them."

Their new friends cheered. Sophie looked so proud that they easily guessed she must have been one of those responsible, and they smiled and nodded to her. They said their farewells to the other group, and headed on down to the causeway.

Far out to the right, ships could be seen, and Elke told them that they were Bernese ships, as they called them. They had probably dropped off the six men, now dead, and who knew how many more? But they remained in the waters to terrorize the people.

Alexandra was expected to stay in the Fort. But she reported to Helga, and insisted on heading up to Geneva for the night. She promised to be back early enough to sail with the tide.

The welcome at the big house in Geneva was every bit as warm as they remembered from before. Marie, the little lamb that Katie had brought with her and left with them was thriving, and she seemed to recognize Sophie. Alexandra said she dearly wished she could take her up to Katie someday, but as long as things were so unsettled, she would have to stay. And so Marie the lamb remained at the house in Geneva. There were guards to follow Alexandra and set a watch around the house, now. They were jokingly warned to take cover if Lady Sophie was seen priming her crossbow.

It was almost dark, but Sophie knew what Baby would say.

"Blocks!" she cried, the minute she noticed that Sophie was unoccupied. All the young cousins came to watch, as they led Sophie at a race to the back of the house. The crowd settled back to watch comfortably. They blocked and parried and feinted until Sophie cried that she was exhausted. Then Baby insisted that they listen to the story of how Sophie shot three men all within a few seconds. The young girls all regarded Sophie with awe.

Supper was as crazy as they remembered it. Then it was off to bed.

"Did you miss me?" Kirsten whispered once they had turned out the lights.

"A little," Sophie lied. She liked the girl, but she hadn't had a chance to think of her at all.

"It doesn't matter," Kirsten said, clearly disappointed, but not by any means broken-hearted. "I have some feelings for you, but ... I guess you knew that would happen."

"Yeah," Sophie said, "sex is that way, I suppose."

"I really, really like you, and you're a sweet, wonderful person," Kirsten said awkwardly. "Sometimes I think you don't know how wonderful you are!"

"I know some people think I am!" she joked, feeling strangely moved. "You know I can't say I love you, Kirsten ... except like a friend, and a sister. But it means more to me that you like me, than if it was ... someone else I didn't care about!"

"Is there someone else?"

"Yes," said Sophie, beginning to be anxious.

"Can you tell me?"

"No," whispered Sophie.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No ... yes ... I don't know!"

"Tell me about her."

So Sophie did. She was sweet, kind, loving, impatient sometimes, affectionate, easily embarrassed. And most of all, she was beautiful. And Sophie loved her so much she sometimes thought she would die of pure love.

"Sounds like Baby," Kirsten said, smiling. Sophie laughed and said no. Then it struck her that indeed Baby and her Highness had a lot in common. If not for their upbringing, and their obvious differences in physique, there was a great similarity. They were both intense, they were both considerate, and both fiercely loyal.

"It is her Majesty, the Queen. And you love her with a pure love. That's completely acceptable."

Sophie put a stop to it. She accused Kirsten of going through everyone they both knew, and that was not fair. Kirsten agreed at once, and gave up that game.

"If," she said, playing with Sophie's hair, "when this is all over, it doesn't work out with her and you, will you come and see me, and give me a chance?"

"If, by the time the war is over, if she and I can't ... and you're not ...?"

"Yes, please? I won't be!"

"I don't want to promise, Kirstie. Who knows what kind of person I'll be then? I can hardly believe I killed three people today. I have never killed a man before. I don't know what I will be. If I keep going like this, I won't recognize myself when it's over."

Kirsten pulled her close, and it was the most natural thing in the world to comfort each other. Sophie was frustrated to realize that slowly but steadily, she was beginning to think about Kirsten the way the girl wanted her to think. She was the very antithesis of all that Sophie had come to admire and respect in a person: she was not particularly beautiful, she was not well spoken; she was not charismatic; quite the opposite, in fact. But she was patient and kind, and protective. But most seductively, she was in love with Sophie. It was no longer a childhood crush. The girl was head over heels in love with Sophie, and she was of the wrong class, she was the wrong everything.

They were woken by a large, sweaty girl bouncing on them, yelling "Block!"

"What the ... Baby, you're too old to be running around half naked!" yelled Kirsten.

Sophie had the presence of mind to get an eyeful of the young person while she had the chance. She was about five-foot six, and a hopeless exhibitionist.

"What's all the fuss? We're all girls, for heaven's sake!"

"It's just not decent, that's what!"

Kirsten rolled out of bed, grabbed a towel, and walked away in disgust.

Baby looked at Sophie, eyes wide. Then she shrugged, and cuddled up with Sophie, studying her carefully. Sophie was too thrilled with Baby's presence to say anything. It was a fantasy come true, and with a vengeance.

Presently, Baby asked Sophie, "Why did you make me stop?" She grabbed Sophie's head, and made her look into her incredible slate-blue eyes. They were completely dilated.

"Because ... I care for you, and I didn't want you to think that it was a good thing to force yourself on people. You only do ... that ... to a lover, after you get permission, Baby."

"Can I do it for you, please?"

Sophie found it almost impossible, but she managed to persuade Baby to leave her alone.

Baby climbed on her and peered into her eyes, as really young children do sometimes.

"You're the sweetest person I know," she said, and her eyes told Sophie she was in love, but it was only that she didn't have the vocabulary to express it. Her fatuous smile gave her heart away. "Lady Sophie, will you be my girl?"

What could she say? Her heart, already torn so many different ways, could hardly be divided up any smaller. And Sophie had never imagined in her wildest dreams having to tell a ravishing fourteen-year-old that they had to be just friends.

"Actually, I have a girl right now, and Baby, you're just fourteen. Ask me in a couple of years, unless you find someone else."

"Oh. Is she pretty?" The smile was gone.

"Well, not as pretty as you, but intelligent, and good-hearted." Baby nodded slowly.

"Are you mad at me ... for coming round and doing this?"

"No ... but you shouldn't have. Girls from good families don't do it."

"Huh. We're a perfectly good family."

"I know, but they forgot to tell you the rules."

"Sophie ... you're very special. I'm gonna get you somehow. I'm gonna keep trying!"

Sophie was stumped. She simply could not make up her mind whether to tell her off, or laugh. In the end she simply hugged the girl tight, and kissed her.

To her amazement, she found herself being conducted to the bathhouse with great sedateness by Baby. She had the self-possession of a goddess. Even wrapped in nothing but a towel, she was a goddess. She met Kirsten coming back, her face like thunder. She dropped her eyes—there was nothing to say in her own defense—and let Baby lead her to the bath.

Back in the room, Kirsten wanted to know what had gone on. Sophie described briefly what had transpired. "You're going to have a lot of trouble with her, but she'll give it up if she believes she's hurting people. I tried to convince her that it was just not done."

Kirsten sighed and gave in. It plainly irked her that Sophie had relaxed and let it happen. "Maybe she'll listen to you," she grudgingly admitted. "Like I said, there'll be no living with her once she figures out how much those looks of hers are worth. She's too pretty for her own good."

Sophie laughed. "Alexandra is good medicine for her. It'll put her looks in perspective."

Kirsten smiled and agreed.

When Sophie took leave of the girls at the docks, later that day, Baby and Kirsten were back on the best of terms. There was a new maturity in the way Baby carried herself, and the same possessiveness in the eyes of the two cousins as they looked at her. She hugged them each, and waved to them as the ship headed out to sea.

"How did you sleep?" Sophie asked the Queen once things were settled down, and Alexandra was finished with talking to the naval captain, and the commander of the unit that was going along to protect her.

"Not too badly," she replied.

It was once of King Frederick's fastest ships, armed to the teeth, and with many improvements that were inspired by the ships of the ancients. The treadmills that powered the ship were as efficient and as comfortable as it was possible to make them. There were stories about the Romans, a race that had lived in times so ancient that there was no trace of them left at all. Their war galleys, it was told, were powered by oars, such as would be used in a dinghy on a lake. So ships without sails were tried and proven to be feasible. But the idea of powering the enormous screws with pedals had been born in New Hope. Alexandra had been shown the mechanism in detail, but Sophie had stayed up on deck, affected by the heartbreak of her two young friends. Usually, Sophie knew, the heartbreak of the young was a passing thing, yet while it lasted, it hurt just as much. Alexandra was now getting ready to row. There was a powerful headwind just outside the harbor, and as they went farther, there waited a strong current that they had to battle. Everyone was preparing to help with the work.

"Do you think I had better get ready to row?"

"Well, certainly; the machines are designed to collect the effort of many people, none of whom are particularly strong."

"I'll be ready, but I won't take up a seat unless there's no one else." Alexandra nodded approval.

There was a sudden commotion. Sophie ran up on deck, and groaned. She should not have been surprised; a ship with the distinctive design of the Bernian fleet was heading on a course designed to intercept them just out of range of the onshore guns.

A siren rang out. "Mill stations, please," the first mate called. "Mill stations, on the double. Volunteers, please stand by!"

Sophie was seething. Why didn't they shoot? Alexandra stood out of the way, so that troops and the sailors would not have to be constantly bowing to her. She was strung as tight as a bow, and Sophie responded automatically with a hand on her arm, to steady her. "I'm okay," Alexandra said, but her jaw was clenched.

The screws at the stern began to churn the water, and the ship began to pick up speed. The few troops on deck began to cheer. The captain ordered something to the helmsman just as a little puff of smoke announced a shot. They had steered into the other ship, while it had assumed they would steer away. Now they steered south again, so that it seemed the ships would meet at right angles. The guns at the harbor sounded, without any hope of hitting the enemy. The two ships were closing at an unbelievable speed, but Sophie could see that the enemy would pass astern of the New Hope ship. However, for a brief time they would be at point blank range.

Sophie had her crossbow out in a flash, with her practice quarrels in place. The Bernian was within a few yards of them, approaching at ramming speed with the wind. The enemy were shooting into the ship with rifles, but were missing. While the troop commander shouted orders, she raced to the gunwale, and began to fire. With six shots, she got six hits, silently, while the enemy troops were focused on the conspicuous targets of the fighting men.

"Into the gun-holes!" cried the lieutenant who had seen her shoot. "Get the gun-crews!" The ship was crossing them, and she had them broadside-on, and she got two shots into the first gun-hole, and two into the next, and they were gone.

The troops howled with delight. They could never catch them now; against a headwind, without sails, no one could catch a New Hope ship on pedal-power.

Sophie leaned over the side, amazed at the speed of the ship. With a hundred men and women at the pedals, the ship made amazing speed. Not by any means as much speed as a ship sailing before the wind, to be sure, but still, considerable speed. Sophie ran down the little stairway to view the rowers at their posts. She was amazed; each person was seated on something that looked like a reclining bicycle-seat, all pedaling at different speeds. And it was this power that hurled the ship forward.

The man who supervised the treadmills went among his pedallers, and Sophie saw some of them ease up. Some came away, wiping the perspiration from their faces. They now had to keep up the effort for the long haul that would take them to Belgravia, in the large continent that lay to the west.

Much later, Alexandra and Sophie lay in their bunks in the cabin they shared. Alexandra had put in an hour on the treadmills, and had reported that it was fun. The troops would rotate pedaling duty, and if there was a need, Alexandra would be called. She had the upper bunk, and leaned over to look at Sophie.

"I heard about you and your shooting!" she said, grinning. "You are good at that thing!"

Sophie nodded, savoring the feeling. "It makes me feel very different," she admitted. "Rather callous, actually. I'm in danger of losing my humanity altogether. Doesn't bother me as much as it should!"

"It is frightening," Alexandra said, nodding. They looked at each other, imagining what the other was thinking. "Imagine if they boarded us, though; blood and guts everywhere."

"We were just two yards apart; one of them might have jumped!"

"He'd have had to stay with is!" Alexandra laughed. "It's hard, though; he would have been flung sideways by the speed of their ship." Sophie understood the idea. They had been very, very lucky. The maneuvering had been nothing short of brilliant, keeping the Enemy's big guns mis-aimed the whole time.

"I'm coming down," Alexandra said impatiently. "I can't talk to you like this!"

"Alexandra, ..."

"I'll just ... throw down this mattress ... there," she said, suiting the action to the word, and the mattress landed on the floor next to Sophie with a thunk, "... and I should be perfectly comfortable down there, and we can talk!"

"I'll take the mattress, you take my bunk!" But Alexandra refused. She said she wanted to be able to sleep on the floor or on the upper bunk as it took her fancy.

As she sprawled on the mattress, Sophie couldn't help admiring her. Her legs always made Sophie's juices run; their sleek, muscular power just drove her crazy. Blue veins lay under the smooth skin, calling to Sophie to touch it. She tried to make her glance look casual. When she checked Alexandra's eyes, she was looking away. Raising herself on her side, her head propped up on one arm, Alexandra got comfortable, and sighed. She looked at Sophie and grinned.

"So, how did it go with young Kirsten?"

"She's sixteen, Alexandra, just a couple of years younger than you are."

Alexandra's grin grew wider. "I'd have really had to be blind in both eyes not to see that she was totally gone on you! And it was no little crush, either!" Alexandra's grin gave way to a thoughtful look. "She seemed serious."

Sophie took a deep breath, thinking about it all. She toyed with the idea of telling Alexandra a censored version of it. The whole thing had affected Sophie very profoundly, and she needed to talk to Alexandra about it. Wars and killing were all very well, but in the situation of being unable to tell Alexandra about Genny, she was desperate to talk about this most recent experience.

"You can tell me, Sophie," she said softly, as if she could read Sophie's mind. "I guess we must learn to share enough to keep ourselves sane."

"It's very intimate, and highly sexually charged."

"It's better to talk sex than to ..."

"I know."

Sophie told her everything. From the sweet, silly inquisition Kirsten had put her through, to the fierce, then tender demands of Baby Briana.

"She's incredibly beautiful," Sophie murmured, playing with her hair, as Alexandra watched her. "In a more aristocratic household, she would have learned manners that would have made her irresistible."

"She has an instinctive sense of herself, a nobility," Alexandra said. "I see myself in her; I wish I had been that stunning, and had that presence when I was her age."

"You were easily that stunning, and you had more presence!"

Alexandra shook her head, smiling. "It was all training and practice. She just has it!"

"So, I guess she's given me fair warning! She has unbelievably clever hands, did I tell you?"

"How does she know, so young?"

"Oh Alexandra ... you know! How does anyone?"

"How?"

"By playing with herself, of course!"

Alexandra turned bright red, and hid her face in her pillow. Sophie was highly amused. They were getting to know each other so well, and yet, there were things Alexandra did that surprised her. Alexandra was so articulate; she could express ideas that would defeat another girl her age. But she shied away from certain things.

Time went by, and Alexandra still had her face hidden. Then she slowly turned away from Sophie, and seemed to fall asleep.

"Alexandra?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Sophie ... I'm just ... thinking. Do you have a book to read?"

"Do you want one?"

"No, ... it's just that, when I'm thinking, I don't want you to think I'm thinking about you, and to feel peculiar, or anything. I'd like you to feel comfortable and—happy."

"Shall I go on deck, and leave you with some privacy?"

"No, that's the point! We might as well have taken the two private cabins, then! We wanted to be together, at least I did, ..."

"Alexandra, I'm happy with this arrangement."

"But I don't want you running away, just to give her Majesty the Queen time by herself!"

"All right," Sophie said. It didn't pay to contradict her. Sophie knew Alexandra needed the privacy; there had been strong clues. Oh Gordon, she thought to herself. I must be patient.

"I love you, Sophie," Alexandra said, her voice muffled. "Like a sister."

"I know," Sophie said softly.

They had long talks. They quickly found that in spite of a strong effort to take an interest in shipboard things — target practice with the men, visiting with the cook, looking over the ship's library, talking with the troops or the navy men — Sophie and Alexandra preferred each other's company. They talked about all manner of things, boys, girls, Genny, Sophie's parents, their mutual friends, kids they had known, science, literature. Alexandra and Sophie delighted in a lot of the same things, though possibly in different degrees.

Sophie tried very hard to keep sex out of their relationship. Once it started, she knew they would find it easy to fall into a sexual relationship that would destroy their small shipboard world. The force that they had carefully used to bind the three of them into a perfect team, now showed itself as a liability. But in the morning, Sophie's braiding Alexandra's hair became a sensuous thing that they both dragged out as long as they could. Alexandra insisted on doing Sophie's braid, something that Genny had done once she had entered their world. It felt odd to feel Alexandra's thick fingers in her hair. But she was surprisingly gentle, though Sophie's fine hair snagged in her callouses. Alexandra often swore to herself under her breath. She talked to herself a little now, just like Genny, a recent habit. When she was done, she gave Sophie a slap on her buttocks, as if to seal the job. "There," she would say, "you're all set!" Or, "There, that's as good as I can manage in my rotten mood!" Or, "There! It's so relaxing to do your hair, Sophie!"

Hardest to bear was when Sophie was trying to sleep late at night, and Alexandra was rustling under her blanket. Trying to keep quiet, all Alexandra's attempts to relax herself enough to sleep failed. Sophie was amused, true, but she was full of sympathy for the big girl. Sophie knew better than to try something like that herself — she knew it was impossible. How much more must Alexandra suffer, when there was so much more of her hurting?

There was a turning point one night when Alexandra simply threw the blanket aside, threw off her clothes in the dark, and masturbated. Sophie closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. But her eyes opened involuntarily when Alexandra unexpectedly hissed through her teeth. Sophie had watched Alexandra and Genny make love, and she knew how big Alexandra's orgasms were. Fortunately, she did not pant; she only breathed enormous, long, deep breaths, until she got enough air, after which she let out a huge sigh, as if she was dying. And then things would be back to normal.

They lay there in silence for a while, and it may have been minutes, it may have been longer, but when Sophie dropped out of a doze, Alexandra was snoring softly. It was her turn now. She did exactly as Alexandra had done. It was very warm indeed, at their present latitude. When she was finished, she simply lay there, full of sweet thoughts, utterly pleased with herself.

"Sophie?" she heard in a whisper, after a decently long interval.

"Yeah?"

"Good; I didn't want to wake you!"

"Oh no, I was up."

"This heat is terrible!" she said, puffing away. "I've taken all my clothes off. I'm going to open the little window." They had great fun using all the wrong words for nautical things. They called the bunks "shelves," and the ladders "stairs" and the masts "big posts" just to imagine how it would annoy their sailor friends. They only did it between themselves, but it was a delicious private joke.

Sophie watched Alexandra's naked body against the starlight from the porthole. She was letting the breeze blow against her, and her pleasure hit Sophie like the force of water in a fast-flowing stream.

"I think I can finally sleep," Alexandra said. Sophie murmured some appropriate reply.

The following day passed without incident. They did their hair-braiding ritual, and felt a little better. The air was now so humid that even the breeze did not comfort them. They went round the ship together, dressed only in thin dresses, risking the stares of the sailors. Alexandra was allowed the privacy of the rear deck for half an hour in the mid-afternoon, and half an hour at night, as a special courtesy. At those times, it was rather a temptation to stand there in their bare skin, or rather, it had been. Now, the moisture seemed to be condensing on them, instead of drying off them.

Once again, that night, they lay suffering silently in their beds, perspiring profusely. Then the humidity suddenly lessened, for whatever reason. It felt a little better, but their clothes were soaked through and sticky.

"I'll get the water; you might like to sponge yourself," Sophie offered. She did not, as a rule, walk about the cabin once she had stripped at night. That was Alexandra's habit. But tonight ...

She fetched the water. She knew enough to keep the pail less than half-filled. Alexandra was exhausted; the humidity had left her as limp as a wet rag. Feeling tender towards her cabin-mate, Sophie soaked the towel, wrung it out carefully, and sponged Alexandra's shoulders and neck. Alexandra sighed softly, too exhausted to express her appreciation. Sophie washed her thoroughly, filled with a deep pleasure in comforting her Queen.

Then she washed herself; the relief was unbelievable. She threw out the water, and looked for new sheets to put on the beds. Having changed her own sheet, she began to change Alexandra's sheet.

"Roll onto your back," she whispered, tugging at Alexandra's shoulder. It took some effort, but Alexandra finally rolled over, and Sophie saw that her sheet was simply drenched. She rolled up the exposed sheet close to Alexandra's body, and quickly spread half the clean sheet on the exposed part of the mattress. She tried to think of Alexandra as just so much meat; like a horse, waiting to be rubbed down. It was easy, because the skin felt so clammy. Then, rolling Alexandra onto the half of the clean sheet she had just spread, she completed the rest of the change of linen.

She dried the sleeping girl, and pulled another thin sheet over her. The weather had suddenly cooled.

When Sophie awoke, her body was humming like a top. Dawn was breaking. A feeling of exultation filled her, she felt that she would burn up anything she touched. It grew light, and she leaned over to look at Alexandra. She lay face down on the mattress, spread out, the thin sheet Sophie had laid over her thrown far away. For the first time, Sophie did not turn away; she devoured the sight with her eyes, memorizing every detail.

The young Queen was lightly tanned, just from the road trip, and from the little time she had spent on deck. The first thing that struck Sophie were her buttocks, powerful, almost sculpted, not full and soft like most women, but firm and hard. The musculature of her legs was well-defined and perfectly balanced. Her hips were narrow, wrinkled in a band where she habitually wore her braided sword-belt. She followed the line of her legs down to those strong ankles and perfect feet, proportional to her physique, not the tiny feet of a princess, but feet for a warrior Queen, like her mother Beate. This body was the bequest of Beate; the strong arms, the large hands, with large fingers, so gentle in Sophie's memory. The soft hair, the sensuous ears—those must have come from the Princess Atlanta, whom Sophie hardly knew. She gazed at her strong back, the soft, blonde fur over light, untanned skin, the column of her neck, and her eyes drifted down to the amazing buttocks again. She began to realize that beauty in a woman did not necessarily begin with a pretty face.

As she thought that, Alexandra stirred, rolling her head towards the porthole, and her eyes slitted open. Sophie froze, shrinking back, slitting her own eyes. Alexandra's beautiful thighs were visible now, and Sophie felt her lust rising beyond her ability to control it. Her love for Alexandra and her lust for her body were two separate things, and she despised herself for being stirred by them at different times.

They grew closer to their destination. The sexual tension between them ebbed and flowed, a kind of rhythmic background. They enjoyed each other's company in simpler ways, too. They drew maps of Norsland, trying to remember where all the important cities were, and the volcanoes, and the towns. They told jokes, and told each other stories of plays they had seen.

One terrible afternoon, Sophie unpacked the bag containing the impregnation device, and silently gave it to Alexandra. She frowned and took it, turning it around in her hands. She had forgotten the distinctive pattern of the cloth.

"What is it?" she asked, before she took the thing out. Then her eyes opened wide, and she turned red.

"Genny asked me ..."

"What does she want with me,..." she interrupted. She stared at it, not understanding. Finally she turned her eyes to Sophie.

"It was like this," Sophie began. "She was convinced that she wasn't pregnant any longer. When she found that she wasn't going to see you before you left, she ..."

Sophie looked at Alexandra helplessly. Surely it was obvious? Sophie glared at Alexandra impatiently. It wasn't her fault that things had turned out this way.

"I don't understand! What did she want?"

"She ... she ... she thought that ... if she used it on me, then her ovum would be left in the machine. Then ... if I used it on you ..."

Alexandra finally understood. She rolled her eyes, and sat on Sophie's bunk, her head in her hands. Eventually she asked,

"Did ...?"

"Yes. Just before we —parted." Sophie resented the situation, and now she resented Alexandra. "I can tell you honestly, I didn't enjoy the experience at all. I did it for her."

"What if you got pregnant, Sophie?"

Sophie shrugged. It struck her that if there were to be a child, it would truly be a love-child. Her love was a distant thing, like a toothache. What a surprise! Sophie realized what a shallow person she was. If she were to meet Genny now, she would be in love again. But as things stood, she was more engrossed with Alexandra than with Genny. She hungered for Alexandra; her mind was full of fantasies about Alexandra.

"I'd probably have got rid of it."

Alexandra stared at her in disbelief. Sophie knew that Alexandra wouldn't really want her to do anything different, but the young queen had the luxury of disagreeing with a hypothetical decision.

"If you used this on me ..."

For the first time Sophie appreciated that it would be Alexandra who carried the child. Alexandra a mother! The thought of it filled Sophie with deep pleasure, which must have shown on her face. Alexandra's frown melted into a soft smile.

"Do you doubt that I would do a good job of it?"

Sophie shook her head, smiling. They looked at each other, marveling at the idea, one that had not occurred to either of them before. It was funny how Genny had fit into the role of the nurturer and comforter, while Alexandra had assumed that of protector and leader.

"I'm afraid the ovum must have decomposed by now ... I would have gladly had her child," said Alexandra, softly. Alexandra's love for Genevieve softly glowed on her face, and Sophie could hardly bear to look on it.

"It's been just over a week; you should do it tonight!"

She frowned, looking resentful.

"Everything is pressing us, forcing us together, Sophie," she said in a quiet, sad voice. "I like you so much, it would be the easiest thing in the world. You must surely guess how lonely I am for the touch of a woman!" Her soft, high voice sounded so sad, so hopeless that Sophie's heart was moved as never before. "You're like an angel; you care for me with your hands just enough, just short of what would make us betray Genny. But if you wore this thing, the symbolism would make me feel much, much too— dirty. It sounds as if I'm condemning what you did. But think of it as a sacrifice we make, to keep what we feel for each other separate, apart, even higher than, what Genny and I felt for each other. Don't you agree?"

Her eyes pleaded with Sophie, who was only too happy to agree. She knew, right now, sex with Alexandra was incredibly tempting. Alexandra had gone from being the unapproachable Queen for whom Sophie had lusted in the secret darkness of her imagination, to the girl on the cabin floor, for whom she lusted daily. A hundred times she had imagined Alexandra taking her, and herself submitting willingly. The redirection of that lust only made it more erotic still. To agree with Alexandra was to prolong this sweet torture. She was too used to it now; for them to have sex now would be almost an anticlimax.

"I understand."

"In any case, if what is desired is for me to carry a child created from an ovum in this thing, you have nothing to contribute; I could ram it into myself!"

"Indeed!" Sophie had realized it when they had done it that night; Sophie could have simply held it; it was Genny inserting it into herself that was important. Sophie could as well have simply held it in her hand, or not even been present. It suggested very strongly that the gadget would probably not work in that sort of sex-by-proxy.

In the end, as Alexandra lay on the bunk, a few minutes later, she asked Sophie to stay by her side. "You have come with us too far to leave us now," she said. Sophie's mind was now so battered with emotions from all sides, including Alexandra's sincere love and affection for her, that the sound of Alexandra's very voice was enough to melt her.

"Lie down, open your legs," Sophie had said firmly, and had taken the thing in her own hands. Alexandra had lain back in relief, and left it to her. Suddenly Alexandra seemed vulnerable, soft, feminine, utterly desirable. Sophie gently parted Alexandra's suffused labia, making her hiss, and her breasts rise and fall in a way designed to inflame Sophie cruelly. She gently worked the thing in, watching the muscles of Alexandra's abdomen being pushed up by its bulk. And her breasts, oh god!

"That feels good ... not that it matters now," Alexandra breathed, her eyes closed.

"I know what you want me to do," Sophie said, feeling a temptation too strong to resist.

"It doesn't matter what I want," Alexandra said, as if in a dream. "I don't need to enjoy it, for it to work ... I don't even know whether I want it to work ... I want Genny here ..."

"Well, Genny is not here, but this thing seems willing enough! It's volunteering!"

"Yes. A brave little man, volunteering for his Queen!"

"Yes, indeed!" said Sophie, and pulling it out, thrust it in again, with a little force. Alexandra gasped, and somehow Sophie knew that she wanted more. She began the slow thrusting that would feel good for Alexandra; she measured the rhythm from the expression on Alexandra's face, and the tiny motions of her hips as they rose to meet the thing. It was a dance, the tempo for which was indicated by a complex combination of things. Sophie quickly knew this was a huge mistake, but it was too late.

Sophie played her like a fiddle. The ovulation, or the implantation, had nothing to do with what Alexandra felt, as far as they both knew. But they didn't really know anything; they were only guessing. Alexandra cried out in triumph, and Sophie pushed it in firmly, and forgetting about the device and everything else, bent to kiss Alexandra, resting her hand on her breast, driven mad with lust, and the desire that had built up over so many weeks. Alexandra kissed her back with such passion that the two of them forgot everything. And then she turned her head. For the first time Sophie felt pushed away. Alexandra lay on her back, her hands playing with the straps of the thing inside her, and she did not push Sophie away with her hands. But there was a sense of leave me alone from her. Her eyes slowly opened to stare at the wall of the cabin, her expression was unreadable.

"Alexandra!" Sophie whispered, her heart feeling like lead inside her. Alexandra only shook her head.

They had hugged a lot; hugs helped defuse the tension they felt all the time. But they had not kissed mouth to mouth — not until that moment. Kisses were too dangerous. A quick peck on the cheek was all they risked. But now they had really kissed. Sophie leaned over the rails, staring back at the ship's wake. Behind her, high mountain-tops just showed themselves over the horizon, less than a day away. The sea was an ugly grey, reflecting the overcast sky.

She felt Alexandra's reproach, gentle though it had been, as if it had been an angry shove. It was a great weight on her mind; Alexandra was too much a part of her world. She had to face it, the couple had taken possession of her heart and her soul; for months she had only had the illusion of a life of her own. But she had been a willing slave! She cursed herself for her presumption. She had taken it all too lightly. She had assumed that the royal couple had agreed to take sex as a game, something to ease their tension, to take away their boredom. But she had obviously been very wrong.

Princess Alexandra had been always a gentle, patient, forgiving girl. The Palace was full of stories of how gentle she was, how slow to anger, how kind to those who offended her, whether in childish fits of anger, when they had all been children, or by being mean to those whom Alexandra cared for. Even to one of her companions in the guard who had ridden one of her favorite horses far too hard, causing it to go lame, she had spoken softly and courteously, a gentle reproach. Her sadness had been well known; the horse had had to be put down. Many in the Palace thought that it had been cowardly of the then Princess Alexandra. But that was her way. So now Sophie knew that Alexandra's turmoil must be great, that she did not simply smile, and ask for a little time to think.

Sophie paced, agitated. She turned and headed back down the stairs, and saw the young Queen coming up. She backed up, smiling weakly. Alexandra glanced up and smiled back.

"Sophie!" she said by way of greeting, dropping her eyes to the steps, until she was on deck. She had dressed carefully, in breeches and a rich, formal jacket. She wore boots, and was carefully groomed, every inch the Queen. Sophie stood back, trying not to stare, as Alexandra looked carefully around, scanned the horizon, and led the way, with a smile for her to join, to the raised deck on which the captain stood with the troop commander. There was just enough of an angle to the wind to use a little sail.

"What happens now?" Alexandra asked.

"We should see a cutter coming out to meet us," the captain said. "The embassy will know what to do. Our orders were to make sure the embassy was functioning, and able to guarantee your safety."

"Won't they be patrolling the coastal waters?"

"Not in peacetime, Your Majesty."

"It is not peacetime."

The man shrugged. "Then we will be intercepted. We will be seen in a few hours."

Alexandra nodded, and wiped her face with a handkerchief. She turned to exchange glances with Sophie, and curved her lips with a resigned smile. They headed down the few steps to the lower deck. "I feel rather helpless!" she murmured to Sophie, smiling courteously.

That smile cut Sophie deeply. The relaxed friendship was gone, replaced by a more formal politeness.

"Majesty," Sophie murmured, urgently, as Alexandra lengthened her stride slightly. Alexandra slowed down and looked back at her, and there was something in her eye: worry, discomfort — many things. But Sophie hadn't been able to think of anything to say, and Alexandra looked away. She nodded once, all that Sophie could use to believe that there was still some hope, that she hadn't lost all Alexandra's regard for her.

Halfway down the stairs, Alexandra turned to her. "I'm on my way to my — to our cabin. Are you going there?"

"Am I still welcome?" Sophie asked, seeing a chance to salvage her shattered self-respect with a mean insinuation.

"Of course, Sophie. ... I was taken by surprise, that's all."

They were inside, and Sophie shut the door.

"What have I done?" Sophie asked, making Alexandra turn round. The look of sorrow on her face was not feigned; she was heartbroken. It had been only greed, the desire to do something to another woman, something Alexandra would understand. But it had been at least inconsiderate — reckless, actually. She hung her head.

She felt Alexandra's arms about her. It was a restrained hug, warm and loving, but leaving room for them, a little space. "It was a temptation," she said softly. "Sophie ... I don't know what I'm facing. You're all I can depend on." Sophie felt terrible. She longed to protest her undying loyalty to Alexandra, but her feeling of unworthiness kept her silent. "We must learn each other's weaknesses, and help each other to ... work around them!" She pulled away to look into Sophie's eyes. Sophie offered her remorse to Alexandra with eyes brimming with tears. Alexandra's hands fell away.

"It wouldn't be so hard if ... you were anyone else, Sophie," she said, turning to stare at the cabin wall. "You're so pretty — beautiful, actually. It is so hard for me!" It was the lame horse all over again. The broken-hearted princess, and the repentant rider, full of remorse. Sophie wished the Queen would just turn and slap her. But that was not her way. Genny might have done it. But Alexandra would simply explain how hurt she was. But in this case, she was saying more.

"All this is hard on you, too! And I know you love me, and care for me, and when we let down our guard and do something silly, you hurt, sometimes more than I do, myself!" Alexandra blotted her eyes. "There, now; I'm making things worse."

"I'm so sorry!"

Alexandra had her arms around her in a second. "Don't cry," she whispered. "We're only overwrought."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Belgravia

As predicted, they were hailed by a Belgravian cutter around six in the evening. They signaled with lanterns back and forth, with Alexandra and Sophie watching, and were told that a Norsland embassy boat was indeed standing by. Nevertheless, they were informed, the cutter wished to board them.

The patrol vessel had only been told that they carried an important courier on behalf of the Norsland government. "We'll have to explain why we're so heavily armed," the captain said. "But I think we can convince them it was necessary." The question in their minds had been whether they would think a mere courier warranted such an army.

"Should I hide?" asked the Queen.

The commander winced. "Your Majesty, you have the honorary rank of commander."

"I don't look a commander."

But the man insisted. Alexandra had the uniform among her clothes, and she went to her cabin, and returned wearing it. The commander gave her his baton as she came back up to the command deck, and temporarily demoted himself.

"What if you need to be in charge, if there is a crisis?"

The commander's face became stony. "We would submit," he said. "It would be madness to attempt to overpower them in their own waters, within a mile of their capital!"

Alexandra nodded. She was proud of the people she commanded. Sophie thought to herself how handsome Alexandra looked, straight and tall, almost as tall as the commander himself. The men and women on the ship devoured her with their eyes; they adored her as their Queen.

The cutter caught up with them fast. They had slowed down, on the cutter's orders, to make the rendezvouses easier. They saw, in the distance, against the twinkling lights of the capital Athens, a small craft heading in. Sophie was dressed formally, the courier and special envoy Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir. Alexandra had urged her to wear a little jewelry, and she wore a simple brooch on her tunic, and her hair coiled and pinned. Alexandra had looked her over and nodded approval. The darkness had hidden Sophie's involuntary flush.

"Star of Hope, ahoy! Prepare to take aboard Inspector Chiron Balfour and four others!"

It was a polite enough request as such things went. The Inspector was a young, almost beautiful man. There were powerful floodlights on the cutter, which illuminated the deck brightly. Not to be outdone, the Star lit its own lights.

The inspector conferred with the captain, and raised his eyebrows at the size of the complement of troops. They assured him that they had barely evaded being boarded. Things were bad and getting worse.

"Let me introduce Envoy Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir, our passenger," the Captain said, presenting Sophie. She bowed, as she had been instructed. You only curtseyed to royalty. Then he presented Alexandra as Commander Alexandra. The man bowed to both girls in turn. He turned to Sophie.

"Aren't you a little young for this?" the inspector asked, smiling. Alexandra had stepped back into the shadows.

"I was the only one available," Sophie said, improvising. "The war has everyone else very busy!"

The inspector's face immediately showed concern. He dropped his eyes and nodded. "Terrible times," he said, almost under his breath.

Sophie leaned a little closer. It sounded like more than simple sympathy.

"Is there something wrong ... something going on?"

The man shrugged. "The capital is in turmoil," he said. "I'll leave your embassy to — explain it all to you!"

"Is it bad?" Sophie persisted. The man shook his head, and gestured that he would say no more. Then he indicated that he would like to see the ship, and the first mate stepped forward to conduct him round.

The captain and Sophie exchanged worried looks with Alexandra. "What have we walked into?"

"Perhaps it's nothing," the captain murmured. "That seems a little too much to hope for."

The inspector finished his round, and the captain walked down to the lower deck to finish the forms and see him off. He had observed that it was a beautiful ship, and seemed to suggest that there would be a great temptation to impound it if it were to be too closely looked at again by the authorities. The captain had been startled. The man had nodded slowly, and saluted and left.

The embassy boat had stood off until the patrol vessel was done. They exchanged signals, and the cutter went off, leaving the embassy boat with the Star.

Predictably, it was a woman who came on board, and was welcomed by the captain. She was a tall, fair-haired woman of around forty, dressed in loose slacks and a short jacket. She looked around the ship with a worried frown.

"They're up on the command deck," the captain said courteously.

The woman hurried up the steps, and looked from one to the other of the three women there. She looked a second time at the Queen, her eyes widened, and she dropped to her knee. "Your Majesty!" she said, with great respect.

Alexandra helped her to her feet and introduced Sophie with the honor due a special envoy. "Shall we go below?"

"Your Majesty, Captain ... you should drop anchor at once. Matters are critical; you may want to turn right around."

That created quite some alarm. The anchor was duly dropped, and they went into the Captain's conference room.

"Belgravia has been a monarchy for centuries. Your mother, her Highness Princess Atlanta of Belgravia was a royal princess, second in line to the throne after King Philip." They nodded. Most of this was known. "You know that there has been unrest. The large Scottish and French populations have been unhappy for decades. Well," she paused to take a deep breath, "there has been a strange turn of events. A large opposition group has organized, and they sent representatives to the King, threatening civil war. They have effective control of four provinces, and if there is civil war, they may well lose the monarchy."

"There is no hope, then!" Alexandra said, her voice full of despair.

"I don't know!" the Ambassador cried. "They are aware of our situation — however vaguely — and in the last analysis, they are friendly to Norsland; in fact, we are their staunchest allies. All sectors of their population, the Athens government as well as the French and the Scots, are friendly towards us. If they support us, it may make them stronger! Sometimes a war has a good result, it makes people think of their strengths." The ambassador was eloquent and persuasive, though of course it was not Alexandra she needed to convince. But she was clearly a woman who loved her adopted home and its people. "But there are certain factions in the government, as well as among the opposition, who believe that Norsland is run poorly. We are too traditional, too conservative, too slow to make improvements, and so on, and so on. I fear that they will demand the right to institute changes in our government, to supervise our trade, modernize our society. To annex the country in all but name."

Alexandra narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I'm willing to make concessions, but that's going too far!"

"I was afraid that it would be Horvald," the ambassador said, "though he's a wonderful fellow. With you, they will be more cautious, because, of course, you have family here. There are, I know, aunts and cousins, and so forth. Oh, and there's another matter." She gave an embarrassed cough. "There is a small sector that is violently homophobic."

Alexandra was not familiar with the word, but Sophie was. She cringed as the ambassador explained. "We shall have to keep your marriage to Princess Genevieve out of the conversation, if not a secret. The opposition parties have a lot of favor among the armed forces, and it will be a difficult thing to get military aid without culture clashes once the troops arrive in Norsland."

Finally, the ambassador suggested that the inspector had, indeed, been absolutely correct. The opposition elements in the government had a rather chauvinistic attitude towards things such as impounding vessels, etc. The ship should leave right away, regardless of whether Alexandra decided to ask for aid, or at least remain out of view. It would be too much of a temptation for them to request custody of the vessel in order to study it, and borrow its technology, "especially since it will be in the interests of all parties to implement technical improvements that would help defeat the common enemy. But meanwhile, you'll lose the ship, at least for a while. The inspector was obviously the King's man."

Well aware that the departure of the Star would be seen as a discourteous act, and that she was giving up her only way off the continent, Alexandra said she and Sophie would go into port in the embassy vessel. Once Sophie and the Queen were aboard, the ambassador spoke to the captain privately.

"Do you have supplies and rations to return without difficulty?"

"Well, we were hoping to resupply. We're short of certain things; milk, produce ..."

"Send a man with us, and stay put. We may need to send a message back out to you; and we can ferry some supplies out, at the same time. Wait for two days, about three miles offshore, about twenty miles north of here. That's a little out of the way of traffic."

So Alexandra and Sophie found themselves being ferried into Belgravia in the ambassador's launch.

Athens in the night time was a beautiful sight, viewed from the water. It was far larger than Stefansberg, which indeed was not an impressive sight, except for the massive stone buildings. Athens was built of brick and mortar, or concrete, and the public buildings were full of air and grace.

Even at ten o'clock at night, there were crowds in the cities, which the visitors only saw flying by them as they sped out to the suburbs to the Ambassador's residence via navigable canals. On their arrival, her husband, a tall, studious man, greeted the girls with great pleasure. He said he knew their parents personally, and claimed that he had held both children in his arms when he was a lad. He had been a young fellow, running about the Palace, and had liked to play with the young children growing up in and around it.

"Arthur knows your family here, too," said the Ambassador with a smile to Alexandra, as they relaxed after supper. They had finished talking about politics, and they were exhausted, listening to the Ambassador, who was obsessed with the subject, and wanted to know every little detail. Once all that had been shared, Alexandra had to listen politely to the woman, though Sophie could tell she had tuned out fairly soon. But it was Sophie's duty to listen, and she did, filing things away to ask her later if needed. Now the talk had turned to personal matters. Alexandra was curious about the Belgravian side of her family, about which she knew nothing except for the photograph of the beautiful young woman who had given birth to her, and bestowed her severely beautiful features on her as well.

"You have met none of them?"

"Not one," said Alexandra, sitting forward, very interested.

"Not surprising! We attended the funeral, and brought the condolences of the family, Alexandra, but you were clearly not in any shape to notice such things. I believe Lady Horvald was in charge of you!"

Alexandra nodded. It had been a miserable time. Lady Horvald, a severe, dignified woman, had expressed her affection with great restraint. Alexandra was a restrained child to begin with, and in the end there was just too much restraint all round. There had been no comfort, except from Lady Trudy, who had been in deep mourning herself, and preoccupied with John Gustafson's grief. Gustafson had been devastated, Alexandra had learned later; indeed the late Queen had been a favorite with them. "She did her best," she said, charitably.

"She is what she is," said Arthur. "I was told that she felt a responsibility to you and to Beate, even though she was hardly qualified for the job!" It was certainly true; the Horvalds were childless. "The Royal Family of Belgravia are on the defensive, I'm afraid, and have felt under siege about using public resources. The larger the country, it appears, the less tolerant it is of spending by royalty!"

"They are not given much spending-money, all their commercial ventures have been taken by the government. They have very little land, most of the property is homes, museums, theaters, stables, things like that. A forest or two."

"No farms, no ships?"

"Well, neither do you, dear!"

"There are several farms and stables, and properties in the capital that are rented!" protested Alexandra.

Arthur nodded, but said that the Belgravian royal family had no sources of income other than the government, and the so-called Royal Trust, which administered a fund from which they received small stipends. Most of the adults were employed.

"I was hoping to spend a little time visiting ... even if it was a day or two!"

They looked at her with sympathy. Sophie, for one, knew of Alexandra's hunger for roots, and the joy with which she had embraced her cousins and aunts in Geneva. She was a loyal woman, and as much as she gained from friendship with her relatives here, they would gain far more in return.

Messages had already been sent to King Philip and the foreign secretary, and there was a meeting tentatively scheduled for early in the morning. Sophie and Alexandra were assigned separate rooms, luxuriously appointed, and a maid offered to clean their ship-soiled clothes, and they gratefully gave her their laundry. Sophie looked in to say goodnight, hoping for something, she didn't know exactly what, and received a pleasant good night in return.

Sophie found the Queen up early, and already taking a shower. She waited until Alexandra came out, and helped her choose something to wear. They were interrupted by the Ambassador, who wished them a good morning, and gleefully joined Sophie in supervising Alexandra's attire for the momentous meeting.

"Oh, you need to wear something that will keep your spirits up," she said, shaking her head. "It must be regal and stylish, but in good taste; fashionable, but not ostentatious; simple, but not severe. Colorful, but not garish ..."

"Sounds like an impossible set of conditions," Alexandra said, frowning. "I have with me only a very small selection of clothes!"

"You do, indeed," murmured the Ambassador, looking over the selection in dismay. "What do you suggest, young Sophie?"

In the end, Alexandra went dressed in a simple maroon calf-length knitted gown, and caught at the waist in a chain, with the Order pinned to her breast. Sophie did her short braid as she always did, securing it at the end with a metal clasp borrowed from the Ambassador. "Ribbons are for children," she had said. "A chiffon scarf will give you a touch of sophistication and maturity," she suggested.

"Will it not be too warm?"

"It certainly will, but they have air conditioning," she said.

Sharp at nine, the carriage dropped them off at the Palace, a sprawling marble building in quite a different style from the Palace in Stefansberg. Alexandra was received with a degree of pomp and ceremony, and greeted by a number of young people whose functions and roles seemed more to do with cultural ties than political alliances. But Alexandra was grateful for the honors, and responded graciously.

There were refreshments, then more introductions to rather grim-faced government officials, and then the doors were shut, and it was Alexandra's turn to explain what was going on, and what she wanted. Those she addressed knew only that trade out of Norsland had ceased and that there had been attacks.

Alexandra gave them all the facts, with Sophie's occasional help, while everything was written down. With Alexandra and Sophie, of course, sat the Ambassador and her secretary. The King himself, Alexandra's uncle, and two of the ministers and their staff were clearly concerned, Alexandra knew that the other three, including the general representing the military, were much less outwardly supportive, and careful not to show any reaction. They asked questions; what about the waters? What about the mountains, near the earthquake zone? What about Skree, and the line of islands along the north shore? What was known about the conditions in Freiburg? Alexandra answered to the best of her knowledge. At the end of it, they all looked grim. Alexandra sat back in her seat, watching them. Sophie was proud at the way the Queen had made her report to them, controlled, but not unemotional, without appearing to hurry, but with a power that had given most of the facts in a brief time, for maximum impact.

"What have you been instructed to ask for?" The question, from one of the military men, was insultingly phrased, but Alexandra chose to ignore its tone.

Alexandra thought for a second, and realized that it had been left to her. She took deep breath and spoke cautiously.

"Our defense is currently still in disarray, Your Majesty, as I have told you. Indeed, there are only regional centers. The one in the north is focused on military production, and the one near Luther's Creek defends the southern coast and the capital. The largest problem is that we don't have electrical communications, and there aren't enough troops to regain control of the Eastern Province, closest to Bernia. I think we should consider together what support makes sense, what you can offer, and I would welcome your wisdom. I would like to consider you full partners in this defense, rather than mere suppliers and well-wishers, Your Majesty."

That seemed to mollify the grumpy general somewhat. "Let's put a map together," he suggested gruffly. In short order a map was brought in, and quickly and efficiently the various situations were marked in. While they stood, he quickly pointed out the situation. Norsland was essentially a single large island-continent, and half of it was inaccessible from the military center except by sea. Once the northern shore was controlled, much of the uncertainty would be gone, and they could squeeze the enemy out of the eastern portion.

"If New Hope is willing — and they evidently are," he conceded, as Sophie protested, "they can help with the control of the southern waters. If the Bernians have imperialistic ambitions, then their other neighbors will support us. This time, they have to be defeated. This is not a time of prosperity, planet-wide. There are shortages everywhere. We have a shortage of coal and oil. The citizens of all these countries will need to be convinced to make sacrifices."

Alexandra reddened. She began to realize the subtle dynamics of the situation. A stable Norsland was important to the region, because it sat on the trade route between East and West. (Or between the Near East and the Far East, as Belgravia saw it.) But the times were changing, and in some countries, supporting a war overseas had to pass the test of whether it would help the common people, rather than the ruling elite. The current crisis in Belgravia might be seen as aligned along those lines.

Sophie watched Alexandra seem to shrink, and she felt her heart ache for her.

"What do you advise, my lords?" Sophie asked in a small voice.

Her question seemed to annoy the general. With an impatient gesture he indicated the map. "Well, a sweep must be made through here," he indicated the seas north of Skree, "all the way up through here, securing it once and for all, and I suppose we must do it, since no one else seems to want to! And another sweep must be made here, through the south, and on to Bernia. Then the Bernian regime must be pulled down, and a more sane one established! That's all there is to it! If Frederick can clear the southern waters, we can move on Freiburg together, from the north and the south, and finish it!"

Alexandra breathed again. It was the obvious conclusion, and yet she had not dared broach it herself, because it placed a huge responsibility on the Belgravians. And it left the Norslanders seemingly doing nothing.

"It is too much to ask, and yet, on behalf of my people, I must ask it. It has to be done." The King nodded, looking anxious and saying nothing, as did the two ministers on his side. The other three snorted and harrumphed, almost angry at being made to suggest a plan that required so much from Belgravia. "And we must establish electrical communication all over the island, because the fault line will never be stable, and we cannot lose touch with the north again." Alexandra was agitated. "Indeed it's possible that something has been done already, in the last week while I was traveling. If King Frederick's ships and ours have begun either clearing the south, or clearing the north, which is less likely, then there will be less to do!"

The inevitable issue was raised; all this would cost a lot of money. How would the cost be met? Surely the Norslandian Treasury was not up to handling such a thing. Alexandra grimaced and shook her head, and said that she had been authorized to offer such trade agreements and other concessions that were reasonable and possible. They broke up, agreeing to meet again on the following day, leaving Alexandra and Sophie alone with the King of Belgravia, her uncle.

The King, a tall, distinguished fair-haired man with a large roman nose and dark grey eyes turned to Alexandra and smiled warmly, as soon as they were alone. "I am so glad to see you, and so proud of how you're doing, and so sorry to see you in this awful situation!" he said, his face showing his great concern. He turned to include Sophie in his welcome, smiling over their heads at the Ambassador. "I would very much like to have them for a while, Ambassador! Could you possibly let them out of your sight for a few hours?" The Ambassador laughed, and said yes. Would they be staying the night? The King looked at the two girls from his great height, and said, "That would be wonderful! I'll make sure you get together before you need to face the inquisition again. We'll think of something!" He nodded to the Ambassador as if he were making a bow, and escorted the two girls out of the room, and along various halls, until he reached his office. Sophie was completely captivated by the tall, strong, charismatic man, such a contrast from all the men she had known. She could well imagine the effect her uncle was having on Alexandra.

"Sit down, sit down! Please," he called to his secretary, "let's have some coffee, and a few eats! I must call home and tell them." The secretary smiled warmly at them, and asked what they would prefer, and hurried off to get it.

"Yes, dear; and I'm sure they'd like to meet some of the others ... good, yes ... oh, definitely!" He turned to Alexandra and smiled, and continued, "Yes, she does; the same face, the same nose, the same chin, the same hair! Yes, ... just give us five minutes!"

He had great personal charm, and Alexandra wondered whether her mother Atlanta had been anything like him. He was energetic, and would have had his way even if he was not so incredibly polite and charming. As soon as they'd had a drink and a few snacks, he whirled them off into a carriage, and they were shortly at a rambling villa just outside the main part of the city, enclosed inside tall walls, and surrounded by a park-like garden of several acres.

Two women stood on the large verandah, waiting to welcome them. One of them was a beautiful woman of about the Ambassador's age, who Alexandra correctly guessed was the King's consort, and the other was a younger woman, who had Alexandra's hair and general appearance, except for being slimmer and more feminine. This had to be an aunt, the King's sister.

Sophie hung back, hungrily taking in the fascinating scene. Alexandra smiled softly as she went up the few steps, at a loss for words, and allowed herself to be hugged, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. She was bigger made than the two women, both a little taller and heavier, and they had to look up to her. But they were plainly delighted to see her, to see in the flesh the child of Atlanta, whom they had long imagined, but never seen.

A young girl ran out, of about twelve or thirteen, and stood staring at Alexandra.

"Alexandra, this is your cousin Daphne! Daphne, you've heard of Alexandra, Aunt Atlanta's daughter!"

The girl nodded and smiled, shy but excited and happy. She was an elf-like thing, with long blonde hair up to her waist, braided and tied with some contraption, thin, with stick-legs and enormous feet, which promised much greater height in the future.

"Ariane is putting her shoes on," she said, making them laugh. Ariane, it turned out, was another cousin, the daughter of Diana, who was the woman who looked just like Alexandra.

Gradually, over lunch the family gathered. It was a large one, and Sophie found herself pleasantly flirting with the princes, two of them, and Ariane's brother, all attractive boys in their late teens, and there were more aunts and uncles, and Alexandra and Sophie lost count. Diana and Daphne were the two most memorable of the lot, with Anne, Diana's youngest sister. Anne, who was nineteen, a vivacious outgoing girl, sat next to Alexandra, and talked to her and asked her questions, and made suggestions, and wanted to take her out shopping. She had the same overwhelming charisma and charm that Philip had.

While the rest of the family took a liking to Alexandra in a very short time, none of them were as effusive as Anne. They were content to smile at her and nod, enjoying watching her interact with Anne and Daphne. Sophie could appreciate their sentiments; she herself liked to take her time making friends with someone, before trying to run their lives.

"I'm afraid my youngest sister is rather a human whirlwind," King Philip said to Sophie with a smile that was so wide it was almost a grin. "She certainly cuts through the red tape, though, doesn't she?" he asked indulgently, as if Anne was a daughter, rather than a sister. There must have been almost twenty-five years between their ages.

It was the hardest thing to do, but Alexandra chose to forego the shopping expedition. With a war on her mind, she said it might send the wrong message, if the Queen was seen having a good time, while her people were presumably dying in battle. Anne sobered at once. She said Alexandra was right, and was depressed. "I know," she said. "I just want to take you to my rooms and have you visit!"

"That's a good plan," said Diana, quickly, and suddenly they were gone, leaving Sophie to hurry after them. The King laughed, waving to her.

That evening, they gathered at the Palace, the older ones, and invited the Ambassador and her husband over, to discuss things. Between them they tried to anticipate what the Ministers would ask; trade rights was one, of course, and Alexandra was willing to give Belgravia a great many concessions there. There would be interest in access to certain materials. Norslandish coal and steel was valuable, and a strategic asset. Norslandish medical science was very advanced, and there was some scope for cooperation there, though honestly it was of little economic value.

"At any rate, you must not agree to anything forever. You must agree to a concession for ten years, or twenty years, but no more. You must insist that in the long run, the agreements must stand on their own. If you did not get as much out of it as they did, then you wouldn't want to renew the agreement. You see?"

"But Uncle, I am not in a position to haggle! A beggar can't be a chooser!"

"That is where you are very wrong: you are not a beggar. We need Bernia out of there just as much as you do! If they use up your resources to keep up their mad militarization scheme, then you will be just a stepping-stone to Belgravia. We, of course, see ourselves as the greatest prize of all!" There was some laughter, but Alexandra could see that the King was not only right about that opinion, but Belgravia was a great prize. Not an easy nut to crack, though.

"I know one thing they will ask for," the Ambassador said. "Skree."

Alexandra gasped, while the cousins nodded vehemently. She turned to the family, trying to understand the reason for the surprising idea. She learned that Skree had a historical connection with Belgravia, especially the royal family. As she heard their side of the story, Alexandra became more and more convinced that, even if Belgravia had no territorial designs on Norsland generally, Skree was the exception. In addition to the royal family, there were many others who traced their roots to Skree, even if there was not a single soul of their families still alive on the island.

"But my family lives there," Alexandra protested. "Skree is precious to Norsland, too!"

There was a silence. The King studied Alexandra with a sympathetic smile, keeping out of the discussion. The others made some awkward attempts to understand the problem, and moderate their desire for the island, which they were quick to present as a long-desired object of the people, rather than they themselves.

Except for that one issue, Alexandra felt that the King and his family, at least, understood and sympathized with her cause.

Once the Ambassador had taken her leave, they girls excitedly took Alexandra and Sophie back, and started dressing them up. They were puzzled at this, until the King put his head in the door to tell Alexandra and Sophie that they had planned to attend an opera, and they must come as their guests.

The opera was a wonderful experience. In Norsland there was no professional opera company, but once a year or so an amateur group would stage one. They varied greatly in their quality, but Sophie and Alexandra, having seen every one they were old enough to see, had only seen a dozen of them. This present opera was an old, old one, with knights and maidens, and it was oh, so romantic, and the music was beautiful. The singers were rather heavily built, which detracted greatly from the effectiveness of the thing as drama. But in all other respects, it was a miraculous thing. The stage was lit completely with electric lights, and the orchestra played flawlessly. Alexandra could scarcely believe that flesh and blood could do it.

In addition to the opera itself, Alexandra and Sophie could hardly believe the fashions! Belgravian fashions were amazing. They had spent an hour or two admiring Anne's wardrobe. Now they saw that it had been conservative in the extreme. The women's clothes, in particular, were highly provocative. They were of thin fabric —which made sense, since it was high summer— and clingy. The girls never condemned any of the garments, but only made remarks such as: Oh, look at that one! Sophie saw Alexandra surreptitiously eyeing a young woman who wore a simple dress in a silky grey material that covered her completely from neck to calf, except for the sides which were left unstitched. It was held closed with a belt and a harness, and showed crisscrossing lines of straps along the thin band it revealed—less than an inch—along her sides. Sophie had to admit that the way the straps bit tight into her skin was exceedingly provocative. They watched her walk out during the intermission, and in again, balanced on shoes with extremely high heels. Seeing Sophie's interest in her, she smiled sweetly, and Sophie smiled back politely. Her hair was cut very short, like a guardsman, and she wore long, elaborate earrings that hung like miniature chandeliers from her pretty ears. She was escorted by no one.

After the intermission, the lights were dimmed, and the conductor of the pit orchestra climbed on stage and announced that Queen Alexandra of Norsland was in the Royal Box, and then proceeded to conduct the Norslandish national anthem, for which everyone stood, except Alexandra. Once it was over, she stood and accepted the cheers of the audience. Was it just Sophie's imaginations, or did the pretty woman in grey look up at Alexandra with special interest? Then the Belgravian anthem was played, greeted with polite applause, and the opera resumed. Sophie watched the girl in the silver dress watching Alexandra, and sighed softly. In this country, who knew? Anything could happen.

That night, the girl cousins would not let them retire without a detailed post-mortem of the events of the day. Everyone in their party had noticed the girl in grey, evidently, and all the Belgravians were positive that she liked either Alexandra or Sophie. There seemed to be a conspiracy to not mention Genny, whether or not they were aware of the fact of Alexandra's marriage.

"You must understand," Anne said gravely, "as a family, we're as liberal as it gets in this country." The others nodded vehemently. "But homosexuality is frowned on by many folks here. There is a trend towards gay-bashing, you know?" Alexandra nodded as if she knew it well, whereas she could only guess what it meant. "It's considered in really bad taste. But we're used to that. I just thought: a word to the wise."

Fortunately the topic changed to something else, and Sophie could breathe easy again.

Once again, that night, Sophie and Alexandra were given separate rooms. She was woken by Alexandra at around five in the morning. She felt the bed give under the weight of someone who sat at the edge of it, and she opened her eyes, certain it was her imagination. It was Alexandra, in her nightgown.

"Sophie!" she whispered softly, smiling down at her. "Go to sleep. I'm just going to sit here for a while."

Sophie smiled and made room for her, and Alexandra climbed on, and sat with her leg tucked under her. "Why don't you get in here?" Sophie offered, but Alexandra shook her head. She remained a while, thinking silently, studying Sophie's face, but not really seeing her. "What's bothering you?"

She sighed. "Just everything. Just everything, Sophie."

"Is it Skree?"

"Yes. They're right; it would be hard to refuse Skree. They've been interested in the harbor forever."

"What else, Alexandra?" Alexandra shrugged, her head hanging. "Genny?" Alexandra nodded. "The ... pregnancy?" She nodded. "The opera?" Another nod. "The girl in silver?" There was a pause, and Alexandra nodded slowly. "We have to get back soon," Sophie said softly, sitting up beside the older girl. "You're made of flesh and blood," she said. "I have to stop thinking of you as —some kind of goddess, with no weaknesses, and no needs..."

"You!" Alexandra gave a dismissive snort. "It isn't you. You never cause me hurt, Sophie; you do nothing but good. People try their best; even the General, last morning... He was trying. But it's all too much!"

Sophie put her arm round Alexandra, and they sat quietly. She could feel Alexandra's body against hers, and it made her feel warm inside. After a while she knew Alexandra was silently weeping, signaled by a loud sniff. She had picked up the hem of her nightie and had wiped her face, like a little girl.

The light out of the window signaled a new day. They looked at each other, smiling, knowing that another bridge had been crossed.

The talks in the Parliamentary committee that morning went briskly. After the discussion of the previous night, Alexandra was not caught off guard. In fact, she negotiated beautifully; she managed to agree in principle to a number of demands, moderating many of them, suggesting term limits on some concessions, allowing others "forever," because in her own mind, she knew that once she took the agreement back to her people, its ratification would be subject to some restrictions. But when it came down to the biggest and most contentious demand, namely the Island of Skree, Alexandra refused to be nailed down.

"I must take that to my council," she said. She had thought this over on her own, Sophie knew. "I do have the right to grant it to you outright. But you know that in this day and age, any monarch must rule by consent; and in this matter, the wishes of the people of the island, and their families on the mainland must be taken into account. Think of the consequences if King Philip were to unilaterally give away one of your own islands to Norsland!"

"But, Your Majesty, we are not asking for your aid; you are asking for ours!"

"Do you wish to blackmail us, Minister? I cannot think that you truly mean that. I cannot believe that you could want an island, on which thousands of people have their homes, and have lived for generations, if those people do not wish to belong to Belgravia. And I cannot believe that you think I have the callousness to agree to it without consulting anyone!"

"Your Majesty, you don't understand; to you it may appear mere sentimentality. But to many of our own people, the island is of great symbolic and emotional significance!"

"How can it possibly have more significance to your people than to its present occupants?"

The man waved his hand, to signify that it was something that was hard for Alexandra to understand, but nevertheless true.

"I can only promise to take it to my council of advisors. One of your demands has been that we should move to a constitutional form of government. You realize that if we had a representative government, there would be absolutely no chance of granting your request for the island!"

Finally the King ended the discussion. Alexandra could see that he, as much as the others, wanted that little tidbit very, very much. But he could see that it was going nowhere. It was clear that if pressed, Alexandra would leave the table. It was in everybody's interest to keep the relationship between the two lands and their peoples close and amicable.

They broke up for lunch. The Belgravians would take the matter for consideration by their own full cabinet. Meanwhile, the embassy had learned that the Star of Hope had dropped anchor out of sight of land, and was waiting according to plan.

Lunch with the Royal Family was more informal than on the previous day. A slightly different group of cousins were present; Daphne was there, but Anne wasn't. There were more girl cousins, and different ones, surprisingly like the family in Geneva, except that their dress was more cosmopolitan, and there were boys, and the girls were some of them slim and delicate, in contrast to the Genevan cousins, who were almost all big and all very tall, including 'little' Briana.

Sophie was as much a favorite here as there. Both the boys and the girls enjoyed her company, and hung around her. When Alexandra declared that she was tired of being cooped up, and wished she could go out walking in disguise, they reacted with great enthusiasm. A couple of them, including irrepressible Cassie, only waited to make sure Sophie was willing as well.

The King was gone to the House of Representatives, but the Queen, who was present, insisted that they should take an escort. They groaned, saying that would spoil everything, but the Queen was firm. "You know, already, that there have been three attempts, at least, on Cousin Alexandra's life. It would cause a scandal if anything were to happen while she was in your care, girls. Be responsible."

In short order they were walking through the city, swinging their hips just for the fun of it, while their escort, they presumed, was following them, discreetly out of sight. They had doused Sophie with perfume, and it was making her excited. Perfume made Sophie excited every time.

Alexandra was so amused, she forgot her troubles, and sometimes forgot herself and joined in the clowning the rest of them were indulging in, if with more restraint. The paint they had put on her lips and her eyes made her look incredibly sensuous to Sophie's eyes. The color really drew attention to features that were strong to begin with. Alexandra was always the center of attention, but one always thought of her in her royal role; one thought of her as The Queen, rather than that stunning girl with the sensuous lips and the beautiful eyes.

Half the fun was to parade around, looking at the others, and being looked at. There were plenty of admirers to look at them, and beautiful people to look at. They arranged themselves along a low parapet in front of one of the buildings overlooking a beautiful lake, and waited for couples to walk by. The couples loved to be told they were beautiful.

Presently, a couple of boys walked up to Cassie and Sophie, looking very bashful.

"You girls look really pretty," said one of them. Cassie smiled and thanked him. He introduced himself and his friend, and Cassie returned the favor. Only first names were used. "Jim would like to walk with your friend," said the boy disingenuously. Cass looked at Sophie, clearly begging her with her eyes. Sophie got off the parapet when Cass departed with her new conquest.

"Do you live in town?" Sophie's boy asked her, when they had walked a little apart. He was just about her age, a little taller. He was nicely dressed, in the latest Belgravian fashion for boys, and had beautiful manners, which was even more impressive. Sophie said no, she was just visiting, but Cass lived here. "I like her," said Jim, grinning; "she's a character!" Sophie agreed, laughing. They walked past another group, and were told that they were a beautiful couple. They thanked them politely, very pleased with themselves. Suddenly Sophie was surprised to spot the Silver Girl from the Opera. She was leaning casually against another building, about fifty feet away, waiting. Sophie caught the girl's eye, and smiled. The girl was about to look away, but surprised by Sophie's smile, she smiled back, reddening a little. She really was remarkable. Her eyes were large, green and almond-shaped, she had a perfect figure with powerful buttocks that made Sophie's pulse race. She wore open toed sandals that displayed really pretty feet.

"Do you know her?" Jim asked, noticing the interaction.

"Not really; I just saw her at the opera, and we grinned at each other. She seems interesting," Sophie said, laughing. "I'm interested in all kinds of people," she offered, to fill the awkward silence.

"I am, too," Jim said quickly. "Let's just relax here and talk for a while!"

Jim was easy to talk to. Sophie found herself telling him a lot of things, carefully disguising the details, but leaving enough in there that it made her feel some relief in unburdening herself. She said she was with a friend who was trying to arrange a trade agreement, and it wasn't working.

While they were talking, they saw an argument some distance away turn into a fight. It was quickly clear that two boys who were together were being baited by a group, the very group who had told Sophie and Jim they were a beautiful couple.

"Gays," said Jim. "It's gay bashing. I wish they wouldn't walk out in the open."

"Why shouldn't they?" asked Sophie, puzzled.

"You like gays?"

Sophie shrugged. "What does it matter? If they love each other, and they're not having public sex, or anything!"

Jim shuddered. He explained that he simply could not bear the thought of two men touching each other. "What about women?" Sophie demanded. He couldn't stand that either. She looked at him, all her good opinion of him withering away. She could see in his expression that her reaction hurt him. "Let's talk about something else," he suggested.

But the fight was getting ugly. Soon people were taking sides. To Sophie's alarm, she noticed that Alexandra had stepped forward, and was defending the two boys, reprimanding the crowd with great dignity. Her words could not be heard, because she refused to shout. She seemed to be saying that the aggressor was being abusive, intolerant and uncivilized. Other homophobes joined the other side, but Alexandra would not back down. She simply stood, her arms folded across her chest, a picture of stubbornness. Sophie had to smile, and Jim smiled with her. She rewarded him with a soft touch on the arm.

Suddenly, the Silver Girl was with them.

She took Sophie by the arm, and said, "You should say goodbye now, Sophie. You should come away."

Sophie looked at her startled. Across the square, people had materialized, and the two young gay men were being hustled away, another group had surrounded Alexandra and the young women from King Philip's family all were being urged into carriages. Sophie began to understand.

"I've got to go," she told Jim. "Goodbye!" He waved to her, looking shocked, as the Silver Girl firmly guided Sophie away. They did not slow down until they were behind some buildings, and were pretty much alone. She spoke into a device she held, and said, "Lady Sophie is with me." Then she listened and nodded. Then she relaxed, and smiled. "All right," she said, and put the thing away. She let out a big sigh.

"My name is Sharon," she said, offering her arm, loaded with bracelets. "It fizzled out." She rolled her eyes. "Some people!" They began to walk.

"You're Palace guard, aren't you?" Sophie asked her.

"Palace Security, yes. You must have security too, right?"

"Well, just the guard. They go undercover sometimes if they have to."

The girl smiled. "I was puzzled when you smiled at me. Did you know I was detailed to you?"

"What does that mean?"

"Did you know I was from security? Or why did you smile?"

"Oh, I just recognized you from the opera, that's why!"

"Oh, that's right!" she laughed. "Did I look so conspicuous?"

"Just attractive, that's all!"

She blushed furiously. Sophie felt out of her depth. Sharon had to know who Alexandra was; she wondered just how much the Palace guard knew. But in the end, it did not matter. She was just a very attractive woman who happened to be a Palace guard, and Sophie would never see her again.

"Your Queen carries herself with great dignity," Sharon said, with obvious admiration. Sophie thought Sharon's speech was as attractive as the woman's appearance. As attractive as Genny's way of talking.

"Yes, Alexandra is very special," Sophie granted her. "That was like her. She never loses her temper. She's firm, like a rock. She won't fight, but she won't go away, either."

Sharon laughed, a soft peal of bells. "In case you're wondering, we're heading to the Palace barracks! We're meeting the others there. I hope you saw some of the nicer aspects of our city! Not all the people are as intolerant as those."

"The young fellow I was with was a homophobe," Sophie said gravely, "but at least he did not join in the jeering."

"That's as much as one can ask for," Sharon said. "Tell me, Lady Sophie, what exactly do you do?"

"I'm Queen Alexandra's personal assistant. I'm her secretary, remember things for her, help her dress, save her life, ... the usual sort of thing!"

"There was some kind of incident? Or is it every day?" Sharon asked, her professional interest kindled.

"No, just a couple of times. We were riding, across the mountains, with a group of friends. Alexandra and I were in disguise, sort of, on our way to taking ship to come here. There were three assassins, with rifles. I got them with a crossbow!" Sophie said, unable to disguise her pride. "They were as far away as there," she said, pointing at some buildings about the right distance away. "I got five quarrels out, and another girl got them with two more!"

"A crossbow?"

Sophie nodded. "There are very few guns among the people. Rifle ownership is against the law."

"But ... crossbows are no match for rifles!"

"Well, yes, but you can't let yourself be seen with a rifle; you'd be killed at once. If you want to carry a rifle, you have to stay completely invisible. So the snipers are confined to the coastal areas." She told Sharon about the other group who had shot down the other three assassins, simply because they were seen carrying rifles.

"Accept my admiration," Sharon said with a sigh. "It's impossible for me to imagine such conditions. But a crossbow is, of course, completely silent. To that extent, it's a good weapon."

"It's a great weapon. I discovered I'm good at it just recently."

They chatted back and forth. Luckily Sophie had something in common with the girl, because of Baby and Kirsten insisting on training her. Otherwise, their worlds would seem to have had little in common, except for their mutual interest in the arts, and the surprising fact that their fathers were both professors of law.

Alexandra and the others were just getting out of the carriage, when they arrived at the barracks, which was close to the Palace. The girls saw Sophie and waved, not unaccustomed to these little security interventions. But Alexandra saw Sophie with the Silver Girl, and her eyes widened slightly. She walked up and stood a little away from the two of them as Sophie and Sharon smiled at her with amusement, Sophie knowing exactly why Alexandra stared, Sharon not quite sure.

"This is Sharon, of the Palace security; Sharon, Queen Alexandra."

Sharon dropped to her knee and bowed with easy grace, a man's reverence, uncaring of her short dress, and Alexandra graciously drew her to her feet. She told Sharon that they had seen her at the opera, and had talked about her afterwards. "We thought you were one of the best dressed women at the performance," Alexandra said smiling.

Sharon blushed. "Such clothes are quite common, Your Majesty," she said, plainly embarrassed. "It's a habit I acquired in my teen years that doesn't seem to have gone away!"

"And why should it?" Alexandra asked, still smiling. "I was just surprised to see you with Lady Sophie, that's all! Thank you for your help today."

"I admired your poise, Your Majesty," she said earnestly, anxious to report to her superior, but also eager to talk to the young Queen. "It was well done, and I for one wish to tell you that it was appreciated."

"Thank you, guardsman Sharon," Alexandra said gravely, and bowed a farewell. Her eyes followed the guardsman all the way into the barracks, and the girl turned to wave just before she went inside.

"What was that all about?" demanded Cassie. The others were a little distance away, discussing the incident in the shade of a beautiful old tree. "Wasn't that the girl near the store?"

"Yes, she was obviously one of the guards!"

"Obviously," said Cassie, in her inimitable style. "Is she nice?" she wanted to know.

"Very," replied Sophie.

That night, Sophie and Alexandra spent back at the Ambassador's residence. They received a message that the Belgravian House of Representatives had approved aid, and that a fleet was being assembled at a naval base a few miles further north than their waiting New Hope ship, and would sail the following day at noon. War had been declared against Bernia.

A message was sent out to the waiting ship that the Queen would board her at noon. They would join the fleet en route. That gave Alexandra and Sophie just enough time to say their goodbyes, and be taken by carriage to the little seaport near which the ship was anchored.

When they were taken on board, they were shocked to see a familiar face come forward to greet them: Sharon!

She looked very nervous but determined. "I have just become one of your subjects, Your Majesty!" she said, kneeling before Alexandra once the Queen had finished greeting the captain and the commander properly. She was dressed in canvas pants and a plain man's cotton shirt, and looked ready for anything. Her bare arms looked strangely more feminine in the man's costume.

Alexandra gripped her arm with a smile and said she was honored. "Will you enlist?"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" she said. Then she came closer —but not so close as to appear familiar— and added, in a low voice, her face serious, "I would be most honored if you would allow me to join your personal guard, Your Majesty. I would be glad to be put through any probation, anything that's required. I understand that foreign nationals must establish their loyalty first."

Alexandra was taken by surprise. "I really don't have a permanent personal guard, Sharon. I'm just assigned whoever is convenient."

Sharon's eyes moved to Sophie, as if to ask for support. Sophie sighed and joined the conversation.

"It's true, Sharon," she said in a low voice. "Because we've been sneaking around, we've used different people at different times. The only one who's been with Her Majesty most of the time is Major Miriam Annasdottir, and it looks as if she'll be promoted and put in charge of troops. There's no saying what will happen when we get back home..."

"May I remain with you? I just received my papers from the Ambassador this noon, and I came on board without any contact in your country except you, Lady Sophie. Or ... I can look for a job once this ship makes port."

Sophie studied the woman thoughtfully, and she stood there, waiting for a response, her face impassive, except for the look of patient resignation. To Sophie's eyes it seemed very much as though the woman had been completely swept off her feet by Alexandra. She clearly wanted to be as close as possible to the young queen. It would complicate an already complicated situation. But were there ulterior motives? At the very worst, she really could be a Bernian spy, planted for the express purpose of killing Alexandra. But the fact that the Ambassador had approved her spoke well of her. Sophie finally spoke.

"We'll take care of you, Sharon. Our plans are not clear, once we arrive back in Norsland. But there are lots of places you can be useful." She led Sharon away, allowing Alexandra to get to her quarters and relax. All three of them realized that it was not appropriate for Alexandra herself to make promises to her. "While I can guarantee that you'll be looked after, a roof over your head, and three square meals a day, and all that, things are too unsettled for me to be able to guarantee an income!"

"I understand," said she, simply.

"I haven't been paid since I started working. I ask for money when I run out. It's all very ... irregular."

"I have no right to expect anything," Sharon replied.

"Why did you do it, Sharon?"

"Personal reasons, Lady Sophie," she said, and then added hastily, "but I mean no harm to her Majesty. Someday I may tell you, but ... not now!" Her smile was very slight, but Sophie trusted her instincts.

She smiled and told the young Belgravian to be welcome. "If you aren't assigned a place to sleep, come look for me!" She nodded, and went away to make space for the sailors who were loading the incoming supplies.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

With the Fleet

It took a little less than an hour to load the supplies, and then they were off. Sophie and Alexandra took their places on the command deck as the sails were raised. They had a good following breeze. Shortly after three in the afternoon, they caught up with the fleet, which was moving majestically forward. The commander of the fleet came aboard to meet Alexandra, who said she would like to go on ahead with as much speed as they could get up, report how things had gone, and advise Skree about the fleet. The commander agreed.

The Star put on all sails, and skimmed the water, passing the troop-laden vessels of the fleet. By nightfall, they were almost out of sight of the following Armada. By the Captain's calculation, they would be in Skreehaven in three days, the most. Sophie told him what had transpired, since he did not know the details. Though he was a Novaspirian, he sympathized with them sufficiently to say that the Belgravian demand for the Island of Skree was rather a preposterous one. New Hope itself had strong connections with the island, and would not like the idea of any change in its status. However, he completely agreed with the opinion that the need for clearing out the northern sea of enemy ships was of the greatest urgency. There was absolutely no point at all in having all their ships stay in port. The fact of the matter was, there were not enough troops to put in the ships; they were all waiting for General Laura to train as many soldiers as could be found, and to send them out to work.

Sophie found herself getting into the frame of mind in which she felt like shooting her crossbow at the first sign of an enemy. It had been so long since that night of the invasion, and little or nothing had been done. The feel of racing along, the slight pitching of the ship as if in its eagerness to get to its destination, infected Sophie with excitement. She had never thought of herself as a girl of action, but those hours with Alexandra's cousins —mere hours, which did not even add up to a whole day— had changed her profoundly. She did not know this, but the way she walked, the way she held herself, the way she breathed, had all changed subtly. She no longer looked thin and slight, though she had put on scarcely a pound of weight.

For many reasons, Sophie and Alexandra avoided being in their room at the same time. Perhaps in their minds, since they had slept soundly for two nights apart, they were reluctant to throw themselves back into the emotionally charged relationship which they were so thankful to have survived. Sophie wanted greatly to be able to look up to Alexandra once again as her Queen and leader, rather than an object of desire.

Alexandra was concerned with different things. She had a gradually increasing sense of her own vulnerability, and the very real possibilities of being killed, captured, tortured or maimed. She was preoccupied with the possibility that the young woman they had befriended, Sharon, was in fact a Bernian spy, someone who had been planted in the Belgravian Palace guard for the express purpose of winning her confidence and her trust. It seemed a long, long shot, but —why not? No one had ever heard of such a thing, in all the wars that had been fought on the planet that anyone remembered; furthermore, she seemed an intelligent and sensitive girl, genuinely fond of music and the arts, concerned about issues of social justice. She had a proud bearing that Alexandra admired. She could not possibly be Bernian! But then, what did they really know about Bernians? Who was to say that none of them were intelligent, sensitive, and with all the attributes that Norsfolk valued so highly? Perhaps such Bernese did not venture out in these ill-advised armies of conquest and rape, but when the day came that they marched into Freiburg to bring the political leaders to justice, they would have to face Bernian civilians, bravely defending their homes on Bernian soil. It was all sickening, and Alexandra hated this: that the Bernians had inflicted this agony on her.

When Sophie finally did come into the room, Alexandra was lying in Sophie's bunk, and surprised her by blurting out her thoughts of the moment. Sophie had just looked at her Queen with concern, and lowered herself to the cushion that she often sat on, on the floor.

"Sophie, I've been thinking: ... if we're surrounded by Bernians, in a hopeless situation, I would surrender!"

"What? Why? I'd fight like a cornered dog, and then I'd ... I'd kill myself! But I'd take as many of them with me as I could!" Sophie breathed hard, furious at the mere thought. "You can be sure that the other troops would do the same! You'd be the only one surrendering, I can tell you!"

Alexandra was taken aback. It apparently was not quite the reaction she had expected.

"No, Sophie. It would be useless. If there was a chance I'd be simply taken to Bernia and interned, I'd surrender. Every one of these Bernian men and women is someone's brother, or sister, or father, or mother, husband, or wife ..." she shook her head. "To kill them when they attack homes, on a rampage, in the heat of battle, I can do that. But if we're surrounded ... no. If I fight, we all die."

"Do you want to live forever?" Sophie cried, a phrase that Kirsten had thrown at her on one occasion.

After a while, Alexandra said softly, "I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh dear god!"

"I want to live, Sophie! Life is burning in my heart; I can think of nothing but fighting to live!"

"Oh Alexandra! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you. That isn't the only reason; the child isn't the only reason. I have thought of this a great deal ..."

"Obviously," said Sophie rolling her eyes.

"Such ideas came to me!" Alexandra whispered, "I even considered the possibility that our Sharon was a spy!" She laughed silently. "I have too much of an imagination..."

"Let's get her in here and question her. She's at a loose end; she's trying her best to stay out of everyone's way, a civilian on a military ship. But she's a trained guard, so it must be really strange for her."

"Didn't you talk to her?"

"I don't know; I thought, let her suffer a bit. I feel sorry for her now, though."

"Yes, go get her; she might be interesting to chat with. If she has designs against me, let's try and find out."

Sophie groaned, got to her feet, and headed out. Presently she returned, and said, "Lady Alex, the girl does not even have a place to leave her things. She had a single large bag, which is presently in a corner of the treadmill room. But she's been told that it has to go. It's against safety regulations."

Alexandra nodded vehemently. "That's sensible. Shall we let her keep her bag here, in the corner? I've locked our things up in the trunk."

Sophie nodded and headed out. The girl must have been at the top of the stairs; they were back in a few seconds. She hesitated at the door, until Alexandra said heartily, from her place in the lower bunk, "Come in, come in! Put your bag behind you, er, Cherie, ..."

"Sharon, Your Majesty!"

"Sharon, yes! Come inside ... here's a cushion. Everybody but the Queen must sit on the floor on cushions!"

"Only proper, Your Majesty!" she laughed

"You're sweating!"

"She's done a shift on the treadmills," Sophie explained, making room for Sharon on the floor beside her. "Cherie, there's a pail of water over near the little window," —she and Alexandra giggled; it was their little joke now— "and ... here, I'll show you." She showed Sharon the ropes of shipboard washing. There were actual public showers below deck, which used filtered sea water. But the two of them preferred to wash with a little fresh water. "Go on," she urged, we won't look."

Sharon stripped to the skin, saying she wasn't particular, and proceeded to wash herself. Alexandra, of course was facing away from her, but Sophie boldly stared, in spite of her reassurances. She was a handsome girl, not big, like Alexandra, nor slight like herself, or even voluptuous like Genevieve; she was a different type. She was of medium height, with her provocative short hair, delicate hands and feet, but still athletic. Her legs tapered down to slim ankles from those strong buttocks that were so provocative. She looked like a dancer, Sophie decided. They were silent while the girl finished washing and drying herself. Sophie helped her put the things away, and waited while she deftly changed. In spite of her protestations of not being a prude, she managed to change while keeping herself covered with the towel. She emerged dressed in shorts and an attractive soft vest that stretched to cover her curves. She really was a pretty thing, for being a guard. Her eyes were almond-shaped, and on closer scrutiny, her hair was not cut like a boy's, as was Mimi's, but cut ragged, so that it framed her face charmingly. She was very much a girl, unlike Sophie and Alexandra, who could easily have both been young men, since men, too, sometimes wore their hair long.

They were seated so that Alexandra could see both girls from the bunk. Alexandra jokingly said that she had thought Sharon might be a spy, and she grew red-faced.

"I don't believe such a thing," Alexandra hastened to add, slightly embarrassed herself, "I've decided that you simply could not be a spy. You seem too intelligent to be a Bernian!"

Sharon hung her head. "I can't think of what I could say, Your Majesty, ..."

"Just Alexandra, please, or Lady Alexandra, when we're in public."

"... I was thinking that you could not really have any evidence to the contrary, Lady Alexandra. Trained as I have been in surveillance, I would have recommended to you that I should be kept far from your person until my sympathies were proven. I have never been to Bernia; that much can be easily established. We Belgravians keep track of such things."

"Indeed? For everyone? Or just for Palace guards?"

"For anyone in the security services."

"There you are," Sophie said with relief. "She can't be a spy!" They were all pleased at that. "Sharon," she continued, "I have a puzzle for you. Lady Alexandra has been shot at on three different occasions, at least in one of which she was fairly well disguised! Of course, I can tell her Majesty from miles away. But I know her well. How is it that total strangers can identify her, when they can't use knowledge of how she moves, which is how I can spot her? If she was simply standing, you see, I would find her harder to recognize!"

"Good question, Sophie! I had not thought of that." Alexandra looked expectantly at Sharon.

Sharon looked at the Queen through slitted eyes, and then closed her eyes.

"You have the characteristic head and hair of the royal family — I mean, King Philip's family, my Lady. That kind of truly straight hair is uncommon. It is much prized in Belgravia, I might add. The people claim to despise the Royal Family, but in their hearts they all wish to be like them! For myself, I prefer my own hair, meaning no offense!"

Alexandra pulled her hair forward and studied it. She looked at Sophie quizzically.

"It is very distinctive," Sophie conceded. "When you cut it all at one length, it's almost like a brush; it stays square! That's why I like it; it has a geometric quality to it!" Even at that moment, the end of the braid was more or less straight.

"And the coloring is also distinctive, that streaky blonde. My lady, if you prefer, I could easily help you color it darker."

Alexandra frowned. Hair coloring methods commonly available harmed the hair's natural strength and health, and Alexandra despised doing anything that was unhealthy and unnatural, by and large.

"It is not the kind of thing you might know in Norsland, Lady Alexandra. It is a kind of herbal dye that soaks in gradually; you massage it in every day, and over several days, the hair darkens. And it resists bleaching by the sun. I use it, see?"

Sophie leaned closer to inspect the bent head of the girl, and touch her hair. She exclaimed in surprise at how soft her hair was, and how natural. She could see that her roots were a little lighter, but so very slightly lighter that only a careful inspection would reveal it. "Alexandra, it's true; her own natural hair is a sort of chestnut. She's made it a sort of mahogany. Very pretty, Sharon."

Alexandra got out of bed to bend and inspect Sharon's head, and they all giggled.

"Let's do it!" Alexandra said firmly. "What do you need?"

Alexandra sat cross-legged on the floor, while Sharon — who cheerfully agreed to be called Sherry — sat on the bunk, and massaged a deep red-brown oil into her hair. "It's useless to apply it to the scalp; it does dye the skin, but looks very wrong. So that's the hard thing."

"An amateur would end up with a dyed hair and dyed scalp!"

"Unevenly died, too." She kept working the oil in, completely absorbed in it, murmuring to herself and to Sophie, among other things, that the long, straight hairs were so easy to work with. "They're thick, you see, and strong. There's isn't a single broken hair, here. They're too healthy to break."

"Well, like her arms and legs," said Sophie, before she could stop herself. "It's true!" she exclaimed as Alexandra raised her eyebrow at her. "They're impossible to cut, too, Alexandra. They blunt the scissors, and you know they're the best kind of scissors. Your hair is like ... miracle Samson hair."

"It is," agreed Sherry, laughing.

"Does that mean it will take longer to color it?"

"Possibly. But I'm thinking, the dye does not have to soak through. The deeper it goes, the darker the hair will be. But hair is transparent, so it will be a rich color, with lots of depth. Depth means that all the hairs are not the same color, and they don't look as if they have been enameled, but more varnished instead."

"You Belgravians are too preoccupied with such things," Alexandra declared, feeling picked on.

"Alexandra!" protested Sophie, "that isn't like you!"

"But it's true," Sherry agreed. "If you looked in my bag, you will find such frivolous things as bangles, beads, bracelets, rings, cosmetics! And a few knives and a rifle, of course, but ..."

Alexandra laughed. "I get your point," she said. "But it was unkind." She thought for a while and said, "Belgravian women are a wonderful variety. All seem to be attractive in their own way."

"And what about the men?" asked Sherry slyly.

"Oh, they, too," said Alexandra offhandedly. "Very charming. Especially my uncle Philip. He is the most charming man I have ever met!"

"The most charming man alive, I'm sure," Sherry murmured, sounding almost worshipful. Sophie noticed that, from the moment Alexandra had remarked about how superficial Belgravian women were, a frown had creased Sherry's forehead. Sophie, amused, wondered whether to try harder to distract her from the put-down, or to let her get over it on her own. But Sherry seemed to be on another line of thought.

"The generators of the ship are simply amazing, aren't they?"

Sophie and Alexandra blinked together. It seemed an odd change of subject.

"The treadmills?"

"Yes! I put in a one-hour spell. It left me feeling vigorous and full of energy!"

"It left you looking like a wet rag, is what it did."

"But you must take it seriously; even for the troops, the exercise is good. The food that we eat is largely wasted; stored as fat, or frittered away in chemical processes that aren't really helpful."

"How do you know so much about such things?"

"I have studied them, Your Majesty — I mean — Lady." She proceeded to describe a theory that left them stunned for its fanciful explanations of well-understood processes. It seemed a fashion in Belgravia to mysticize the physiology of the body, to believe that the human body did things differently than, say, the body of a rat. But through it all, one fact shone clear; Sherry was eager to have Alexandra try the treadmills.

"Lady Alexandra worked the treadmills during our famous run-in with a Bernian vessel," Sophie said coolly. "They put the strongest men and women on the machines, and we left them floundering so far behind that they gave up the chase within minutes! Her Majesty is well familiar with the treadmills."

Sherry's hands had stopped while Sophie was talking. Then she seemed to decide that a full frontal assault on her idea made the best sense.

"Your Majesty, if you were to spend, say, three hours a day on the treadmills, you would lose a lot of weight!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Sophie, while Alexandra was searching for a suitable response.

"Lady Sophie, it will alter her appearance rather dramatically, without her having to starve herself. Don't you think?"

It was actually a clever idea. Sherry explained that Alexandra need not change her eating habits; indeed, she might want to eat slightly more grains and starches. She could work an hour at a time, ostensibly to simply encourage the troops, and build up muscle, but in fact she would be losing body fat. There was relatively little on her, but appearances were deceptive: she carried more body fat than one realized. Sophie knew this to be true. The smoothness of Alexandra's body was because of a thin layer of fat. If she lost most of it, she would look different.

Alexandra waited only until Sherry had finished the application, and carefully wiped away all remaining stain-oil. (She said that she had used the absolute minimum of stain-oil, saying that applying it liberally made the color uneven. A little, applied twice a day, was the most effective method.) They all three headed down to the treadmills, and were duly given places. Sherry had warned Alexandra to take it easy. It was important to keep the muscles healthy. There should be no straining, no overworking, no sudden jerks, no overexertion of any kind.

After an hour, Sherry approached Sophie and asked her to get Alexandra to slow down and stop. Sherry was wearing a kind of elastic bra and briefs, and was drawing considerable attention from the troops, in spite of the competition from Alexandra, who looked like a goddess in her cloth vest and brief shorts. Their newly-waxed limbs were almost indecently sexy, something they had not realized when they had allowed the Royal princesses to wax off their body hair!

Sophie cooled down, according to Sherry's clearly knowledgeable instructions, and went to talk Alexandra into doing the same. Alexandra, conditioned to listening to Sophie, followed her instructions in turn, and cooled down with the stretches that Sherry insisted on, and changed, and headed out to bring some food into the cabin. This involved making her excuses to the captain and the commander, who readily understood their interest in eating in private with their guest.

"You can sleep with us here," said Alexandra. "Take the upper bunk; Sophie and I talk until late." Of course she refused. In the end, Alexandra took the lower bunk, and the other two both slept on the floor on the mattress. As yet, Sophie realized, Sherry's mind did not consider automatically that any friendship between two Norsfolk was potentially a sexual one. Her assumptions seemed to be that friendships between members of the same gender were platonic. This had a calming influence on them, and Sophie and Alexandra found themselves being more relaxed than they had been in a long time.

The days were occupied with staring at the horizon, watching the fish playing in the water, playing crossbow games with the troops, and coloring Alexandra's hair. Already, on the second day, her hair was looking darker. It was a very natural-looking deeper honey-blonde, still recognizably Alexandra's hair, but to their eyes, definitely darker. The constant working at the treadmill, though, made no perceptible impact on Alexandra's appearance.

Sherry was just twenty-one. She was a curious mixture of mature, worldly-wise, cosmopolitan woman, and naive, uncritical teenage Belgravian girl. Among her things were, as she had confessed, many pieces of jewelry, but there were also the kind of fashionable clothes that a soldier would usually find no use for. She showed these to Sophie one afternoon, while Alexandra was away somewhere, but they made no sense to Sophie. They were simply scraps of fabric, which looked like nothing but scraps until they were worn. As she held them up for Sophie's admiration, she could not help blushing.

"It'll look terrible on me," Sophie decided, "I'm too thin."

"That's true," said Sherry, looking critically at her thin arms. "You have your own special beauty; I don't think this kind of style would work for you. You have more the Unapproachable Aristocrat look."

"Unapproachable aristocrat? Is that supposed to be attractive?"

"It's just a look," Sherry said defensively, blushing. "I'm not saying you are one."

Just as interesting were perforations in Sherry's ears and nose and eyebrows. She confessed that she was accustomed to wearing body jewelry, little studs and rings. "Just tiny things, like this one," she said fishing one out from her baggage. The visible part of the stud was tiny, but the post and retainer had to be substantial enough to keep it in place. Sophie tried to imagine her with the ornament in place. Seeing the interest in Sophie's eyes, she inserted it in her nostril, and Sophie felt a strange excitement at the finished effect. It was subtle, but very sexy. "There are more intimate piercings that—would only be visible to a lover," she confided, slightly breathlessly. "It's truly exciting to wear them, even if they're invisible." Sophie nodded politely.

Generally speaking, Sherry was excellent company. When she discovered Alexandra's harp, she insisted that Alexandra should play it. She said she didn't expect Alexandra to sing; that would be too much to ask of a Queen! But would she please play?

Alexandra liked the woman enough to oblige her. She played a common tune, with its accompaniment, and Sherry was simply delighted. She asked for more, until finally Alexandra said she was all played out. "Here," she said, "you play it. Are you musical?"

"I've been told that I am," Sherry said, cautiously.

"Then try it. The only secret is, damp each note once its work is done. Or you end up with just a confusion of noise. Except for that, anyone could make a nice tune with it."

"That's not true," Sophie assured Sherry. "Alexandra has studied it for ten years."

"Don't discourage her, Sophie. Let her try. I'm off to the pedals." And Sophie found that it was interesting to watch Sherry at the harp. She tried a Belgravian song, with surprising success. Her hands were wonderfully graceful.

"You are so graceful, Sherry," she said seriously. "Are you a dancer?"

"Yes, Lady Sophie. You are very observant!"

"You are full of surprises!"

"Many Belgravian girls learn to dance. It's only that I learned more than most."

"I wish I could see you dance sometime!" Sherry blushed and nodded, her eyes lowered.

Land was in sight, what with the sails and the treadmills. They had not passed a single ship, but now they saw ships of the Norslandish navy patrolling the northern shore of the island of Skree. Soon, they drew into port, the sleek Novaspirian boat was made fast, and the gangway put down. There was a large committee to welcome Alexandra at the dock: Helga, several members of the council, and two generals. The harbor was bristling with troops, and Alexandra guessed that Skree had become a military nerve-center. Behind the military and government folk, Elke and the family waited. Alexandra could see how little Baby's face shone at the sight of Sophie who was standing by her. Then they must have caught sight of Sherry, because Baby's smile turned into a stony face, her eyes narrowing to slits. How ugly a thing was jealousy, Alexandra thought, even the innocent jealousy of a child.

It was all confusion. Sophie took Sherry with her to greet the family, giving Alexandra time to have a word with the war leaders. Alexandra reported to them that they had an agreement, keeping the details for later. She told them that a small fleet was not far behind. She wanted an immediate meeting of all available war leaders, just as soon as she could meet her family and tell them her plans.

"We're going to stay with Cousin Helga," said Elke. "You finish your work." She gave Alexandra a puzzled look. "You look different ... what has Belgravia done to you?" "She's so thin!" "Her hair's all red!" Alexandra and her travel companions shared a conspiratory smile. Further inquiry confirmed that Alexandra did indeed look significantly different. Pleased, Alexandra greeted everybody, and suggested that Sherry go with them. But Sherry refused with a respectful smile. "I have offered to guard Lady Alexandra," she told the family, "and I'll stay outside the meeting hall, with the guards." No amount of persuasion was effective. She said she would stand on the street outside, out of the way. She did not want to upset the established security, but she wouldn't go off with the family.

"Come then," said Kirsten, once she understood what Sherry wanted, "I'll come with you, and get you started with an application for service. I just got my papers, so I know how it's done."

The war meeting was an interesting one. Alexandra quickly realized that for once she was before a group who was able to take command of the war before the Belgravians arrived and found them all disorganized. The agreements were shared out quickly, and all the issues settled to the extent possible. Alexandra did not ask who was in charge, she appointed those who were present to various responsibilities. She put overall strategy in the hands of an older couple who had come out of retirement, Generals Nicholas and Bertha, who had served under Queen Beate. They were clearly intelligent, ready to take responsibility, not yet cowed by the situation, not frustrated by the lack of troops. Indeed they had taken charge of clearing the channel and appeared to have succeeded, and begun organizing a spy network, things that were still being talked about when Alexandra had left. Another general was assigned to work with the Novaspirian navy to clear out the southern waters, something that Laura had declared was too much for her. The defense of the capital city was assigned to Laura, and the training facility and new harbor at Luther's Creek. Another task was to secure the cities further east, and push the border out all the way to the sea. That sector of the country was almost a complete unknown, ever since that day when the troops had withdrawn from the city. There were rumors that local militias held most of the areas east of the city, but nothing was really known. Laura had started to push that way, but things had become too difficult to handle by herself. Now several thousand troops had swelled the ranks of the army, and Belgravian guns were arriving shortly. A senior navy commander was assigned to the Belgravian fleet, for the joint exercise of clearing out the northern waters, securing the areas north of the fault line, and establishing a system of communication that did not depend on riders and roads.

By the time Alexandra and Sophie came out of the meeting, Sherry, Kirsten and Baby were waiting for them, talking with the sentries at the gate. Sherry was all smiles, waving a paper that said she was a member of the Norslandish army, unassigned. Alexandra turned to one of the generals who were behind her, and asked whether it was possible to have Sherry assigned as her personal military bodyguard. They were understandably reluctant to approve such a thing for a person who had accepted nationality only a few days earlier, but Alexandra persuaded them, and they stepped into an office close by, and put the paperwork through. Until it was processed, being unassigned, Sherry was free to be requisitioned by the Queen, as it were, to be her personal bodyguard.

"What did they decide?" asked the girls as they walked into the castle.

"I'm to stay put in Skree," Alexandra said, looking very unhappy. "I don't know what I was thinking; I imagined that I would accompany the fleet to the north. But they can't risk me near the action." She sighed. "It's likely your position is going to be very dull, Sherry." Sherry seemed a little crestfallen, but greatly relieved.

They had now reached the castle, and gone inside through the guardhouse, which was now at full strength. Once the family learned what had been told Alexandra, they insisted that it was the only reasonable thing. "Skree is the safest possible place for you. Where else could you go?"

Alexandra shrugged. "I'm a target wherever I go," she said, and Sophie could hear the frustration in her voice. Sherry, trailing at the back, quietly spoke.

"May I say something?" she asked, in her odd, articulated Belgravian accent. She was soft-spoken, but her consonants were very clearly enunciated, a little like Princess Genny, but in a different way. The family smiled politely at her and nodded. "If someone were willing to impersonate you, Your Majesty, she would draw all the fire. It would mean danger for her, of course, but if you choose a strong woman, she could probably wear a bullet-proof vest, and only a lucky shot to the head would kill her."

Alexandra's eyes grew stony, and she opened her mouth to reject the idea at once, but Sophie and a number of the cousins said at once that it was a good idea. "It's obvious. Otherwise Alexandra is stuck here!"

"Where would I go?" Alexandra demanded. "Every part of the defense is dangerous! Anyone with the fleet could get killed. Anyone in the south could get killed, or anywhere in the country, except here!"

They could not think of a single way Alexandra could be useful, except to stay in Skree and keep an eye on the management of the war from there.

Predictably, Alexandra was able to bully her way into being allowed to stay in Geneva. At least, she said, if she had to stay out of the action, she would rather have some company. Accompanied by a full unit of guards, they headed up the familiar twisting road to the lake, and Alexandra and her friends were made comfortable in the great old house. Somehow, after the party that night, where everyone drank a little too much, Alexandra and Sherry found themselves being put to bed in the room that had always been given to Alexandra and Genevieve. It was just too large to waste on just one woman, even if she was the Queen. Sherry was grateful for the privilege. Before they slept, each of them a little the worse for wear, Sherry knelt at Alexandra's feet, and gave Alexandra her knife, as a symbol of her fealty. "I will protect you to the death, Your Majesty," she said softly. And Alexandra gravely took it, and handed it back with a few solemn words of acceptance, hoping that her vow would never have to be fulfilled.

After they had laid down, with Sherry sleeping across the door, Alexandra asked whether there was some reason Sherry had done this. "Are you from a family, perhaps, who have served the King in Belgravia?"

"No, uh-uh," she said, in typical Belgravian style. "My parents are teachers and lawyers, Your Majesty ... I'm the only one who went into a security-related profession."

"Well, then why did you do it?"

Alexandra could almost hear her blushing in the dark. In the rooms around them, they could hear the other women being affectionate with their bedmates, and Alexandra wondered whether it would be too much of a cultural shock to the foreigner. Several breaths later, Sherry answered, "for no special reason, Your Majesty ... I just like to fight, to keep the peace; I thought it was romantic, I suppose."

Alexandra smiled. It was interesting that such a complex person should be so simple in some ways.

Sophie found herself between Kirsten and Baby. She had assumed that such an arrangement might have thrown a damper on any recreational activities they might have had in mind, but it was quite the opposite. In spite of all the alcohol they had all imbibed, they found a great deal to do, and very vigorously, too.

In the wee hours of the morning, something disturbed Sophie. She had imagined that the howl of a dog had been cut off abruptly. Listening carefully, she could hear nothing. Feeling a call of nature, she carefully extricated herself from Kirsten and Baby's amorous clutches and climbed out of bed. Baby had grown taller even while she had been away, and there was quite a lot of her. She slipped on a robe, carefully seeing where her precious crossbow lay, not thinking for a moment that it would come in handy that night. As she left the house to visit the little toilet down the outside hall in the back of the house, she heard a couple of sentries talking excitedly. As she saw them looking down the hill at some moving shadows, she could hear a strange low clamor. Assuming the shadows were also sentries, she went ahead and did her business and came out again. Suddenly, from her angle, she saw the unmistakable outline of a rifle against the sky, perhaps a fraction of a degree from a tree, which must have accounted for the fact that the sentries did not see it. They were armed with handguns, not rifles.

At once Sophie was certain something was wrong. Her mind settling into a familiar groove, she slipped back to the room, picked up her crossbow, hurried outside, and climbed onto the flat part of the roof. The prowlers were clearly visible against the white of the limestone, and she knew that she was visible, too, if they looked. She hissed to the guards, but they did not hear.

Seconds later, the prowlers howled with pain, as her bolts hit them. The slope erupted; there were scores of them, possibly hundreds! The dogs belatedly began to bark furiously. Sophie had ten practicing quarrels with her. Shots rang out; the prowlers had seen her, and the sentries had figured out what was going on. There was gunfire everywhere, and shouts, as the guards poured out into the grounds, and came in from the upper road. Sophie made her quarrels count, crouching to prevent being seen against the sky.

They had not lit the house lights. Sophie heard herself cursing. She jumped off the roof down the steps, and ran to her room to collect her trove of quarrels.

"What's happening?" demanded Baby, infuriatingly dense.

"Get some clothes on! We're under attack!"

"What? ... Wait!"

"I'm going to the roof!"

"You'll get killed, girl! Wait!"

Sophie bolted, but a hand touched her; Sherry. She followed Sophie outside, and took in the situation in a single glance. She disappeared inside. Sophie got up high on the wall of the kitchen, and began to shoot. Like a machine she shot, quarrel after quarrel. But now that the surprise was gone, the enemy force ran screaming at the house from all sides. Sherry leaped up with Sophie. She had a rifle which made no sound, and began to fire, shooting steadily. But there were too many of them; and they were battering down the front door, a thick, solid piece of wood that had protected the house for generations.

"Hide! Right here!" hissed Sherry at Sophie, frightening her in her fierceness. "They'll never find you!"

"Wait with me!"

"The Queen is alone!" She was gone.

Alexandra knew quickly. Her nightmare had come true. Skree was not the impregnable fortress they had wished it to be; somehow the enemy had slipped in, and in force. There were easily a hundred men out there, butchering the guards, and banging at every single window. The windows were all barred and solidly shuttered, but the doors would ultimately yield to the kind of force they were inflicting on it. It was pandemonium. Would the neighbors rally round? These were fierce people; that was why it had been impossible to subdue them!

Alexandra began to look for clothes that were suitably dignified. A Queen should be regal, even when captured. But before she had a chance to change, the door opened, and Sherry rushed in.

"There's too many of them," she breathed into Alexandra's ear. "Forgive me! I'm going to hide, and Sophie and I will try and rescue you. Go with them. Don't say you're ... you know. Pretend you're a cousin from ... Belgravia! Whatever!" She was icy cool.

Alexandra nodded and dragged her out to the central room. Everyone was armed with something, a sword or a pike. It was going to be a bloodbath.

"Put them down," Alexandra commanded. "We're surrendering. Alexandra isn't here. My name is ..."

"Anna!" Baby hissed. "You're Cousin Anna! I know you well! The red-haired one!" Sonja nodded grimly.

"I'm going!" said Sherry, and ran outside in her nightshirt, her small pack and her rifle in her hands.

"They're going to hide," explained Alexandra, calming herself. "Pretend this is all of us."

"I'm going too!" said Baby and Kirsten together.

"No!" commanded Sonja. "There won't be enough of us to convince them. Stay right here, Baby."

A second after Sherry had disappeared outside, men burst into the back yard, and Baby and Kirsten rushed to defend it. But the men had guns pointed at them, and determined looks on their faces.

"Everybody get in here," snarled the man in charge, holding a gun to Baby's head. A dozen men walked through the whole house, checking every room. Everybody was, indeed, in the big common room. They lined everybody up, and looked at all the women intently. Alexandra decided that Cousin Anne would act just like cousin Alexandra; it was too difficult to improvise. They all had the same, proud manner, anyway; it was a family trait.

"Where's the Queen?" The man demanded.

"They're not here," said Elke, just defiantly enough to be convincing, not enough to provoke.

"What do you mean, 'they'?"

"The Queen and her party are visiting friends in another house."

"You're lying!" they declared. Elke shrugged.

"Search the house," the man ordered. Alexandra's heart dropped. She wondered whether there was anything in the room that would give her away. What about the harp? No; the harp was back at the castle. Alexandra thought furiously of anything that could possibly suggest that she was among those present. She was almost paralyzed with fear, yet she was able to be outwardly calm.

The man came back, looking frustrated. He asked each of them for their names. They all answered, and Alexandra was the third. She calmly said Anna. The man seemed to look at her a little longer, and Alexandra rolled her eyes. The roll call went round the room. Everyone was holding up. Another man came in, and looked at them with a lopsided grin. He made a few funny remarks about women, and a few words in a language that was spoken only in Bernia, which the captives could not understand. They were ordered to line up, had their hands tied in a long chain, and were marched out of the house, barefoot, just as they were.

It was an unbelievable situation. With all the shooting, they seemed to not have attracted the attention of anyone. Alexandra was marching next to Elke, when she heard Elke gasp. Here and there, along the street there were occasional bodies, guards, and civilians lying in their own blood. It was disgusting to pick their way through the blood in their bare feet, trying not to slip on the wet cobbles. "They've killed everyone on the whole s-street!" she stammered. Alexandra could feel the fury building in her cousin.

It was a quarter-moon, but still bright enough to show a dead dog on the street. This was a street they had never gone on, and soon it led down to the shore. There was nothing for some distance, then more houses, and more bodies. All the way down to the shore, where it was Alexandra's turn to be furious; there was a Norslandish ship, with genuine Norslandish markings, and a seemingly Norslandish crew. In the dark they were put on a rowboat, and taken up into the ship, and made to climb up, still roped together. If one of them fell, she would drag several of them with her into the water. Looking back surreptitiously, Alexandra could see no sign of either Sophie or Sherry. But at least headquarters would know all the details. It had been so incredibly slick. They must have killed two hundred people, just to get her, Alexandra. It had been a silent, vicious, ruthless, cold-blooded slaughter of civilians. Alexandra felt her teeth ache with her grinding. Finally, as they all arrived on the deck, Sonja turned to the man in charge and asked, "How could you kill so many people, simply to get one woman? And then fail?"

Then man only laughed. "Your so-called Queen is an important military target!"

"Why? What do you expect to gain?"

"We will hold her ransom. Your army must surrender. Now we have you, the Queen's family. We will kill you, one by one. We will send one of your heads to her every day. Let's see how much your Queen loves her family, her so-loving family of women perverts. She is so rich, how can you live like beggars? How can you ... endure such a pig of a Queen? You live like animals! Of course, she will not stay in that house! It is a pig sty!"

That was too much for Baby. She growled, and had to be held back by Kirsten and Una. She got a hard slap for her pains that shocked the poor girl into a sullen silence. They were already on their way, by the time they were taken below decks, and locked into one big cabin. They were deliberately concentrating them, in order that their threat would have a greater effect.

They began to talk all at once. Alexandra interrupted coolly, "I bet they're listening, to try and find out where Alexandra is." They looked at her in the dim light from the single porthole. "Let them kill me. I'll go first. They'll never find the Queen. And the Queen will never surrender. We can never respect them. Without respect, there can be no surrender. You can't surrender to animals." The others were amazed at the cold fury in Alexandra's voice.

"Oldest first," Sonja said quietly. She turned to Baby, who was crying silently, audibly grinding her teeth. "Remember who you are, Baby. As long as you're alive, there is hope."

"There is always hope," said Alexandra.

From their hiding place on the roof of the ancient stone house, Sophie and Sherry helplessly watched the small army conduct the women away. Sherry made little noises of agony, like a child too afraid to whimper. Tears poured down her cheeks. Sophie felt a little stronger for having Sherry to worry about.

"First chance we get, we go down," Sherry whispered, becoming calm. "They haven't left anyone behind." They watched silently, until the group had gone around the side of the lake. Up on the top of the hill, a sentry lay dead. "Hasn't anyone heard the shots?" fumed Sherry.

They dashed down, and put on breeches. They packed their weapons and little else. "Do you know your way around here?" Sophie shook her head, dumb. "I wonder where they're going?"

"It has to be the shore. They'll want to get off the island quickly."

Around the house, every single one of the guards were dead, some twenty-five of them, as well as a score of the invaders. All six dogs lay dead, two in the front, four in the back, viciously shot, or stabbed with some kind of pike, or both. Sherry was violently sick.

They hurried down the street that led the way the group had headed. They soon saw the bloodbath that the Bernians had created on their way up to the house. "Oh my god," Sherry gasped. "A whole village! All dead!" They kept on, feeling dead themselves.

"Psst!" they heard, a soft hiss.

"Someone's alive!" Sherry whispered.

They looked for the sound, and a little girl, about ten, crept out from behind a house, in her night clothes. Her eyes were wide in shock. "I th-think ... I th-think ... th-they k-killed my ... my ..."

"Little girl, do you know where they went?" interrupted Sophie gently.

She nodded, pointing.

"Where does that go?"

"T-to the s-sea!"

"Is there a shortcut? Can you take us down to the shore?"

Silently the girl headed out, and soon they were slipping down a hillside path that led almost straight down the hill, through the trees that clung precariously to the side of the slope. The path was completely invisible from the sea. It landed them on a narrow street a quarter mile ahead of the group coming down the hill.

"We must run!" the girl said, her eyes staring out of her head in fear.

"Get low; they're probably watching us from ..."

"That looks like one of ours!" Sophie's heart leaped up with joy at the sight of the ship looming above them. The enemy was trapped! "Let's shout!" she suggested.

"Wait. Something's wrong. There's too few people."

It was true. Once their suspicions were aroused, it was clear that it was manned by impostors. In fact, the man on watch wore only a navy jacket and cap. The rest of his 'uniform' was some nondescript clothing. It was the same for the rest of the crew, all four of them. Normally there would be more. Somehow they had captured a navy vessel, killed the men on board, and stolen their clothing.

The little girl began to whimper, and Sherry quickly led them into an alley and took time to hug her. The poor thing was quite old enough to understand the horrors she had seen.

"We're going to find your folks, but until then, you stay with us, okay? You've got to be brave now; Queen Alexandra depends on you!"

"Did they g-get her?" she asked at once in a whisper.

"No, but they're looking for her."

"We're finished!"

"Not yet!" said Sherry, looking at her intently. "Not yet."

"Come on!" hissed Sophie, "I want to get closer!"

Creeping around the alley, they came out on the waterfront, near an abandoned shack. There, at the water line was a body. Sherry looked at the child, who stared at the body, too frightened to make a sound. The kid was a liability; they would have to make her stay here in the shack, alone with the body. Sherry's head ached with thinking. She was not trained for this.

They hid and watched as the prisoners were taken on board, and they were powerless to stop it. The captives were all dressed in their nightclothes, barefoot, helpless.

"This is crazy!" Sophie said. "Let's attack!"

"We can't see them! They're covered by the bulk of the ship!"

"Let's get back on top of the cliff, and snipe at them!"

It was the only possible plan. The cliff ran along the shore for many miles, and they could pick off the men one by one, giving the girls inside a chance. Sophie could not understand why there was no military presence along the channel.

The little girl led them up a little side lane, and they headed up and out, onto the cliffs, unseen by the enemy soldiers on board the vessel. Sophie knelt, and took aim, and shot. It missed, but in the dark the group of men on the deck could not figure what the sound was.

Adjusting, Sophie shot again, and a man went down screaming. She hid. The men began to shout, pointing in the general direction of the shore.

"Come on!" cried the little girl softly, tugging at Sophie. "There's a better place!" They slunk back, out of sight of the ship, and raced through the night to another lookout point, and crept up close to the ship. Two more quarrels, and one man fell on deck shouting, writhing, and another dropped, dead. The rest of them disappeared. Sophie knew where to shoot now, for maximum effect in poor light; the face, especially the eyes.

Sherry had her rifle out. It was a collapsible one, which needed to be put back together. She aimed carefully, and waited for someone to put their head out of the hatch. There was no one on deck.

"Let me do it," Sophie said, "they can't tell where I am."

The hatch opened, and a head looked out, and Sophie let him come all the way out, and a second man came out after him. She shot them both.

"How many of them are there?" cried Sophie. "Why don't the cowards come out?"

Lights showed at the gun ports, and Sophie shot blind into them, and heard satisfying screams.

"I can't do any better than you," Sherry said, cursing. The ship was not level with them. Suddenly Sherry pointed. The enemy had forgotten to cast off the boat they had used. The dinghy was following along, apparently tethered to the ship.

"I'm going to get on board," Sherry said, suddenly impatient. "If they get away, I don't know what will happen. Sophie, they have the Queen!"

"Oh goodness!" gasped the little girl. "You said no!"

"Can you help?" asked Sophie quickly. "Together we can do something useful!" The kid nodded quickly. "Is there another way down? Can you swim?" She nodded yes to both questions.

Once again they scrambled down, through the scrub. The child seemed to know a million ways to get up and down from the shore. The place was just about as impregnable as an eggshell. The ship floated majestically past them, and they could hear muttered curses. Finally the men seemed to be getting up the courage to take a look back on deck. A helpful cloud gave the women and the little girl just the opportunity to slip into the water. The little girl was hampered by her nightie, and Sherry ripped it off. In her little knickers, she swam with them, little-girl style, until Sherry took her in her grip and swam silently. Sophie came along as she could, hoping the oilcloth of the pack would protect her precious crossbow and quarrels. It felt silly to climb onto a dinghy that followed at the heels of the ship like some kind of pet.

If Sherry hadn't been there, they would never have got into the dinghy. It was a tricky procedure, but they popped the kid in first, then Sherry stabilized it until Sophie was in, and then they were all aboard. The ship sailed serenely on, unperturbed with the details of all the events taking place at the waterline. Somewhere in the channel, there must be the bodies of who knew how many seamen. Out of the more than one hundred Bernians, there had been around thirty at the end, as they marched away. Now there were about twenty, thanks to Sophie. But it was a stalemate. And the little girl was shivering violently. Sherry had brought no extra clothes, neither had Sophie. Even wet clothes would have been preferable to nothing in this cold.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" asked Sherry, cuddling her close. They were all wet, but at least Sophie and she were clothed. Sophie was also very cold, and her slow mind was thinking about giving the child at least her outer jacket. And they were headed north, and every mile brought them closer to freezing. "N-Ninel, please," the little one whispered.

Presently, as they emerged from the gap between Skree and the mainland, the enemy troops gave a wild yell, and the hopes of the three in the smaller boat sank. Daylight was on the way, and they would be exposed out on the dinghy. The dinghy was bumping against the side of the ship, but using a length of rope Sherry found in the bottom of the little craft, she fastened it to a convenient spar at the stern, a little harder to see from on deck. But a careful look from the rear deck would reveal them.

Inside the ship, the Alexandra and the other women had decided to sit down in a circle. The cabin was clean and utterly bare. No one spoke. They seemed unable to think of anything that would not lead to a problem; fear, betrayal, cowardice, impatience. Baby held Kirsten's hand. On her other side, Una held her hand; they were a team; the other young ones were on Alexandra's right; old Sonja, and Deanna and Joanna, the twins, who looked murderous.

Suddenly there was a thud. Alexandra looked up. There was silence, and a few more sounds, people falling, shouts. Could it be Sophie? Below decks there was a commotion, with people trying to go up, and more thuds. It was eerie, with silence for a while, and then screams. The boat seemed to move into the deeper water, and they could feel it rocking as it began to move. They looked at their neighbors, smiles beginning to take shape. The thuds and screams seemed to continue for a long time. Alexandra shook her head; it was impossible to get them all that way. There were too many of them. She tried not to think; Sophie had chosen to follow rather than report the incident. Anyway, she thought, it wouldn't be long before the massacre was discovered.

On and on it went, until Alexandra couldn't bear it any more. She bent her head and wept silently. It had been too much to hope that Sophie and Sherry could mount a rescue. As far as she knew, there were about fifty men on board, and they were shouting at the top of their voices, too afraid to go on deck. At least she's got them cooped up, she thought, stopping her weeping. Next to her Sonja comforted her silently.

Then there was silence again. Suddenly someone was at the door. They pulled it open, a man came in and shone a light into the room. He glared at them, all round, and pointed to Elke.

"Who are they? Who is that?"

"Who's what?"

"Stupid bitch! Who is shooting from up there?" He kicked her, and she doubled up in pain.

"We don't know!" shouted Kirsten. "Probably our neighbors!"

"They are all dead, your neighbors! This is someone else!" He cursed and went outside, locking the door.

"What amateurs!" bit out Joanna. "God, to think we slept through the whole thing!"

They sat for a while. Suddenly, Alexandra realized that for a while they had been hearing sounds just outside the boat. Elke, too, still hugging her stomach, seemed to hear something, and was still, listening intently. Alexandra stood and moved silently to the porthole, pulling up poor Sonja and Elke. To her astonishment, she saw the three figures huddled in a dinghy. Three of them! It was the villagers, then. She kept silent. Baby was watching her, asking her silently what was up. Alexandra shook her head. It was almost totally dark. But Alexandra could not resist watching the three figures. She could hear them shivering.

She sat back down. She hated the killing and the suffering that surrounded her. It was tempting to think of herself as the focus of all the cruelty. She thought of confessing that she was Alexandra. But then she knew what would follow. They would blackmail her with the lives of the other women. And she knew she could not be strong, if any of them were held at sword point before her, and executed in cold blood. She willed with all her strength that Sophie and Sherry should do something. She assumed that they were up on the cliff.

Suddenly there was a cheer. She stood up to look, and saw that they were past the island. There was now more light, and she could see the people in the boat a little more clearly. One of them stood out in the dark—a naked child, a girl, and the woman was talking to her. It was a woman! And it was Sherry. Alexandra heard the whisper, what is your name, sweetheart? But she could not hear the answer. Thank god for Sherry's distinctive consonants!

Elke stood up painfully. It seemed as if her ribs had been bruised, and it was hard to breathe.

"That's ..."

"Shut up!" hissed Alexandra. "Yes it is."

"How did they get there?" whispered Elke. "They'll be seen!" Just as she said the words, the woman cut the tow-rope, and little boat swung around to the back of the ship, almost out of sight.

Quickly Alexandra began to silently rip off the hem off her soft shift. It made a rope of about six feet. She pulled off her nightie, tearing it off at the shoulders, and attached it to the rope. Now if only she could attract their attention ...

She dangled the dress out of the window, letting it down as far as it would go.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?" Elke asked. "Wait ... oh god, it's Ninel! It's little Ninel from the village!"

"Can't you keep silent?" Alexandra hissed. It was chilly, and she was naked except for her panties.

On the dinghy, Sherry suddenly saw the white cloth. Her heart stopped. It took a few seconds to realize what was happening. It couldn't be the men; it had to be one of the women prisoners, signaling to them! She eagerly gestured for the rope to be let down. Someone had given up a nightie.

It was a difficult catch, and Sherry barely managed to save it from the water. It was only just in time, too; little Ninel was shivering so hard, she was afraid that the girl would get ill. Quickly dressing her in the garment, Sherry looked up into the porthole, her heart filled with dumb gratitude. What good was it to keep a little girl warm if they were all going to die?

Suddenly, rounding the island there was an enormous fleet of ships. The Belgravians had arrived! Would they attack? But of course they would not; the ship flew the Norsland flag. Sherry could have wept for frustration. She briefly thought of signaling the ship, but was afraid to attract the attention of the men on deck.

The Belgravian ship hailed the hijacked ship, and a signal lantern started. The fake seamen signaled back after a while. There was a pause, and then more signaling. Something was up! The enemy ship put on more sail. More signaling from the fleet, no response from the fleeing ship. They kept very quiet in the dinghy, because the crew was looking astern now, and if they looked down, they might be seen. They were afraid that the fleet would see them, too! They lay huddled in the dinghy, hugging each other, the little girl beginning to whimper.

"I'd rather be with Queen Alexandra than with the fleet," said Sophie fiercely. Ninel nodded. Sophie liked the kid; she was really doing very well, given that she had seen her family killed before her eyes, though she had not told them the story, and they dared not ask her.

Finally, there was gunfire. Ninel gasped and cowered. The leading Belgravian ship was making headway, keeping the crew of the escaping ship pinned down.

In the middle of the noise above decks, Alexandra finally risked softly calling out of the porthole.

"Sophie! Sherry!"

"Oh my god!"

"Ssh!"

"I'll send you a knife!" hissed Sherry.

"How?"

"Drop another rope!"

"No need!" hissed Sophie. "Just give me the end of the strip of cloth!"

"Wait," Sherry said, ripping off another strip from all round the hem, "I'll lengthen it ... here!"

Sophie wasn't sure it would work, but she tied the strip of fabric to a quarrel, and motioned the women at the porthole to get back. Aiming carefully, she set the quarrel right into the cabin, to hit the woodwork just inside the porthole.

"Oh, good shot!" Sherry had taken out one of her knives, and as soon as the women had the strip of fabric firm, up went the knife, and then another.

On the leading Belgravian ship, just as a cannon was being hauled to the bow to begin serious fire at the escaping captured ship, the brightening daylight revealed something totally unexpected.

"Look! There's a boat with three people dragged along behind it!"

"Did you see that shot? Wait ... it's Lady Sophie! That's her!"

"Who's Lady Sophie?"

"The Queen's Lady-in-waiting!"

"What are you doing? Get the cannon in place!"

"Look, there's people down at the water line!"

The sailors in the fleet ship had recognized Sophie as she shot the line up into the porthole, and now the sailors on the fleeing ship had their attention drawn to the fact that something was going on below their angle of vision. The absence of cannon fire confirmed their suspicions. They weren't knowledgeable enough to move their own guns to bear astern. The troops on the pursuing ship, seeing what was happening, kept up rifle fire. Finally, a fire arrow got the sail on fire. The girls in the dinghy saw it go over, and held their breath. Would it catch? Did the enemy know how to fight a sail fire?

The sail went up in flames splendidly, and Sherry screamed in triumph, seeing only the flare of the flames reflected in the rigging of the chasing ship.

The prisoners heard angry footsteps outside their door. Alexandra's eyes opened wide; she was totally naked except for a pair of panties, and she had an inkling about what was about to happen. She was to be executed in front of her navy. Baby began to take off her nightie, but Alexandra shook her head. Kirsten and Sonja had the two knives, and had cut the ropes. The door burst open, and the man came in. "You!" he said, and stared at Alexandra.

He was pulled down in a second. More men came in, and Sonja got one of them in the neck. She knew exactly what to do with a knife. Kirsten was out in the passage outside, doing everything she had wanted to do back in the house. In the confusion, the men could not fire. All six men were down.

It was then they began to smell smoke.

"Fire!" gasped Baby. "They've set the ship on fire!"

Outside, in the dinghy, they were getting nervous. If the women were trapped below decks, they would all die. The pursuing ship was coming to boarding distance, but there was the danger that their sails might catch fire too.

"The ... there's prisoners in there!" shrieked Sophie up to the fleet sailors.

"What prisoners?"

"Alexandra!"

There was confusion. There was fighting on the ship, and the Bernian men did not know what to do, whether to fight the fleet, fight the fire, kill the women, or save themselves in the icy waters. Finally, the fire was getting so hot, it was impossible to stay on deck. The Fleet ship pulled away, and deftly, with a grapple, got the dinghy. Now all the three on the dinghy had to do was cast off. Sophie furiously fought the big knot on the tow rope, but suddenly there was a tremendous explosion, and Sophie was thrown into the water.

The Belgravian vessel dropped lifeboats, and in the early morning light, searched for more bodies. They had saved the Belgravian girl who had gone aboard the Star of Hope, to offer her services to Alexandra, who was beside herself with grief. They had picked up a dozen women, but supposedly Lady Sophie, the Queen, and a little girl were missing. They had asked repeatedly: whether they were absolutely sure that the Queen had been on board? They were assured that she had been, and had been seen heading up the ladder just before the explosion.

Sherry was out of her mind with grief. She could not make up her mind whether Alexandra was drowned, or whether she was still unconscious somewhere. And poor little Ninel, and Lady Sophie, so single-mindedly intent on using her crossbow, so compassionate, so affectionate, so full of energy ... all the people Sherry cared about were lost, and right before her eyes!

She got her things together, and silently made her way to the stern, took one look around her, and dived into the icy water.

Alexandra had climbed up the steps and popped the hatch, but the heat on deck was unbearable. There were burning timbers all over deck. As she was about to drop the hatch, the ship exploded, and she was thrown out of the hatch, still quite conscious. She landed in the water just beyond reach of the burning debris, and between her and the fleet floated a pile of sizzling timbers, the wreck, slowly settling. She had no energy to do anything but wait to be rescued. She was crying out, over here! and treading water, when she saw, surfacing some distance away, the chest of the little girl, draped in Alexandra's own nightie. Then Sophie's head bobbed to the surface, and Alexandra felt a burst of gratitude. Now, if she could only find the rest of the women, Alexandra would go back into the castle and never come out.

She stroked out to Sophie, but Sophie was intent on saving the little one, and Alexandra followed. But soon it was clear that both of them were in trouble, so she hurried up to them.

Sophie looked at her, uncomprehending. She was in panic; her attempt to save the child had been pure instinct. Sophie could swim, but she was by no means a fish in the water, and certainly no lifesaver. In addition, her backpack was hampering them both. Alexandra spent a few seconds battling the thing, but gave it up.

The path to the ships was impeded with burning wreckage. Turning on her back, she hooked up the little girl in one arm, Sophie in the other, and kicked for shore as hard as she could. It was slow, painful going. She could not use her arms; if Sophie would snap out of it enough to cling on by herself, Alexandra could stroke more powerfully. But Sophie was not only in shock, she was half frozen, too. And the little girl was unconscious and half drowned. Alexandra could not feel her body at all. Just when she thought she would let go and relax, and commit the three of them to the mercy of heaven, her sinking legs felt land. Land! Some spark of life came back to her. She dragged the three of them up the sloping beach, and turned the little girl on her side. Gallons of water poured out of her, and then she began to cough. She coughed her little guts out, and lay, wheezing painfully.

Sophie needed the treatment, too. Alexandra laid her face down, head turned to a side, and collapsed on top of her, unconscious.

When Alexandra regained consciousness, she and Sophie lay together in a pile on the beach, covered with a thick layer of sand. Sophie's breathing sounded very bad. Turning her head, she saw the little girl squatting next to her.

They smiled at each other. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Ninel," said Alexandra, remembering her name.

"Yes, ma'am! What's your name?"

"Al ...Anna," she replied. "Anna!"

Suddenly Ninel's eyes grew round as she looked past Alexandra, and she stood up. "Over here! Here!"

Alexandra was amazed to see Sherry staggering towards them, to finally fall on her knees near them, covering Alexandra's face with kisses and tears.

"You're alive! You're all alive! Oh god, you're half frozen ..." she looked at the child. "Was it you who buried them?"

"They were shivering with cold," the little thing said.

Sherry hugged her, helpless with gratitude. "How are you alive, Ninel? In this cold water? I thought, for certain ..."

"Sophie is sick," said Ninel, focusing on the important matters.

"Your Majesty, where are your clothes? Oh, yes ... you sent them down."

Ninel's eyes grew round. "Is this the Queen?" she whispered. "Her name is Anna!"

"Sshh," Sherry said. "We call her Anna. We must find shelter, and hide until we know we're safe."

Alexandra simply laid her head down and went to sleep again. It had taken all her energy to haul Sophie and the girl to shore, and she had depleted her resources far more than she had ever done. She needed to rest and get warm. Ninel had snugged Sophie to her and covered them with sand, which had successfully kept them warm. Sophie's body was hot, and Alexandra guessed that she had the makings of pneumonia, or something like it. As soon as Alexandra could get herself together, she'd see to Sophie's lungs. Sherry and Ninel were gone.

When they got back, Sherry had brought stolen clothes from a village nearby. She had a little pair of breeches, a heavy shirt, a pair of socks, and a towel. They dug Alexandra out of the sand, and while little Ninel got out of the nightgown, Alexandra shivered in the steady breeze that came out of the north.

"We must have water," Alexandra said, shivering. They needed to look after Sophie. She was very sick, but with her temperature so high, she must be parched. The sun was well up, and it was a warm day for so far north. She knew there was land even further north, but it was permanently covered with ice.

"I have a little water," Sherry said, and it was indeed a little; a small bottle full of water, from an inland stream. Alexandra drank it, and felt a little better. How long had it been since they had eaten? Dressed in her own nightgown, she felt her blood warming up. She felt hungry, and filthy with salt. What was to be done now? She felt a surge of energy. Ninel looked warm and comfortable, relatively, in the little boy's clothes. Alexandra looked out to sea, and there was nothing. The steaming wreck was gone, except for one lonely spar that stuck out of the water. The boat had obviously foundered on shallow waters, or been about to do it anyway. She had brought the others a mere mile and a half, though it had felt like ten miles.

"We can't stay here," Alexandra decided. She still had one of the knives stuck in her panty waist; she gave this to Sherry, who gave it to Ninel. The little girl's expression said that she was beginning to think back on the last several hours again, and Alexandra hated the look in her gentle eyes. Any minute now she would begin to cry for her family. Sherry was bent over Sophie, murmuring words of comfort the girl could not hear. They needed a doctor.

Alexandra, being bigger and stronger, decided she would carry Sophie on her back. The girl was thankfully rather light. Alexandra slowly rose to her knees, as Sherry watched, ready to help. The long nightgown was a hindrance, but Alexandra dared not rip it down; they might need the fabric to stay warm.

"Which way?" Alexandra gasped, hoping Sophie would not slip off her back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Stranded

Sherry pointed south-east. "The little house from where I stole the clothes was that way."

"Let's go West, then," she said, and started off.

"Come along, Ninel," Sherry said gently. Ninel smiled at her, a tired little smile.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve," she said. "My birthday is September 14th. I'll be twelve then."

"So you're eleven, really!"

"In our house we count I'm already twelve." Then, perhaps remembering her home, she took a deep breath, and fell silent. Alexandra registered somewhere in her seething mind that it was hardly safe to say anything anymore.

"Once we stop to rest, I'll comb out your pretty hair, Ninel," said Sherry. Alexandra supposed the little girl must have nodded. She hoped that the two of them became friends; the child needed a family, and Sherry needed a project, to keep her from worrying about Alexandra. At least she hadn't been pestering her; she wasn't the pestering type, really.

On and on they trudged, crossing smaller streams, until they came to a largish river, and headed inland along the river path. There was nothing on the shore; on the other side of the river, the sandy beach disappeared, leaving only rocks. The going got quickly rough, the scrub gave way to a wild moor with rolling hills, and they went up and down, keeping a careful eye out, because they could be easily seen. They topped a rise, and suddenly saw people. There was the beginnings of a wood, and in front of it, a circle of tents, with a cookfire in the middle, and several men and a few women, who seemed to have stopped whatever they were doing, and were watching them approach. They were still a distance away, about a mile.

Alexandra's walk slowed to a stop. She slowly bent to her knees under Sophie's weight.

Sherry steadied her with her hand. "I'll go talk to them. What shall I say?" she asked.

"Say ... say we were shipwrecked on the beach," Alexandra panted. "Make up names."

"Just for you. They won't know me or Sophie!" Sherry murmured, as she set out to meet the group on the hill, who did not seem actually hostile.

"Are you really the Queen, Miss Anne?"

"Ninel, these are dangerous times, dear," Alexandra said, feeling her back trembling with the strain of supporting Sophie. "It might be dangerous to tell them who I am."

"But you have red hair!"

Alexandra frowned. Then remembered that yes, now she did have red hair. "It's a disguise," she whispered. Sherry was talking to the adults. There were a few children who had been hidden by the tents, who came cautiously round to watch. They seemed mostly older than Ninel, or babies, carried by the older ones.

"Oh, Your Majesty!" Ninel whispered. "We're all hiding together, aren't we!"

"Yes, dear. Our job is to stay alive ... and get back when it's safe."

"Oh, Your Majesty, we must find decent clothes for you!"

"Shh, dear; just pretend I'm your sister. Don't worry about clothes."

Whatever Sherry had told them, they were coming to help. Reaching Alexandra and Sophie, two men cleverly made a chair between them with their big hands, and a third picked up Sophie, and seated her on it, and draped her arms around their necks.

"There, girl, this is too much of a burden for you!"

"You're hardly much bigger than she is!"

"She's burning with fever."

"She needs water. Come on up, girl; we'll find you something to wear."

Alexandra straightened up slowly, as Sherry and Ninel followed behind the men. Then they waited for her, and hauled her along with them. Alexandra got her first really good look at Ninel; she was a merry-faced little redhead. Though her expression was sober, when she saw Alexandra looking at her, she smiled, her eyes full of admiration and willingness to help.

"Lady Alexandra ..." Sherry said, under her breath.

"Watch what you say," Alexandra said, her lips smiling at Sherry, but her eyes hard.

"I was going to say your hair is a mess," protested Sherry.

"Damn the hair," Alexandra said quietly, in an even voice. "What are we supposed to be?"

"We had come from Skree by boat, looking for family. Our boat got caught in the middle of a gun battle." Sherry squeezed her arm. "It is the truth, as far as it goes." They saw the men talking quietly to each other, and one of them glanced back at the girls, and said something to the others. "I don't know what they make of us."

"If we have to run, we run. Be ready," Alexandra said. But with Sophie so sick, it was a rather distant possibility.

Suddenly Sophie groaned, and began to cough. She coughed heavily, wheezing noisily, and was suddenly sick. The men let her empty her stomach, wincing at the odor. They had held her arms and her head, allowing her feet to drop to the ground.

"Are you all right?" they asked her in a heavy accent. They were clearly not Norsfolk. Sophie shook her head. A woman came up with a metal mug of water. Sophie drank eagerly, as Alexandra and Sherry and the kid caught up with them.

"Thank you!" Sophie said, her voice hoarse.

"Be careful; don't step on it," Alexandra cautioned her.

"Oh, I was so ill," Sophie explained. She put her arm around Alexandra, and began to walk with difficulty. "Where are we?" she croaked.

"Shh," Alexandra said, "don't talk now; your throat is a mess." She looked around at the adults. "Is there a doctor ... a healer around here?"

They pointed to one of the women, who smiled and shrugged. She spoke rapidly in a dialect they could not follow, and smiled at the men, indicating that they should translate.

"Maria says she can help. She knows the herbs. Herbs, yes?"

"Something to bring down the fever? Something for her throat?"

The woman nodded, and Alexandra learned the word for "yes, yes."

They ended up going to the woman's tent. They were good tents, made commercially out of canvas, the kind you could buy in Stefansberg, all manufactured with the groundsheet sewn in. She had a large box which contained a number of plastic bags, from one of which she picked out a powder, and called out of the door for something.

"She's calling for hot water," Ninel said quietly to Alexandra and Sherry.

"Wahtter, wahtter!" the little old lady said, smiling and nodding. She was small and round, and her hair was in a scarf, but she had friendly grey eyes, and tiny teeth, and must have been pretty in her youth.

A young girl of about eighteen brought the water in a kettle, smiled briefly at the visitors and hung about to watch. Her inquisitive eyes took in every detail, their clothes, especially Alexandra's, and their backpacks. Alexandra gave her a polite smile, which was returned. She seemed intelligent and cautiously friendly.

Ninel, having quickly looked over the girl, was looking intently at the medicine.

"I know what that is," she said to Sherry. "It's to fix the fever and make her sleep."

"Slip, slip! Slip good," remarked the woman as she made the tea. It was put in a clay mug, this time, and given to Sophie. The woman brought out a stool for Sophie, and gave the girl who had brought the water more instructions. She hurried off, and returned with more stools. They were simple wooden frames with seats made out of woven rope. Then more orders were given, and the girl complained in a lovely husky contralto, but left with a grin at Sherry, and an expressive roll of her eyes that made Ninel giggle. Sophie sipped at the drink, grimacing.

"It hurts my throat to swallow," Sophie said in a hoarse whisper.

"Drink it, Sophie," Ninel urged. "It's good for your throat, too!" The old lady smiled and nodded, and pointed to Ninel and said something to the other two. Ninel smiled and nodded back at the old lady.

"How do you know so much about this kind of thing?" asked Sherry, smiling.

"I know," said Ninel, looking at the floor, her smile gone. Sherry's smile fled, too. She picked up her back pack, and brought out a metal comb. It was beautiful, satin-smooth steel. Bringing Ninel and her stool in front of her, she began to gently comb out her hair, taking the tangles out with great gentleness. Alexandra watched for a little while, and hid her face in her hands.

When the other girl reappeared, she brought breeches and a tunic, and stood waiting to offer it to Alexandra. The old lady, concerned with Alexandra's tears, looked from one woman to the other. Sherry shrugged. Ninel reached out to pat Alexandra's arm, her face full of concern.

"I'm all right," Alexandra murmured, her face still covered with one hand, while the other grasped Ninel's hand and pressed back.

"Look, there's clothes for you," said Ninel softly.

Alexandra looked up, and smiled at the young woman, seeing what she held. "Thank you, but I'm too filthy to put anything on," she said.

The girl said something rapidly, and pointed out the tent door.

"You're being offered a bath, I suppose," Sherry said. "I'd like one, too."

"Me too," said Sophie, but was instantly vetoed by the 'doctor'. She said something that clearly meant that she'd get Sophie clean, don't worry; a bath could wait.

They bathed in the river. There was a kind of paste they used for soap, and there were towels. The water was freezing cold. They had left the packs with Sophie, thinking it would be impolite to take the packs with them. The girl, whose name was Alena, had conducted them to the bathing-spot and brought all the supplies, and waited while they bathed.

"She isn't going to leave us alone for a second," Sherry muttered. "They don't trust us."

"Or maybe she's just curious."

Sherry carefully washed Ninel's beautiful hair, which was longer than was common in Skree. Hair tended to be kept short, because of the hard Skree water. Alexandra's cousins all washed their hair with a herbal paste that was so mild that they could wash every day, and did.

"Do you wash your hair with that ground bean paste?" Alexandra asked Ninel.

"Oh yes! Do you know it? I know you have family there, L—"

"...Anne. Yes, Baby and Kirsten use it."

"Yes, indeed! I know Baby! We are good friends!"

Alexandra smiled at her. It was a lot easier with Ninel around.

They dried themselves, and Alena led them back, smiling at their obvious pleasure in being clean. Sherry indicated the towels and said, "Thank you for these, Alena!" Alena smiled and returned a formula that seemed an acknowledgment. Sherry repeated the phrase, and Alena enunciated it carefully, smiling encouragement.

"How do you say, Thank you?"

The girl immediately said the phrase, a couple of times, until they had all learned it. She laughed and said something, miming that they were good learners. It was not clear whether they were doing well, or whether their efforts were appreciated.

As they passed the middle of the camp, wearing their towels, the men called out to Alena, asking how things were going. She gave them a long reply, her face serious, and turned back to go with them to Maria's tent.

Sophie had been undressed and given a shift to wear, and lay on a pad, covered by several blankets. It was very chilly, though the camp folk seemed not to notice it.

"I got some kind of licorice syrup," Sophie said, and they noticed that her voice was much improved. Then she coughed, and it was clear that there was still a problem there. "And I got a sponge bath. How did you do?"

Alexandra sat on her stool to dress in the new breeches she had been given. She had washed and wrung out her panties, and soon she felt much warmer and more confident. (It had been impossible to act and feel confident while she was naked, though nudity was not a stranger. As a swimmer and an athlete, she was accustomed to washing and dressing with other girls around.) Sherry had washed her breeches and shirt and tunic, and now waited patiently until they dried on the rocks. Alena asked her whether she would like to borrow clothes to wear, but Sherry smiled and politely declined. "They'll dry soon, the air is quite dry!" she said. And Alena nodded.

Some of the younger children showed up, including a couple of girls in their early teens, and sweetly invited Ninel to come and play, but Maria told them firmly that she could not. It was as well, because after they had each been fed a slice of bread spread with an oil-and-garlic paste, and a mug of something that was a close relative of coffee, all of them felt drowsy, and ready to sleep. Pads were spread for them, and they slept.

Alexandra awoke mid-afternoon with a headache. This was not unusual; she always got a headache when she slept in the afternoon. There was no one in the tent, and so she stepped outside. Alena was seated on a tree stump, inspecting a pile of clothes she had in her lap. Seeing Alexandra, she quickly got up and walked over, holding out the clothes to her. They were Sherry's clothes, folded, already dry. She told Alexandra something which she understood reliably to mean that she was to put the clothes in the tent, and come on back out. Alexandra did as she had suggested, while Alena looked at the sleeping girls and murmured something. Alexandra wondered whether she could learn enough of the language to understand the girl. She seemed just Alexandra's age, or maybe a year older, though Alexandra knew that her greater height and weight gave others the illusion that she was around nineteen.

"Let them sleep," Alexandra said. "I'll come with you."

The girl was slim and tall, around Alexandra's height. She had dark brown hair and grey eyes. She wore the rather generic traditional dress of a blouse and a quilted vest, a heavy skirt and apron, hose, and ankle boots. Her glossy black hair was tied back in a kerchief.

Behind the tents was a communal farm. There was a cow with a calf, a few chickens, a large plot of crops that Alexandra could not identify, and a large workshop. Two men were bringing in deadwood from the forest, two more were in the process of cutting down a tree, several of the older boys and one girl were putting up a high fence around the farm area, to replace the low fence that seemed to have been destroyed by a large animal, and a number of people were in the workshop, working at what seemed to be furniture.

"It is a farm and a furniture factory!" Alexandra said to Alena, and she nodded, giving the word for it in what Alexandra took to be some dialect in Bernia. Alexandra carefully practiced the words, not sure which one meant which. Alena did not like to indulge in baby-talk, and did not care to speak in Alexandra's tongue. There was something rather uncompromising about her, though she had been nothing but friendly the whole time. Was it always the more civilized race that was willing to learn the tongue of the stranger, or was it the barbarian who was forced to learn the supposedly more civilized tongue? It would be interesting to see whether Sophie would learn Alena's language, or whether she would teach Alena the more common speech.

As Alena approached the fence-making group, they stopped and smiled at Alexandra in the friendliest way. "I can help," she said, indicating the spade. "May I?" Alena murmured a superfluous translation, which resulted in some friendly joking at her expense. She chided them with a tolerant smile, glancing at Alexandra to see if she realized who was the but of the humor. Seeing that she had, she told her in their language that they were making fun of Alena. Alexandra said she had figured that, and received a bright smile from Alena, the brightest yet. She was a very attractive girl when she smiled.

Soon Alexandra was digging away, surrounded by her new friends. It was clear that the boys found her very attractive, and the girl looked at her pleasantly enough, but Alexandra understood that she had stolen, even if unintentionally, some of the attention that had been all hers.

It was very educational. Alexandra quickly verified that Alena was not interested in lending a hand. It wasn't quite that she disdained it, but she certainly seemed to think the other girl a little forward for joining the fence team. The girl, Ola, wasn't very strong, but she was pulling her weight, so it wasn't just an excuse to hang out with the boys.

They had the high fence up and finished about four long hours later, after which they carefully dismantled what was left of the old one, and sorted the wood into firewood or put it in the lumber heap, and the wire was rolled and stored. They told Alexandra something about the fencing material which seemed to mean that it was very dear.

"How do you pay for it?" Alexandra asked. They turned to Alena for a translation. She jabbered back at them, and replied directly to Alexandra, but in her own language. Somehow, Alexandra found her explanations intelligible. It was paid for by selling furniture. Her gestures towards the workshop and the large cart that stood inside it helped; it was evidently carted off to sell somewhere. Alexandra could not make out where they sold the furniture, though she asked. Finally even Alena gave up with a shrug.

Sherry appeared up near the tents, in her dry clothes, and came down to meet Alexandra. They exchanged glances, and felt an unspoken agreement to appear friendly and unsuspicious towards their hosts. Sherry was dressed in her breeches, and she nodded thanks to Alena when Alexandra told her that she had brought the dried clothes up, all nicely folded.

"I helped them put up this fence!" said Alexandra, indicating how pleased she was. "I'm hungry, now; I wonder whether they hunt for food?"

"Ask Alena," Sherry said softly. Do you want to hunt for them?"

"I don't know," Alexandra murmured. Turning to Alena, she asked, "May I help with food? Do you hunt? Do you eat deer, and the game in the forest?"

Alena looked at her, puzzled; it was clear she understood some of it, but she was unwilling to guess the meaning of a thing unless she was very sure. She suggested they speak to one of the men. Sergei will know, she seemed to say.

The men greeted Alexandra and Sherry with smiles and a cheery good morning, though it seemed past noon.

"I was just asking Alena whether Sherry and I can help with meat for your larder. Do you eat game?"

"Er, game?"

"Deer, rabbits, whatever there is in the forest?"

"Ah, you will hunt? How?"

"Sophie has a crossbow," Alexandra said, looking him in the eye. "I have hunted before. I would like to try."

"We have traps," he said. "You must be careful; maybe ..." he looked out, and noticed the fence team resting. "...Maybe Ivan show you?"

Apparently there were traps laid in the forest, and without Ivan's help she might have blundered into one. Alexandra thought that it might be more politic to take one of the girls, too. She asked, with a smile, whether she might take Ola along, something which amused Alena, and after a second, the rest of them. They nodded. Sergei called the young folk over, while Alexandra, Sherry and Alena went up to the tent, to check on Sophie and little Ninel.

Maria was back from whatever she was doing, and Ninel was busily talking herbs with her. Sophie was still asleep, the half sleep of those who fought a fever.

"Sophie," Alexandra called softly, shaking her shoulder, "Sophie!" Her eyes slowly opened, squinting against the light. Maria complained that they should leave her alone. Alexandra explained that she wanted to borrow her crossbow, and one did not do that without permission. Maria smiled and shrugged, while Ninel mimed an explanation that seemed to alarm her more than it satisfied her. (Alexandra had firmly told Sherry —who agreed— that the rifle should not be brought out except for an emergency. It was a clever thing, whose purpose, when taken apart, was not immediately clear, with its hollow-frame stock and collapsible barrel.) "May I borrow your crossbow?"

"Sure," said Sophie, rising to fetch it. Alexandra made her lie down, and took it out herself. Maria looked, very curious, and nodded when she saw the weapon. Alena looked from the weapon to Alexandra, putting things together in her mind. Maria quickly crossed herself, puzzling Alexandra. She wondered whether crossbows were associated with impiety or evil. She wondered what the old girl would think if she knew that Sophie had killed more people than either of the others.

"I have a feeling you folk don't like to hunt with weapons," Alexandra remarked to Alena, as they joined Sherry at the tent entrance. (Sherry said she would stay with Sophie.) Alena replied at once, but its meaning was beyond Alexandra's still limited ability to guess. The fact that she had replied so quickly made Alexandra believe that Alena had a very good command of the common speech, despite her reluctance to speak it.

Ivan and Ola were waiting. The girl looked pretty in breeches and a leather jacket, and one of the boys brought a leather jacket to lend Alexandra. It fit her well, and its scratched condition suggested that she would need it for more than warmth.

Smiling a farewell at Alena, she set out with the two companions. She pointed at a tree as they passed one, said 'tree', and smiled expectantly at the other two. Ola spoke rapidly to Ivan, who said the word for it, while Ola softly murmured 'Tree' to herself. They exchanged a lot of vocabulary that way, as Alexandra and Ivan marched through the woods, with Ola tripping along with them, sometimes beside, sometimes behind, repeating the words Alexandra was saying. Ivan suddenly slowed down and held out his arm to keep them back. There was a baited steel trap evidently set for a bear. He pointed to it and emphasized that it might have been Alexandra's undoing, and she nodded. Then, after a while, they passed a couple more traps, and some which were set for deer. Seeing signs of deer, Alexandra began to walk quietly. They were bright enough to do the same.

The forest was now dark and dense, and Alexandra, with concentration, could identify a thicket inside which there were a number of deer. She indicated this silently to her companions. They were downwind of the deer, and conditions were excellent. She picked up a large rock, and carefully tossed it into the middle of the thicket, startling the deer into running out, and quickly brought down a buck who stumbled. She leaped forward, and cut its throat quickly. When she turned around, Ola had turned away with a cry, covering her eyes. Even Ivan's face was a little white, and Alexandra wondered whether it was because of the killing, or because Alexandra was a woman.

"You have to do it quickly, otherwise it suffers," she said gravely. "A trap is sometimes more cruel."

Ola raised her sorrowful eyes to Alexandra, and glanced at Ivan who seemed to conjecture what Alexandra had said. Ola replied in a low voice, and looked once more at Alexandra, expectantly. She shrugged at them, and proceeded to butcher the deer. Ola gave a startled sound of dismay and ran forward to stop Alexandra. She talked urgently to her, indicating they should take the entire animal.

"Do you feed the entrails to the animals, perhaps?" The two young people looked at each other and nodded vigorously.

Ivan was busy cutting down a sapling, and Alexandra helped. They would cart the buck home on a pole between them, using the rope they had brought. They set out back to the camp. Ola walked by Alexandra, and at one point ventured an opinion directly to Alexandra, smiling reproachfully. Of course, she had no hope of Alexandra understanding what she said, and she knew it. Ivan chided her, after which the girl seemed to apologize. She continued to talk to Ivan at length about Alexandra, but from her respectful tone she gathered it was not an outright condemnation of her. The thought of a hunt in the abstract must have contrasted greatly with the immediate shock of seeing the killing.

"I'm just very hungry," Alexandra said, to herself, more than her companions. "If I could eat without killing, I would." Ola looked into her eyes and nodded sadly, exactly as if she understood.

The party returning with the deer was greeted with great enthusiasm. Ola shuddered when asked about her experience, but she turned to Alexandra and smiled with obvious ruefulness.

"Shall I help to butcher it?" Alexandra offered the men.

"To cut it up?"

"And clean it. Ola said I wasn't to do it in the forest."

"Ah, yes, because we make ..." he looked at the others helplessly and grinned at Alexandra, shrugging, giving their own word for it. "Food for chickens, you know?"

"I understand," Alexandra said. It was evident that the settler women were glad to do that part of the preparation, and Alexandra let it go. She assumed that there would probably be cultural niceties to be observed in the butchering process.

"You are hungry. The others are eating! Go and eat, and when this is ready, eat more!"

They laughed to see Alexandra's heartfelt smile of gratitude, as she headed for the tent. Sherry and Ninel were indeed eating, while Maria ate a small plateful, smiling at them. She urged Alexandra to take a plate and serve herself.

"What shall we do?" they asked each other that night, when Sophie was a little more alert. "We can't get back, we're stuck here!"

"The Belgravians are supposed to be helping to clear this area out. It's clear that there are at least these sort of settlers here; though it would be a mistake to be harsh on them."

"They'll leave the settlers alone," Sophie said, confidently.

"I'm not so sure," Sherry said, grimly. "They'll probably be herded into prison camps."

"What? Why?" demanded Sophie.

"That's what happens in a war," Alexandra said, looking at the floor.

"You should warn them," Sophie exclaimed. Sherry nodded and looked away.

"I couldn't," Alexandra exclaimed. "They'd think I was threatening them. I just couldn't do it!"

"I'll tell them," Sherry said. "In the morning. I'll tell them that I'm from Belgravia, and that the fleet is here to clear the area out of Bernians. We might be safe, but they would be in trouble."

"Tell them now," Sophie insisted. "We were being chased by the whole damn fleet; they must be up to Freiburg by now!"

"No, Sophie; only three ships joined in the chase; the others were landing troops. They turned off at the one big port round the headland."

"Northhaven," Alexandra suggested.

Sherry shrugged. "I don't know how long it will take."

"Several days," Alexandra said. "But let's go; we owe it to them!"

The men were talking round the fire. They stopped and waited while Alexandra and Sherry approached.

"There is some news that might be important," Sherry said. "I'm from Belgravia, and Anne is from Skree. When we set out, a large Belgravian fleet was coming this way, hoping to push all Bernese folks out, back across the strait. It's possible that you may not be allowed to stay here. We thought you should have some warning!"

The men were shocked into silence for a few seconds, then began to talk among themselves earnestly. The tone of the conversation indicated clearly that there was some suspicion about the newcomers, too. It was inevitable, Alexandra supposed.

"Belgravia! They are coming?"

"They have come. It was a Belgravian ship that exploded our boat."

"Exploded?" there was some confusion, but the word was finally understood. "But why? You are on the same side!"

Alexandra gestured that it was not important. "It was a misunderstanding, and there was a Bernian boat there, also. We were in a small our boat was small, and it was dark. These are bad times to be on the water." They agreed heartily, once the words were translated.

"Where can we go?" Sergei said in the end, shrugging. "We are peaceful people. We are bothering nobody. We are not army, we are not killers, we are not BLP. We come to ... to live here."

"I know!" said Sherry, as Alena wandered over to listen, just outside the circle of light cast by the fire. The men began to argue with Sergei, and it was clear that Alexandra need not point out that emigration was a risky idea during a war. It was the Bernians themselves who had ruined things for the budding little settler village.

"You understand that we are not hostile. But it was important for you to know; if the Belgravians suddenly turn up, we will say we belong here as citizens, and we will plead for you, but they may not listen. I don't want you to feel betrayed at that time, if you are taken away to a prison camp, and we're allowed to stay!" Alexandra said.

"I understand," Sergei said gravely. He studied Alexandra, his admiration plain, and getting to his feet, finally clapped her on the shoulder. "You speak well, very clear. Some day you will be a great leader, may be Prime Minister!"

Alexandra's eyes glowed with pride. Feeling suddenly bashful, she thanked him sincerely and backed away. They said their good nights, and returned to the tent, Alena following. Alexandra gripped her arm in a friendly gesture, and she returned it with a smile.

Once inside, Alena reported to Maria, while the girls reported to Sophie, and Ninel, who was still wide awake, listening intently. "They told —Anne— that she spoke well. The big leader thinks she'll be prime minister someday," Sherry reported with a straight face. Ninel made an O of amusement, but the others slapped Alexandra's back in great amusement, making her call them to settle down.

"I can't just wait here," she said. "I must go up to the ridge, and see what the damage is. It's about a week on foot."

"It makes more sense to head west, to see what the army is doing!" said Sherry. "Best of all is to vanish, but I suppose we can't do that."

"You could surrender to the troops."

Alexandra sighed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Captured

The venison Alexandra had supplied had been much enjoyed that night, and there was much praise for her. "Get a larger one next time," they joked. "And take someone else, not Ola!"

Ola exclaimed and scolded, bashfully, and asked around for a word to express what she wanted in Common. Then she called out in her high sweet voice, "Bad, bad!" to Sergei, which was greeted with much laughter. They had all eaten round the fire, with their plates on their knees, seated on the little stools. Alexandra admired the stools, and thought they would sell like hot cakes in Stefansberg.

At night, Alexandra found herself watching Sherry, who slept next to her. Sophie was on the pad, and Ninel lay next to her, then Alexandra, then Sherry, who insisted on sleeping near the entrance, just in case. They were both awake, Alexandra lying on her side, and Sherry on her back, staring at the roof of the tent.

"Your family must be worried about you," whispered Alexandra. "If they only knew the truth!"

Sherry turned to face her, smiling softly. "Don't worry," she said, "sleep!" Her closeness was hard; looking at her, Alexandra was reminded of the feel of her fingers as she oiled Alexandra's hair in the night, and though there was only a warm friendship between them, Alexandra couldn't avoid fantasizing something more. She had an inkling that the girl would have been willing if Alexandra had shown a definite interest. At any rate, it was hard to fall asleep with her so close.

Alexandra smiled, and rolled on her back, and tried to forget about her, and ignore the soft sound of her breathing next to her.

The next day, Alexandra once again volunteered to help with the work, which consisted in chopping wood, hauling timber, and so forth. While Alexandra joined the boys, with Ola, Sherry joined the women at sewing, cooking, and tending the animals. Ninel alternated between herbing with the little old physician, and playing with the children. Sophie rested most of the day, except for an hour in the afternoon when she called Ninel over, and heard her recite her lessons. Ninel's schooling had been interrupted by the war, and Sophie took time to find out how much she knew, which in itself was a boost for Ninel's intellectual development. Ninel went along with the other girls in the youngest group of kids to do a spell of babysitting, and again, after they had been playing together, to help with supper, which involved slicing and dicing and such things.

In the night, Ninel cuddled with Alexandra. While she looked to Sherry as her primary care giver now, at some other level, she felt a bond with Alexandra, which was strongest when she was asleep. Alexandra felt sorry for the woman who loved Ninel so dearly, but did not wish to make things worse by drawing attention to it. They all slept together, anyway, but Ninel was always pressed tight against her big hero.

Gradually Ninel was beginning to acquire Bernian-style clothes; pretty blouses and skirts, a little vest, a pair of boots made of deerskin, hose handed down from one of her older playmates. They were determined to make her a proper little girl. For her part, Ninel didn't mind wearing the feminine clothes, nor did she mind playing with dolls and such. But what she wanted most of all was to use a crossbow. She was a bloodthirsty little thing, though she never called for revenge, or anything that would have indicated that she had been traumatized by the massacre, though of course it was impossible that she was not. Sherry and Alexandra showered affection on her in their own ways, as did everyone, and she seemed to have come safely past that danger. A large part of her healing definitely had to do with the safety she felt in the little camp.

Most interestingly, she had picked up quite a lot of the Bernese language the village children spoke. She was speaking in complete sentences by the third day. Maria and the adults Ninel associated with on a regular basis regarded this as perfectly normal, and considered their language the only reasonable one to learn. A few of the women, though, patiently learned to speak the new language of their adopted country from Sherry and Alexandra. One of them was Ola, who kept her adventures in linguistics to simple phrases, which she used to tease her friends.

The sailors on the Belgravian vessel that had rescued the women from Skree were aggrieved that Sharon had chosen to swim away, looking for the missing people. Anything could have happened to them, including drowning, immediate and instant death from the explosion, capture, even rape, and being marooned on shore. Somehow, Sharon's claim that Alexandra had been among the prisoners was gradually disregarded by the Belgravians as delusion. The women from Skree had decided that it was best not to mention anything about the Queen, because the consequences of doing so were uncertain. Learning that Sharon had gone looking for the missing women satisfied them. The important thing was to get out of the clutches of the Belgravians, and report to the Norslandish authorities that the defenses of Skree had been penetrated —indeed, it must be common knowledge by now— and that they would like a hand in repairing the defenses. The whole incident was unforgivable. The women were utterly humiliated by their capture, and their failure to protect their beloved cousin.

Alone in the cabin allotted to them for the return journey, they plotted together.

"Four of us," Elke said. "Me, Kirsten, Jo and Dee."

"What about me? And you're hurt!"

"Oh, Baby ... you know you can't come!"

"Why? Doesn't anyone care how I feel?"

Sonja spoke in a low, heavy voice.

"You are second in line to the throne. Once we get back, Helga will march you straight to the castle. You have a responsibility to the people. Stop behaving like a baby. And let's stop calling her childish names. It's time you became Briana. Grow up."

"I don't want to be Queen! I want Alexandra to be Queen!"

That stopped the conversation for a while. But Kirsten and Jo had their heads together; Baby knew it was a lost cause; she would be left behind, and she hunched over into an angry little ball, fuming. She nursed her resentment even when the others looked through the porthole and exclaimed as they saw the ship they were on putting into harbor and disgorging hundreds of troops dressed in the characteristic green uniform of the Belgravian forces. They could hear the yells of the men as they poured onto the docks and formed companies, and began their move out. They seemed to have their orders, and they stormed the town as if it were held by enemy forces, as indeed there was reason to believe it was. All Baby's fighting and shooting and martial skills had been for nothing. They would not let her get at the enemies. And up on the pass on the road from Westholm to Skree, when they had been attacked, she had simply watched open-mouthed while that lily-white girl had shot the men down. She groaned and tore at her hair in frustration. Grandma Sonja's hand shot out and slapped her wrists.

As predicted, Baby didn't have a chance. She was dressed up and put in the castle in the Fort, with just the company of one of Helga's nephews, Ian. He was all right as boys went, and he played a mean game of chess, but there were things she wanted to do, and things he wanted to do, that they could not do together. After a while, they stood leaning out the window, watching the guards going back and forth.

"Aren't they really smart?" remarked Ian with a sigh. Baby wholeheartedly agreed; she glanced at him through the corner of her eye, wondering if he realized that they were ogling the same girl, dressed in perfect creased breeches and tunic. Even from where they were, they could see her beautiful hazel eyes, alertly scanning the courtyard.

Helga, Elke and Sonja were seated in a small committee room, with intelligence men questioning them. They had already met with the navy and the Island's defense chief, who commanded a branch of the headquarters security. The man had been red-faced, and had apologized until they had tired of him. The boat that had been hijacked had been thought lost in the North Sea a few days earlier, so that it's identification had not been circulated yet. It was the ship's peculiar response to the signal lanterns that had given them away in the end.

They asked the women several times over, to describe what had happened. They could not understand why the Queen had been naked when the explosion had happened.

"Was there an attempt at rape?"

"No; I've told you before: there was a little girl on the dinghy who had lost her clothes. The child was freezing. She had pity on the child. She dropped her nightgown through the window!"

How had they gotten out of the locked cabin on the boat? What had they heard while they were there? Who was the child on the dinghy? What had happened back at the house before the enemy broke in? Where were this woman called Sophie, and the Belgravian woman, Sherry? What had Sherry told them about herself? Is it true that she carried a proscribed weapon? Did she shoot at the enemy? Why not?

It took a very long time, and they took notes of everything, with several people writing very fast. At the end, the interrogator smiled. "It's hard to do that to people I know, at least by sight, Lady Sonja," he apologized looking bashful, "but you might have told us something you thought you had forgotten!"

"But is there suspicion of Sharon, or Sherry?"

"At the moment yes, but I have a feeling your trust in her will make a difference. If we didn't trust her, we'd have to assume she was looking for her Majesty for ... in order to... terminate her."

Sonja glared at him, and he looked levelly back. Finally it was Sonja who dropped her stare.

Genny looked into the camera and gave her usual benediction. Every night she tried to think of some new reason why her heart went out to these people. When the red light went off, she felt herself deflating. Trudy sat near the door, out of camera range. She stood and smiled at Genny, and put her arms round the young consort. Genny allowed her to give the hug; Trudy was the only one among that lot of people who kept her at this thing who cared for her, Genny, as a person. John Gustafson had hardened into a calculating machine. He constantly thought of propaganda they could use.

"I used to hate propaganda," he said as they drove off. "I don't even know this stuff works. We only talk to people at the management level, and they have a twisted view of things."

"It must work, dear; I'm not involved in management, and I think it's very effective and powerful."

He shook his head. "You're biased. None of us in this carriage are able to judge. We could be doing great harm, but ... no ... don't listen to me, Genny. I don't know why I'm blathering on like this."

"I'm not," said Genny coolly.

"Not what?"

"Listening to you."

Gustafson's self-hate was wearying. Genny smiled to soften the hurt of her words, but she had intended them to hurt a little. She looked out the window. Trudy didn't say anything.

"Is there any news of ... Alexandra and Sophie?"

"We know they reached Skree on the way out ..." Trudy started.

"Yes, yes, I know that! Did they reach Athens?"

"Your Highness, we're deliberately staying away from ..."

"I don't really care!" Genny snapped. She controlled herself with great effort. If she kept giving vent to her feelings, she would inevitably lose control. She was strongly tempted to ask the driver to stop, and to walk by herself to the safe house. It wasn't particularly safe, because anyone could see where the carriage was going. There were sentries, but ....

She shut down her mind until they reached the house, and she got down from the carriage and walked calmly to her room, a false smile fixed on her face until she was safely inside. She had a small portrait of Sophie she had found among the things in the attic. Sophie was young in it, around twelve, but it was unmistakably she. The house had belonged to a family friend of the late Queen, which meant that Alexandra and Sophie had known each other since their teens, certainly. Genny wondered why they hadn't been encouraged to fall in love. It would have been perfect, and she would have been spared the agony of all this. And Genevieve would never have met Sophie, sweet, earnest, passionate Sophie. Was Sophie thinking of her? Was she in Alexandra's bed? Were they enjoying themselves with the family of Atlanta, Alexandra's birth mother? Genny could see the two girls making love, with that thing strapped on Genny. Surprisingly, that in itself didn't bother her. Then she imagined them cuddled together, nuzzling each other, saying soft words of love to each other. Sophie did love Alexandra. Genny had heard Sophie murmur gentle, loving words to Alexandra, when Alexandra needed them. That made her blood boil, because it was a necessary part of how Sophie served her Queen.

"Are there Bernian troops in these parts?" Alexandra asked. (She could ask in stumbling Bernese by now. It was almost a week, but it was rather an easy language to learn. The vocabulary was easy, though it had seemed at first that the words were quite unrelated to the words of Alexandra's own language. But as the days went by, she was able to guess the right words, whether by listening to the talk around her, and the repetitive speech of the children, which she had fun mimicking to Ninel, or because she recognized the roots. But at these discussions, she stuck to her own language.)

"Yes," they answered. It was the usual after-dinner discussion. Now that the men knew Alexandra was interested in their talks, she and Sherry and Sophie brought their stools, and brought Alena with them. Eventually Ola joined, too. "You know, Anna, we hate the soldiers. We are escaping from them, you know?"

"But why? Don't you like Bernia?"

"No. There is no peace. There is no ..." they talked the concept over amongst themselves, and finally Ola said, "Mental peace."

"I think I know what you mean; we say 'peace of mind.' Is it because you don't have a Queen, or King, I mean, or is it something else, because there is no opportunity for bettering yourselves?"

"No, no. This is not the problem. I don't care the Queen. I don't care the King. I don't care the money. I don't care the other things. But it is very divided. Do you know divided?"

"But what is the problem with diversity?" Alexandra asked. "Here we are, from different countries; Sherry is from Belgravia, I'm from Skree, you're from Bernia; what does it matter?" she was frustrated at the language barrier. "The differences are to be treasured, and protected. They are beautiful, and rich!"

"But there is no dividing of the heart! You! Me! Sherry! One heart! No dividing!"

"He's saying that there's a unity of spirit," said Sherry, eagerly.

Alexandra nodded. "When you have nothing, it is easy," she said, and they laughed. "But sometimes, when some have nothing, and others have too much, there is no unity."

"Ah, yes, that is what the socialists say," Sergei nodded, looking cynical. "If it was so, I would go back. I like socialists. But there are ugly, ugly, dividing people. And the army is most of all. Worst."

"I know," said Alexandra. "I have seen what they can do."

"You have seen?"

Alexandra shrugged. It was too awkward to get into.

Ivan and some of the other young men interrupted the conversation to suggest an expedition to see what was happening. "If it is true what Anna says, we should know when they are coming!" They were now growing more able to understand what Alexandra was saying in Common. "We could hide away some things, like money, jewelry, tools. They said in Hamar that there was a disturbance in the west, so there is some truth to it!"

"Trust me," said Alexandra in their language, "they're coming. I only don't know when."

"I will come with you," said Sherry at once. "I have a gun."

There was a shocked silence. Sherry told them she had been a guard in Athens. When she emigrated, she had brought the gun with her. The boys gratefully accepted her offer to accompany them, but insisted that she had to leave the gun behind. They said it was better to be captured than to have to get into an armed exchange. Sherry said she had a knife, too, and she would definitely bring it, and use it in self-defense. She was adamant, and they agreed.

The five of them decided to leave at once, at which point the group essentially broke up. It seemed pointless to speculate. They needed real information.

Soon they were headed inland, towards the town, Hamar, where they usually sold the furniture they manufactured. Sherry had helped with some of them —beautiful pieces, with unique touches that made them attractive and comfortable. This group of people were a valuable resource indeed. (Traditional Norslandish furniture tended to be unimaginative and uncomfortable, though sturdy and durable.) They reached Hamar quickly, and without incident. There were a great many suspicious-looking people on the streets, all men, all the worse for many mugs of the local brew, and the boys faded into the shadows and told Sherry that they were Bernians, but clearly unsavory specimens.

They slipped through town until they came to the East-West road, and carefully headed west, trying to keep from attracting attention from the men who seemed to be hanging around everywhere. They walked fast, keeping one eye behind them. "Use the ears," Sherry whispered, "more useful in the dark!"

They heard them before they saw them. Far in front of them, a group of men were walking towards them. Sherry and the boys slipped into the forest on the side of the road. The men were walking as fast as they could, and they were speaking in yet another dialect that Sherry could not understand.

"Rifles!" whispered Ivan, once they had they passed by.

"What were they saying?"

"They are tired, there is a large crowd following, they want to stay and shoot them, ..."

"Shoot from hiding."

"Yes, from hiding. Wait in trees and shoot."

Sherry said she'd like to go forward. The boys were divided. But they headed out again. Soon they saw a horse coming towards them. The rider seemed to be drunk, and he was singing loudly, to keep himself company. Sherry recognized the words. "A Norslandish fellow!"

"Talk to him," the boys urged. "He can be trusted."

"Hello!" Sherry called out. It took several calls until it penetrated the fellow's hearing.

"Who's that? Come out, where are you?"

"Right in front of you, man! Whoa there, boy!" The horse backed away from Sherry. The moon was up, but the trees made the road gloomy.

"Wha—what're you doing, miss? You're heading into trouble!" He fumbled with matches, to light a lantern that hung on his saddle. Sophie took the lantern from him, and lit it, and handed it back. "Why, thank you, sister ... ah, I can see you now ... one of these Bernian lassies, eh?"

"No, no, I'm Belgravian. What's going on back there?"

"Oh, they're an hour or so away. They've got all the Bernians put in camps. They're being herded like sheep. They say that they'll shoot them all. Your Belgravian buddies are maniacs! But they'll at least get rid of the gunmen."

"What do you mean, gunmen? I just landed on the north shore a week ago."

"There's gunmen all up and down here. Everywhere. Might be hiding in the bushes right here! They—they rob the houses. Food, money, anything they can carry away. Not army, though. These are Bernian fellows. Deserters, I bet."

"There were a few ahead of you. We hid and let them pass."

The man was alarmed. He said he was going back home. He said goodbye, and headed back the way he had come.

The next group they met was a family of Bernians, running from the Belgravians. There were ten of them, all ages. "They say that they'll shoot everybody! Don't go that way!" they said, when they realized who the group was. Sherry and the boys decided to go back East with them, and help them with some of the things they were hauling. They had handcarts loaded with their family belongings. They were of the same people as Sergei's camp, though they did not know each other. With their new help, they could set a fair pace.

"What do we do at the town?"

"We'll go straight through," Sherry said. "I'll keep my face covered."

"Yes, you keep quiet; we'll do the talking," said the others. "Hurry, speed up; we need to get wherever we're going and rest."

They raced through the town, and to their frustration, the armed men who had passed them earlier decided to attach themselves to them. They tried to hide their guns among the belongings of the people whom Sherry's group had befriended, but they would have none of it. "Throw the damn things away, you fools! If you have a gun, they'll consider you're in the army, and they will kill you!"

"If we get killed, our blood will be on you, man! You could help us escape!"

"Throw your guns into the forest and join us! Or keep your guns and fight them!"

The armed men scowled. They couldn't make up their minds, and Sherry laughed to herself, almost hysterically. It was too funny for words. The people with them never stopped, only kept walking, and their would-be hitch-hikers were furious. "Pigs," said the leader of the family group.

When they arrived close to the camp, they got the shock of their lives. A large contingent of Belgravian troops had herded the settlers into a circle, and were questioning them.

Sherry and the boys watched a while from the trees. She spotted Alexandra and Sophie among them, and she could see that Alexandra was furious. They lined up the settlers, and were now asking for the name, and date and place of birth of everyone, very sternly. Suddenly Sophie and her new friends were spotted, revealed by the light of the powerful gas lamps that the troops were using. Several Belgravian soldiers ran up and captured them —they were too burdened to make a run for it— and they were all dragged into the group of prisoners. The census was interrupted while they questioned the new arrivals. Where had they been? What had they done? Who were these other people? It was quickly sorted out, and they were sent to the back. "You will not be harmed," they kept saying. "But you cannot stay here. Or rather, you can; but we are converting this place into an internment camp." Sherry and Alexandra exchanged grim glances.

"Name, please."

Alexandra asked Sergei to translate for her, giving him a solemn look. In dialect she gave her name as "Anna."

"Anna what?"

"Just Anna."

"Where were you born, and when?"

Alexandra was ready. She gave Ninel's birthday, but the correct year. And she gave the same village as Maria had given. The old woman looked at Alexandra thoughtfully while she talked. She spoke in their dialect, and sounded convincing enough. Sergei had to conceal a grin as he translated item by item, which the recorders wrote down carefully.

"Do you own a gun?"

"Not here," Alexandra said, through Sergei. "I have one at home. I know how to shoot."

"I didn't ask you that," the man pointed out. Alexandra could not quite get up the anger against him that she would have liked. He was decent enough. But she was past caring. She had thrown away her chance to be reunited with her family on a whim. Now Sophie and Ninel had to follow suit. It was a preposterous decision, but Alexandra had found peace, and kindness and gentleness among these people that was so scarce in these troubled times, and her soul hungered for it.

Ninel was next, and she was the most fluent of them all. Her eyes huge, she kept her gaze on Sergei. Alexandra wondered what she would do about a birthday. In the end, she gave the proper date, stabbing an angry look at Alexandra.

"You have the same birthday?" the man asked, with a smile.

"She's my niece," Alexandra said, as if that explained it, making everyone laugh.

Sophie gave her name as Sofia. There was another Sofia in the camp, a quiet girl who had smiled once they had learned Sophie's name. Finally when Sherry's turn came, she, too, improvised, but by then the men in charge were tired, and weren't paying attention. Sherry was a terrible liar, but she was pretty. She had looked carefully at every soldier in sight, and thankfully concluded she knew none of them. Once she had been processed, she hurried to Alexandra and Ninel, and hugged them fiercely, trembling. Ninel comforted her, as did Alexandra, a little more gruffly. Alexandra pulled them all together and said she was sorry. "If I keep with these people, I think I can survive this war without hating myself," she said in the dialect of the camp. "So I have put you in trouble. I ask your forgiveness, all of you!"

Ninel stretched up on tiptoe to kiss Alexandra on the cheek. "We have the same birthday, we must stick together!" she said, giving Alexandra an impish grin. Alexandra had to laugh, as the others seconded her sentiments.

As the people were processed, they were sent back into the tents. No one was allowed outside until daylight. They would be told what to do in the morning. They were building a large fenced-in enclosure to serve as a toilet; if anyone needed to relieve themselves, they must go into the enclosure, one at a time.

They were building more than enclosures. Rank after rank of tents were being set up on the moor. It became very clear that it was going to be an enormous refugee camp.

The following morning, when they woke up from their restless sleep, the troops were agitated. Listening carefully, Sherry realized that word had come down to keep an eye out for the Queen. Not a hint had been given the previous night, but that was the objective. Sherry dared not talk about it. Alexandra was already strung very tight. But at least she was safe now, and there was no prospect of being assassinated by the gunmen. They would never think to look for Alexandra in an internment camp.

But to her dismay, they were asked to pack a simple bag, one per person. They were then lined up, and once more, they were all marched down to the sea, and ferried out to an enormous transport vessel. To the question where they were going, they were answered: back where they belong. They were being deported. The Belgravian army had realized that these were of the class described as economic refugees, and in addition, they were of a pacifist religion. Instead of being a burden on the army's food supply, they could be sent home. There was absolutely no risk that they would become combatants.

Sherry found a pencil and paper. She wrote a note, folded it closed, and approached one of the younger guards.

Taking a very northerly route, the transport sailed majestically east, with two hundred non-combatant refugees on board. Sophie, still a little weak from her bout with pneumonia, stood by Alexandra, gently stroking her back.

"Your hair is very red," she murmured, "and really soft, too."

"That's good," Alexandra breathed.

"You're a lot slimmer, too. A lot. All that work took its toll."

"I looked like a slug."

"The baby fat is burned off." Alexandra did not answer. "We're going someplace where no one will look for us. If I didn't love you, I'd put a stop to the whole thing."

"I'm doing this for you, too, Sophie. It's not as mad as you think."

"Oh, it's beyond mad."

"Just be patient!"

"Think of Genny!"

Alexandra turned to look at Sophie finally. Then she dropped her eyes.

It was the first time Alexandra had seen the entire northern shore. Once she realized the opportunity, she went up on deck and gazed out towards the shore. There was a stain of smoke all along the southern horizon, and as the ship moved east, they began to see enormous stretches of forest burning, touched off by burning volcanic effluvium. The volcanoes were all tilted towards the north, that is, towards them, as if the whole line of volcanoes had climbed over the foothills, pushing them down.

Towards the end of the third day, they were past the easternmost end of the enormous island that was Norsland, and were out in the open sea. The sun set, the moonlight making a trail of light over the still water. Food was passed around, a simple meal that a dozen volunteers had been sent to the galley to make. Alexandra had watched her fellow-travelers throughout the voyage, and they had won her heart. There were some forty families, all packed solid, taking turn to come up on deck and walk around the enormous transport ship. They all belonged to a certain pacifist community –like Sergei's people– with very egalitarian ideas, totally committed to a community-based lifestyle.

Meanwhile, Alexandra was getting a little ill. She had always been a good traveler, but she was getting nauseous. At the moment, she was ravenous. Ninel was looking about for food the others didn't care to eat. Alexandra shook her head; there wasn't going to be anything left in her packet.

"Eating for two," Sophie murmured as she walked slowly by. Alexandra blinked. Of course; she should have known. She was pregnant.

It was early the following morning when the ship dropped anchor almost a mile from shore. It was low tide, and it was known that there was shallow water all the way to land. They began disgorging the refugees into boats, which carried them close enough to land that they could wade ashore. The women wept as they climbed out of the boats. Alexandra had spoken to almost every woman in the camp, and they had only sad memories of their homes in Bernia. They were sick to death of the petty ways in which their former neighbors stole from them. Property encroachment. Mail theft. Victimizing children. Stealing public resources. Slander. Libel. It wasn't a particular community that was singled out for persecution. It was a general tendency to cynicism.

Alexandra and Ninel and several others were let off their boat, to land in up to their knees of water. Silently they held hands, and got moving towards land.

"Are you sure it will be all right, Annie?" Ninel asked, anxiously. It was as if Alexandra alternated between being the Queen, and her aunt Annie. Alexandra had been insisting that it would be fine for two days. Finally she thought she would be honest.

"I figure that if we're together, it will be all right," she said softly. Ninel knew her well enough to be able to distinguish between something she said because she felt Ninel needed to accept it on faith, and something she absolutely believed in. And she believed in this one.

Alexandra had already resolved that the baby would be called Ninel. There was no better namesake for a child for whom Alexandra wished a wide variety of talents, including learning languages, the ability to play with adults as well as children, and a trusting nature. At one time Alexandra had blamed herself for being so trusting. But now she was beginning to see good things in that characteristic.

"This is awfully shallow for the ocean," Ninel observed.

"Well, the channel is like that at low tide."

"How do you know?"

Alexandra reminded her about the Skree Causeway; its height was slightly greater than the difference between high and low tide. She kid thought for a little, and nodded. As they walked, they looked around for the others. "I see them! "There's L—there's Sophie! And there's Alena!" A little later they had spotted Sherry and Maria. "Let me climb on your back!" she asked, eagerly. Alexandra smiled, and lifted her up, and seated her on her shoulders, walking very slowly, a little to the side, to let others get past her. Soon the excited little girl had identified the entire group. Ola and the youths were far in front, all together, carrying some of the littlest children; the rest of them were all roughly around Alexandra and Ninel.

Now she wanted to be let down, and Alexandra lowered her. She was still as thin as a rail, but the clean clothes she wore, and her tidy hair had altered her appearance so that she looked quite dainty. The manner and behavior of her young friends was rubbing off on her, and instead of prowling, as she used to do, she walked like a human being. Suddenly she was almost a little lady. Alexandra felt the thin fingers slip into her hand, and a moment later, she felt a gentle but insistent pressure tugging her forward; with her shoes in her hands, Ninel didn't care for the feel of seaweed under her feet. They were approaching the mouth of a river.

There were cries up ahead, and shouting. Alexandra strained to see over the heads of those in front of her. "They're stoning us!" the words came back, and Ninel looked at Alexandra, eyes wide. The former settlers were all piled up, just off the beach, and there were people —all men, half-drunk, apparently just getting home after a long night— and they were throwing pebbles at the people coming off the ship. The boys were shouting at them, and there was a scuffle, but now people were being woken up. There were ugly-looking people, half awake, coming out of their homes for the sole purpose of stoning the refugees. Alexandra was furious. In a flash Ninel had picked up a handful of pebbles and was letting fly with them, over the heads of those in front.

"Ninel!" Alexandra cried, half amused. "Stop that!"

"I didn't start it, they were hitting us first!" she said indignantly, and Alexandra had to glare at her and speak firmly in Bernian, to stop her chattering along in her mother tongue. It was an explosive situation, and who knew what the reaction would be if the returning émigrés were heard to be speaking Norslandish? Alexandra marched forward, joined by Sophie.

"Stop!" Alexandra commanded to the people on shore. Sergei came up next to her, a mountain of support. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Why, you scum, you put us all in trouble, and now you come back to rape our women, and steal our work!" The man ended with a string of meaningless, bitter curses. But at least the barrage of projectiles had been replaced with one of words.

Sergei calmed himself with an effort. "We went there long before this stupid invasion! We have simply come back, because it is impossible there, now that these wonderful gunmen are killing everybody! What do you want us to do, go back and get killed?"

The altercation continued for a long time. But eventually, the belligerent welcoming committee gave up on their tirade, and picked up trash off the street, cans, bottles, rocks, and began to pelt the returning refugees in earnest. Ola was one of the first to fall, her beautiful face gashed at the temple.

"Back! Back to the water," Sergei instructed. Four of the biggest men covered the others with their bodies while the others headed back into the water, and off along the shore, away from the town and the river. The women were sobbing in fear and grief. It was a powerful lesson for Alexandra, in what was meant by the lack of spiritual unity. Alexandra was surrounded by Sophie, Sherry and Ninel, though Alexandra was probably the most able to take a stoning and survive. Alena had materialized near them, and was helping with their packs. Maria was close by, and Alexandra picked up her enormous travel-pack, which seemed to have been passed from one hand to the other all the way from the ship. She had been given permission to bring most of her paraphernalia after Sherry had interceded with the guards.

They walked along parallel to the shore as fast as they could, while Sergei and a few other men took the stones on their broad backs, cursing when they were hit on their heads. They were not aiming to kill or injure, only to cause pain. The hostile Bernians were not following, and the rest of the refugees had swerved to avoid the town completely.

Alena pointed out that this was not actually a town; it was the northernmost edge of the long line of population and development that was Freiburg. "It has become a kind of snake," the girl said, "and this is the tail of it. And, of course, there is a tail down to the south, too."

The people were accustomed to walking. They gradually got onto the pebbly beach, and Sergei walked up and down the straggling line, with a couple of leaders from other groups —there seemed to be around six groups— encouraging them, and telling them where they were going. "There is an area, north and east of here, where nobody lives. We're going there."

"It will be cold," said Sherry, at once.

"Oh yes! But not colder than Norsland. And there are trees there."

"Why did you not go there in the first place?" Alexandra asked, curious.

Alena shrugged. "Where will we sell the furniture?"

There were many excuses, but in the end it all boiled down to a few things: they simply liked Norsland, they had more faith in Norsland, and Norsland represented to them a more civilized way of life, in spite of the conservative Monarchist regime and everything. They had had a rosy, romantic perception of life in Norsland, and even their harsh existence on the northern shore had not erased that perception. (Of course, they had no inkling that that very Monarch was slogging along the beach with them.)

By late afternoon, they were on the edge of a pine forest, about twenty miles from the river at which they had been put ashore. "This is a good place," Sergei said. Somehow he had assumed leadership of the entire group. Now they had nothing, not even tents, and no saws, no livestock. From being pioneers, they had sunk to being refugees, a considerable distance. They got up on the beach, and each of the groups were reunited, hugging each other, and there was mixed grief and relief, and Alexandra and her companions watched, feeling a little left out. Soon Sergei's people surrounded them and made them feel wanted and loved. Sherry smiled, her eyes bright with tears of gratitude on behalf of Alexandra.

Five ax-blades emerged from the packs of people, one of whom was old Maria. Alexandra laughed; so that was what made her pack so heavy! It was the work of a few minutes to make shafts for them all, and the men began taking turns to fell trees, to clear the ground, and to make shelter.

Alexandra and her friends watched with admiration as the trees were felled, neatly trimmed, and roughly squared into logs. "What are they doing?" she asked Alena, who studied the scene, eyes narrowed.

"A house," she said at last, "a big house for everybody!"

They all nodded. In the absence of their beautiful cloth tents, a long log cabin made the most sense. They could have made a large circular one, but that would have needed a taller center pillar than they could put together without all their tools.

Gradually, though, tools began to emerge. Alena herself shyly brought out an entire packet of woodworking tools she had smuggled out, and Maria grandly returned Sophie's crossbow to her, with the greater part of their camp friends witnessing it. "Now," she said, "if you wish, you can do some hunting, though that thing scares me!"

"What can you do with that?" one of the men from another camp asked. "It looks like some kind of weapon?"

"It is a mechanical bow, and these girls have learned to pull down game with it," said one of their own men, pointing at Alexandra.

Sophie was all smiles, seated on a tree stump, admiring her precious crossbow. But she showed no signs of getting up.

"Well?" Alexandra demanded, impatiently. It had been many hours since they had eaten, and her stomach was hard to ignore. She had tried for many weeks to learn to discipline herself and eat when food was available rather than when her system thought she needed it. But her upbringing had been that of girl who had known no hunger whatever, except for the few days when she had been out camping with her companions while training with the guard. Even there, they hadn't really made her wait for her meals.

Sophie got to her feet. She was exhausted after her long walk, but she pulled herself together. "I could use a few tips," she said uncertainly. "I haven't really hunted before!"

"Come on!" Alexandra said, with a smile. "Will you stay and watch our stuff, Ninel?" she asked the little girl.

"Aw, I want to come, too! Oh, okay," she said, seeing Alexandra's expression. Sherry was staying, and Alena was going. She had never gone hunting before, but something about their new circumstances made her feel a little more adventurous, evidently.

It was hard to find any game. They would have to set up traps again, but the large steel traps had ostensibly been left behind, having been carefully shown to the soldiers, for safety. "If you're not using them, trigger them," they had told the Belgravian soldiers. "Why should an innocent animal starve to death?"

"You trigger them, then," had been the response. "We don't have time for such things."

"It is food, man!"

"We have plenty of food."

Alexandra didn't doubt that a couple of the traps had come along with the settlers, if ax-heads had come. But large things like saws, stoves, cauldrons, and of course the tents, were all lost.

Eventually they were able to get several rabbits, a few large pheasants, and one little deer. They hauled the lot back, but there were two hundred mouths to feed. The three of them headed out again, in another direction. "We're going to be hunting all day," Alena said softly, with resignation. "It is not fair that two girls should hunt for so many people. The men should do it."

"I notice that among your people there is an understanding that men and women do different work!"

"Of course, Anna! Hunting is men's work!"

Alexandra smiled, making Alena scowl. She did not care to be laughed at, though she endured more laughter from Alexandra than from anyone else.

"That is not the Norslandish way," Alexandra said. "Among us, everybody does everything. Men cook, women hunt ... it is more pleasant that way. Sophie is excellent with the crossbow, I am good with a knife, and you have good hearing, so we are a good team!"

"Wait," she whispered at once, "I hear animals ... running this way. Hide!"

Sure enough, a family of deer were running right past where they had been standing. Sophie shot down three of them, until she saw what was chasing them. It was a cat, about the size of a large dog. She barely had time to load the crossbow. The thing saw her and stopped to crouch and growl menacingly. Coolly she took aim and shot it in the eye. It screamed and fell, clawing at its eyes, by which time it had quarrels in its throat and its shoulder.

Alexandra was shaking with fear, and she felt Alena grab her arm tight, also trembling.

"It would have killed one of us almost certainly!" she whispered, her face white. She fell weakly to her knees and said a prayer of gratitude. The cat was taking a long time to die, but it was finished.

"Sophie," said Alexandra, forgetting to speak Bernese, "that was amazing shooting!"

Sophie herself was in shock, unable to believe what she had done. That was six shots she had got off in under ten seconds. It was as if she became an automaton when the crossbow was in her hands. She had asked Alexandra earlier where to aim, and she had been told the most vulnerable places. Unlike Alexandra, she had felled each deer with a single quarrel, and they were lying there dead, having twitched a couple of times.

"I will go get some help," Alena said. "I remember the way back."

Sophie went to retrieve her quarrels, while Alexandra made sure the animals were dead, in particular the cat. It had a sleek pelt, and Alexandra admired it. The camp would find a use for it, she was sure. Twenty minutes later, several men came up, and fussed over Sophie until she blushed pink. Then they carried off the carcasses while girls were off once again with Alena. They had been told that they could stop at any time. Back at camp, they were making a stew, and everything was going into it. Some roots had been discovered, and they would not starve. "We can't stop," Alena said, once the men had set off. "The nursing mothers need meat. Let's keep going. I will help as I can." She had the instincts of a provider, and Alexandra thought to herself that she would have made a good huntress. It was not that she liked to hunt, but that her hearing was good, and she just didn't quit. She admired Alena very much.

The words about a nursing mother hit home. Soon, Alexandra knew, she would begin to show, and once she was heavy, they simply would not let her hunt. These people were very protective of pregnant women, no less than any other society, and they tended to be protective of Alexandra in any case; somehow Sherry's manner towards her, and Sophie's, both of which were protective in their own way, had rubbed off on everyone.

"Why are you smiling?" demanded Alena, suspiciously.

"It's just her," Alexandra said, pointing at Sophie who strode along, lost in her own thoughts. "She used to be such a gentle little thing, until she got that crossbow of hers!" Sophie looked over and smiled her wonderful smile. Alena grinned back. Alena's toothy grin had a little menace to it, even when the girl meant no harm. She had a mental toughness that never left her, even when she was tenderly comforting a hurt child. Alexandra's thoughts drifted to poor Ola, who had been badly scarred by the stoning, both physically and mentally. Equally intelligent, equally attractive, the two girls were an interesting contrast.

"There!" hissed Alena. They became silent, as Alena pointed at two large bears some distance away. "They're good eating!" she whispered, something that Alexandra and Sophie did not know. Then they saw several cubs. "No," said Alexandra. "We'll have to kill them all." Alena thought for a moment, and nodded reluctantly.

They had to go far from the bear family. They wound back out towards the sea, and were able to bring down several more pheasants, and at that point Sophie was too tired to continue. Once they were halfway home she declared she was all recovered, but Alexandra and Alena exchanged shakes of the head.

The camp looked dramatically different. Scores of trees had been felled, and the cabin walls were up. It was an efficient design, about thirty feet wide by about a hundred feet long, with a line of pillars down the middle. A row of cook-pots were on a row of open fires, and stew was brewing. Yams were boiling in a couple of pots, and children were scouring the area for edible plants and berries, under the cautious supervision of some of the older children. Ninel was in her element; somehow she had acquired a great deal of lore about such things, and knew her business when it came to foraging for plants to eat. "See, these," she was telling Sherry, "you eat the leaves, just as they are. These, you shred, and cook with butter. These you chop and put in stews. These are just like leeks. These, here, you use them for flavoring potatoes. Oh hi, Anna! Hi Sophie! Hi Alena!"

"It looks as if there's plenty for tonight," Alexandra said, eyeing what the child had brought. All through the camp, children were showing their mothers and older sisters what they had found. The three women each found something not too taxing to help with. As soon as Alexandra sat down she realized how tired she was. She glanced over at Sophie, and saw that she was barely going through the motions of putting together a salad.

She felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. In spite of her grown-up ways, at not quite seventeen she was still a child. Unlike Alexandra, she didn't have the advantage of a strenuous athletic and combat training. She was the child of her parents: reflective, philosophical, bookish. Her outgoing nature, and the warm heart she had also inherited did tend to moderate her ascetic tendencies, but honestly, she was more a girl in the Belgravian mold, or even the Bernian mold, than a sturdy Norswoman. In fact, though there were a few 'modern' women much like Sophie, especially in the more affluent echelons of Norslandish society, they were rare. What was amazing was how Sophie adjusted. She had first adjusted to the strange ideas of Genny, then to the rough manners of Alexandra's Genevan family. And now, she was becoming a Bernian, learning to be a farmer. She had spent time weeding the plots and feeding the livestock. She was the ultimate human being, infinitely adaptable. And in each of the different people she became, there was a core that was essentially Sophie.

Despite all their work, it was a meager meal. There was no rationing; anyone was free to take as much as he or she wanted. But as a result, they all took less than they needed, except children too young to be aware of the needs of others. There were a very few children who were a little overweight, who were gently told by their elders to be considerate. Alexandra recalled herself in her younger days; she had been rather a tubby little eight-year-old. Even then, Sophie had been a mere stick, and they had not liked each other very much. They had been invariably polite and pleasant to each other, both of them very decent, well-brought-up children. But Alexandra knew she had been tubby, and tended to overeat.

Memories of her mother came unbidden. Beate Hildesdottir had been a tall, striking woman, stronger than many men, whose grey eyes had struck fear into everyone, her friends and foes alike. She had loved her daughter fiercely, encouraging with almost overwhelming enthusiasm anything she showed the slightest interest in. She was enthusiasm personified, dynamic, impatient, always in motion. She was always trying something new, be it food, or some idea for government. It was she who had been impatient with the traditional cool attitude towards New Hope. They had always been considered upstarts, though their royal family was centuries old, and New Hope had not been 'new' for a millennium. And she had been pleased at the affection that had sprung up spontaneously between the two princesses. While the children were getting to know each other, Beate had gone around the country like a whirlwind, bewildering the people and the King equally with her relentless enthusiasm and energy, and then had left with her retinue, leaving her hosts weak with relief.

But Beate had often been tender and loving. She had showered affection on Alexandra, played with her toys, told her stories, done everything she possibly could to make Alexandra happy, stopping short of indulging her to the extent of hurting her normal emotional development. "A princess can be a dirty word, Alexandra. It means a spoiled, demanding, pathetic creature." Alexandra had said yes, she knew that. "I won't tolerate that kind of behavior. I wasn't that way, Atlanta wasn't that way, and if I have anything to do with it, you won't be that way either."

"Why are you telling me this now? What did I do?"

"Nothing, love; there's no point in saying this kind of thing when I'm angry! Don't you think it's better to settle it when we're both in a good mood?"

"There's no point in talking about it. I'm not that kind of girl!"

Then her mother had hugged her, and told her that a princess was partly responsible for her own upbringing. "Because when I'm not around, the people don't dare discipline you. Agreed? Yes. Well, the discipline must come from inside. And I know it is there, and I'm very pleased. Because even a Queen needs approval, you should know by now, and a lot of the approval I get is because you're such a good child. You must see that." Alexandra had realized it was true. Her mother rejoiced in the approval Alexandra got from everyone. Beate had made it clear that one mustn't seek approval for its own sake, but it was a safe barometer of your behavior except in special circumstances.

She sighed. She wondered whether her mother would approve of the peculiar things that had been happening to her. What would her mother have done? She knew; she would have taken charge of the forces, ordered them to do all the right things, and whipped the Bernians once again like she had done before. She had set up the Bernian government herself, and withdrawn. In a sense, the present mess in the country was a measure of Beate's failure in that respect. Just because she had handed the government over to a bunch of scholars with good intentions it didn't follow that things would go according to plan. Alexandra's mind dragged itself to those scenes of blood in the dead of night on Skree. She could still smell the filth, as the dying men and women had soiled themselves. She could still see a dog lying in the street in a pool of its own blood. She was bewildered by life and death, the dead on both sides. Suddenly, her meager meal sat heavy in her stomach.

She felt a pair of eyes on her, and she glanced over; it was Sherry, smiling at Alexandra. Alexandra returned the smile briefly and dropped her eyes. It was pleasant to think that she could inspire such love and admiration in a woman that it drove her to leave her home and country and take service with Alexandra. Sherry disturbed Alexandra; she was too attractive; the sight of her legs and her powerful buttocks drove the young queen mad with desire. But in her own mind, Sherry was off-limits. All women were, but she had been weak, and she had all but made love to Sophie. But Alexandra had such a position of authority over Sherry that it made that kind of behavior morally reprehensible. Her face twisted in frustration as she cursed the circumstances that prevented her from being with her wife and consort, in these times of stress, when she needed love and comfort. Tears of self-pity stung her eyes, and she got up and walked away from the mass of folk finishing their meals. She mumbled something to the alarmed questions they threw at her, where was she going, was everything all right, and so on.

She had reached the edge of the clearing, when she heard footsteps behind her, and felt a hand on her arm. She slowed down, not to be rude. She felt a soft breast against her, and she cursed silently.

"Please, you shouldn't be alone, if you're upset," she heard in a soft, concerned voice. It was Sherry. "Tell me what's bothering you, Alexandra." At least it hadn't been little Ninel; she was grateful for that.

There was no use pretending that nothing was wrong. "There are so many things, Sherry ... where can I begin?" She deftly put her arm around Sherry so that her breast was no longer crushed against her. "You've been so kind and loyal, I—I don't want to put more on your plate."

"Please tell me ... anything you can tell! I know there are some things that are too dangerous."

"No, this is not about dangerous things. I'm just ... lonely, I'm ... I want all the things any woman wants, Sherry; I want my ... you know I'm married."

"No, I didn't!" Sherry was interested, but careful not to be too inquisitive. "Do you want to tell me about him?"

"It's a her," Alexandra said softly. "I married a woman." She felt the girl stiffen, and she dropped her hand with a friendly parting touch high on Sherry's arm. "That should explain some things. Oh Sherry; I miss her like crazy!"

Sherry very deliberately took Alexandra's hand in her own. It was a moving gesture that told Alexandra that Sherry was coming to terms with those kinds of things, and that her regard for Alexandra had not diminished. Unfortunately, holding hands was even more erotic in the state Alexandra was in. She gently withdrew her hand, covered her face, and began to weep silently. Sherry, upset and concerned, held her by her arms and guided her against the bole of a large tree. She kept murmuring soft words of comfort, and soon began to cry herself in sympathy. They cried in silence, except for loud sniffs.

When Alexandra had cried herself out, she laughed at herself, and looked at Sherry, about to say something light and silly. But she saw that Sherry was weeping more bitterly than ever, wracked with shudders that shook her slim body. "Oh Sherry, now I've got you crying!" Throwing her scruples to the winds, Alexandra stepped forward and held the girl. It was a lesson; she was a woman first, and a Queen second. But she did not kiss her, as she longed to do; she only held her, pressing her cheek against the poor girl's head. Sherry kept herself stiff and unyielding for the longest time, but then she melted into Alexandra's arms. Alexandra found that she could comfort her tenderly without losing her sense of being just a friend.

"Tell me," Alexandra said softly, looking intently into Sherry's tear-drenched eyes. Sherry tried hard to smile, but it was too hard.

"You just reminded me of how lonely I am, too, my Lady. Here we are, both lonely, and neither able to comfort the other, except so little, so little!" She shook her head in her earnestness.

"It is a comfort," Alexandra said, feeling tears again, but not the need to cry. "Already I'm comforted, Sherry; all of you comfort me, all the time ... just needing me is comfort in itself. Don't you feel that? It's a comfort to know that you're needed, that if you weren't here, you'd be missed, and if you died, you'd be mourned, with bitter tears. How long have we known you? Hardly two weeks; but if anything happened to you, I would not be able to stand it!"

Sherry looked up at Alexandra through wet lashes. "You have made me love you," she said, her voice low and rough with emotion. "It was for love of you that I came with you. I wanted you to love me too, but not like this! I feel as if I have put yet another burden on your heart, which is so burdened already!"

Alexandra took her hands away and regarded her, her mind a tumult of emotions. Sherry was such an undemanding girl, her concern was almost amusing in its irrelevance. "You are never a burden, Sherry. You are beautiful; you will collect hearts quickly. And, honestly, you can do a lot worse than to find love in this camp. I admire these men and women, for all they have a funny attitude about women. I have found few men I could admire so much as these men."

"I prefer women. I have been afraid to admit it to myself. Until this moment."

Alexandra smiled. "Women are good friends, and good lovers," she said. "Often good comforters when hearts are hurt. It is something that goes with being a woman." She thought of Sergei. He would have made a good woman; he had a big heart. Then it struck Alexandra that comforting was as little the exclusive province of women as hunting was that of men. Perhaps men had the instinct to comfort, but were simply denied the opportunity.

Sherry finally essayed a smile. Alexandra felt her face melting at the sweetness of it. Sherry was such a danger to her peace of mind! She would never consciously do anything to hurt Alexandra, or compromise her in any way. But even simply being there, Sherry was a danger.

"We've confessed so much, I hardly know whether we're better off!" Sherry said, a little mischief twisting the corners of her mouth. "At last I feel much better. Oh god, you would never believe how much better I feel, though you were the one who were supposedly in need of comfort! That's so like you; I come to you to comfort you, and I end up being comforted! Is it any wonder I love you, my Queen?"

"Let's get back;" Alexandra said, wiping her face impatiently. "If we comfort each other any more, we're in danger of getting sick with it."

Sherry laughed so merrily, Alexandra had to smile. Damn, the girl was delightful!

They returned slowly, and predictably Sophie and Ninel came out to greet them, with Alena and Maria a little further behind.

"What was all that about?" asked Sophie, frowning. Ninel clung to Alexandra's arm, but Alexandra smiled and nodded to old Maria, whose worried face relaxed in a relieved smile.

"I was in need of a good cry," Alexandra said, a phrase she had heard used by others, but never used herself.

"It's the baby," said Sophie without thinking, and then put her hands to her face in acute embarrassment. She hadn't spoken in Bernese, but both Maria and Alena understood, and reacted in each her own way.

"A baby?" Sherry exclaimed, whirling round to face Alexandra.

All eyes were on Alexandra. She nodded.

"But how can that be? If you ... you know?"

"There are ways," said Sophie under her breath, giving Sherry a warning punch in the arm.

"I didn't know she was married," muttered Maria, turning round. "I should have seen the signs. She needs iron, and calcium ..."

"What do you know of such things?" Alena demanded, amused.
"Of course I know; what do you think I am, stupid?" she retorted, her eyes snapping at the girl. "Why do you think you're so strong, like a tree? I looked after your mother, that's why!" The two of them were arguing, still a short distance from them.

"That's funny," murmured Alexandra, "I thought Alena was Maria's daughter!"

"Her parents were killed by bandits. Maria adopted her," said Ninel quietly, her eyes enormous with some emotion they could not read. Alexandra gripped her shoulder gently. The child dropped her eyes, feeling awkward to suddenly become the object of their regard. "When is it due?" she asked, cleverly.

"I don't know. A long time yet," Alexandra said, coloring. Hopefully the baby would take after Genny. The lives of Royalty were plagued with such considerations. Gone were the days when bastard children were expected, and taken in stride.

"If Maria gives you —you know, her version of vitamin tonics and stuff, you'd better take them. Anything that can give you an edge, I wouldn't disdain it."

"Definitely not. She knows what she's doing."

"I want to see what she's going to give you," said Ninel, and scooted behind Maria, her red pigtail swinging as she ran. Alena approached to join them.

"What a child," muttered Alexandra under her breath.

"What are you going to do? If you don't adopt her, I will!"

"She's almost your age, Sophie, be serious."

Sophie and Sherry shook their heads. Alena studied them. "She isn't really your niece, is she?"

Alexandra stared at her. It was as if someone had dropped a bomb in their midst.

Sophie took a quick breath, not quite a gasp. "Alena ... a lot of crazy things happened on that boat. I don't want to tell you too much, but ... her entire family was killed by — I believe it was men from the Bernian army."

"Her whole family?" They nodded. Alena slowly nodded with them. "That explains some things." They looked at her quizzically. "At times she has a look, as if she's remembering a horror." Her face went dark with fury. "Tell me about what these people have done. I want to know. I want to know how much blood is on their hands."

She frightened them. She spoke softly, but there was something implacable about her. She had seen misery, but not murder; then she had heard little bits from them about atrocities her fellow-countrymen had committed. Each new incident brought them closer to her, and now she was confronted with the biggest atrocity of all; she loved the sweet little girl Ninel as they all did. Not with great display of affection like the rest of them, but in her own way. She was now touched personally by blood.

Alexandra told her more. There had been a massacre on Skree the night they had departed. They had in fact been chasing the Bernian vessel for revenge. Now perhaps it made more sense.

"You must hate my people," Alena said, her eyes cold. "I don't fear you. I can take the truth."

The others looked at Alexandra. Alena's eyes narrowed further.

"How can you hate a whole people? No. I blame the late Queen, Beate. She set up your government. All this stems from her failings. If there is blame, she must take some of it!"

Alena shook her head slowly. "Use your brains, girl. One woman cannot destroy the minds of millions of people. Was it she who taught them to stone us?"

Alexandra shook her head. "Never hate your own people. Leave that to others! Where has hate got you? It feeds on itself." Alexandra stopped abruptly. Alena's glances were like stabs at the three of them. Alexandra felt her words giving her cover away. She tried to think like an ordinary person, but she could not. Her mind was thoroughly preoccupied with such matters.

"Someday," said Sophie to Alena, softly, "you may become a leader among these people. And if you have given yourself to hate, your people will not trust you. You won't trust yourself."

"What kind of people are you that you speak of such things? Is government something they teach you Norsfolk in school?" She looked from one to another of them. They knew she was working out in her own mind whether they could be innocent civilians as they claimed. But she would not accuse them of anything until she was certain.

"We do not intend you any harm, Alena," Sherry said seriously. "I, for one, have pledged to fight to defend the Norsland homeland. But our army does not fight — civilians; we only fight those who carry offensive weapons. Axes and knives do not qualify. And I am not here as an agent of the government." Alena nodded encouragement, her eyes still suspicious. "I'm here out of my friendship for these two," she indicated Sophie and Alexandra, "and the little girl. If your army caught me, it would be death. It is a capital crime for a soldier to be behind enemy lines without uniform, as you know." She said this awkwardly in Bernese.

"Ah. Now it comes out. Tell me all."

"No. You are too intelligent. The more you know, the harder it will be for you not to betray us."

"You have lied all the time, and I knew it!"

There was a welcome interruption. "Here, Anna. Drink this. You should have some every day, in the morning and the evening. It is good for the baby!"

Alexandra, grateful for the reprieve, made a great fuss about the tonic, and drank the stuff down with every appearance of pleasure. It had been laced with a little honey, which was precious, she knew. Alena watched, stony-faced.

"Why do you all look so grim?" asked Maria, puzzled.

Alexandra took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "As you can imagine, Maria, we all have our secrets, but Alena wants to know everything. She is justly suspicious, but some things are too ... Half-lies are more difficult than a simple outright lie."

"You're not really pregnant?"

They laughed. "I certainly am," Alexandra answered. "This is about what we are; what we were doing."

Maria looked from Alena to the three women, as Ninel insinuated herself into the group as usual. Alena glared at Alexandra, resentful at being represented as prying and suspicious. In Maria's eyes there was the still the echo of her bygone beauty. It was not only the eyes themselves, but how they moved from face to face, how they searched their eyes for more meaning, the meaning they came away with.

"I was a little suspicious too, at first," she admitted, "but in a few minutes I knew there was no harm in them. What do you see, child, that Maria's old eyes have missed? Are they going to kill us in our beds?"

"You weren't here, Maria. They were lecturing me about love and hate. They are not what they seem to be! They are not harmless peasants like us!"

"All right. I will tell you as much as you can hope to know. Come. Follow me."

"Bring a light," Maria ordered Alena. "We have time to wait for that, at least. All this impatience!"

Alena shot her a look that would have shriveled her if she was anyone but Maria, and departed in search of a lantern. She came back with a tiny lamp, and they headed out towards the woods, and sat in a circle of trees.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Alena Finds Out

"Her Majesty the Queen," Alexandra began, the restless shifting of her eyes indicating the strain under which she spoke, "was on the island of Skree, which is, as you probably know, the western extreme of Norsland. She was visiting the village of Geneva, which is the home of her family, and," she looked round the circle and her eyes fastened on Ninel. "... And where Ninel's family lives. Lived. Ninel, please go... go wait with Ola."

"No! I want to hear!"

"Please!"

"No! I want to hear it!"

"Let her hear it," said Alena, quietly. Alexandra glanced at the Bernian girl, but she knew that her motive for asking Ninel to be allowed to stay was not because she thought the girl should hear the story, but to catch Alexandra in a lie. Alexandra looked long and hard at Alena. The girl was becoming harder and harder to forgive.

Alexandra bowed her head in acceptance. Sophie watched the circle, her anxious expression becoming veiled and hard.

"The Queen had supper with them, which is to say, all her family. Lady Sophie was there, and so was Sharon, our Sherry here." She took a long, painful breath. "Late at night, we were woken up with guns and banging of doors. Sophie and Sherry hid themselves to watch, while the Queen was smuggled away to safety. The doors were broken down, and we were surrounded by men armed with guns. We were taken, as we were, dressed in nightclothes, through silent streets. Silent because all the village had been killed in their sleep. It was a bloodbath." Ninel came closer to Sherry, who put her arm round her. "We were put aboard a captured Norslandish ship, and it put to sea. Sherry and Sophie had followed, and found Ninel, hiding in the village. Together they got aboard a little rowboat that was tied to the ship.

"On the ship, we were asked, where was the Queen? We said she had escaped. In their madness, they said they would kill one of us each day, and send the heads to the Queen." There was a gasp, and Ninel collapsed on Sherry's lap moaning. Marie muttered, aghast, but Alena simply watched Alexandra's face, expressionless.

"In the night, the Belgravian fleet saw the ship, and signaled, but getting the wrong reply, they attacked. It was a long battle, but they set the sails on fire, before they heard Sherry shout at them saying there were prisoners aboard. There was an explosion. All the prisoners were rescued but me, and Sherry, Sophie, and Ninel. And so we are here."

"Why didn't you tell us this story at first?"

"Think, Alena. We hardly knew you at that time. You were not our fellow-countrymen, and for all we knew, if you folks learned that we had witnessed this secret operation, we might be put to death, because it was an act which would be condemned by the whole world, and we were sure that all witnesses were doomed as soon as they were discovered! You are an intelligent girl, Alena; put yourself in our place!" These were difficult concepts, and Alexandra labored to explain her thoughts in an unfamiliar language. Of the four of them, she was the weakest linguist. Sherry and Sophie were far more fluent.

Alena leaned forward and finally dropped her eyes.

"Forgive me," she said quietly, "your story has the ring of truth." They had waited for her verdict as if she had power over them, such was her charisma. "You haven't told us everything, but I'm afraid to know any more, Anna." She looked at Ninel, whose face showed not a shred of her usual cheerfulness. "The child's face tells me there is much more. But I cannot tell what it may be about."

"Lady Sophie killed lots of people," Ninel contributed. "A dozen, at least, with that crossbow of hers!"

"Did she, now!" said Alena, smiling faintly. She turned to Sophie and smiled. Sophie looked at her with a pleasant face, but with no expression in her eyes. It was a frightening look in its own way. Together with the fact that she had killed so many, it made one think twice. "So you are a high born lady!" Sophie shrugged. "Yet you give way to Anna, here!"

"She is Royal," Sophie said simply. "They have great responsibility, and we respect it."

"Alena dear, you've heard plenty. We should not mention any of this. We have enough problems, without the burden of this terrible knowledge. I'm old, and my mind is too dense to take it in, but I understand killing and death, Anna, and it is an old sadness that you have returned to me, dear, not a new one! Oh, how sad my heart is, to know what you have seen so young; still children are you!" She shook her head. "At least I can make sure the baby is well. If you have it with us, I will be here to help it out."

"Thank you, Maria. I would like no one better!"

A couple of days after the refugees had been put ashore, the transport made its way back into port in Skreehaven, having steered clear of the coastal waters. A naval blockade kept Bernian warships confined to port, and only small boats slipped around in the darkness, no threat to the big transport.

Shortly after that, a letter was delivered to Helga through the mail.

Dear Cousin Helga,

We have successfully made our way to the camp of Sergei, who has about fifty people here. They had a farm, and we have simply joined it. There is no safe thing to do except to stay with them. They are very kind and generous, and as long as we are together, I know we won't come to harm. Sophie, Ninel and Anna are all safe and well. Give our regards to the cousins, and know our prayers are with them.

With much love, Sherry.

"Oh dear god," said Helga. "What does this mean?"

She rushed up to the castle, and to its solitary prisoner, who anxiously awaited the return of Cousin Ian.

"Baby! Help me understand this!"

"What?" When Baby had sat down and read the brief message, she jumped up with joy, and began to weep. "She's alive! She's alive! She's well ... oh Aunt Helga, Alexandra, Sophie and Sherry are alive, with little Ninel!"

"Who's Ninel?"

"The kid who they took with them, remember? The only one left alive in the village!"

"Oh, that Ninel, Marga's child."

"Yes! And it seems ... they've fetched up with some farmers ..." she looked at Helga, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Aunt Helga, if you want to know more, find out about what was going on in that part of the country. There will be records you can follow. Look, Sherry must have given this to someone with the army, who would have read it first! So it's kind of in code. That's why there's all this gobbledegook about Cousin Anna."

"Who is Cousin Anna?"

"Alexandra! Alexandra! It's the name she gave them!" It took a while, but finally Helga understood enough to follow Baby's reasoning. It was hard to get much more sense out of Baby, because she was so incoherent, she immediately wanted to send for the others and tell them the news. Helga sent the messages with a sigh. Now that they knew Alexandra was safe, the next question was, how much could they tell the country? Helga was glad that she did not have to make those decisions. She was only the commandant of the castle, a largely housekeeping role.

The generals were very relieved that Alexandra was reported safe, but they were constitutionally incapable of relaxing until an operation was in place to retrieve her. Baby's recommendation was carried out; it was discovered that a farm led by a man called Sergei had indeed been dismantled. The group had been deported, along with several other illegal immigrants, all of whom belonged to some pacifist community. And among Sergei's group was listed: Anna, Ninel, Sofia, and further along, Sharon.

They had had ample opportunity to surrender to the Belgravians and be brought to safety. But they had chosen to be deported to Bernia, something that was impossible to understand. But there was no hint of fear or blackmail in the letter. The author had worded it cleverly enough that if the group was going under coercion, she could have easily communicated that. It was a pure and simple attempt to set their minds at rest, and it had probably been written by the putative author, Sharon of Belgravia. So Alexandra had gone willingly.

"Look at it this way; the last place the assassins will look for her is in their own back yard!"

"Look at it this way; she has to have been devastated by being abducted from Geneva. If I live to be a million, I would never forgive myself for that. Alexandra will never forgive us."

"Oh, she isn't like that. But, you know what; it isn't like her to go AWOL like this, either. She's been the soul of cooperation. Except for once, that sea shore escapade, where she had to go into hiding for a week."

"She was caught unawares. Nobody knew what they were doing. Laura only had a few hundred troops under her command; they were outnumbered two to one."

"Is there someone we can send out into Bernia, to find her?"

"It'll put her in danger!"

"Have we hired any Bernian operatives, Bertha?"

"There is a couple. But ... if they're double agents, Alexandra will be in the worst possible danger. It will be like handing her over to them."

"One of our people, then, who can pass for a Bernian? Someone who can speak the language, who can identify those three, contact them, and ..."

"No. I'm opposed to dragging her back here. She doesn't need to, and doesn't want to, run the war. She did the best possible thing in coming in the other day, and putting us in charge. That was very well and decisively done. The rest of it is straightforward. Her Highness is doing nicely with the propaganda. Arms are coming in from the factories, the Belgravians have done their bit, there's nothing that requires her to be brought here." General Bertha was adamant.

"What do you suggest?"

"Send an operative —a loyal man or woman— in, to infiltrate the camp, if there still is a camp, and stay under cover. We keep a boat nearby, in contact with the operative, ready to go in if needed. That way we don't take away her prerogatives unless there's a crisis."

Word finally reached Genevieve. She was addressing a large crowd at a munitions factory a few miles east of the capital. She had given them a wonderful speech. She was good at live addresses; if she could see them in front of her, she could make herself believe in her own words. The Bernian forces had taken a solid foothold in the east, and controlled the large population centers of Hanover and Oslo. They had been ruthless, shelling the towns from off shore, and now they had placed enormous guns on shore, and were keeping King Frederick's fleet away from the Oslo harbor. In spite of the blockade of Freiburg and the patrolling of the northern waters, it was impossible to control the southern portion of the channel between the two landmasses. But Genny had given a fiery speech, in which she had promised that the Bernian navy would be utterly destroyed, and the current regime overturned. It was only a matter of time, she assured them, and she called for every bullet and shell and bomb they could manufacture; each and every single one of them would be thrown at the enemy, and when they rolled those off the line, they were to imagine that they, themselves were throwing them.

"You were incredible!" said Trudy, for the hundredth time. Genny gave her a hug. She was feeling a lot better; the dead feeling of the studio was not present. The people were still shouting for more, and Genny leaned forward to shake a few hands, hug a few of the workers, before she was whisked away.

"Oh Genny, wonderful news!" said John Gustafson.

"News of ...?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes! There's a long story, and frankly, you've been deliberately kept in the dark."

"What? Why?"

"Come on; let's get out of this crowd ..."

"Tell me! What have you been lying about, and why? Don't you trust me?"

She was hustled into an office, and the managers kindly gave them privacy at Gustafson's request. "I'll tell you everything. Alexandra made it safe to Belgravia, and returned, with a fleet of ships following her. They responded beyond our wildest expectations! You know they're beating up the northern shore."

"Well, now that you tell me, yes!" Genny couldn't keep up her hostility. They were safe! "Go on!"

"Alexandra conducted a top-level war meeting in Skree, and went to Geneva, to spend the night with the cousins." Genny nodded, smiling. Trudy smiled, seeing it. Genny pressed her hand. "Well, apparently a large enemy force, armed with all sort of weapons, secretly came ashore from one of our own captured ships, slaughtering the entire village as it slept, and abducted everyone in the house, and they were taken away, headed east."

"Oh dear god." How could they tell her this is good news? "What are they asking for?"

"Wait. That's all that was known until yesterday. Apparently the Belgravians caught up with the ship, and blew it up. They didn't know there were prisoners on board." Genny's eyes went wild, and she sat back, clutching her breast. "Wait; everyone escaped! All the women from Geneva were taken out of the water, except ... Alexandra, Sophie, and two others." Genny was too stunned to react. "Earlier today, there was a letter from them that they were alive, they were safe, and they're in hiding."

"Safe!" Genny slumped, weak with relief. Trudy shook her head at Gustafson, hugging Genny to her. She scolded him for not giving the good news first. He replied that it wasn't exactly good news without the context. "No ... but she's right; they should go into hiding. They're obsessed with getting her."

Gustafson exchanged glances with his wife. "There's a little more insight into what they were trying to do." Genny nodded, asking for more. "They want her to surrender. They threatened the women —Alexandra had pretended to be someone else— to kill one of them each day, and send her head to Alexandra, demanding a surrender. She would never do that."

"Yes, she would. She would call for a surrender. You don't know how she loves those women."

"But that's not the way it works, Genny; we would declare her incompetent. She should know that."

Genny felt sick. "I hate this war. I hate my life. I hate this world. I hate the goddam Bernians. I want to kill myself!"

"No; you will stay alive. You will fight for what is good, and true. You will be proud, and above petty revenge!"

"I'm not above petty revenge. I'm going to tell it all in my next speech. It'll all be there. One head a day. Oh yes! The people must know what they're up against."

"No, Genny, no!" Trudy was firm. "After this war, we must have peace, and there can be no peace with the knowledge of such atrocities seething through the country!"

They argued back and forth, until Genny finally conceded defeat. She knew she would do as Trudy said, because she was the only one who loved her. Alexandra and Sophie were far away, hiding. She knew what would happen; they would fall in love. Only seventeen, and a widow already. And she was too proud to go home to her parents. She was here, playing Queen's Consort. There was a feel of unreality to the whole thing.

"Can I have my mother visit me?" she asked.

"I don't see why not, actually," said Trudy. Bless her heart, Trudy was above all emotional politics; she loved Genny because she admired her, and because Genny needed her. She would hand over the hold she had on Genny without a second thought. It was Genny who was the cynic. Trudy was making plans already. If Queen Anne would dare risk the voyage, she would be welcome. At least the Bernians were now limited to the eastern end of the country, and being pushed farther back every day.

But with all the effort, the Bernians hung on, resisting. All the non-essential civilian population of Oslo, which was ethnically diverse, consisting of Bernian and Novaspirian elements, as well as people from other more distant countries, were put in concentration camps, and the mines and factories were furiously turning out sheet metal, armor, ammunition and explosives. The Oslo shipyards were turning out boats as fast as the Novaspirians could sink them. The grenades they manufactured had brought back a weapon that had been outlawed for a millennium. In addition, the southern seas were being mined, which meant that Allied ships could be sunk without a Bernian vessel being anywhere near them. Over the fall, the Bernians consolidated their gains, and established themselves. They had cast several enormous guns which kept the navy at bay, and kept the prison camps half starved, so that the weaker prisoners and children got sick and died. Within the Bernian government, there was a rampage of assassinations, and all moderates had been eliminated. The true leaders of the war, men with no ideology whatsoever, except a mad idea that it would be nice to have Norsland, just because they knew they could take it, finally came out clearly in charge. At last the elements of the Bernian population who were aware of the facts could see what it was all about. At this stage, Princess Genevieve's nightly broadcasts were seen even in Bernia, though they had been outlawed.

By late October, the group that Alexandra had joined, the 200-strong refugees, all members of a certain philosophic movement which stopped short of being a religious denomination, had given themselves a name: the Free Farmers. They had been Free Farmers of Bernia, but now they were just Free Farmers. There was a town, now, and streets of a sort, a large community hall, and homes for each family or group of families.

They had recognized Alexandra as head of her household, consisting of the entire Norslandish contingent, including Sherry. Old Maria, who had grown extremely attached to Ninel and the other members of the Norselandish group, asked to be given a corner in their home, which they gladly did. And Maria brought Alena in with her.

For weeks, Alexandra had pulled her weight by hunting, sometimes with Sophie helping, sometimes with one of the others. The others among the Free Farmers strongly disliked hunting, but were grateful for the game Alexandra brought in. When she wasn't hunting, she helped with building new homes, starting up the farm, watching the children, cooking; anything that needed doing. She took her turn to go with the group that headed out to the nearest town to sell whatever they could produce. They made a nice cart that could easily haul things a lot further, because closer to the urban centers the prices were much better.

Her Bernian dialect was now much better, though her vocabulary was still limited, compared to Sophie and Sherry. Ninel could rattle off practically anything like a native, but of course her vocabulary was that of a twelve-year-old. Alexandra's pronunciation was perfect, and she was able to work around her limited vocabulary by creative use of smaller words. She was good at bargaining, and she and Sherry came back after these expeditions with all sorts of things the Free Farmers needed, such as woodworking tools, large timber saws, waxes and preservatives and the materials with which to make finishing polishes, and so on. Her pregnancy was now beginning to show, and she had regained all the weight and fat she had lost while on her Belgravian trip, and more. She was a hefty 175 pounds, and going up. The entire camp knew that their little group were all Norsfolk, and if they had been regarded with slight suspicion in the first few days, they had proved their loyalty a hundred times over, and were accepted by the members of the commune as their own. Being better educated than anyone else among the Free Farmers, the three women enjoyed respect, and were consulted in all tricky calculations having to do with large deals, deferred payments, and so forth.

A near miss with another of those cats convinced Alexandra to give up hunting. She was still firmly into carpentry, taking goods to market, and all the other activities. There was a steady stream of additions to the community, and some of them brought in such skills as crossbow-making, and even making of musical instruments. When Alexandra let slip one day that she played the lap-harp and sang, an old harp appeared a few days later. Once a week the commune — which is the closest word that would describe the thing — would gather to share entertainment. The week that Alexandra was given her harp, she was commanded to sing for them.

The event was held in the large community hall, well lit with lamps. Alexandra took a seat, held the harp in her lap, and began to sing. There was a hush, as in her high sweet voice she sang a traditional song of her people, and then another, and another. (Remarkably, Norslandish songs were still tolerated.) There were cheers, which she accepted graciously. She offered to accompany anyone who wanted to sing.

Ola came forward, all red with bashfulness, and asked whether Anna could play 'In the rain.' "If you begin to sing, I will play along," said Anna. Holding her skirt, her feet instinctively placed gracefully like a ballet dancer, Ola sang the first phrase of the song, and Anna found the key and began to accompany her. Nodding, Ola sang with more confidence, and received a roar of approval, which she acknowledged with great satisfaction. Her smile to Alexandra conveyed her gratitude. Her scar was fading, and once more she was popular with the boys. A boy came forward, and again Alexandra accompanied him.

Then Ninel raised her hand.

Ninel was a great favorite with everyone. There were almost no children of her exact age; she was the youngest of the children, except for those under three. Somehow, the families that had joined in the emigration, in this particular community, had gone only if they had no infants with them. The toddlers had all been born in Norsland. At any rate, Ninel was by way of being a camp mascot. She sang a song of Skree that was commonly taught in school, a jolly little song that had to do with baby animals, which she presented with hand movements and everything, and all the younger folk understood the song, even if the words were unfamiliar. The cheers made Alexandra so proud, she hugged the girl tight, right there in front of everybody.

After the remaining numbers, which had to do with skits and stand-up comedy, and a digest of the news, when everyone went home, Alexandra had her arm around Ninel. Ninel had shot up over the summer, but she had also become more graceful, imitating the older children in the camp, as well as Sophie and Sherry. Alexandra she considered as one of a different kind, an athlete and a soldier, who had a different grace, like Baby and Kirsten, and members of that exalted family.

"Anna?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Are ... you know, people like you ... allowed to adopt children?"

Alexandra stopped in the middle of the street, with people milling past her, wishing them a good night, and hugged the child to her heart.

"There is just one person I have to ask first," she whispered. "She's sweet and wonderful, and I hope she will love you as much as I do!"

"Who?"

"My love, Genevieve!"

"Princess Genevieve!"

"Yes! I have to ask her."

"Oh. Then I'll be princess, too!"

"Or at least Lady Ninel!"

"Oo! That would be so fine!"

"As far as I'm concerned, you already are a lady in my heart!"

"I love you, Anna!"

"I love you too!"

Sophie and Alexandra shared a room. Sophie had taken over Alexandra's meager wardrobe once again, and all their belongings were kept in a wooden box, which turned into a trunk when it was closed up. It had a padlock and a key, and Sophie's crossbow had a home in it, though it usually hung on a special rack where she could get at it in a hurry. They had each a small allowance of Bernian money, in addition to what Sophie and Sherry had brought with them of Norslandish money, and had invested some of it in quarrels for Sophie's crossbow.

While Sophie and Alexandra shared a bed, Sherry insisted on sleeping across their doorway, and Ninel had her own little room, which she kept decorated with flowers and claws of animals, and other unlikely things. Occasionally, Ninel slipped into Alexandra and Sophie's room early in the morning, and snuggled in with them. When there was a thunderstorm, she slipped in with Sherry on the floor, or with the other two in their bed. There was no way to keep her out; she acted as if she completely owned them. She was thoughtful and considerate to a fault, but she had this tendency, in common with the younger cousins in Geneva, that they did not recognize the concept of personal space in the context of sleeping. Given the opportunity, Ninel would have slept on Alexandra. Letting Alexandra sleep alone with the bedmate of her choice for most of the night was, in her mind, a major concession.

Alexandra, like most pregnant women, suffered an elevated body temperature. She found Sophie hot, and Sophie found her hot. In spite of that, they sooner or later cuddled together, and when Ninel arrived, she somehow slid in between them. As the days wore on, and the weather became colder, Alexandra was grateful for the pregnancy which kept her warm, and the cold weather which made it possible to tolerate Sophie in her bed. Sophie was generally a kind and considerate bedmate, and Alexandra could no longer sleep alone in bed; she had to have Sophie there, or if Sophie had volunteered to sit up with a sick friend, then at least Ninel.

Sophie often wondered how Genny was managing. Genny, like Alexandra, hated to sleep alone. In fact Genny hated to sleep without Sophie, whether or not there was someone else in her bed. Particularly on those days in which Sophie felt happy and particularly fulfilled, she thought of Genny, and the love they had shared for a short while, and seemed to have lost.

Alexandra's sexual needs seemed to follow some obscure pattern. Most nights she was content to sleep quietly with her arms round Sophie, or at least hugging Sophie's arm. But some nights she moaned in her sleep, making love to someone in her dreams, and Sophie would wake up with Alexandra trying to kiss her. She would have to wake Alexandra up, then, and she would stare at Sophie, and turn to the other wall and apologize. "Sorry, Soph," she would say meekly, and Sophie would rub her back.

"If we ever get out of this, Sophie," Alexandra said one day when they had a minute alone in the late evening, "ask me anything in the world, and if I have the power to give it, I will."

"Don't. I'll probably ask you something you don't want to part with."

"That cuts a bit close, love ... sometimes I'm afraid of the same thing."

"Oh Alexandra ... I was joking! I don't want anything!" Sophie waited in the dark, afraid of what Alexandra might say.

"Once I'm reunited with Genny, she may not want me anymore."

Sophie's ears burned. "If you have something to say, come out and say it. I will feel the same about you no matter what you say. I know you won't be vicious. I trust you." Despite her brave words, Sophie could hardly breathe.

"All right. I think ... I think you and Genny were in love with each other."

Sophie turned to look Alexandra in the eye. This was the showdown Sophie had been dreading, but it seemed that Alexandra looked a little cautious and upset, but far from devastated. "You're taking it very well!"

"Sophie ... it's one thing for you to be ... in love with her. If she left me, that would be a disaster. Please don't make her leave me!"

"But what about you?" Sophie was frustrated with this resignation in Alexandra. It seemed very unqueenly.

Alexandra re-positioned herself, in the annoying way she had. These days she re-positioned herself once every few seconds; it was very annoying.

"I don't know. I may want to fight for her like crazy; I may be satisfied with holding hands with you on the sly ... I don't know, Sophie. There's ... there's someone I'm very attracted to, but I don't dare. Oh god, she drives me crazy with desire! You do, too, sometimes. I'm still so mixed-up, maybe I should grow up a little, before I start talking about what I want."

"Oh Alexandra ..." Sophie sighed. "Anyone I know?" Alexandra only shook her head and looked away.

"You've done the best you could, Alexandra. I made up my mind long ago. You and I and Genny can't afford to play the game by the usual rules. Whoever marries me some day gets a used woman!" Sophie could hardly believe how frankly she had spoken. She was perversely pleased at Alexandra's wince at those words.

Alexandra lay gazing at the ceiling, seeing something far away. With all her added weight, and the warm-red hair and the remains of her summer tan, and her full, beautiful skirt with its pretty lace edging, and her full breasts, she looked matronly, feminine, a different girl entirely from the young woman she had been when Genevieve had first joined their company.

Nothing changed over the winter. Christmas was celebrated with moderate enthusiasm. The Free Farmers, despite their progressive philosophy of life and enlightened standards of conduct, were only mildly religious. As a small orchestra of musical instruments was accumulated, it became possible to have a rather elaborate nativity play in lieu of religious observances the year round. Everyone remembered carols from Christmases past, and Latin hymns that were traditionally sung in church. Alexandra volunteered to teach some of these to the children, and with a lot of help from all the adults, a nativity play was put together, featuring most of the kids. Ninel got to be one of the shepherds, and she was thoroughly pleased. She got to offer a sheep to the baby Jesus, and Alexandra thought to herself how, at that age, she would not have stood for anything less than to be the Virgin herself. Sweet Ola was chosen for the Virgin, scar and all, and Sherry for the Angel Gabriel. Sophie had confessed privately to Alexandra that she had rather hoped to be Herod, but with so many men around, it was a hopeless cause.

All through the spring, the war was at a stalemate. The Free Farmers hated the thought that some of their produce would someday go to feed the troops, because the Bernian troops were hated as much at home as among the enemy.

In another interesting twist, the camp became a place that outsiders liked to visit. With steadily declining morale throughout the country, it was a haven of reason, kindness, polite behavior, fair dealings and gentle speech. Families brought their children to learn music with the camp kids on the weekend, folks came to the camp to buy fresh produce. There were shops in camp that had a selection of furniture to sell, and they did a brisk business on holidays and weekends. There were occasional plays in the camp, which attracted a large audience.

As time went by, a sort of town grew up just outside the camp. A large street was cleared and paved, and the stores and displays were moved out there. People began to build homes on the main street, and on cross streets. There were the usual barbers, taverns, grocery stores, an inn, and a growing community. There were TV sets, and at long last, Alexandra and Sophie were able to see Genny on the outlawed broadcasts each night. She looked older, but her eyes still had the ability to make you feel as if she looked right into your soul, and saw all the good in it, and none of the bad. She was able to express her indignation at all the cruelty that was being perpetrated on Norsland, and hurl defiance. But still, she preached no hate. It was a hard day for Alexandra.

"Why doesn't the Queen talk on the TV?" asked Alena.

"Because there are gunmen looking for her. The gunmen have left the Princess completely alone; they are obsessed with the Queen. They would bomb the studios if they thought the Queen was going to give a broadcast."

"That's probably true," Alena conceded. "What a woman! We have no one to show on our TV. None of them can say an honest word that the people will believe. If you asked the people, Anna, they would beg to kneel to your Queen."

"Not all of them," Alexandra reminded her. "There are those who would stone her as quick as they stoned us! Did you get hit that day?" she asked, changing the subject slightly.

"No. But I cannot forgive the stone that hit Ola. And the hundred stones that hit Sergei. He was bleeding."

Alexandra's eyes opened wide; she had not known.

Genny was saying Good night, and may god bless and keep you all, and then, unexpectedly, she added: keep safe; our love and our thoughts are with you!

Alexandra and Sophie looked at each other, as Alena was distracted. Genny had been told that they were in hiding. There was no doubt about that.

Alexandra and her friends never noticed the young couple who joined the group in late fall. They were Norsfolk, who still had trouble with the language. The man was an expert on horses, and the woman was ready to do anything. And they had a little child, a sweet-faced little thing who clung to its mother.

"And where are you from?"

"From — from Oslo, sir. It is a terrible place. When we got the chance, we stole a boat, but they have mined the waters. We saw a boat blown up right over there, hardly twenty yards from us. We turned to come this way."

Sergei nodded, gravely. "You are welcome here. We don't take a lot of new people, because it is getting crowded. But it will be safer for you in here, than in the town. We can give you a corner of one of the houses until we build you one." He looked at the little girl in the woman's arms and smiled, and was rewarded with a shy smile in return. And then the child hid her face. The man spoke little; it was the woman who did most of the talking. They were gentle-eyed, slow-speaking Norsfolk, the kind one always imagined: simple, innocent, salt of the Earth. Sergei heaved a sigh.

"We'll be happy in the town," the man said. "I have a promise of a little space in The Lion."

Sergei frowned over his smile. "The Lion is not a place to bring up a child, Hans. There are some very —helpful— girls there. You catch my meaning."

The woman reddened. She turned to look at the man. "Perhaps we should think of moving in here," she said. "I'm a little tired of too-helpful girls."

"But that's where there is work with horses. And here, we'll be a burden on some family!"

The woman glared at him and gave in, refusing to meet Sergei's eyes.

They were, indeed, given a room in The Lion, a little away from the helpful girls. As soon as they had some privacy, Elly washed and changed the little girl, whom she had named Lara, since she could not talk yet, while Lena laid out the wire antenna that would improve reception. Then she sat down to crank the hand-generator while she raised the ship. After a few words of identification, she reported. They had located Anna and the others, but had not approached them closely enough to do a visual verification. Anna was well known in the camp. No, she would not make contact, because they knew each other.

In the daytime, Elly made her way over to the camp, where she quickly blended in. Her Bernese became quite fluent in a short time, and did not need to bring up her Norsfolk origins. Lara was efficiently taken into a little playgroup supervised by an older girl, and Elly began to help with the communal cooking in the camp.

Back in town, Lena —calling herself Hans, of course— had been hired at once as an ostler. The town was becoming large enough to attract the interest of those with horses to ride. Lena's Bernese language skills being what they were, a far cry from those of her mate, she had to pretend to be not only a man, but slow of speech, to give her time to think of what to say. Talking to the horses in Bernese was good practice; they were tolerant of her grammar. She was far more knowledgeable about tack and grooming and horse care than the Bernian men who came to the little town.

It turned out that The Helpful Girls lived down the hall, and they soon discovered Lena. They knew Elly and the baby, and most of them desisted from pestering the big young fellow who was so faithful to his wife. But there was a young thing called Elena who was an incorrigible exhibitionist, who begged Lena to watch her masturbate. "Surely, it isn't any harm; we won't even touch!"

"N-no, b-but thanks," Lena —in her guise as Hans— said, grinning. "Look, I'll g-give you a coin."

Elena took the coin, and smiled sweetly into Han's eyes. Then once again she was the coquette, as she thanked him and danced away.

Alexandra's labor started early. She was in labor for three long hours, expertly looked after by Maria and Alena, and gave birth to a lovely baby whom she called Sophia Ninel. "I'm going to call her Sonja for short," she said, as the baby's foster sister proudly showed her off to everyone. Ninel clearly knew how to carry a newborn, and Alexandra wondered, with a strange feeling, whether the girl had had younger siblings who had also been slaughtered.

There was a cradle all ready for the baby, and they all slept together in the same room that night. Alexandra nursed the baby, and lay in bed with Sophie, gazing in adoration at the tiny little person who lay between them, making funny little snuffling noises.

In the euphoria after the birth, Alexandra first made love to Sophie. Alexandra laid the baby in the cradle by her side, and turned to Sophie, her eyes full of happiness and goodwill towards the whole world. She drew close to Sophie, and kissed her softly on the lips. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and pulled Sophie to her, crushing her to her breasts, and kissed her over and over. Soon it turned into another kind of kissing, and they made love, in simple, gentle little ways, touching, caressing, nuzzling, stroking, giving pleasure without passion.

Alexandra was lovely, come into the fullness of her beauty early, with motherhood. Her skin glowed, her eyes shone, and the swell of her breasts made Sophie mad with desire. Sophie had been haunted by the possibility that once the baby arrived, Alexandra would not need her; that the baby would provide all the love the young Queen needed. Instead, Sophie found herself more needed than ever; Alexandra looked at her with such loving eyes that Sophie's heart ached with the pleasure of it. "I am so happy," she told Sophie afterwards, "I can't bear it, love; I need someone more than ever, to tell her how happy I am."

"You're such an idiot!"

Alexandra only laughed, and then looked into Sophie's eyes. It was a new Alexandra, sure of herself, living for the moment. She urged Sophie to forget about their worries. Everything would work out right. What they felt right now, Alexandra clearly believed, nobody could fault them for feeling.

The baby cried a couple of hours later, and was fed, and again early in the morning. The hungry little thing woke her mother up with complete disregard to day and night. Sophie was bemused by the whole business, and confused by the fact that she couldn't get annoyed by it. Alexandra only giggled at the funny faces Sophie made. This new giggle that Alexandra had learned was uncharacteristic and silly. It got worse when Alexandra saw how much Sophie hated it.

Alexandra was out of bed the next day, washing herself, washing their laundry, hauling water. Maria came round to give her more of the tonic she had concocted and to check on the baby. Alena watched them, hands on her hips.

"What did I say? It's the tonic that makes her so strong!"

"She was strong to begin with," Alena pointed out. Maria glared at her, then turned back to croon at the little baby. The infant was completely bald, but had lovely long eyelashes. Her head was still a little pointed by the stress of delivery, but it was going away.

Before long, Alexandra wanted the baby back, pretending to be ready to feed her. The fact was that they were all completely charmed by the infant. Alexandra could never have enough of counting her fingers and toes, inserting her finger between the little one's lips, all things that the baby endured with a tolerant smile. Her eyes were a bright blue when she opened them, but she slept a lot. The one thing she did not take kindly to was to be kept waiting for her feed.

Hans was having a harder and harder time keeping Elena at a distance. One afternoon, she came in and locked the door. In no time at all, she had Hans's hands and feet tied to the bed. Then she did some amazing things, singing, dancing, all stark naked, with a friendly rope to which she made love in impossible ways. She kept singing right through her orgasms, which were many.

Hans lay in fear as she finished. Would she think of undressing him, to be more friendly? But no, she climbed over his body, and asked, "Wasn't that interesting?"

"Yes, it was," stammered Hans, moistening his dry lips.

She proceeded to untie him, talking to him the whole time. They knew Elly's routine perfectly, and Elena had picked the perfect time to invade his privacy. After she untied him, she tenderly kissed him on the lips, and slipped away, smiling.

Hans had hardly finished cleaning himself off, when Elly hurried in, looking excited. But as soon as she came in and set Lara down, she looked around and asked, "What have you been doing in here?"

"N-nothing!" replied Lena.

"You can stop stammering, Lena, it's only me. Listen! She's gone into labor!"

"Should I call them?"

Elly shrugged. "It's too late. They may do a better job than all the doctors back home. If you keep Lara, I'll go hang out near her bed. If she needs help, at least I have a little experience with sheep and dogs ..."

Lena nodded. She found the sling they had put together so that Lara could ride on Lena's back while she tended the horses. Elly helped put the little girl in, who loved to sit on Lena's back and watch over her shoulder. She immediately began to chew on Lena's hair. Elly gave the child a little kiss, and hurried back to camp with a smile.

The connecting door opened, and there was Elena again, in a loose shift.

"I left just in time, huh!"

Lena nodded, showing the child on her back.

"Oh, look at her, the sweet little thing!" Even helpful girls liked babies. She was cooing to the little tyke, covering her little face with kisses. It was with some difficulty that Lena (now Hans once again) tore himself away from Elena, to go back to his horses.

When Elly came back, she reported that it was a girl. "Oh, she's the prettiest, bonniest little thing you ever saw! And Alexandra never recognized me. I look different, dressed like this!"

Lena nodded. "I guess you do, at that."

She felt so useless; she had wanted to go about killing Bernians, but here she was, talking to horses, while Elly did all the spying. Far from killing Bernians, she liked them a lot, especially the more helpful ones. Some nights, when she and Elly made love, she could see Elena in her mind. She watched Elly and Lara together, and wondered how it was possible to desire two different women at the same time. She cursed the girl next door, and decided to put a bolt on the door on their side, and keep it bolted. She did not realize that there was not one bolt but two; they were simply never thrown.

After the birth of the baby Princess Sophia in exile, it was as if the Earth took notice. The sun shone, flowers bloomed, and the birds were out in force, making exciting viewing for the baby once she was old enough to be set outside on her back, furiously waving her little arms at the birds and the butterflies.

For the moment Alexandra was content to sit and sew baby clothes —though heaven knew there were plenty being gifted to them all the time— nursing the baby, and playing with her as long as she would play with her mother. Sophie was bemused by this new Alexandra, though her behavior had been leading up to this through the fall. After a few weeks in which Alexandra had tried to single-handedly build all the homes for the 200 settlers, she had gradually slowed down, until in the last few weeks she had undertaken hardly anything at all. Now, with the baby born and healthy, she was up and active, but taking it easy. Everyone came to pay court to the mother and her baby, and Alexandra reveled in the attention the baby was getting. There were, as she had expected, many questions about the baby's father, but she only smiled and shook her head.

Ninel simply adored the baby, and could never get enough of her. She talked to it, waved baby toys in its face, told it stories, and of course, carried it about. Alexandra was firm that she was not allowed to take it out of eyeshot, and even then, Ninel could expect a yell from the anxious mama if she was being careless with the infant (which she hardly ever was). Sherry, too, was fascinated by the child. She watched her from a distance those first few days when Ninel and Alexandra hardly put the infant down. As Ninel was more content to play with the baby for just a couple of hours a day, Sherry took up the slack. She didn't regale it with baby-talk, but she certainly talked to it, and sang to it, and she had a sweet voice.

For her part, the baby recognized all four of them, and hardly ever cried. The constant smiling of her early days were gone, and now she smiled only if she was amused. But even in repose, she had a calm, contented expression which Sophie criticized. "You can't be possibly having such a wonderful time, and now is when you get to practice yelling, little girl!" she admonished it, wagging her finger. The baby's only response was a slow half-smile of acknowledgment.

Occasionally, entire crowds would come by to pay homage to her. She was hardly the only baby in camp; one was born almost every month. But Ninel was a great favorite, and her baby sister attracted a lot of attention by association. And the baby began to grow a light strawberry-blonde fuzz, which made her look plausibly a sister to Ninel.

"Can I call you mama?" asked Ninel one night. She had slipped in with Alexandra after supper while Sophie was still out washing. Alexandra tenderly stroked her hair back from her temples, and told her, yes, she may. "I would have had to give birth to you at the age of five, you know!"

Ninel wrinkled her nose in amusement. Such things never occurred to her; in her mind, all grown-ups, including Alexandra, had always been the same age. "Mama," she said again, trying the word out on her lips. "You know why?" Alexandra raised her eyebrows obediently. "So the baby will learn when I call you that! Mama!" It was a wonderful moment. Alexandra sighed; she had left Genny weeks after they were married, and was returning not with one child, but two. She fervently prayed that Genny still possessed that generosity of spirit that she had before the war. Questions about who would sleep in whose bed were ultimately secondary; the important question was whether she would consent to make a family with Alexandra and the two children, with or without Sophie.

Ninel gradually began to use the word Mama more frequently. When she referred to Alexandra when speaking to strangers, she said 'my foster-mother,' or 'my mother.' In front of her friends, though, she would say such things as: 'I must ask Mama,' or 'Mama would know, I'll ask her.'

Confident that Alexandra and Sophie hadn't recognized her, Elly gradually grew close to the family, coming to be known as Zora. She had nerves of ice, and managed to smile calmly while visiting them, without betraying any clue that they had known each other in an earlier existence. They only spoke Bernese, which made it easier for Elly.

Sophie was deeply involved with schooling the camp children. She started with mathematics and elementary general science, but once a small library was established in camp, and Sophie had learned to read Bernese, she began to teach reading and writing, anything that needed to be taught. There were a number of other women who were sufficiently educated to teach the younger children, and they divided up the work between them. Schooling usually stopped at the age of fourteen —except, of course, for Ninel. Further, it was only during the late morning hours, between 10 and noon. It continued year round, except for weekends and holidays. Soon Sophie realized that some of the older children needed —and wanted— more education, and she worked with the interested ones in the evenings.

When Baby Sonja was two months old, Alexandra resumed helping with selling the camp produce and furniture, with the infant securely strapped to her back. That was how Lena —or Hans, as she called herself— encountered her in the village. With short hair and Bernian clothes, Lena was just as impossible to recognize as Elly had been. Little Sonja happily smiled at Lena as they passed the stables, and Lena was amazed at the changes in her Queen. She seemed a little taller, a lot heavier, fuller in the chest, obviously, but she had rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and a vivacious manner. The full skirts she wore had shortened her stride considerably. But the horses caught her eye, and she came over when there was a momentary break in the traffic of customers, to look at the horses and smile at Lena.

"I love horses," she confided, in perfect Bernese. She talked to the nearest horse, offering it the traditional apple, which he deftly made disappear, and told him he was a handsome fellow. He was a big, handsome stallion, but he let her stroke him. "Have you worked in stables long?" she asked Lena. Lena said she had since she was a little fellow. The Queen looked at her strangely, but the moment passed. Lena found that she was not nervous and afraid, only anxious. For the Queen's own sake, things would be a lot better if she didn't recognize her own warden of the Lodge.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Baby Sonja

Lena and Elly considered long and hard whether to report that the Queen had given birth. In the end, Lena decided that she would go alone back across the lines, and deliver the information directly to the Lady Consort. This was contrary to all her instructions about the procedures to be followed. But Lena knew the Queen personally, and in her heart she was more loyal to the Queen and her consort than to her country. She saw this as a weakness and a failing, but not knowing what else to do, and fearing the worst, she decided to act.

"Be careful," said Elly. Crossing the front had been the most difficult part of their assignment. "Don't try the hills again. Go across the mines."

"No. I'm better on land, and I can handle mountains. I can't stand the idea of being blown to bits; that's not how I want to die!"

"If you die, I'm going to kill myself." Lena looked down at Elly. She had never before said anything so serious. She had flirted and been playful when they had been courting, and practical and resourceful and calm while on the mission. This was new; they had never pledged undying love to each other, not in so many words.

"There is the child."

"I will give her away!" There were tears in her eyes. Lena knew that Elly loved the child fiercely. Confused by Elly's words, it took some time until Lena finally arrived at the expected response.

"I love you, I will be careful, and I'll come back for you. I promise!"

Elly made her explain how to use the radio, and memorized the codes. Lena could not use the thing on the move anyway. After one last long, painful embrace of Elly and the little girl, she left the inn, and set out on her journey.

She thought back about her life. It had had its ups and downs, beginning with her mother's death. The visit of young Queen Alexandra had begun a part of her life which, in spite of lots of work, and the threat of the war, had been a happy and fulfilling one. Marrying Elly had been the pinnacle of that portion of her life. With volunteering for the army, and being singled out by her Highness, Princess Briana for a special assignment, and her special training with Elly, a new dangerous part of her life had begun, with everything going at high speed. She dealt with it with her characteristic placidity, but at times it seemed hardly worth it.

She had just met the Queen at the stables. She had desperately wanted to find a way of seeing her regularly, perhaps by interesting her in a horse. Lena had money to buy a horse for the Queen. But it was not part of her instructions, and she feared that it might cause additional complications if the Queen were to fall, or have some accident. It was sheer agony to live within walking distance of the Queen, and only see her now and then, and on weekends, when she sang for the people. It was so frustrating that the Queen sang for the enemy, and not for her subjects! She loved these people; something inside her had woken, and she was able to show a part of herself that had remained hidden in Norsland, and probably would be hidden once again, when the war was over.

"Hans! Hans!" Lena took a while to recall her cover identity. She looked back, pulled away from her thoughts. She was past the town, on the road to Freiburg. She saw a small figure hurrying after her. "Wait!" Lena squinted in the evening light; it was that crazy Elena! She sighed. She stopped and waited. If she couldn't get rid of the girl, she would have to kill her quickly. It would have been a lot easier some months ago ...

She ran up, and stood in front of Lena, panting and out of breath. She looked pleased, and her eyes shone. Lena scowled at her. "Take me with you!"

"Where do you think I'm going?"

"I don't care! Anywhere!"

"I'm just going to Freiburg. I want to buy a horse for a friend."

"Freiburg!" she frowned. "It is a terrible place. But let's go! I would have kept up with you, but when I saw you set out, I took time to pack; that's why I had to run! I'm a good walker." She was already marching along.

Lena shrugged and they walked side by side. It was a possible complication; Elena was really a sweet girl, and Lena liked her. But if she had no definite destination in mind ... At least she walked fast. Her shorter legs had to take longer strides to match Lena's pace.

"Oh this is so wonderful! What a lucky chance!"

"What do you mean? That I want to buy a horse?"

"No, that I saw you setting out! I thought I might have to walk with someone I couldn't stand!"

"Where are you going, exactly?"

She became tight-lipped. "I can't tell you. It's kind of a secret."

"What do you mean, secret? How secret can it be? You can tell me; what would I do with the information? Are you going to kill someone?"

"Oh Hans, you are so innocent. Don't you know there is a war on?" She snorted at Lena's foolishness. "Think a little!"

"Oh. You work for the government."

"Stop right there. Let's talk about something else. What's the name of your wife, again?"

"You know it very well. It's Zora."

"Zora." The girl smiled to herself in the gloom. She really was an enigma. "For a while there, I thought you were leaving her. I heard arguments and crying ... I sort of jumped to that conclusion."

"I love Zora so much ... I don't want to talk about it."

All the same, Elena cleverly made Lena talk about Zora anyway. Fortunately the couple had rehearsed a cover that was so close to their real background that it was not too difficult. It was a strange conversation, because Elena seemed a really nice, principled girl, in spite of her humble occupation. Prostitution was not so looked down upon in Norsland as it was in Bernia. In Norsland, it was easy to get a night's company for free; prostitutes, or paid companions, as they were called, provided other expert services, which was the only reason there were any at all. They were entertainers as well, and it was permissible to turn up for a formal dinner with one as your companion. In Bernia, all the prostitutes were women, and were hated by all decent women.

Lena's story clearly implied that her life had been disrupted by the war, and interestingly enough Elena indicated that she was unwilling to talk about the war. It was impossible to get a political opinion out of her. Lena was relieved; at least she didn't have to deal with politics.

They were both surprised when they realized night had fallen, but they kept walking. As midnight drew near, Elena broke the companiable silence that had lasted for several minutes.

"Hans?"

"Yep."

"Could we stop somewhere and eat something?"

Lena put the best possible face on the request. She had to behave like a normal person on a journey rather than a secret operative on a mission. They stopped at the first little town that had an inn, and ate, each paying for her meal. The girl had dainty manners, which Lena was pleased to observe, since all they knew about each other was Elena's sex games. Lena knew the girl's body intimately, but now, dressed like a decent girl, she looked very different. She looked far prettier, for one thing, and she moved differently. That was one thing with these women and their skirts; they moved differently. Even the Queen had a grace that was new, now that she only wore long skirts; before, she had always had the athlete's beautiful balance, but this was different.

"You have good manners, Hans!"

"Why, thank you; so do you!"

She seemed surprised at that, but accepted the compliment gracefully. They paid their bills, left a modest gratuity with the waitress, and headed back out.

"Do you mean to keep walking all through the night?" she asked laughing, as they left the town behind. Most inns closed a little after midnight, though you could wake them up.

Damn; she had forgotten again. "Let's go back," Lena offered. "I don't have much money for a room; I'll get you comfortable, and sleep under a haystack somewhere."

"Nonsense! If you can walk all night, so can I!"

She lasted almost three more hours, but finally she said, "I can't take another step, Hans ... oh dear; I'm making things impossible for you." She slowed down and took a long breath, and sat down on a log by the roadside. Lena was in a quandary.

"There's a state forest ahead; there are shelters. I have a sleeping-bag. You're welcome to share it."

She made an odd gesture that indicated frustration. "I wasn't thinking. You probably think I'm trying to steal you away from your wife. That's not it, exactly. I mean, I'm not above that; after all, that's what my business is. But right now, I want to slow you down as little as possible."

"We could sleep a night together; I'm sure I won't hate myself for that!"

"Pull me up!" she said, forcing a light tone. Lena took her little hand and hauled her up. She was light; hardly eighty pounds, she figured. If she were a sack of grain, she wouldn't feed a family very long. "It's a good plan, Hans."

Very soon they arrived at an unoccupied shelter off the road, in the forest. Lena pulled out the sleeping-bag while Elena swept the floor with the broom in the broom closet. They spread the bag on the floor farthest from the open side of the shelter, and Elena undressed, carefully folded her clothes and set them on the stone benches, and waited for Lena.

Lena sighed. She wore a man's briefs under her breeches, with a kerchief rolled and placed in it in lieu of the usual male apparatus. Her breasts were so thin, she could pass for a man even stripped to the waist, and certainly if she lay on her back.

"Go on," she said, "I'll take the outside. I can stand the cold a little better."

She slipped into the bag, and made space for Lena.

Once they were settled, side by side, Elena let out a long breath. "This is nice," Elena said with a sigh.

"You keep saying that," said Lena, pretending to be impatient with her.

"I know ... you wouldn't understand, Hans. It's a lot of things."

"It's all right. I have my secrets, too

. You're a good girl; I trust you."

"Hans ... if you want to, you could have me tonight. You know what you're getting. But I'm clean and I'm healthy. And at least we know each other."

"It's all right," Hans said. "Try and get some rest." She gently stroked Elena's back, encouraging her to sleep. But she stopped Hans's hand, and said she wanted to talk. "All right," said Hans. "I apologize in case I fall asleep."

"I'm going to do something dangerous, Hans; I want to tell you that. I want to feel that there's someone who knows about me, and who will care if I fail and get into trouble."

"But surely you have friends and family!"

"Do you want to know the truth?"

"Not really."

"Hans, I was an orphan, adopted by ... a great lady. When—when they abolished the monarchy, the family simply moved to the country, and lived like ordinary people." Lena encouraged her with a sound. "I loved my foster-mother. I was a daughter and a maid for her, until she died. Though the people hated her and her family, to the end, she loved her country and her people. I tell you, there are only a few people left for whom I feel the love of a countrywoman, and they are all in that camp."

"Yes, they are good people. That's why we went there." Lena felt uncomfortable, but it sounded promising. "Why didn't you go into the camp? They would have welcomed you."

She barked a bitter laugh. It was clear that she wasn't bitter; but it really was too much to expect a welcome from the women of the camp if they knew her profession. They were a conservative lot. "I would have, if I didn't have another plan."

"Which is?"

But she wouldn't say. It could have been any one of a number of risky things. Though at first Lena had thought she was simply running away, it now appeared that she had at least a vague plan. Once again she asked if Hans would make love to her. This time is was not an offer, it was a request, and more urgently made. Hans wearily declined, her sadness not so feigned. "Hold me, then, as a friend. You know I came to your room not only for amusement, but because ... but it doesn't matter. What harm is there if you hold me? I promise not to do anything. I promise!"

So Lena allowed her to snuggle up in her arms. She knew it was a mistake, but she was prepared to take the consequences. At least, she had thought she was.

True to her word, Elena simply lay in Lena's arms and after a while, fell asleep.

In the morning, Lena woke up to find the girl watching her with amusement. Her thin arms were around Lena, and her eyes shone with mischief. Suddenly she reached for Lena's crotch and squeezed hard. Lena's eyes went wide, and then she held the girl's thin arms in a grip of steel. She only laughed merrily, peal after bell-like peal. "Oh Hans ... you do indeed have a secret! How did you think we could spend a night together and I not know you are a woman?"

"It is not such a secret, after all; it is the only way I can be with my ... Zora, without being stoned, or worse." The girl's face was so merry, Lena forgot her anger. "You felt around while I was asleep, did you?"

She shook her head. "It is your smell, Hans. When you get so close, can't you smell a woman?"

"That's true. You have a lovely smell. I thought I smelled—like a human being!"

"Yes, a female one. What's your name, really?"

"Lena. Magdalena."

"Mine is Nevenka. There, we know each other's names!" Her eyes twinkled. At least she wasn't a homophobe. "Are you a lover of women, then? Of course you are."

Lena nodded. "Now, I suppose you want to get out of the sleeping bag as fast as you can!"

She laughed. "I swing both ways. Do you know what that is?"

"I can guess. You are truly talented!"

"Did you think I would have given you away? Yes; you didn't know what a wonderful girl I was all these months! And here I was, thinking you were this sweet boy, and all the time you were a girl! The joke's on me!"

"Why couldn't you tell all these months, then? You had opportunities enough!"

She shrugged. "Sometimes when you ... wet yourself, it didn't smell right. But I was too preoccupied with my own feelings; I didn't put two and two together."

"You are really something! What is it like, to ... make a living out of pleasure?"

"I can tell you as we walk. Let's go."

And she did. Though there was much she wasn't telling Lena, she did reveal a great deal. She had set out to be a prostitute for a reason. She had apparently done enough of it, now she was ready to put into action the rest of her plan.

They walked as far as they could that day, and Nevenka bought them a room. That night they made love. She would not take no for an answer. She bullied Lena into submission, and showed Lena some things that she had not known. She was insatiable; first she pleasured herself with great abandon, and then turned to Lena. She knew ways of giving pleasure to a woman that Lena and Elly had never thought of trying. When she was done, she sat on Lena's stomach, and demanded whether she had been satisfied. She was a fierce little thing, with her thick, silky black hair hanging down to her thighs in soft waves. She could change from gracious lady to a wanton slut and back. I should kill her as soon as I get the chance, Lena thought. If she didn't, she would surely be enslaved by the girl.

Around that time, an idea began to take shape in Lena's mind. If she could confirm what the girl had said about her loyalties, and convince her that it was in the ultimate interest of Bernians to lose the war ... Lena did not know enough of the art of espionage to be able to recruit for her side. She knew her limitations; Nevenka had exposed too many of them already.

They slept cuddled together that night, and Lena slept lightly, so that the girl had no opportunity to get up and wander around. If she knew what Lena was doing, she gave no sign. She did look at Lena thoughtfully the next morning, and was a little more subdued. They walked faster now; they had had an early start, so that they could stop once more at an inn, before they arrived within the limits of that gigantic monster which was the city of Freiburg. Bernia was a larger country geographically than Norsland, but they seemed to have thrown all their resources into one enormous city, which took more than a day to traverse on foot.

The closer they came to their destination, the more tense it was between them. Lena felt the burden of deciding what to do with the girl. There was a small chance that she could not be trusted, in which case, she had to be killed —swiftly and mercifully, because she was a friend— which was not easy for Lena. She had done it twice already, and so had Elly. They had befriended a prison guard, and killed him, as well as his lover, and her friend. But Nevenka was so small and tiny! Yet she could very well be an enemy agent, in which case Elly would not be safe if Nevenka wasn't dead.

That night, their lovemaking was more than just a sexual exercise. It was passionate; for an hour Lena forgot all about Elly, and they threw themselves at each other, as if they would never have another opportunity for sealing an emotional bond which was becoming far more than mere friendship.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Nevenka

"Lena," said Nevenka, after they had finished a particularly frightening bout of lovemaking, which they had sealed with a kiss that had left them both shaking, "you are more than you appear. You are a woman; what more are you? Really?"

"I'm an ostler. What else should I be?"

"You are not Bernian. What are you? Tell me!"

Lena prepared herself. "I could tell you, but ... it may mean your life."

"I'm not afraid. Tell me. I trust you more than I trust anyone else." Her eyes burned, with a fire directed not at Lena, but elsewhere. "Everyone else I trust is dead!"

"I'm ... an agent for the other side." Nevenka's eyes opened wide. She felt a prick at her throat, and there was a knife there. Lena's huge left hand covered her mouth. She had felt nothing, no movement. "I'm going back behind the lines. You must come with me." In Lena's eyes, the other woman saw determination, but also something else.

She stared at Lena wild-eyed, and nodded quickly. She tentatively pushed against Lena's hand. Lena kept the knife at her throat. "One sound, and you're dead. My life is at stake." She frowned, her black eyes flashing. She nodded again. Lena took her hand off her mouth, but the knife remained. There were angry tears in Nevenka's eyes.

"I won't shout. You can take the bloody knife away," she gritted out. "God, I've never been so humiliated in my life!"

Lena sighed, easing the knife off by a fraction of an inch. "It wouldn't have come to this if I had been ... if I had known what I was doing. I'm a terrible amateur."

Nevenka pushed the knife hand away a little further. Lena could see furious words shaping in her mind, but she finally abandoned them, and asked the questions that were burning in her mind.

"Are you really Norslandish?" Lena nodded. "Both of you, all three of you?" Nods. "Spying on the camp? Why, what have they done to you?"

Lena spoke cautiously. "Not everyone in the camp is who —or what— they seem. We're watching them. Nevenka, the less you know, the safer it is for both of us."

"Will you really take me with you, to ... Norsland?" her voice was excited, there was a thrum of impatience in it; it was clear that this is what she had wanted all along.

"Yes. I have to, now; you know too much."

Quick as lightning, her hand shot out, and slapped Lena on the cheek, and the knife was back at her throat almost before she finished the stroke. Her eyes opened wide. Her enormous eyes rolled down to the blade and back. Lena eased off a bit.

"Why did you pull that stunt? I would have come with you without a fuss! That's where I wanted to go anyway!"

"Yes, I know. Kid, I don't really know who you're working for."

"You must. I've told you how I feel. The people in the camp —the ordinary people, not the people you're supposedly watching— they would not hurt a fly. They're not political; if they were, they would fight the government! Did you know, they went across to Norsland, and were sent back? How much more clearly can they say, we want to be Norsfolk? Well, my heart is with them. Only, I'm political. I'm willing to fight. I just don't know how!" Lena waited. "If I had known you were a spy, I would have said, here I am, take me!"

"It's hard, Nevenka. And ... there are other problems." The other problem was that Lena was beginning to care for the woman. It was unforgivable. It was difficult, getting across the front again, but now she had to play nursemaid. If she didn't much care for the girl, all she had to do was make sure she either made it, or died. Now she had only one option: they both had to make it across, and then Lena would have to somehow part from her.

"I love you too," said Nevenka, sourly. Lena was not amused. She nodded. It all had to come out. "Let's pretend we're in love. It'll be easier for us. For me."

"Sleep. Sleep for both of us. You know I have to watch you all night."

"Tie me and gag me." It certainly was an option. "Tie me to the four posts! I'll show you a good trick!"

Lena had to smile. Her companion's mind was always toying with ideas that had to do with sensuous pleasure. Even now, as Lena cursed herself for inflicting this indignity on her, she had seen a way to amuse herself. Lena did as she asked: tied her securely spread-eagled to the four posts, in such a way that she could not get loose. Then she gagged her. She couldn't resist gazing at her body with the hunger she still felt; she was tiny but perfect; perfectly proportioned, except for her breasts, which were just a little larger than they would have been if a woman of normal size had been shrunk to her size. Her face was small, though her eyes were large and expressive. Her mouth was wide and generous.

As Lena watched, she made her body tense and relax rhythmically, until she shook in the throes of her self-arousal, and exuded a copious pool of moisture on the bed. Her face was transfigured with pleasure at the end of it, but Lena was left angry. The fact that she had messed up the clean bed was a minor irritation; that she could pleasure herself with her hands and feet tied down made Lena feel strangely alienated. It was apparent that when this mission was over, in one way or another, Lena's peace of mind would be in tatters. Already, with the feelings aroused by Nevenka, Lena's heart was being cut in two.

It was a hard night. Unable to share the bed, Lena bedded down on the floor. Instead of sleeping, she planned. On the one hand, she had to rehearse in her mind what kind of things she had to watch for, that would suggest that the girl would betray her. On the other hand, she had to coach the girl in elementary combat techniques. There was no need for style; she had to be quiet and effective. Above all, she had to be shown how to use a knife; they would not be using firearms. While Lena agonized, she could hear Nevenka doing what she had done again and again, until the room smelled like a hundred whorehouses rolled into one. It was as if she never tired. When Lena slept it was very late.

It was their last night at an inn. She woke Nevenka up early, and they kissed once, passionately, as soon as her bonds were removed, her legs wrapped around Lena, a succuba who hungered for her.

They dressed, and headed out.

"Nevenka, you have to learn to kill." Nevenka drew in her breath sharply and grimaced. After a long time, she nodded. "You must actually do it; I'll make it easy for you. You must also practice breathing deeply, and holding your breath."

"Why?"

"Because we must swim underwater."

"I breathe just as deeply as anyone!"

"Take a deep breath, let it all out, take another one, and hold it."

She did so as they walked. Far too soon, she had to let it out. Lena made her do it again. They practiced until they were light-headed. They started to sing as they walked, trying to sing as much as possible with a single breath. With this she did much better. She could sing using hardly any breath for a long, long time, and she sang well. Her eyes shone with pleasure as she sang.

"I haven't sung in so long!" she cried. "I loved to sing! I had forgotten all about singing!"

"Why don't you sing?"

She made a hopeless gesture. "How can you sing, with hearts so low? We lived in a fool's paradise, in that place. They had peace and happiness, while out here, people were suffering. Look, can you see anyone singing?" Lena looked about; the road was far from deserted, and folk stared at them in disgust, but no one met their eyes.

"You have a beautiful voice," Lena said. She was pleased at the compliment; more pleased than when she had been told she was a brilliant lover. She had been pleased at that, too, but not nearly so much.

The number of people on the road increased until at one stage they could hardly walk, pressed in by crowds, evidently lining up for some necessity or other. When they pushed past, they were beaten, and accused of jumping the line. Nevenka was in tears. She kept yelling at them that they were not in line. After a while she stopped crying and ignored the people.

The crowd turned into an enormous transverse street, and our pair having crossed it, the road continued, relatively deserted. "We're heading towards the waterfront," Lena told her. "We turn south here."

"How did you know to do that?"

Lena shrugged. They had learned how the boats had come in. There were places at the south end of the city where boats were plentiful, and security lax. Lena led the way to an alley that ran parallel to the large road that followed along the waterfront. The alley was filthy, but unoccupied. In the nights, this road would be filled with fisher folk, getting drunk. But at the moment, it was deserted. They came to a stretch of road where the shops had been reduced to rubble. It had been shelled. Across the road there stood a single sentry, facing away from them.

"Stay here!" ordered Lena in a low voice. "I have to take a chance on you. Stay hidden right here." Nevenka nodded, her eyes wide. Lena hadn't told her what was going to happen, so as not to frighten her in anticipation. Lena crossed the street. They were just barely in sight of the other guards in the chain, but the risk had to be taken. In a flash, Lena had cut his throat. She picked him up, blood still dripping from his neck, and crossed back with the body.

Nevenka looked sick, her eyes wide, her hand across her mouth.

"Why? What are you doing?" she asked.

"He's dead, Nevenka; it's all over!"

"But you should have left him there!"

"I had a reason," said Lena, patiently. She picked through his pockets, and found a couple of items that could be useful. "Now, take this knife." She gave the knife to the girl. She took it reluctantly, picking it up as if it were something disgusting. "Try and stab him in the heart. Go on. You'll know if you do it right."

"B-but he's already d-dead!"

Lena looked at her stony-faced. Her heart wanted to comfort her, but that would get them nowhere. "Sister, you can't practice on a live one. If you care for your victim, you'll make it as quick and as painless as possible! Nod if you agree!" She nodded, looking green. Lena laid the body on the ground, behind the pile of rubble, and told her once again to stab him in the heart.

The first stab was the hardest. After she was sick — she ran some distance away to do it — she came back and tried again. She understood at once the point Lena was making; there were many bones in the way. She learned exactly how much force had to go into it, and all the spots a mortal blow could be made in: the stomach, the groin, the neck, the eyes, the temples; she learned them all. Once she had started, it became a little less disgusting. She did it without getting any blood on her clothes, which amused Lena. Then they stripped him of his breeches.

"Why?" wailed Nevenka.

"Because we need them! You can't go looking like that! Your shirt is fine, and your vest. But your skirt is too clumsy. Pack it away; his breeches and belt will be useful."

She did everything Lena asked. She began to weep. It was not easy for her. Lena felt thoroughly sorry for her; she should have given her every chance to back out of her mad ambition. But the girl had played her cards too quickly and at an awkward time and place. There was no time to do it right; Lena could only hope that she would succeed at all.

They left the poor, mutilated body, and crossed the street, and headed into the narrow strip of beach in which there were boats, overturned, to keep the water out. They got one into the water, and began to row out. It was broad daylight, but it wouldn't be, for long. The angle of the wharves was such that they would not be visible immediately. The watchers of the water line were intended to detect incoming, rather than outgoing, traffic.

"They're going to see us, and shoot at us, because they'll just be suspicious," Nevenka said in an urgent whisper. "We'd be killed instantly!"

"We get into the water, and pull the boat after us. Get ready."

"But the clothes will get wet!"

"How can you think of clothes? You'll get very wet before we're though!"

"No! I'm going to take them off!"

It was an eccentric idea, but Lena couldn't see a flaw in it. It was early summer, and the water was warm. The first shot hit the water just inches from Lena. The girls slipped into the water, and as Nevenka hung onto the boat, Lena towed it behind her, swimming strongly with one arm.

If the enemy had been determined enough, they could have got patrol boats to stop them, but they evidently thought these were Bernians adventuring. There was no reason to suspect that one of them was a Norslandish spy, returning home. Spies usually came in over the northern border.

Still, when they finally dared get into the boat, it had begun to sink with the water seeping in through the bullet-holes. Lena waited until Nevenka was in, and climbed in. They were both shivering, not with cold, but fear. The holes had to be plugged, and the water bailed out. Lena had a fabric container with which Nevenka could bail while Lena rowed.

As she rowed and Nevenka bailed, the girl told Lena that she loved her. She had never been in love, at least not really in love. She didn't expect anything in return, but in the face of death, she had finally found out what life meant to her.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes, Nevenka. I feel the same."

"How stupid it is, huh?"

"No, love is never stupid! It's better to love too much, than too little."

"Not if you destroy the one you love, Lena!"

"You love your whole country. One person is nothing. What we feel for each other ... if we didn't, dear one, we would be cold people, who don't care enough to risk everything. You have a warm heart! So do Elly and I. In times of war, people like us must suffer!"

"Oh Lena ... every word you say is the truth! I learn so much from you, just ... riding in this boat ... it's as if I knew nothing until all this started!"

Lena only smiled, and kept rowing.

Lena's calculations were perfect. By the time they hit the part of the channel which was most heavily patrolled, it was dark. They had pulled their breeches on, and were moderately comfortable. But Lena had warned Nevenka that they might have to swim again. "Hold your breath, now," she commanded.

They came ashore in enemy-occupied East Norsland. The beach was only lightly guarded on the east side; there were large numbers of troops along the west border, and the south border, of course, was mined.

Nevenka learned stealth right in the field. They either stole past guards, or killed them first. Nevenka herself suggested that she would kill the first soldier they encountered. "Can you jump in if I mess it up?" she asked, worriedly. Lena said one quick blow is all you need. You mustn't butcher the man, hacking him to pieces. Nevenka agreed.

She slunk up to the sentry, and cut his throat expertly. It was not as easy as stabbing, but it was a little more reliable, even if it required more effort.

"You're a blooded operative, now," Lena said, sorrowfully regarding the horror in Nevenka's eyes. Loss of innocence was a sad thing for anybody.

They worked their way down the shore to Oslo. They sometimes took roads, sometimes the beach, sometimes waded in the water. They rounded a big dune, and Nevenka gasped at the concentration of men at the beach. The Bernians were ready for any kind of offensive along the shoreline. Lena and Nevenka re-packed their things. Everything that had to be watertight was put in Lena's pack. Once again, they were nude. It was a clever idea, if it wasn't too cold.

"Hold your breath again, and sing," said Lena softly, as they slipped into the water. They swam until they were about a mile from the shore. Lena swam backstroke, with Nevenka lying on Lena's breast. She had told Nevenka what to look for; a line of buoys. She excitedly said she saw them. Lena turned to crawl, with Nevenka holding her waist.

"Ready? Take a deep breath. Let it out. Take another one. Here we go."

Down they went. Nevenka knew the signal for 'I want to come up!'

The now-familiar figure of the Consort was tiny, standing on the Palace steps in the glare of the floodlights. She was dressed in a neat blue suit, her wavy honey-gold hair pinned back to frame her heart-shaped face. Over the last year her appearance had changed; she seemed a little taller, a little thinner as she walked up to the microphone, a little more stooped. But as she faced the crowd, she straightened up into her characteristic stance. This crowd had only seen her on TV. But now she was addressing the nation as well as the cameras from right in the capital.

The war had made the electric lights common. Floodlights, usually kept for the theater and for special occasions, now lit up the entire Palace outer courtyard. Behind her Highness stood the usual small group of advisors, but today there were also a general, as well as a common soldier, and some others.

"Friends, and fellow citizens!" she said, and there were immediate cheers. "Today, I have with me, several representatives of those who are helping us to fight this war." She introduced them one by one, shaking hands with them, and when the soldier opened his arms for an embrace, going into it willingly. It was not often a member of the royal family embraced a soldier in view of everyone. Shaking hands, itself, was new; normally an adult subject would kneel over her hand. But she had been free with her hugs to children, and freely shook hands. Now she embraced the soldier. One of the others had been a paramedic and a factory worker.

"As you know, there has been tremendous suffering in the mountains. Now, with the communication equipment gifted by our Belgravian friends, we know the extent of the damage. Entire cities have been reduced to rubble, villages have been swallowed up." Silence. She had never withheld bad news from them. These broadcasts told the people everything. "But a vast army of volunteers, our older citizens who are still eager to do their share, and our very youngest, so full of energy, are able to give help in rebuilding those towns and villages that had been devastated, to make roads, and hospitals, and shelter for the countless orphans whose parents have died in the mines in the mountains."

She was having trouble with her emotions. She took the time to calm herself, but when she went on, her voice was rough. "We all know the feeling of losing someone to this war. They say their goodbyes —sometimes, not even that— and they're gone, and you don't know whether they're alive or dead, or lying wounded somewhere, or in a prison camp." Someone handed her a handkerchief, and she blew her nose loudly off to a side, and kept the handkerchief folded in her hand. She mumbled that she would probably need it again, and laughed, as two tears rolled down her cheeks.

Oh god, she's only a girl, thought a soldier who had been brought in with his battalion, all fresh recruits in their late teens, some as young as sixteen. She could be me, or my sister. The same thought was in the mind of older people, who watched the young troops in their uniforms; this war is making the children grow up far too soon. Already, twenty thousand troops had been lost in the 500-mile front on the east, down from the mountains along the Muddy River, a wide body of water that formed a natural front that had proved to be impossible to breach. Most of those had been the flower of Norslandish youth, the generation in their twenties, who had first responded to the call for troops. Often newlyweds had joined soon after they were married, and died together, fighting side by side. Sometimes one would return, barely alive, with his or her lover or spouse killed.

"The winter, as you know, has been hard on our Belgravian friends. Their casualties have been high, and food supplies have been scarce. There is a large front there, too, which we have been holding with some difficulty. Now, with the spring, food is flowing in from across the southern waters. This food truly brings us new hope!" Cheers.

She continued to talk about hope. But she also talked about vast new stretches of forest that had been converted into graveyards just north of the city. The Queen's consort, in spite of her fierce words, could not hide her sadness. It was clear that everything she was doing was to give strength and determination to the troops. She talked about sacrifice, she talked about resolve, she talked about pride, and wound down the address. There were loud cheers as she wished them a good night.

As they walked back to their base, a bunch of the recruits talked about the Queen's consort. "I just can't believe what she does. She can make you want to go in there and fight, even if you just want to hide under a rock somewhere."

"And all she had was bad news."

But the fact was that she had made them feel good, and strong and brave, with only bad news.

Of the cousins from Geneva, only Elke, Kirsten and Una were accepted into the regular army. The others were either too young, too old, or too important to risk at the front. However, they had been accepted into the volunteer corps that was sent, as soon as the worst of the winter was over, out to the mountains, to put communications towers in place, and search for refugees marooned in the mountains, where the roads had been destroyed by earthquakes, eruptions of volcanoes, burning forests, or huge subsidences. Jo and Dee, as the twins now called themselves, had established themselves as two of the best. They were both big and phlegmatic, but armed with hatchets and pikes, they marched along the southern edge of the devastation, leading an advance team of twenty young people. Many of them were children of the highest nobility, some of them cousins of either Alexandra or Sophie, determined to do some service, even if they were forbidden to see actual combat. They had headed east along the line of devastation, essentially making a road. Behind came more of them, with communication equipment, timber saws, horse wagons carrying concrete and other building materials. They had crossed enormous mud-slides, and braved wet weather.

The first actual rescue they had managed was when they had come across the remains of a town. Most of the adults were dead; only the children, who had been at school, and their teachers were left, many of them terribly injured. Some of them were dying of their injuries, a slow death that had lasted months. They had been subsisting on mushrooms and whatever they could gather from the parts of the town on the south side of the subsidence. The road out of the school abruptly ended at a 50-foot cliff. To the south had been dense forest, and high mountains. The teachers had finally decided to keep the children all together, instead of encouraging them to go find help. Two older children had left, never to be seen again.

Soon shelters were built, tents put up, and a team of two doctors took over the injured. The young woman who had taken charge, a history teacher in her late twenties, just out of university, had done a valiant job, motivating her fellow-teachers to continue supervising the hundred-odd surviving children to keep them focused on learning and survival. Leaving others to handle the problems they had discovered, the twins and their company had moved on east.

So far they had discovered nine communities, either cut off from civilization by the volcanic action, or half destroyed by it as well as cut off. The new road they were creating over the spine of the country was now a trunk route for succoring the refugees, and connecting these villages with Skree. There was an existing road, which wound through the mountains to the north of the line of devastation, but which was now interrupted by the several hundred mile long new escarpment that split the country roughly lengthwise. In some villages they found only a couple of survivors, and fields full of new graves. They were told that others had survived and set out southward looking for help, but the severe weather could have prevented them from making it to the south, or making it back.

They were now climbing up along the tree line just at the foot of what had formerly been the highest mountain in the country. It was now a vast pile of fallen rock covered with snow, one of the few points on the northern side that rose as high as the southern escarpment. After they had set up camp that night, they climbed as far north as they could, and they could see, far to the south, the lights of ships out at sea, and to the east, the lights of Oslo, which was in enemy hands. They knew that Lena, Alexandra's warden at the Lodge, and her mate Elly, had volunteered for a mission that took them to Oslo. The twins tried to imagine being there, with bullets flying.

As Lena and Nevenka waded through the muddy water, the estuary of the Muddy River, they were stunned by a bright light high in the sky.

"What's that?" asked Nevenka, as Lena paused, supporting her in the water.

"Get down!" Lena hissed, and they sank into the water, with only their faces showing. "Flares! Something is going to happen!"

The words were hardly out of her mouth, before all hell broke loose. It was a massive assault across the river. Troops from both sides faced each other across the wide river, which was a sea of mud, true to its name. A massive wave of Norsfolk soldiers wearing battle dress charged into the shallow water under fierce cover fire from enormous guns bigger than Nevenka had ever seen. Clearly, the Norsfolk did not know about the huge troop build-up down the beach. There was going to be slaughter. From behind them, out at sea, ships began shelling the city, while the onshore guns began firing back. It was all over their heads, but they could not move.

Wave after wave of grey-and-green clad Norslandish troops waded across the river, bringing barricades that they set up on the beach. Then the invading troops charged round the headland, and there was indeed slaughter. In a mere half hour, there were several hundred dead on the beach, from both sides.

Lena felt the girl turn to her and put her arms round her, seeking comfort. In this horrible situation, Lena was disgusted at the arousal she felt when Nevenka's wet body rubbed against hers. Her mouth hungrily sought her lips, and they were kissing in the dark, in the water, clinging to the thin thread of their passion. "I love you!" Lena sobbed, over and over again. There was now a terrible stillness, with only the sound of the tide coming in, and the occasional crack of gunfire up the river to the north.

They were the sweetest kisses Lena could ever remember. For a long time they clung to each other, tenderly kissing each other's eyes and cheeks and lips, saying soft words of love. It was as if a lifetime had been compressed into a short space of time, as if they had been in love forever.

"You're beginning to wrinkle," said Nevenka. "We should go."

It was dark again, and they swam out into the sea. They came to the line of buoys, and Lena went below. Nevenka could stay afloat with the support of Lena's backpack; she was tied to Lena with a length of cord. As Lena hunted along the muddy floor of the water for a gap in the minefield, Nevenka floated along above her, feeling helpless and vulnerable.

Lena surfaced, and took a huge gulp of air.

"Ready? There's a net; we just go under it. Take a deep breath. Then start to sing."

Hugging the woman to her, Lena stroked as strongly as she could under the net. She could feel Nevenka's heart beat against her body. The backpack pulled them upwards, and it was a struggle to descend. She wanted to scream with frustration. Rather than singing, Nevenka was holding her breath. It would make her run out of air faster.

Nevenka began to struggle. Lena was so stressed that she was finding it hard to think. The effort of swimming downward made her reflexively tighten her grip on Nevenka, making the girl panic. Suddenly the bottom of the net appeared, and she pulled it over them, and simply held on to Nevenka with all her strength, letting the buoyant bag pull them up. A stroke or two ... they were on the surface, and the girl explosively exhaled. She immediately sank, and inhaled water, and Lena had to hold her up as she fought Lena, clawing at her arms. Lena let her go, the bag would support her; the effort had taken too much out of her. There were still mines to go through, almost a mile of them.

Nevenka finished gasping, and pounded Lena's arms and body with her fists, furious that Lena had nearly drowned her. "You squeezed my chest, I couldn't breathe!" she cried.

"All right, all right; I'm sorry!"

She continued to pound Lena mercilessly, until her anger was spent. The rope had come loose, and Lena caught the loose end and tied it around her waist again.

"There's more?"

"Yes, a whole mile of it. Calm yourself," The girl cursed under her breath. "Be careful; sounds carry very well across the water." She continued to mutter curses. Far away, she could hear a sound as if a powerboat was starting up. The Bernians had obtained powerboats, small, fast craft with a very shallow draft that were powered with gas. Once they were into the minefield, all the enemy could do was to shoot at them; the mines were more of a threat to them than to the girls.

"Well, go then; why are you wasting time?"

Lena glared at her and headed off. This was war, but Nevenka's childishness was hurting her cruelly. The fact that she expected a little understanding from the girl only made it worse. Lena was becoming sensitive to the smallest negative signal from the tiny woman.

It was pitch dark under the water. She had a waterproof flashlight in a pocket of her backpack —actually Nevenka's— and she carefully took it out now. It could be clearly seen if anyone looked their way. Either side would shoot first and ask questions later. Still, the chance had to be taken.

There they were. Theoretically they were supposed to be harmless to people and fish; they were intended to explode in contact with large metal objects. But Lena had been told to avoid the things at all costs. They were sometimes motion sensitive, and a pull on their anchors might set them off. They were spaced several feet apart, and Lena wove a snaking path through them. They were getting colder now, Nevenka was already shivering. It seemed to last for ever. There was no way of telling whether the beam of the flashlight had been seen. There were several near misses, because though the mines were well under the water surface, and theoretically Nevenka floated above them, the line with which she was being towed cut low enough to foul the anchor lines.

It was exhausting. Lena was not a powerful swimmer; she had only learned during training. She had taken to it easily, but she didn't have a great deal of experience with it. As Lena began to despair of ever coming out of the minefield, there were no more of them. There was a shout —from the Eastern side. The beam had been spotted by a Bernian boat. "Come on!" she cried, as she rose to the surface, and began to stroke through the water. Nevenka, anxious now, began to swim harder, splashing a little too much.

"Nevenka, hang on to me; I'll get you ashore," Lena gasped. But the Bernian girl would not listen; she was going like a windmill. Shots rang out, hitting the water so close to Nevenka that she gasped, and went under. Lena dropped underwater and swam, as shots continued to hit the water around them. A powerful light began to search the water surface.

Lena rose to the surface. "Be calm. Take a breath. Sink into the water."

Just in time Nevenka sank. Lena didn't dare grab her around the waist. She held out her hand, and the girl took it, with the searchlight from the powerboat lighting up the water surface. In a few seconds Lena felt sand under her feet, and she turned on her back, with only her nose above water. Nevenka understood what she was doing, and did the same, only her face and her wonderful breasts breaking the water surface. So close to shore they were difficult to see; they were not much lighter colored than the sea sand. A couple of guns behind them began firing at the light, an obvious target. The light was instantly switched off.

"We did it," Nevenka breathed. "We did it! We did it!"

Something inside Lena snapped, and she turned on her side and wept.

"Who's there?"

Lena got out of the water and raised her arms in surrender.

It took a good deal of explaining, but all Lena said was that she had been on a mission for intelligence, and she would establish her bona fides only to their commanding officer. They surrendered their packs, and stood naked until someone in authority came out. The officer questioned Lena briefly, and nodded.

"You have clothes in there?"

"Yes. As soon as we dry off."

"Soldier, escort these women back through the lines."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The two of them sat on a dry spot, waiting for the land breeze to dry them off. Nevenka huddled against Lena, and the big girl put her arm protectively around her small friend. She wasn't that tiny; she was around five-foot one. But she gave an overall impression of smallness that was irresistible.

"Hans —I mean, Lena ... you won't leave me and run off, will you?"

"Not right away. But you realize I have to do something! That was why I came!"

"I'll come with you!"

"No, my sweet. It is very dangerous, and ... very sensitive."

"I'll have to go into some kind of training."

"Yes."

"They'll indoctrinate me."

"It won't be painful; your sympathies are all right."

"They'll make me a killing machine, won't they?"

"They won't. This isn't Bernia. You must be able to kill when necessary. You were with me; did I kill indiscriminately?"

"No." Nevenka thought furiously, as the water dried sticky on them both. "You'll have to sponsor me."

"Something like that, yes."

"You'll have to check on me from time to time, then, won't you?"

Lena sighed. "Get dressed, little one."

Lena wore her breeches, while Nevenka pulled on her sexy hose and her skirts and blouse and vest. She took out a horn comb and carefully combed out her sand-filled hair, cursing softly to herself. Finally she was done, and pretty as a picture, as near as Lena could tell from the cloudy moonlight.

"Ready?" asked the soldier, and they nodded. They were marched along the beach past dozens of soldiers in tents, some sleeping, some on watch. The beach was a campground for the troops. They passed through some invisible line that demarcated the no-civilians zone, and were on their own, on the shore road, several hundred miles from the army base near the capital.

Lena gently guided Nevenka along the road until they came to an army supply depot. "There will be a stables here, somewhere," Lena said. She banged on the door, until the officer on watch came to demand what was the problem.

"I need a horse," said Lena. "I work for General Bertha. It's urgent."

"Got papers?"

"No. I've just crossed the lines, soldier; I don't take papers with me."

"Someone I can call?"

"Call the General."

After a while, the officer was speaking to General Bertha on Skree. He described Lena and Nevenka over the line, and gave the unit to Lena.

"General?"

"Is that you, Lena?"

"Yes, General."

"What are you doing here? They're waiting for you off the north shore; what's the meaning of this?"

"I have an urgent, sensitive message to give ... somebody, General. I could tell you personally, but not now."

"Humph. And who's the woman?"

Lena hesitated again. "I ..."

"All right. Give me the supply officer."

They were soon riding along the shore road, with Nevenka seated in front of Lena.

All Lena could think was that these moments with Nevenka were infinitely precious. She filled her lungs with the fragrance of the girl, savoring every touch, every sound of her, the look of her sleek, wet hair. She looked with wonder at her ears, her arms, her fingers on the saddle-horn as she steadied herself. She sighed from time to time, and Lena memorized the sound of those sighs.

"Lena?"

"Yeah."

There was no reply, and Lena was lost in her own glum thoughts again. The mission did not now seem as important as grabbing as much precious time with Nevenka as she could. Nevenka: what a magical name! How magical were her eyes, her hands ... all those magical parts of her!

They arrived at an inn, all closed and locked up for the night.

In a terrible mood, Lena woke them up and asked for a room. Grumbling and cursing, they were given a room, and the man went off to sleep. Lena took the horse out to the stables, and carefully got her settled. She was a big mare of uncertain color, but she had done well with the heavy load. Lena alone was quite a load to begin with. Lena led the way back up to the room.

They had their clothes off and were in bed in incredibly little time.

In spite of the sand, in spite of the salt, the kisses they shared were incredibly sweet.

"We're falling in love! You know we are!" cried Nevenka.

Lena only nodded. Words were dangerous, but Nevenka would not be satisfied with silence. She kissed Nevenka tenderly. "I love you, baby! But some day you'll know, if you marry; you can't just throw it away!"

"You mustn't throw it away! I don't want to be a marriage destroyer!"

Though Nevenka was the one who was asking the questions, Lena was just as upset, and just as afraid that the night would end. They made love, as if that could hold back time. As if they could live an infinity of time in those precious moments of bliss. Lena believed with every fiber of her body that she could not be this happy with any other woman. It seemed to her at that moment that to go back to Elly would be to die.

As soon as they had recovered from one bout of lovemaking, they began again, hearing thumps on their walls from irate neighbors. Finally they were so exhausted, their bodies refused to give them any more pleasure. The accumulated glow from the entire night made it seem as if they were in heaven. But the first rays of the sun signaled the beginning of their parting.

They sat in bed, studying each other, seeing new miracles neither of them had seen in the other. The divot in her lips, the tiny indentation at the edge of her mouth that might be a dimple, the slight frown that was so captivating, the gentle swell of the breast, the hands whose touch was now so familiar.

Nevenka laughed and looked at her own hands.

"It will soon be over," she said, and Lena felt sick in her heart. She withdrew into herself, and so did Nevenka. They cleaned up a little more, and dressed for the road. They didn't say a word more; something had come between them. Nevenka did not paint her face as she normally did, but she washed carefully, as Lena watched, dried herself fastidiously, took enough time to carefully comb out her hair, braid it, and coil it at her neck, and wore a skirt that fell well below the knee, soft boots, re-packed her bag, and only then turned to raise her eyes to Lena. There was no accusation there, only a look of worry. It was as if she had taken all her worries back from Lena, and they were her own again, and she would have to deal with them.

It was very hard for Lena. The intimacy of being present as she washed and dressed cut her like a knife, by contrast to the distance that was growing between them. She walked down the stairs sedately, as if she didn't want to leave Lena too far behind. When Lena led the horse round, she looked up at Lena to be helped up with a small smile of gratitude that twisted the knife even further. She was unconsciously retreating into her genteel upbringing, still further increasing the distance between them. She had been brought up by a Lady of Bernia, while Lena had indeed been the child of a glorified peasant. But pride in Norsland was such that even the poorest Norslandish peasant felt superior to the greatest lords of other lands, though they would never dream of being so churlish as to say so. When Nevenka had told Lena her story, Lena had classified her as an aristocrat in her own mind. Aristocracy was not a thing of birth; it was a matter of upbringing. She had not felt inferior to Nevenka at all, until these last few moments.

Lena mounted behind her. The normal style in Bernia was to have the lady ride behind, side-saddle. But Nevenka sat in front, straight and proud, between the reins. It was awkward, but that was the way she wanted it. Lena found herself leaning close to her, protecting her with her body and her arms. "Lena, don't," she said gently. Lena turned red in the face and leaned away, murmuring an apology.

They rode all day, through the evening, and slept at another inn.

Lena gave Nevenka the bed, and prepared to sleep on the floor.

"Nonsense," the girl insisted, "there's plenty of room."

It was late at night; they wore thin shifts, each out of consideration for the other.

They lay in silence, side by side. Nevenka had bathed and washed her hair carefully. She took great care with her hair; it was so long, Lena assumed, it would be easily damaged if treated harshly. She had not worn her perfume since the last night before they had crossed over. Only the natural fragrance of Nevenka's body remained to madden Lena.

"In spite of everything," said Nevenka, so softly that even someone in the room with them could not have heard her, but Lena heard every syllable, "I admire you. You are a wonderful woman ... kind, loyal, patient ... generous." She waited for Lena to respond, but the latter was struck dumb. She could hardly agree to the praise, so she slowly shook her head, her eyes filling with tears of frustration. "I beat you, but you bore it all without a word. We had each other's lives in our hands. As long as I live, I could never forget the feeling of coming through that hell with you!" Lena fought to keep control of herself. "I know you won't abandon me without seeing to my safety and making sure I will be okay." Her voice was rough, now. Lena wondered whether she was less sure of these things, in spite of the confidence of the words.

"Don't worry about that; I can hardly let you fend for yourself."

"I wish you knew what it feels like, to have nobody, to be simply flung around, like a leaf tossed in the wind! And there were such things that I wanted to do, that burned inside me! But still I was a leaf, a very determined leaf. Until you came along. And you were so ... so noble, so strong, so sure of what you were doing!" No, thought Lena, I can't imagine being a leaf tossed in the wind; I have never been one. But yes, I understand. Oh god, she understood perfectly, though she had no right to. Nevenka could sink her thoughts into Lena's brain so effortlessly! "When I remember you, I will remember clinging to you in the water ... it is a picture of what you are to me! It's hard, Lena, to go back to being a leaf."

Lena was silent for a while, but then she spoke of her love for Elly. "I wish I could say I didn't care for her! But the more my heart breaks, the more heartsick I am for her! She's mine, little one, and I'm hers; it's as if she's my child, and I'm her child ... and one can never stop being a child to one's mother!"

"Of course!" she said, softly. And it was as if she had caressed Lena, but they did not touch at all. "And your beautiful little girl!"

"Not born to us, but still our child. She has made herself ours."

"I was so sure she was Zora's child!"

"I'll tell her that; she'll like to hear it."

It seemed for a second as if they would touch. Lena spoke. "If we — touched tonight, I would suffer everything all over again! Dear N-nevenka—you've kind of healed me with your gentle words—if you touch me now— my heart would break all over again. That's why I offered to sleep on the floor, not because I despise you, or don't trust you, or want to spite you!"

The answer took a long time. Finally Nevenka spoke quietly, but it was as if she had lost a battle. "No, Lena; if we can never touch, I'd rather kill myself. I know I felt that way when we were riding, but I was wrong. We shouldn't make love, but ... Turn round!" Lena turned away from her obediently. She put her arms around Lena, and for a moment it did hurt. But not as much as she thought it would.

The next morning was a repeat of the previous one. Nevenka seemed to grow in dignity, and though Lena did not know it, she herself had always had dignity. It was an innate thing, not something she had acquired for effect, or out of necessity. Late in the afternoon of that day, they arrived at the capital. Nevenka had got over her heartbreak enough to exclaim at the things she saw, the contrast from the endless factories and poor row-houses of Bernia. Even the row-houses of Norsland had a style and a pride to them that made them attractive. Many Norslanders were almost as poor as the poorest of Bernia, but they didn't live in such misery that they hated each other, or the middle class, or the aristocracy. Lena did not know enough to be able to point the finger at the causes of this difference, but Nevenka saw it, and Lena saw it through her eyes.

"Now," she said, "you are going to learn some things that not even Norsfolk know. I am acting outside my orders ... for various reasons. But once more, I must ask you: do you mean us Norsfolk any harm, Nevenka?" The grey eyes bored into her coldly, as Nevenka looked up at her tall companion feeling a new apprehension. "You must answer honestly. If you cannot trust yourself, I'll have to leave you with friends while I run my errand, and pick you up later."

"No! I want to come with you! Lena, I want to stay with you until the last possible second! Can't you understand that?" That was her mouth taking over; a hundred times a day Nevenka fought this battle between her good sense, which insisted on a gradual and civilized disengagement, and her heart, which would not take no for an answer. To Lena, she sounded almost panic-stricken. Lena sighed. She would have to take her to Princess Genevieve then, and risk the possibility that Nevenka was an enemy agent, and would make an attempt to harm or kill Genevieve. It was very unlikely, but just possible. And she would learn more about Queen Alexandra than most people on either side knew. But it could make a difference in her commitment to the cause. She had searched Nevenka's things days ago, and the only knife she had with her had been the knife of the Bernian soldier Lena had killed. Lena had the knife now.

Nevenka marveled at the raw massivity of the architecture, the public buildings that rose no more than three stories at the highest, except for the library at the university, and a few towers in the Palace. Lena had to establish her identity at the guard office, which was moderately difficult, then obtain a temporary permit for Nevenka Ludovici to accompany her, which took a little longer. Then she began to make inquiries about the whereabouts of the Princess Consort, with Nevenka trailing along, lost in her own thoughts, not paying much attention. The information was not forthcoming until everyone was absolutely certain about Lena's bona fides. Phone calls were made by others, until finally she was on the line with the Princess herself.

"It's Lena from the Lodge, your Highness! I have a—a message for you."

"Lena! What on Earth! What are you doing? How are you? How's Elly? Why are you here, in the capital? Who's in charge of the Lodge?"

Lena smiled to herself. "I took service with the army, Highness; and I have been on assignment in Bernia."

A slight pause. "Good heavens. I must see you!"

"I will wait here, then, Highness. I am in the Palace."

It took nearly half an hour for the consort to get to the Palace, with all the security, bringing with her Lady Trudy, who never left her side. Lena waited, patiently seated in the waiting area outside the audience room at the Palace, with Nevenka seated close by, but not too close. The young Bernian had a fine sense for such things.

Not bothering to go into the audience room, Genevieve came straight into the waiting area, and approached Lena. Nevenka stood when Lena did, and waited while Lena dropped to her knee and bowed over the Princess's hand. The Princess quickly pulled Lena to her feet and impulsively hugged her. Lena sketched a bow to Lady Trudy, whom she did not recognize. Genevieve inclined her head graciously to Nevenka, flashing her a polite smile, and turned back to Lena.

"Come, Lena, sit down, and tell me everything!"

"Your Highness, if you please, let me talk to you privately, and you may tell this lady whatever you wish afterwards. Or, once you've heard the story, I can tell it again!"

"Introduce me, Genny; who is this young woman?" asked Lady Trudy.

"Lady Trudy, this is Magdalena, Alexandra's Warden of the Lodge in Westholm. She's in Intelligence, she says, and just back from Bernia, as I told you on the way. Lena, this is Lady Trudy, the wife of Lord Gustafson, Lady Sophie's mother—you remember Lady Sophie?"

"I see. Magdalena, ..."

"Oh, we call her Lena, Lady Trudy!"

"The consort trusts me, Lena. You might as well save yourself the trouble!"

Lena squirmed. "I must insist, Ladies. I must insist. It is a private matter."

Genny's eyes pleaded with Trudy, who left with an embarrassed smile and a nod. She said she'd wait in the library. "Go on," urged Genevieve, as soon as she was gone.

"I was sent," said Lena, "with Elly, whom you remember, to Oslo. We were in a prison camp for a while, after which ..."

"Oslo! My god, almost no one has returned from there. All we know is that it's a hell-hole."

"It is that," Lena admitted. "The day we arrived, a little girl was orphaned when her mother died of blood poisoning. So we've taken her with us, your Highness. We broke out of the camp, and made our way into Bernia, and into a settlement some distance northeast of Freiburg. The settlers were all deportees who had first settled along our north shore. The Belgravians shipped them off."

"Oh, yes, I know about them. Very interesting!"

"Well, in the camp were hiding Lady Sophie, Ninel, a little girl of the Island of Skree, and ... her Majesty Queen Alexandra."

Genny paled, and then flushed red, and paled again.

"Sophie!" she exclaimed, "and Alexandra! They're safe? They're healthy?"

"Very safe, and quite healthy!"

"Oh, I must tell Lady Trudy!" Genny had leaped to her feet, and was about to dance off to get Trudy.

"Wait! Your Highness, please listen, there's more news!"

The look in Lena's face brought Genny back. "What more?" she asked quietly, wide-eyed with concern, coming to sit back down.

"The Queen was delivered in April of a baby girl! They're both healthy and in good spirits."

To Lena's utter relief, the consort's face was transformed. She was so pleased that she pulled Lena off her seat and hugged her, and swung her about boisterously, crying "How wonderful! How wonderful! Oh, I don't believe it, it worked, it worked!"

Lady Trudy's face appeared at the door at the end of the hall. Unable to bear listening to all the noisy excitement, she advanced on them down the long hall, looking determined not to be put off a moment longer.

"Tell me! Enough of all this secrecy!"

"Alexandra and Sophie are both safe! They're safe! And guess what! She had a baby!"

"Sophie had a baby?"

"No, Alexandra! We have an heir!"

Trudy was stunned. "Was she expecting when she left?"

Genny covered her face, and looked around in embarrassment, and suddenly her eyes alighted on Nevenka.

"Would you please introduce your friend, Lena?"

"Your Highness, this is Nevenka Ludovici, a lady of Bernia, who has offered to work for our Intelligence. We have known each other for quite a while, and she is ... sort of a neighbor of Elly's and mine. Nevenka, her Highness, the Queen's consort Princess Genevieve of New Hope." Nevenka had walked over and stood, respectfully waiting, when she had been noticed by the Princess. Now she made a perfect curtsey.

"I know your face well, your Highness," Nevenka said. "We watch your broadcasts in Bernia!" Lena was surprised by the fluency of Nevenka's speech in Lena's mother tongue. Her pronunciation was a little odd, but her grammar was perfect.

Genny and Trudy were instantly interested. "Come, sit, I want to know more," said Genny, pulling forward a chair for Lady Trudy. "I've often wondered what you make of those broadcasts. I imagined they'd be banned, or something."

"Oh, they are. But in the rural areas we watch, Your Majesty. You are much admired for your candidness, and for your ... restraint in any condemnation of our people."

Genny blushed. "If I ever condemned the people, it was a slip, madam. I know precisely whom to condemn, and I'm past being bitter. I have only pity now!"

"It's kinder than the disgust that some of us feel!"

"Is it true, then, Miss ..."

"Nevenka, Highness."

"Is it true, Miss Nevenka, that my Queen lives and thrives among your people?" Genny's eyes shone, and her smile was liable to split her face in half.

"This is all new to me, Your Majesty; I can only guess which of the members of the group of settlers could be your Queen; Lena never told me any such thing!"

"Surely, you know her," Lena said, smiling. "The tall beautiful woman who recently had a baby! They call her Anna."

"Oh, Anna! Anna? But she is a redhead!" Nevenka was puzzled. She looked from one amused face to another. "It's well known that your Queen has ... well, light-colored hair!"

They laughed uproariously. Alexandra's natural hair coloring would not be described as blonde, nor as brown. It was a distinctive streaky color that was difficult to put into words diplomatically.

"Well, she's the one," said Lena, grinning. She just couldn't get enough of Nevenka's lovely face, and of listening to her voice. Even the Princess seemed quite captivated.

"And how is Sophie?" Genny asked her, impatient for details of her. "Lady Trudy is Sophie's mother! Lady Trudy, Nevenka Ludovici," she said, hurriedly performing the somewhat overdue introduction.

"Your Majesty," said Nevenka shyly, "I did not belong to the commune; I worked at a tavern just outside it. I had only the vaguest knowledge of things in the commune, except that I can vouch for the fact that they were all hoping to become your subjects, and take their part in doing their duty as citizens. These are wonderful people. Very different from the sharks who fuel the invasion."

"Is feeling against the invasion widespread?"

Nevenka shrugged. "I don't know, Your Majesty. Because ..."
"Just Highness, or Lady Genny is fine, dear!"

"Oh, sorry! I was saying, because there's little freedom of speech, and so much suspicion, one knows only what one's closest friends are thinking."

Genny nodded. "Of course. Do the people realize that we can't be satisfied with simply pushing the invasion out? We have to bring it all the way into Freiburg."

"I realize it."

Lena jumped into the conversation. "We happened to have chosen a bad night to cross, Lady Genny. Our troops had planned a massive assault on Oslo across the river. But it was beaten back. There were terrible losses on both sides. The beaches were piled with bodies. We cannot charge across the river. It just won't work."

"Well, they don't come to me for strategy, Lena. The folks in Skree do that. You must go there, and describe what you saw. Where is Elly?" Her eyes flashed to Nevenka for a moment.

"Still over there. I have to go back. Our instructions were to stay ready, in case the Queen had to be evacuated in a hurry."

"So the war command in Skree knew where she was!"

"In a general way. Once I got to the settlement, around October, they knew exactly. Elly was able to get close to the Queen without being recognized."

"How did she manage that?"

"She dresses like a Bernian woman, and she's fluent in Bernese, Lady Genny. For whatever reason, the Queen appears not to suspect. The Queen visits the town, where I work at the stables, and she came by to admire the horses. She looked right at me, but didn't recognize me, either!"

"You're disguised as a man!" Lena nodded, grinning. "I begin to understand," said the Queen, grinning at Nevenka, who blushed bright red, but never said a word.

"Nevenka, do you really mean to volunteer to return to Bernia as our agent?"

Nevenka took a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes ... Lady Genevieve."

"You can be far more effective than any of our people. You look Bernian; you are Bernian! If you could infiltrate their high command ... you could save thousands of lives on both sides."

Nevenka was plainly out of her depth. She had thought of these things only vaguely, and in the abstract. The thought of deliberate infiltration made her weak with fright. I am such a coward, she thought, I should have given up this foolishness long ago. But being with Lena had affected her strongly. The amazing feats she had witnessed inspired her.

"I'll be glad to put myself in the hands of your ... spy trainers. If I could be one-tenth as able as Miss Lena, it would be a miracle."

They talked back and forth about generalities, until Genny remembered to ask about Sophie. And Lena was glad to recount the stories she had heard from the cousins in Geneva, how Sophie had killed three assassins single-handed, helped defend the Star of Hope on the way out to Belgravia, how she took some twelve people during the abduction and the subsequent sea battle, and her exploits while hunting in Bernia. "She appears to be well on the way to becoming a regular sharpshooter with that weapon! She also teaches the young settler children mathematics and science, your Ladyship. She is calm and unruffled, a good companion for her Majesty."

"The settlers must love her."

"All three of the women, and young Ninel, are much loved and cherished. That's including Sherry, the Belgravian woman whom the Queen befriended. It goes to show, Lady Genny, what decent people they are."

Genny nodded thoughtfully. "It's a miracle they survive in that god-forsaken wasteland, begging your pardon, Nevenka."

"No need," murmured Nevenka.

"We must bear some of the blame. We set up that government."

"There is some strange sickness there, Your Highness. I have lived there all my life, and I love my country, but I have come to hate the majority of my fellow-countrymen. The settlers are among the exceptions."

"But look, it's late. If only we still occupied the Palace, Lena, I would be glad to offer you supper, but Lady Trudy and I are both guests, and not in a position to offer hospitality!"

"May we invite you to the Guardhouse, Lady Genny, Lady Trudy?"

"Why, if they can manage ..."

And so they all ate with the guards, Lena, Nevenka, and Genny and her companion, Lady Trudy, since neither the Princess nor Lady Trudy stood on ceremony.

"I could see in the Queen's eyes, in how much regard she held you," said Nevenka. She reclined in bed in a room they had borrowed in the barracks, while Lena sat in an easy chair, reading a newspaper.

"I'm only a humble warder, Nevenka. And she isn't the Queen; she is the Princess Consort. They're very kind, loving people."

"I regret I didn't spend more time with the settlers. I would have loved to have known your Queen. I can hardly believe that the Queen of Norsland is hidden in our own backyard! Oh, if they knew it down in Freiburg, they would try so hard to get her!"

"You heard. She was shot at by snipers on four different occasions that I know of."

"Every two-bit adventurer has seen the advertisements calling for her death. There were appallingly bad pictures of her circulated in all the newspapers."

"So that's what happened."

"Oh yes. I can't believe you kept this from me all this time!"

"I wasn't sure of you."

"Are you sure now?"

"Yes, Nevenka," said Lena, making an impatient sound. Nevenka's constant need for reassurance took its toll. "Just because I don't praise you constantly doesn't mean I don't think highly of you!"

She was silent. She realized that she had wanted Lena to praise her just as she had praised Lena; but that was not the kind of girl Lena was. In those few words, Lena had told her, in her own clumsy way, how much she admired and cared for her. She was ashamed to be thinking thoughts of Elly coming to a sad end, just so she could have Lena for herself. The desire to own Lena was like an ache. Her lust for Lena had moved from an ache in her loins to an ache in her breast. It was hard to keep focused on her dream of doing violence to the war leaders of Bernia, when she was only a few feet from the kindest, gentlest person she had ever known, next to her foster-mother, whom she had loved.

"I'm satisfied," she said softly. "Come to bed," she asked.

"In a little while," said Lena, finding something else she could read. Nevenka threw herself back against the pillows, frustrated. She couldn't sleep anymore without Lena's mass next to her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Going Home

It took another two days to get to Skree. Nevenka was introduced to a few of the guards who happened to know a little Bernian, while Lena was debriefed by General Bertha. Every little bit of information was extracted from a tired and edgy Lena, including every detail of the journey out, and the journey in, and also her interaction with Nevenka— every harrowing detail. By dint of persistent questioning, Bertha extracted a confession about their relationship.

"I won't say anything about your marriage. It probably qualifies as a casualty of war. But I can't rely on your opinion of her, Lena. You're biased."

Lena was seated on the edge of a chair, her forearms resting on her knees. She shrugged. "Anyone who has a good opinion of her would be biased, Lady General. She's a little hard to say no to, I admit, but I wouldn't be blinded to her faults simply because I—liked her."

"I'm sure you think you wouldn't."

"What will you do, now? Will you imprison her? Execute her?" She managed to keep any emotion out of her voice. But she had been so sure that Nevenka would convince them of her sincerity.

General Bertha was not to be rushed into giving information. "We're still talking to her," she said. "You won't see her for a few days. No, we don't kill volunteers, Lena, you should have realized that. In spite of all she knows, she'll be harmless if she's kept here in the Fort. Go on, get some rest and some exercise. I may need to talk to you again; we'll need to see what makes sense to add to your original assignment." They had gone over the reasons for making the dangerous trip back, and though Bertha rather sympathized with her reasons, she was angry about the mission possibly being jeopardized.

"Thank you, General," said Lena rising. "What news from Elly? Did she call in?" Bertha said in a dry voice, once again, that it was a little too much to expect Elly to get the three women and the three children safely aboard the boat if there was a problem. "General, there are two hundred people who will help. They may as well all be our agents! They won't kill, but they're hard to stop!" Bertha had only shaken her head.

A couple of days later, Lena discovered that despite Bertha's tepid assessment of Nevenka, Lena was being held back because of her. Nevenka was being given intensive training: combat, survival skills, all the things that Lena had been taught. Bertha remarked to Lena one afternoon as she hurried to a meeting, "She seems to have learned knife attacks very well. She says you made her stab a corpse repeatedly."

"It was the only way. It was already dead, General. It's war."

"I'm not complaining, major. She's an eccentric swimmer, though." Lena rolled her eyes. It was lucky that they had experts who could teach practically anyone to swim. The General also remarked that Nevenka needed to build up her strength a little. If she really had to stab someone, they didn't want her getting a hernia doing it.

In spite of all the urgency of getting back, it was several weeks later that Lena and Nevenka met again. She looked exactly the same as before, but there was a subtle difference in her; whereas before she had regarded Lena with barely disguised awe, now—though her eyes still brightened as soon as she saw her friend—her attitude was more simple admiration, and not so much awe. Nevenka had made friends among the troops, and been taken round the surrounding countryside, and was a long way towards becoming comfortable in her adopted country. They spent an afternoon walking around Fort, getting caught up with the situation in the camp, as reported by Elly, and what had happened at the Oslo front.

The following morning, the two of them were briefed together. Lena was to conduct Nevenka back into Bernia the fastest possible way. They were to make sure all was well with Elly and the Queen, and then head down to Freiburg, where Nevenka was to proceed with special orders she had been given. By noon, they were aboard a Belgravian vessel, together with two horses, headed east across the North Sea. Lena had already put on her masculine disguise. All it really took was to put on Bernian-style pants, a heavy under-vest that kept her breasts under control, Bernian-style men's boots, and a haircut. Lena already had the heavy eyebrows common to Bernian men, but there was some divergence of types over there —somewhat more than in Norsland— and though blondes were not common, they were not so rare as to make a chancy change of hair color worth the risk. As far as the Belgravian crew and soldiers of the small, fast boat were concerned, they were a couple of Bernian operatives. The crew hated them from the outset, first as Bernians, second as spies of any kind.

They obviously shared a cabin, and inevitably they had to talk about what their relationship would become. While Lena, being a simple rural girl, had a rather limited vocabulary and concepts for discussing such things, Nevenka was far more sophisticated.

"When this is all over, Lena, you can go back to your old life," she said, perched on the edge of Lena's bunk. In the moonlight, she looked incredibly fair. The little woman was very pale-complexioned, in any case; it was not uncommon for some Bernians to be so light-skinned that they burned in even the least bit of sun. She had decided to wear a full gathered skirt in a soft comfortable fabric, and a sleeveless blouse, which showed her white arms to perfection. The intensive training seemed not to have taken the soft cuddliness away from her.

"I should hope so," Lena said, already feeling nervous about the conversation.

"For me, there's no going back, you know. I'll probably be dead."

Lena forgot to breathe. She had not expected anything so brutal.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard! Talking like that, you're going to get careless. You'll throw your life away cheap, and you know that's no use!" Lena herself had been warned against thinking along those lines, and she was furious to hear Nevenka indulging in it. What was her mission? How dangerous was it, that she was talking this way?

"Shall we sleep together?"

"All right," said Lena. It was no hard decision; things would be difficult once they arrived at their destination, but neither of them had the strength to abstain. Lena could do it if she drank herself silly, but she wasn't going to. She knew Nevenka felt things deeply. But she wondered whether her own feelings were not as strong as those of her smaller friend. It was like being thrown about by a small crazy animal, with tremendous power and strength out of all proportion to its size.

They made love with great hunger. Nevenka had become even more inventive and creative while they had been apart. Lena knew she had fantasized about Nevenka every single night, and she assumed the same had been true for the other girl. But she was focusing on giving Lena an incredible experience, and incidentally having a great old time herself. When Lena inevitably began to murmur sweet nothings to her, she gently turned them aside, hurting Lena's feelings. But she hastened to comfort her saying that they should only think of the moment.

To the disgust of the Belgravians, they spent a great deal of time together in their cabin. Lena came up occasionally to take care of the horses, and they both came out for meals; but the rest of the time they stayed below decks.

The captain had timed it to arrive late in the evening, and they were set ashore far to the east, some miles from the settlement. The horses were accustomed to walking through water, and the two women led their mounts to the beach cautiously, and waved a farewell to the ship once they reached land. They were on their own.

Sophie had been amused for a while with the new, feminine Alexandra. But eventually, her behavior began to annoy Sophie. She spent so much time with the baby, fussing over her, talking to her, playing with her, that Sophie was certain it was no good for the child. The kid was now beginning to crawl, or at least trying very hard, but Alexandra would pick her up before she had managed to haul herself forward more than an inch.

"Leave the child alone, Anna!" Sophie yelled for the umpteenth time, so fiercely that Alexandra snatched her hands away wide-eyed in startlement. Then she glared at her friend.

"Look what you made me do; I dropped her! She could have gotten hurt!"

"Are you crazy? It was hardly a fraction of an inch!"

"But she was shocked! You startled her!"

They had had this kind of senseless argument any number of times, and Sophie turned away in disgust to look at the exercises she was checking for her students. Alexandra lectured her at length, grumbling about her attitude.

It was around mid-afternoon. Without warning, there was a hullabaloo in the distance, and they went outside to see what was the matter. Troops had surrounded the encampment, and fighting was breaking out. There were women and children everywhere, and people were being thrown around roughly by the troops, and Sophie, already annoyed, lost her temper.

"What's all this?" she demanded, and went right into the thick of things. Seeing a woman she knew being bullied by a soldier, Sophie rained blows on him. It had been almost a year since she had learned unarmed combat with Kirsten and Baby, but some of those moves had been grooved into her; she had often lain in the nights, frustrated because she hadn't had an opportunity to try the moves out.

Very quickly, she had the soldier down, and was yelling at a half-dozen young fellows in uniform who were trying to herd the people into the middle of the camp square. Sergei was struggling against three soldiers at once. But while the camp men simply planted their feet and refused to budge, Sophie was actually fighting back.

But it was a lost cause. The most rambunctious of the campers were thrown into the big meeting room with their hands and feet tied, and the women and children were herded onto the village green, while all the commune's stores of food were loaded into large motor wagons —trucks— to be taken to Freiburg. Hundreds of bags of flour, bags of peas and beans, chickens, sheep, pigs; all taken.

Sophie came to her senses after a while. This could not be happening. She looked around for Alexandra; the soldiers were being vicious, and Alexandra might have got hurt. But Alexandra was not with her, tied up with the men. They had basically tied up all the adults wearing breeches —including Sophie, who sported a black eye in payment for raising her hand to a soldier— and left the women in skirts to look after the children.

"Robbers! Thieves! Devils!" cursed the women, many of them crying. The trucks had all gone, the last few supplies were clanking away somewhat more slowly in two ox-carts, being driven by army personnel.

Suddenly Sophie saw Ninel scurrying though the building, untying the men as fast as she could. Outside, something was happening. When Sophie hurried out to see, she caught sight of Alexandra haring after the ox-carts. She had pulled on her breeches, and was overhauling the rearmost cart. Before the soldier who was guarding the cart could respond, Alexandra had thrown him off the cart, and knocked him down. The driver was next, and the villagers cheered. The two soldiers were taken into custody by a dozen youths and men, while Alexandra raced after the other cart on foot. Sophie's face was split by a wide grin. Next to her was Ninel, laughing at the sight of Alexandra chugging after the cart.

"She's back!" said the little girl, and Sophie nodded, grinning. They couldn't see quite clearly, but the two men in that cart were no match for the determined young Queen, either.

Suddenly they saw Sherry running after the Queen, yelling "Anna! Anna, let him go!"

"What am I doing?" Sophie raced after Alexandra and Sherry. Ninel ran after them, followed by their friend Zora.

Presently they returned with the second cart, and a great deal of milk, cheese, flour and eggs. A grimly silent Anna was being lectured by the others, her face red.

"Where's the baby?" demanded Sophie.

"With Alena," said Anna. She groaned. "At least we can last a day or two."

Zora sighed. "How are we going to manage?" she asked in her soft voice. Anna looked at her thoughtfully.

"Well, Anna, Sherry and I have hunted before," said Sophie. "And the women set traps in the forest."

"Yes," agreed Zora, "they could do that again."

"But ... how many men could that feed? It has to be a mere drop in the bucket!"

"I don't think that was a clever thing to do, Anna. You know they're going to come back!"

While the camp was grateful for the two carts' worth of supplies, the consensus was that the commune had simply been roped into the war effort. Every farm in the country had to supply the troops with food, and the Free Farmers' entire responsibility for the year had simply been levied all at once. And Sergei had agreed, much to Alexandra's embarrassment, that it had been an insane thing to do, to attack the four soldiers. "Now they'll come after you," said Sergei. "Where can we hide you?"

Alexandra dismissed it casually.

"I'm going away," she said airily. "It's about time, anyway!"

Sophie's eyes popped, and so did Elly's. Her heart sank. She could see Ninel's jaw drop.

Without very much persuasion, Alexandra agreed to the following plan.

They would hide, the four of them and the baby, until the soldiers regained consciousness. They, the soldiers, would be treated kindly, and they would be apologized to profusely for their rough treatment. The carts would be left almost as is (except that the milk and a small proportion of the other foodstuffs would be hidden away). The soldiers would be told that the crazy woman who had attacked them had been chased off. Their first duty would be to take the carts into their headquarters, before they returned to look for Alexandra. By that time, hopefully, Alexandra would be long gone.

Alexandra hated the very thought of running away yet again, and dragging the others with her. But she knew very well that, even for an unpopular war, the government had the right to impose a levy of food for the troops. Alexandra was indeed fortunate that she lived among people who would cover for her recklessness.

They watched from a distance as the soldiers woke from their naps, rubbing their heads and various parts of their body that had come into violent contact with Alexandra. It took them a short while before they could really get up steam with the indignation to which they were entitled. Taking a grave attitude, they declared that such offences were punishable, and might even be treason.

"She's just recently a mother; and she's very hot-tempered," the women said. "We don't really know who she is! Anyway, she's gone now; that's where she lived, over there; see, she took everything!" There had actually been some reshuffling, and what the men were shown was a little apartment occupied by a single girl. The rooms formerly occupied by Alexandra and company were all settled comfortably by others.

"We'll be back later," the men said, before driving off, as if it would be an unpleasant but necessary duty.

Sergei looked at Alexandra with a look whose meaning was clear to everyone. Over the months, the widower Sergei had lost his heart to the handsome northerner. And no one saw it more clearly than Alena. The girl was past petty jealousy, but protective though she was towards Sergei, and also towards Alexandra, her loyalty to Sergei was greater. And she saw in Alexandra's departure not so much an opportunity for herself, but a betrayal of Sergei.

Once the soldiers were out of sight, Alexandra and her little party headed out, smiling as brightly as they could. They had been offered a horse, but they had refused. They had accepted a small two-wheeled cart, into which they packed some of the more awkwardly heavy possessions they had acquired over the months: clothing, cooking utensils, other personal effects, a little food. There was much good advice; where to go, what to do. They were told to return in a month or two, if they could evade the army's wrath. Who knew? The army might take it out on the commune. That would, however, jeopardize a future source of food. But the army was stupid.

The last few words the members of the camp heard were Ninel saying: "I'll haul the cart, Mama," and Alexandra replying, with a sigh, "No, darling ... I'll do it."

One person, most of all, was dismayed to see the little group go. Zora —that is, Elly from the Lodge— needed to be with them. But she had no excuse to go with them, because, obviously, she would be an additional burden to them. And she couldn't discuss it with anyone, either; with Lena gone, she was left holding the baby in more ways than one.

Her distress was observed by shrewd eyes. Already knowing more about the Norslanders than any others of the camp (except Maria), it didn't take much for Alena to spot Elly looking after the departing group with more anxiety than sorrow. Everyone in the camp was sorrowful; they were a loving and gentle people, and Alexandra and Sophie, as well as the sweet-natured Sherry had been not just loved, but loved greatly. Ninel, even more than the others, had snuggled into the hearts of everyone, not least of all old Maria. But Elly's anxiety was very evident to the interested eye.

"You're going to miss them, aren't you!" Alena said to her, lightly.

"What? Oh ... I guess so; the children are so sweet."

"Where is your husband, Hans? I haven't seen him for weeks!"

Elly shook her head. "I don't know! He left a few weeks ago, saying he was going after some horses, and he never came back!"

"Isn't that strange? Why didn't you tell us? We could have sent out a search party!"

"Oh, in these times, Alena, it's no use sending out such a thing. If he wants to come home, he knows where to come. At least I'm not helpless, with you folk to fall back on. I can pull my weight, and I don't eat much ..."

Alena's heart was moved by the girl's soft answer, but her suspicions weren't entirely allayed. She said at once that Zora was certainly welcome to stay. They'd be setting in traps in the forest soon, and there would be enough for everyone, she said. It wasn't true; but it was unmannerly to say anything else.

Alexandra and her group trudged along, heavy heartedly, for a while, but then, it didn't seem so bad. They had looked after themselves with fair success on many occasions. Now, they even had pots and pans to cook in, and Sophie's crossbow, with lots of quarrels they had made themselves. (Crossbows had fallen out of use in Bernia; guns were used for hunting, or traps.) Alexandra had worn her female garb once more; whoever they met were less likely to describe them in such a way that one of them would be identified as the cart-hijacking criminal woman wanted by the army.

"Don't take it so hard," Sophie said, patting Alexandra's back. She had spoken in their own tongue since they were far from any unfriendly ears.

"You're talking "Norslandish!" said Ninel with a grin. It had been nearly a year since she had heard the language.

Alexandra scowled at Sophie. "Now look what you've started! We had her talking Bernian so well!" Sophie rolled her eyes. It was such a mess; they could never agree on which things were serious, and which things could be let slide.

It was almost nightfall when they arrived at a large road that headed east and west. To the west, of course, was Freiburg, and a steady trickle of carts were headed that way. After puzzling among themselves as to why there seemed such a movement westwards, towards the war, they stopped at an inn for the night.

Sherry got into a conversation with the innkeeper. She spoke Bernese like a native now, and the man had no idea he was speaking with a foreigner from the far west.

"Why is everyone heading west?"

"Where are you folks heading?"

"North," said Sherry, as they had previously agreed. It was exactly opposite to the way they had been heading, but that was the point.

"Ah. Then I know where you're bound. At any rate," he said, "all the food, all the money goes west, to Freiburg. That's where the jobs are, that's where everybody thinks they can find a life. There's a tendency to think that it's impossible to live off the land, you know?"

"I see," said Sherry. "But that's where the war is!"

The man shrugged. "These yokels haven't seen the war! They think it's all wonderful heroic stuff! Some of them are going to join the army, I don't doubt for a minute!"

Sherry nodded. It was one thing to suspect, but quite another to hear your suspicions confirmed by a fellow who heard men talking over glasses of ale.

The next morning, they ate breakfast, paid for it with Alexandra's small store of Bernian money, and headed east. The last thing Alexandra wanted was to see the war. As they came out to the road, they saw a lonely figure with a baby, looking around in confusion.

"Zora!" called Ninel. "It's Zora!"

"Oh, Ninel!"

It surprised Alexandra how pleased she was to see Zora and her little girl, who smiled and waved with great enthusiasm.

"Oh, Anna," said Zora, "I was hoping to find you!"

"Really? Well, here we are; how can we help you? We're on the run ourselves!"

"See, that's just it, Anna; I'm — kind of on the run, too. May I join you?"

"But what about your husband?"

"I think he's gotten into trouble with the army. He hasn't been seen for weeks, and I think I might be better off disappearing. I don't want you to get in trouble on my account, but ..."

"Oh, come on; we'll be fine! I know what a magician you are with the cooking!"

Elly blushed. She was no more than average; in fact Alexandra and Sophie had been the ones whose cooking had been most admired. Elly could handle a big, fully equipped kitchen expertly, but improvising over a small fire was not one of her skills. But they added her little bundle to the pile on the cart, and they headed off East.

Elly's lighthearted chatter made the journey easier. She was not naturally a talkative girl, but circumstances had made her many things she hadn't been. Ninel gladly took little Lara off her hands, and they made good time. Every hour or so they passed a wagon going in the opposite direction, and folks asked how things were in the west. The group always said things were not too bad, provided they didn't go too far west. Freiburg, they told everybody, was a terrible place.

The road rose steadily, until they were walking along a road that was considerably less well paved than it had been down in the valleys. Now the road climbed into the hills, with the forest very thick on either side. There was birdsong all about them now, making a mockery of the war so close behind them. As the sun went down, the birdsong seemed to become even sweeter.

There were shelters on the roadside, hardly more than roofed open sheds of about thirty feet long by about fifteen deep, with a high floor. There was a little storage room at the back which contained a couple of blankets of dubious provenance, and a little firewood. There was a stone fireplace set into the back wall of the shed.

It was barely light, and Alexandra was in her ankle-length skirt, seemingly unwilling to go into the woods and hunt. And if she was unwilling to hunt, she wasn't going to ask anyone else, either.

"Oh, I'll go, I'll go!" said Ninel, eagerly. All those miles and miles of walking were as nothing for the young woman.

"Go where?"

"Hunt! I can hunt with just a sharpened stick! I can!"

"I'll come along." Sherry dropped her pack, and headed out with Ninel. She was amazed at Ninel's willingness to hunt. She was a gentle little thing, who would coo for hours over a little calf or a chick. But there was no doubt that she would hunt rabbits or possum, or some other small mammal. Ninel skipped along, pleased to be allowed to hunt. The worst that could happen was that they would come back empty-handed; in which case Zora had said she had a little dried beef that they could flavor a stew with.

Ninel found a thicket in which grew a few saplings of the right size and shape for her. She cut one down, and carefully sharpened its end. "Oh, this came out just perfectly," she murmured. "Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

She led the way downhill, until they came to a little stream that had widened into a large pool. "Oo, fish!" she exclaimed. "Come on!"

It was the work of a few minutes to spear three large fish. Sherry said it would be plenty, but Ninel was not satisfied. She went a little way from the stream, and crept along, followed by Sherry, until she froze, seeing something. She motioned that they should go back. They both smelled pretty fishy, with the fish wrapped up in leaves, dripping on the ground.

They circled round, and came up from the downwind side on a tiny little deer. Sherry could hardly bear to watch as Ninel killed the beast with the rough wooden spear. It was a bloody mess, but she had got it in the throat. Sherry had been afraid she would try to kill it through the eye.

"Now we've got too much," Sherry grumbled. "Who's going to carry all this?"

"I will, Sherry! Mama will dress it easily, and then we'll bury the entrails, far from the camp. Otherwise some cat or bear will come sniffing it out."

In the end, it was Sherry who took the deer, after washing its blood off at the river. Ninel was highly amused at her antics, but she seemed to be pleased not to have to haul the little deer more than a mile back to the road.

"Oh goodness, where have you been?" demanded Sophie, meeting them just inside the forest edge. "Anna has been in a state, worrying about you! I was just about to come looking, but I didn't know where you had gone!"

The sight of all the meat caused some consternation, though they all agreed it was good. They'd have to eat as much as they could that night, and plan on starving the following day. It was impractical to carry meat around, except in your stomach.

Alexandra reluctantly changed into her breeches. Unlike before, she had full breasts now, and looked like anything but a man. She took the deer a good distance from the camp, grumbling to herself, and came back with the jointed meat in a bowl, having left all the entrails and the skin far away, as well as a large part of the skeleton of the little creature.

While the meat cooked, they told stories. Zora liked her meat cooked thoroughly, and so did Sophie, so they let the meat cook a little longer. "If only your harp were here," sighed Zora. "A song would drive the shadows away!"

Alexandra sighed silently. "Two days ago, I was in the mood to sing," she said. "But now, the war is back in my mind. It was too easy to forget."

Sophie frowned. In her mind, it was not seemly for Alexandra to forget the war under any circumstances. It was her honorable duty to keep the war foremost in her thoughts. How would her subjects feel, if they were to know that Alexandra had been out here in Bernia, trying to forget the war? Sophie sighed; she was very fond of her Queen, but sometimes she was a little too human for her own good.

A note of sizzling told the women that the gravy had cooked all the way down. It was as well-cooked as it could be without being scorched. "Let's eat!" suggested Ninel, bright-eyed. "Yum!"

It was a good meal. They all overate, except Sherry, who had decided to stand guard. She would take first watch, and then see who might be able to watch with her; maybe Ninel. If she watched, they could always let her sleep in the cart. Having eaten as much as they could stand, which was quite a lot, they helped Zora pack the rest in the pot itself.

"Go on, sleep," said Sherry, as Alexandra looked about, considering standing first watch herself. "I'll try and wake you around two in the morning."

She let them all get comfortable on the raised floor of the shelter, with Ninel calling goodnight to everyone in turn. That was her all over; she had to go through the entire litany: good night Zora, good night little Lara, goodnight birds, good night trees, and so on. At bedtime Ninel acted like a five-year-old. Once they were quiet, Sherry banked the fire, and slowly walked out into darkness just past the shelter to settle down on a convenient stool-shaped rock to watch. She had been tempted to take Sophie's crossbow, but had decided that in the dark it was too dangerous.

For close to a year, now, Sherry had watched the Queen and Lady Sophie together, and the insane hope that had arisen in her impulsive breast had settled into a sad, insistent ache. Fond as she was of the young Queen, as she got to know her better, the magic had worn off. There were still moments when those grey eyes could turn her insides into mush. Did she know the effect she had on women? Sherry was beginning to think that Alexandra had a vague idea, but she must associate it with being Queen, if she thought of it at all.

Alexandra was, very gradually, beginning to think less of the position to which she had been born, and more of life as a human being. Sherry had assumed that it could never have happened, still less in a single brief year. But all that was left of Alexandra's queenliness was a kind of authority that she drew on effortlessly. These days it was more that of a mother, and the head of her household. The last vestige of her old arrogance had been her attack on the wagons, and the result of that had hurt the woman deeply. But she was a kind girl, and a good friend, without a great many of the character flaws of most young aristocratic girls of that age. For having come into that estate at the tender age of eighteen, she carried motherhood with great grace, and much more sense than Sophie was accustomed to giving her credit for. The baby thrived under her indulgent care.

Occasionally, Sherry inadvertently caught Alexandra's eye, and a look passed between them. Those glances took no more than a second, she knew with her rational mind, but afterwards Sherry felt desperately like going off by herself and crying. They had only happened three times, maybe four, but they served to destroy Sherry's careful build-up of scar-tissue on her broken heart. Only Ninel's sweet presence was able to heal her again. Most of these moments had arisen when Alexandra and Ninel and she were together, at bedtime, and Sherry pondered over this strange triangle of theirs. From that first night she had seen Alexandra at the Opera, to this last meal over which Alexandra had presided with her newly-discovered ill temper, the young woman was a hurt to Sherry's heart, sometimes a deep tear, most often a kind of unwitting battering that Sherry had learned to endure, but was unable to ignore. And there they were, Sophie and Alexandra with the baby between then, and Ninel on Alexandra's other side. It was almost as if Alexandra was available. But it was an illusion. Only in her dreams did Alexandra come to her and hold her, and occasionally —very occasionally— give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

Just as she began to nod off, Sherry heard a soft voice and a pat on the shoulder. "Miss Sherry, Miss Sherry! Go sleep now; I'll watch." It was Zora. Gratefully Sherry got to her feet, stretched sleepily, and gave over her seat on the big rock. She got up on the shelter floor, and saw little Lara alone on a sheet, curled up in a ball, like little kids everywhere. Sherry sank down next to the child, and fell asleep. In the morning she was treated to the feel of little Lara cuddled against her. It felt like Ninel, only much nicer. Over by the rock, when she looked, Zora was watching, smiling. Sherry was impressed at how well the woman handled herself doing things a normal Bernian woman would find uncomfortable to do.

On they went. They covered about forty miles a day, rising early and sleeping late. Sometimes Ninel would sleep on the cart. When Elly finally got an opportunity to be by herself in the woods, where she had to set up the antenna and crank the generator herself, she was told that Lena had already landed, and it was impossible to tell her the changed situation. If Lena happened to call the ship, they could relay the message. Both ships were in touch, and had communications watches all the time.

Elly signed off and sighed. She had left a brief note in their room, and a more detailed note in code with Maria. Oh, that Alena was too clever by half! Elly had no doubt that Alena could figure it all out, given a few more clues.

Elly finished all her business and took down her antenna. The radio and the generator folded into a small packet. She headed back to where the little group was packing the cart. They were all waiting for her, and she felt a momentary fear that perhaps they had seen or heard her communicating with the ship. But no; if they had, they would have been upset, and they would have shown it somehow. The Queen was incapable of such sophisticated dissembling.

Just as she got to them, there were the first few large drops of rain. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, but it was raining. "Oh no!" wailed Sherry, who hated rain. The others fished out protective headgear from their packs, and stuffed as much of the packs in the cart as they could, and finished lashing it down. Elly, now in her role as Zora, offered to take first turn at hauling the cart.

Their belongings, piled high on the cart, was been protected by a waterproof cover they had stretched over the top. It was not heavy rain, and in any case, if it really rained, there was nothing for it except to get wet. It was still early fall, and heavy rains were uncommon. Still, the damp had a wearying effect on them. The little girl Lara, riding piggy-back on Ninel, was moaning a protest against the wet. It was a soft, mournful sound, in which Ninel joined, just to tease her. The little girl hung over Ninel's shoulder, twisting Ninel's head to look her in the face, throwing off her balance. "Stop that!" said Ninel, laughing, shaking her back up into a comfortable position.

Up and up they climbed, and after a while the rain stopped. It had lasted just long enough to get them all miserably damp, and now it had ceased, heading off past them along the road, so that they walked through mud. There had been occasional turn-offs to the south, to their right, but the road went on and on.

"Does everybody live in Freiburg, in this miserable country?" Alexandra asked out aloud. She was at Zora's left, her hand on the left bar of the yoke, as Sherry's hand helped on the right. Sophie was off in front, walking briskly, her dark hair swinging from side to side. She had cut herself a staff, and plunked it down every so many steps, giving herself a little push forward. Her crossbow hung from her back, and a satchel of her personal treasures hung on her shoulder. Her dark green tunic was almost black with the damp, and her brown breeches were muddy at the ankles.

To their surprise, the road began to flatten out, and on either side of the road, there were now hardly any mountains rising above them at all. The rocky ground on either side was mostly devoid of trees. Turning back, Sophie could see the green of the forest through which they had climbed, and far away, winding lower and lower, the road along which they had walked. There were a few tiny ant figures on it, but it was hard to say whether they were approaching or going away.

Suddenly they were over the rise, and the road began to descend. They had crossed a low line of mountains, and were looking down on a vast plain that seemed to stretch for a hundred miles or more. And very little of it was forest. The forest stretched away to the north on the left of them, but to the south, and below them on either side of the road, and the plain in front of them, was all mostly cleared. It was evident now, that the stand of forest in which the commune had settled was an isolated one, all that remained of woods that had been cleared for centuries. There was farmland almost as far as the eye could see, and it was busily being rained upon, not the little shower that had so casually discomfited them, but a good, solid rain that had blown in from who knew where. Far away, almost at the edge of what the eye could distinguish, there seemed to begin buildings, low and boxy, and Sophie thought to herself, factories. They were on the outskirts of another center of civilization, possibly more extensive than the grey sprawl of Freiburg. There was no smoke rising from the majority of the smokestacks, and no movement they could see. It was abandoned, dead.

"Where do we go now?" Sophie asked Alexandra. They were all standing in a line, staring down into the vista before them.

Alexandra finally shrugged. She didn't look one bit happy, but she could no more turn her back on this discovery than Sophie could. They had to go down there and see what there was to see. Ninel began jabbering excitedly, pointing things out to little Lara, while Sherry talked softly to the baby. Alexandra just stared.

Sophie began to head forward. Before them the road wound down an easy grade. Far to the south, on their right, they could see an enormous highway. "There," said Zora, "that's the real road. Look at it; it must be straight as an arrow!" It was very straight indeed, and was kept level with spectacular bridges, with enormous pylons that descended down into the valleys. They could see a lonely truck making its way west along the highway, like a crawling ant. The highway was easily twenty miles away.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at the first farm, on the north side. Across the road there was only grassland for many miles, presently thoroughly wet, and of course, the highway. They had hurried along as fast as they could, because they were hungry, and it was downhill anyway. Sophie noticed Alexandra, who was now leading the way, with little Baby Sonja's head peeping over her left shoulder. The little child was so sweet-tempered, they knew that if she cried there usually was a good and immediately clear reason. Her digestion was wonderful, and her habits were becoming very regular. She slept all night, now, and could recognize her adopted sibling at quite a distance, and smile. Her mother, of course, she could recognize from across the street, but then Alexandra wore rather distinctive colors; instead of the traditional Bernian colors of green, red and yellow, she tended to wear maroon, gold and black, her favorite colors. The little girl had Genny's curly hair, which was now grown long enough that Ninel could put little ribbons in it. The rain had got in under the cloak Sherry had covered her with, and her ribbons were now untied and drying on her mother's shoulder. Every once in a while, a pudgy little hand would sneak around to reach for them, but Alexandra seemed to have a sixth sense for it, and firmly pushed the hand away.

Alexandra's hair had grown long, now, it was down to the middle of her back. Sherry faithfully stained it whenever she had the chance, almost daily these days on the road, and it was braided now in a single thick deep red-brown braid down her back. Feeling Sophie's eyes on her, Alexandra turned round now, and smiled. Sophie smiled back, and kept walking. Little Lara was heavy on her hip, but she was fond of that little girl, too. Ninel was asleep on the cart, with Sherry and Zora hauling it. It was more a matter of not letting it run away down the hill, really.

Alexandra stopped a few yards past the corner of the fence.

"It's all overgrown," she remarked.

It was true. The whole enclosure was uniformly overgrown. It was an enormous farm, the end of it too far to be seen. There were huge machines lying in one area, fearsome-looking and dark underneath, and a stained yellow on top. They were definitely not trucks; nor was their function clear. And what they had thought was a farmhouse was an office.

Ninel had been disturbed by the cart stopping. She sat up now and rubbed her eyes. She quietly climbed off the cart, and came to stand near Sherry. Sophie wondered whether she should offer to go in and see whether anyone was around. But Alexandra glanced round at them, and motioning to them to wait, headed out down the long drive to the building. It was a large building, with a warehouse-like section attached, and a large paved area to the side. Sophie saw Alexandra adjust the baby on her shoulder, and walk with a little more dignity. She suddenly felt a wave of strange affection for the girl. Sometimes Alexandra took herself just a little too seriously, but that was just about her only real fault. In spite of her obsession over her little baby, she did not shut Sophie off. Rather, she had opened herself up to Sophie more than ever, giving her a great deal of love and tenderness. Alexandra was past the stage at which she needed an enormous amount of affection from her. There had certainly been a time when she had clung to Sophie, sometimes demanding, sometimes trying not to be demanding, but not succeeding very well. Now she acted towards Sophie as if she was a loving Bernian wife towards her husband, only with the underlying companionship they had built up over the year, as if they had been lovers for years, instead of mere weeks.

She was trying to attract the attention of whoever was in the building. Sophie could see her pressing bells, pulling chains, knocking. Nothing seemed to work. It was a rather defeated-looking Alexandra who walked back out to them.

"Abandoned," she said succinctly, and said it again for Zora's benefit in Bernian. "It is not a house at all, it is a business. It is a commercial farm. Or was one, anyway."

Feeling Alexandra's sadness, Ninel walked with her, their arms about each other's waists. It would be a long, long walk until they were past the huge frontage of the farm. Along the way, they looked into the soggy fields, hoping to see something they could use for a meal, but there was nothing, only weeds. The soil was an ugly grey.

The road still descended very slowly. Far away in the distance, they could see the rains heading off, leaving the plain steaming with wetness. The road had already dried somewhat, but the fields on either side still dripped with moisture. As they walked along, they came to a river that passed under the road, and on the other side were more fields, a sea of mud. There were not even very many weeds; it was just a sea of grey mud.

"So much land," said Zora, "and nobody here!"

They walked along for a while, feeling strange. Something was wrong. It was almost half an hour later that Sophie blinked, realizing what had made her feel so odd.

"Zora, I didn't know you spoke our language!"

Zora seemed to stumble as she walked, but quickly recovered. She laughed. "I learned when I was a kid," she said. "We lived in Norsland for a while, long ago."

"Oh, that explains it!" said Sherry, smiling at her. Sophie murmured something and smiled reassuringly. They were beyond feeling threatened by Bernian civilians. (If anyone knew who they were, they wouldn't fool around worming their way into their confidence. They'd just take them away to Freiburg.) Soon they were all talking happily in the language they were most accustomed to, Ninel delighted to speak it again. "You're sure you don't mind?" Sherry asked Zora once more. Zora said no, it would be lovely to talk the language, after all these years.

"Why does the land look so grey?" asked Ninel, suddenly. "See, it looks grey, grey, grey!"

"It's just the humidity after the rain," said Alexandra. "You can feel it; I'm perspiring."

"Mumm, mumm, mumm," said the baby.

"Uh-oh, someone is hungry," declared Ninel. Sophie smiled. It was strange to have two red-headed children along with them, both of whom behaved towards Sophie as if she were some favorite aunt. Alexandra bared her breast, and began to nurse the baby. The familiar sight sent a shiver of something along Sophie's skin. It felt weird to feel so good when she was so hungry, and walking through such ugliness. The mud around them was truly depressingly ugly. On and on they walked. They had come to the point where they could walk for miles without thinking about it.

Finally, when each of them had almost decided to ask the others to stop and make a meal with whatever they had left — a few yams and leftovers — they came to a cluster of trees, and there, nestled in the trees was a little private farm, or rather, two farms, one on either side of the road. The farm on the north side seemed abandoned. On the south side, there was a horse grazing in a pasture, an old, old animal, clearly only a pet, whose working days were long over. Once again, Alexandra decided to go in. It irked Sophie that she should elect herself their spokesman, when Sophie's Bernian was definitely better. But that was Alexandra. She never for a moment even considered any other possibility. Sophie looked around and saw Sherry's smile. Sophie felt her own face relaxing; Sherry was almost incapable of feeling pique, especially concerning Alexandra. The woman was completely besotted with Alexandra but hid it well. Sophie tactfully let her eye wander back to the farm; it was madness to look too long at the lovely Belgravian. Sophie had lusted after her herself, but that was a one-woman dog. She remembered how, on the boat, Sherry had reluctantly allowed herself to be persuaded to dress up in one of her sexier costumes. Sophie had become almost sick with wanting her.

Alexandra marched up the little drive, the baby still at her breast, and knocked at the door. It was a pretty farmhouse, painted in white outside, the paint now peeling a little. It was more lightly constructed than Norslandish farms, and even than the cabins they had built out at the Free Farmers settlement. Would it keep out the cold in the winter?

The door opened, and Alexandra stepped backwards. Then, recovering herself, she smiled and began to talk. Alexandra's smile had definitely improved over the last several months. When she was crowned, in the spring a year ago, it had been a grave, quiet thing, or at most a shy, awkward smile. Alexandra wasn't a grim person; it was just that she could get along with hardly ever smiling. She would grip your shoulder to show friendship, or solemnly declare that she was your friend, and that you meant a lot to her. She would smile a little if whoever she was talking to showed signs of being intimidated. She would blush if she made a mistake, or was made the butt of a joke. But now, she smiled to get her own way, or when she was feeling so affectionate that she didn't want to bother with words. Or if she wanted to charm someone, as now.

It was an elderly man, and her charm was working. He leaned out and smiled at the little group with obvious pleasure.

"Come in, come in!" he said, calling out to them. He turned back to Alexandra. "Ask your friends in; you must be tired, if you walked all the way across the mountains!" He called into the house with obvious elation. "Dear, we have visitors!"

The inside of the farmhouse was clean and tidy, filled with the paraphernalia that was common in the homes of older folk. There were rocking chairs covered with ornate embroidered covers, hangings on the wall, with mottoes embroidered on them, scenes of rivers and boats, and portraits of family. A pair of cats walked about, being officious and inquisitive, checking each person and endorsing their presence.

The man soon came back out, with a little woman who greeted them with smiles. "Hello!" she said, "how nice to have visitors! And look, two little ones! What are their names?"

"This is Sophie," said Alexandra, "and that's Lara, over there."

"Say hello, darling!" urged Zora, and Lara mumbled something and then smiled. She wasn't much for talking, but she was a friendly child, and conveyed a lot with her smiles.

"Hello Lara! Let's see now, four of you, and two little ones. And one young lady! I'll be right back!"

"May I help, madam?" offered Ninel, getting to her feet.

"No, but thank you very much! And what is your name, dear?"

"Ninel, madam!"

"How lovely! Now you sit down, and I'll be right back!"

The old gentleman came over, to beam down at them, his eyes vanishing in his smile.

"We shouldn't be taking your food in these hard times," Alexandra said, her face grave once more in the old Alexandra style. "We have a little of our own that we would be happy to share!"

The man's smile faded a little. He sighed. "We do have enough food saved up for an occasion like this, but it gets harder and harder to milk anything out of the farm, I'm afraid." He shook his head and eased himself into a seat. He folded his hands over his stomach. He was thin and tall, still handsome, and his speech was educated. He wore eyeglasses, something they had never seen in Bernia, though some of the oldest men and women in Norsland owned a pair of what they called 'reading glasses.'

"I still plant a little grain," he said, "but not enough to sell, and a few vegetables for ourselves. But we have to get along without meat. There isn't any livestock left, around here, except for a few chickens. But we're too old to take care of the things, Jo and I." He shrugged and smiled at them. "It's good to see young folks coming east, instead of all heading west!"

"What is there, in the west?" asked Sherry softly, "only war and banditry."

"Is it that bad?" asked the man.

"Terrible," they said, all together.

Jo came back out, as promised, wheeling a cart on which she had put several macaroons for Lara and Ninel, glasses of some drink that looked sweet and refreshing, and a pot of tea and cups for the others, with a little pitcher of what looked like milk. "It's only reconstituted milk," said Jo sadly, "it's been a while since there was a cow around here."

None of them except Sherry had ever heard of reconstituted milk. Ninel disappeared two macaroons and then stopped, looking as if she would like to finish the plate. Lara slowly worked away at her own, while Baby Sonja studied all these wonders with baby curiosity, reaching every now and then for a shiny teaspoon, which her mother kept carefully out of reach.

After they had drunk a sip or two of tea and each had had a macaroon, it was time for the adults to introduce themselves. Alexandra and Elly introduced themselves as Anna and Zora, respectively, and the others gave their names. They said they had lived in a communal farm for a while, but had run away from it when an irate group of soldiers had threatened them. Sophie had been preparing a lie, but Alexandra was not to be deterred. "If you'd rather not risk having us around, we'll keep going east," she said.

"Oh," said the old couple dismissively, "you've come more than a hundred miles, children; you won't be bothered by them. You must really do something vicious to deserve a serious manhunt."

"Do you think you could use some help with your farm?" asked Alexandra. "If you could keep us over the winter, we could help you in the warmer weather!"

The farmer exchanged a look with his wife. "Farm work? Are you accustomed to farming? It's hard labor! I normally hire men, and have to pay them expensive wages! These days I can't hope to sell anything, and so now it's just subsistence farming, I'm afraid!"

"You grow enough to eat?" asked Zora.

"Just barely," said the man. "Fortunately, we can manage with little or no meat, Jo and I. But for you two girls, especially you, Anna, you need some meat, I know."

"If we help you," said Sophie quickly, "I know we could grow enough to feed ourselves. We could go look for poultry; that would be all the meat we need, if we could get some eggs."

"You're certainly welcome here," said the farmer, whose name was Karl. "In fact," he said, "we have an annex in which a young couple used to live. It's too small for you four, but with a little help, I could expand it. Oh, I wish my son was here! But he's gone ..."

"Long gone," said the old lady, "we haven't heard from them for ten years or more!" It was obviously a sad topic, and Sophie felt bad for them. She wondered whether they ought to encourage the couple to talk about their children, or leave it alone. At any rate, it seemed a little inconsiderate, to take advantage of their hospitality, with so many of them in the group. But if things got difficult, they could always split up, or move on. It was still early in September, though, and not too late to travel.

After a few more snacks, when the farmer invited the others to a tour of the farm, Zora offered to help in the kitchen. "That's what I do," she said, "though I can do almost anything in a farm."

"Well, why don't you wash up and relax a little, dear," said Jo quickly, and Zora understood that travel-stained as she was, she was not quite welcome in the kitchen. "Let me show you where the bathroom is. We have a nice one, nicer than I've seen anywhere else, if I say so myself." She led the way to a spacious bath, with warm water coming out of spigots, right into a little bath. "It's solar heated," said Jo proudly, "which means that the sun heats the tank right on the roof!"

"That's clever," admitted Zora, with admiration. "I'll get my towel!"

"Oh, I have plenty of towels!" smiled the old lady, and turned to a closet and produced several snowy-white towels that looked quite old. "Here you are! And I'll give you a robe right now ... there. You go ahead and get clean now! And when you're done, I'm sure you'll rather sleep than anything else! I'll take care of the baby!"

Lara and Ninel were out walking around the farm with the old man. The annex he had spoken of was a little house that was attached to the back of the farmhouse. It had two stories, an upper floor that had two little rooms, and a lower floor that had a little kitchen, and another room that could be a room in which to receive visitors, or a dining room. What would have been the outhouse was attached to the kitchen. "We could easily make this into a bedroom," the old man suggested. Alexandra had assured him nothing needed to be changed. "I have helped build many homes — not as nice as yours, to be sure, but I know my tools now — but it seems unnecessary. In the spring, if you like, I will be glad to help with any building projects you want to undertake."

Karl smiled. Sophie could see that he had taken a shine to Alexandra, with her dignified ways. He liked little Ninel, too. She suppressed a sad sigh. She herself simply didn't have the knack of making friends like the others did. Even Sherry had that reserve that was hard to overcome. If not for her reserve, Sherry would be a hot little number, with her shy, flirtatious ways. But her flirtatiousness had gone with the war, and her sweet looks were all for Alexandra, now, and for no one else. At the moment she was hanging back, no doubt eyeing the farmhouse from the point of view of defending it in case of an attack. It was just as well; there hadn't been a place yet from which they hadn't had to escape. It was amazing how Alexandra could keep up hope of being comfortable anywhere, with their dismal record.

"Come on, if you still have the energy," said the old man, grinning at them so infectiously they didn't have the heart to tell him that they couldn't take another step. "Just around the corner is my pride and joy!"

Around the back, on the south side of the house, was an amazing structure. It was a house entirely made of glass, adjoining the farmhouse. "You see, it stays warm in the winter, gets as much sun as there is, and it's called a greenhouse!"

Alexandra stared at it, not quite understanding. "What is it for?" she asked. "Does it warm your house, so that you don't need a fire?"

"Oh, well, that's possible too, and we have a little of that. Passive solar heating; I have it warming our bath-water. No, this is for growing during the winter! I can grow most kinds of things all the way through November. The plants stay alive right through the winter, though of course there isn't enough sun for them to bear fruit."

Alexandra's eyes opened wide. "Then it's not too late!"

"Too late for what?"

"To grow a late crop!"

"No, I'm growing vegetables right now; come on inside, let me show you." He was absolutely right. There were tomatoes, beans, peas, peppers, onions, potatoes, corn, berries, and even a pumpkin. "As you can see," he said, "half the boxes are empty. I just didn't have the energy to plant any more. But if you would like to help, you can easily see that we can keep ourselves alive, and, with your help perhaps have some left over to sell!"

After her bath, Elly —still in the guise of Zora— found that Lara had been washed by Ninel and Jo in the kitchen, something she disapproved of. But once the bathroom was free, Alexandra hurried to bathe, which she did much more quickly than Elly, followed by Sherry and Sophie, and Ninel. There was a separate laundry room, and Elly took all their clothes out to it, and put them in a large washtub, as Jo showed her, with Jo's laundry soap, which was not like any kind of soap Elly had ever seen. No sooner had she put it in, than the water began to turn grey-brown with the grime leaching out of the clothes.

The poor old couple was becoming quite confused with all the coming and going. Karl had a bewildered smile on his face, while Jo looked worried. Ninel was finished bathing, and was quietly changing Lara out on the covered verandah. Sherry was seated on a bench, braiding Alexandra's hair, and Alexandra was changing the baby, who was singing her sleepy-song with her thumb in her mouth. Elly was in the kitchen, having asked Jo for a few potatoes and other vegetables with which to supplement their stew, while Sophie was asking Jo which set of plates to set out for a meal.

"Plates? Er, um, well, just any of them, really ... oh, why don't I do that?"

"Oh, please don't worry, I'm quite used to it," said Sophie, not quite insistent, but just firm enough for Jo's resistance to be eroded. "Let's use this white set," Sophie suggested. "It'll suit the plain food a little better, and it's easier to wash! And there's seven of us, so ... there, and we'll set a little high chair for Lara between Ninel and Elly! Now, some mugs for water, and some forks for the stew ..."

"Oh dear; I should be helping with the stew. She won't know what I put in a stew ..."

Jo hurried over to see what Elly was up to, but Elly was seated on a stool, smiling. "It just needs a little more on the fire, otherwise it's ready!"

"Good heavens, it smells delicious!" Jo's eyes were shining. "Whatever have you put in it?"

"There's potatoes, beans, corn, tomatoes, peppers, onion, garlic, venison, and a little pheasant, and a few other odds ..."

"Pheasant? Where did you find pheasant?"

"Oh, Sophie hunts, you see. She brought down a brace of pheasant the day before yesterday, and we've been eating them little by little. And little Ninel got the deer!"

The old couple pronounced it the most wonderful meal they had ever had. They'd never had venison and pheasant in the same stew before, and could not believe it would taste halfway reasonable. But it was delicious.

"It's her seasoning," Sophie nodded with a smile. "And some herbs, which Ninel knows very well," she added, making Ninel blush with pleasure.

"So you're a huntress!"

It was Sophie's turn to blush. "I — well, I learned the crossbow just about a year ago, because we'd been having some trouble with ... some people," she said awkwardly. "Then, when we found ourselves without any food, I had to put my crossbow to use, to hunt for us. I hunted all the time last year, until we had enough livestock to be able to give up hunting."

Karl was amazed. He said he thought that the crossbow was outmoded as a weapon, but he was glad to be proved wrong. He himself had a hunting rifle, which was now locked away. It was too much of a temptation for thieves, with the bandits going round at one time. "You'd think it's good to keep around, for self-defense! But it's more likely to end up stolen, and then you've got a gang of bandits with one more rifle in their hands!" They all agreed that it was true.

"Sophie can shoot that thing awfully fast," said Ninel, smiling at the old man. "She can shoot off a quarrel in under three seconds!"

"Good gracious! Is that true?" he asked Sophie, and she nodded shyly.

It was soon dusk, and for the first time in more than a week, they had warm beds to look forward to. They were still unfamiliar with Jo's schedule; did she have a late supper? How early did she get up? Should they get washed up in the morning outside, or should they line up for the bath? Desperately anxious not to get in her way, they decided not to pester the poor woman. While Sophie kept the old man talking, Elly tactfully approached Jo.

"I usually get up earlier than the others," she told Jo. "If there are any early morning errands, I'd be happy to help! I know there are no chickens to feed, nor cows to milk, but ..."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I get up around eight; Henderson gets up earlier and prowls around, picking tomatoes, or whatever. No, you sleep in, dear."

"Well, Lara gets up early, and I try to get her ..."

"Well, does she like reconstituted milk?"

Elly opened her eyes wide. "I'm not quite sure what that is, exactly?"

"It's just milk powder. You mix it with water; come, I'll show you. You don't know reconstituted milk! How interesting!"

Eventually, everyone was asleep, except old Karl and Sophie. Each of them had found someone who was interested in similar things. They sat and talked philosophy and politics, and Sophie began to understand exactly what had happened in Bernia.

The first war had discredited the royal house of Bernia, and with it, all the nobility as well, when in fact it was only a small minority of them who had ambitions against their neighbors to the northwest. Once the socialist government had been put in place, the old educated elite faded out of politics, out of embarrassment, or were simply maneuvered out, and, very unfortunately, a very idealistic and impractical group had taken over the government, promising everything to everyone. When that failed, business interests took over the government, exploiting the land and the people as fast as they could. Then they got out of government, and a group of vicious opportunists took over, promising to bring the country back to its former 'greatness', a greatness that existed only in the minds of the politicians. Under the commercial-industrial leadership, there had been a year, maybe two, in which there seemed to be widespread prosperity. It resulted in furious consumption, which in turn resulted in even greater poverty than had ever existed before. A great many of the economic elite emigrated, taking their wealth with them.

"This is the older part of the country," Karl said. "The country was colonized from east to west. There were relatively few people on the other side of the mountains, it was all virgin forest. The main reason there are roads all the way out to Freiburg was to get to Norsland. They were perceived to have everything that the people had come to desire, you see. If you happen to actually visit the place —and god forbid you should go in these terrible times— you'll find that they're a simple, placid people, most of whom are out working farms. So all this fuss is over something that really isn't there!"

Sophie nodded, making appropriate noises of understanding, trying not to stare at the poor man. It was amazing that there was a man who understood exactly what the issues were, as well as the facts. "It's a terrible tragedy," she agreed, hanging her head.

"You are so young," said the man gently. "I can only pray that you'll survive to see a better day." He laughed. "I had given up all hope of seeing young ones in this house again, but here you are!" Sophie could not help smiling. "You, and that delightful young lady, Ninel! Let me tell you something, Sophie: never give up. If you get to be seventy, hang on until seventy-five; something wonderful is sure to come along!" He laughed so hard, Jo called out to him to come to bed. Sophie took her leave, but he wouldn't hear of her walking out alone. He walked her to the entrance of the annex, and said goodnight. Sophie waved, and went inside. She was more likely to have to protect him from an intruder than the other way round.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Hunting Alexandra

One of the few things they had not taught Nevenka was to ride. She had taken lessons as a child, she said, but was not comfortable with it now. In the end, she sat in front of Lena, leaning back against her, as her horse followed along behind on a tether. To Lena, every moment was precious, the feel of Nevenka against her, the smell of her hair, the sound of her occasional comments. She could hardly believe this was the same girl so frustratingly helpful so many long months ago. That girl had been a hussy, her attentions disgusting, frustrating, annoying, utterly arousing, all at the same time. But here she sat, her legs tucked up under her, ten times as maddening as she had been back then, her body displayed in various provocative ways. She had loved to come to Lena all tied up in rope, and to beg Lena to untie her with her teeth. She would ask Lena to lick her between the strands of string. Lena never responded, except by covering her eyes, and begging to be left alone. Nevenka — calling herself Elena back then — only laughed, climbing all over her, rubbing her sensuality in Lena's face.

Nowadays she still did such things at night. But it was the daytime that drove Lena wild. Just her nearness was painful.

"What are you thinking about?" the girl asked softly, tilting her head up for a kiss.

"You don't want to know," choked Lena.

"You're thinking about me!" said Nevenka, inordinately pleased. "Good, keep doing it!"

Lena nodded. They were all but making love on the long-suffering horse.

They had taken a path a little south of the part of the forest in which the camp was situated, which should bring them right into the little town close to the Lion, just outside the camp. The path wound through the forest, and they kept going slowly, day and night, until they could see the campfires far to their right. "Wait," said Nevenka, "let's slow down and see what's going on!"

"No. I don't like spying for no reason at all."

"Wait! Just let me look, for a while ..."

Nevenka had never actually been to the camp. She would have been chased off by the angry women, as soon as she was identified as a prostitute. As it happened, there was nothing much to see; the camp was winding down for the night. Lena was particularly anxious that the horses should not step in any traps. She had seen one off to the left; hopefully there were none set on the narrow path, hardly more than a deer-trail. While Nevenka simply studied the activities of the camp, Lena strained for a view of Elly, or the Queen, or Lady Sophie. But they were nowhere in sight. The few times she had come by the camp, Ninel was always easy to spot, playing with the other children, or in the vicinity of their little cabin. But not today. They headed on to the town.

They had decided to see if the room in the tavern was occupied. If Elly was staying at the camp, they could have one last night together. After a while, the path came out right behind the stables. Lena got down, and held out her arms for Nevenka, who sprang lightly into them. She clung to Lena, her arms around her neck, a mess of sensuous woman and soft fabric. Then she allowed Lena to set her down. She turned to the mare and patted her. She was just getting comfortable with them again. "Are you going to bite poor little Nevenka? No? Good girl!" The horse blew, as if it understood.

Lena rubbed both horses down, and put them into stalls, with a little food and water. She took off their stuff, including a precious radio that belonged to Nevenka.

"Wait here," said Nevenka, "I'll go look and see what's going on."

She boldly walked along the street, as if she had come along the road from the west. She walked into the tavern, and stood a long moment at the door, showing herself. There was a hubbub, and she disappeared into the room with a swagger. Lena cursed under her breath, imagining all the men welcoming her back.

It took a long time for her to slip down the back way to meet Lena.

"There's nobody in your room," she whispered. "Come on up!"

The room was all tidy, but empty. Elly must have moved wholesale into the camp, Lena thought.

"Come to bed!" called Nevenka, throwing her clothes all round the room, and stretching out naked on the bed. But Lena was looking around the room.

"Everything's gone," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"The radio's gone, too!"

But there was a letter.

They sat and read it side by side. Elly's handwriting was small and even, even written fast. She told the tale of the tragic confrontation with the army wagons —all written painstakingly in Bernese— which Nevenka read in a trice, while Lena labored over it word by word.

"She's gone," said Nevenka. "Headed out, after — you know who!"

Lena froze. "Tell me what it says!"

Nevenka told her the story. "It was several days ago ... before we even came ashore!"

"Which way did she go?"

Nevenka shrugged. "Someone at the camp would know."

"You sleep. I'll head out to the camp and ask around."

"Wait until tomorrow!" Lena frowned at her. Nevenka patted the bed beside her, casting beseeching looks at her, but Lena headed towards the door. "I'll radio in, then," Nevenka said, hopping out of bed, still naked. "I'm going to set it up here."

"Go ahead, I don't care."

By the time Lena came back without any useful news, Nevenka had learned from the ship exactly where everybody was, or had been a few days ago. She was dressed again, her eyes snapping in anger. "Nothing happens the way I want it," she fumed. "Now what do I do?"

"Stay and get settled in!"

"I'm coming with you!"

"No you're not! You have an assignment!"

"But you were to help me!"

"I was supposed to get you on the road to Freiburg; that was all!"

Nevenka had known this day would come, but had lived in denial for weeks.

"Sleep with me one last time!" she begged.

Once more they sat on the bed, looking into each other's eyes. Lena felt so sick that she knew making love was not in the cards. And finally, she could see it in Nevenka's eyes, too.

"Be safe," said Nevenka, taking down the radio antenna. She turned and went through the door.

Life had settled down into a kind of routine at the farm. Sophie was in charge of keeping the farmer and his wife happy. She talked to the farmer, and felt Jo out for what she would like done. Jo would never ask for anything directly, determined to keep on top of everything herself. But gradually they were able to find errands and chores that they could do, cooking, doing the laundry, cleaning up, going down to the town a few miles away to get a newspaper and some other oddments, checking in on an elderly couple a few farms over, feeding the horse and walking it, sweeping the yard, tending the plants in the greenhouse.

Alexandra reported every day in her breeches for any project the old fellow wanted to think up. She kept the buildings repaired, the roof, the gutters, a touch of paint on the worst spots. Karl finally decided to walk around the farm one day, something he hadn't done in a long time. "It's called walking the fence," he said. "You go around, checking if everything is in good condition. Sometimes fences need to be fixed, you know?"

"Oh yes," said Alexandra, "we did that, too."

"Really? How big was it?"

"In the end, almost a hundred acres. But then, we were two hundred people." It was almost too much to take in, Karl said.

Once Karl taken Sherry into town with him, the townsfolk accepted her as a certified agent on his behalf, and they gave her any mail there was for the couple, and drugs from the pharmacy, and the newspaper. "Tell him to come on down here, lassie," they told her when she went alone, "it ain't good fer 'im to stay home and let you walk all the time!"

"He's busy walking the fences today," said Sherry, and they conceded that that was enough exercise for the old fellow.

Finally, Karl decided that it was time for them to inquire into renting the farm across the road. "It's been abandoned for years," he said. "If we can hunt down the owners, you could live there, make it work, turn a profit if you can."

"We'd rather turn a profit for you, farmer Karl!"

"Ah, that's good of you, girls, but here, you only get food on your plate. There, you can keep whatever you grow, and have a little extra to sell, or to trade for whatever you fancy."

"Maybe we could do both," said Alexandra. "There's enough of us. We should go look around."

It was as they were about to cross the road that they saw a young fellow pounding down the road on a horse. They got quickly out of the way, until little Lara saw who it was.

"Papa!" she shrieked, as the man passed them. He heard, and the horse wheeled round, and began to canter up to the little group.

"Baby!" cried Lena, getting off the horse, an enormous grin on her face. She bowed to Alexandra and to Sophie out of habit, and then cursed herself. She put her arms round Elly and lifted her off the ground for a big hug.

"You found us!" Elly breathed, gazing up at Lena with such love that Lena felt sick inside. Elly was beautiful, beautiful in her pleasure at seeing her mate. Tears of remorse rolled down Lena's cheeks, and she clasped Elly close again, as Alexandra and Sophie watched with big smiles.

"Now, what's all this?" asked Karl, smiling. "I take it they know each other?"

"Yes," said Alexandra, "I believe they're married." Lara was busy trying to climb up Lena's body, and Ninel was helping her. Feeling a strange familiarity, Alexandra looked at Sophie. The thoughtful look on Sophie's face decided her. There was something uncannily peculiar about this whole picture. Without realizing it, they were staring at the happy couple, looking very suspicious indeed.

Elly —still Zora, of course— introduced Hans all round. Unable to quite figure things out yet, Alexandra and Sophie managed to look calm and cheerful. The memory that refused to come forward in Alexandra's mind did not have any feeling of threat attached to it. It was just a feeling that she knew this Hans very well. For Sophie, of course, it was a feeling that she knew both Hans and Zora very well. But she did know Zora very well; the woman had lived with them for half a year in the camp. She was rather a type, Sophie told herself. There were some sorts of people who always looked familiar.

Karl was honestly very pleased to see Hans, and to hear that he would join the little group. In spite of Alexandra's uncanny efficiency, he could never feel comfortable making her do things that were really a man's job. Now, with Han's help, he could really do what he wanted to get done.

Zora had helped plant more tomatoes from seed. Sherry had reported that there was some demand in the town for tomatoes; all the citizens were elderly, and they continually asked Sherry whether Karl had any extra.

One old lady was thinking of getting rid of her chickens. She was tired of the old rooster, and tired of feeding the hen. "I'm just too old to keep after the things. I can't bear to put the old girl in a box, and I can't stand to run after her eggs. I don't know what to do!"

"Do you keep 'em for the eggs, or for the meat, Miss Maggie?"

"Oh, the eggs, of course."

"How about if we take them, in exchange for a dozen eggs a week?"

"Oh goodness now, that would be perfect!"

So the chickens wound up in Karl's yard. The old rooster stalked about for a while, indignant at having been moved. But, having tried out the barn roof for size, he gave the new place his tentative approval. I can deal with this, he thought to himself. But I'm not moving from here.

"Where have the Aaronses got to?" Karl asked, on one of his rare visits to the town for a haircut. "There's a perfectly decent farm, and the one girl's husband turned up, and they could rent the place and make it work! What a waste of a good farm!"

"Hell, keep 'em on your place, Karl; what do yer want to send them away for? Here's us with a lot more food than we've eaten in quite a while!"

"I'd like them to be able to keep the profits, and spend a little money on the children."

"Well, Ron Aarons headed out south, and the old couple went to see the kids two years ago."

"Is that where they've gone?"

"Yeah. They told old Maggie to look after any business that comes up. Why they didn't ask you, seeing as you're sitting right across the street, I don't know."

"The guy couldn't stand me."

"Ma Aarons was sweet on yuh, that was the trouble!" There was a good laugh all round. But a visit to Maggie's on the way back confirmed the story. Maggie was only too happy to rent the farm out to the kids. She belonged to the school that didn't believe in sitting on property. Use it or lose it, she believed. So Karl walked back with an informal agreement that the girls and Hans could use the property across the road, and give Maggie half of any profits they made. They didn't have to pay anything until they actually made profits.

The old couple took to Hans's shy ways immediately. The little annex was too crowded with five grown-ups and three children, so the first chance they got, Elly and Lena moved across the street into the other farmhouse. All of them spent a week fixing it up. The roof was still good, and most of the windows were still tight. But inside, there were lots of little repairs that needed to be made, from spigots that would not work to weeds that had grown across windows, and drapery hangers that were coming apart. There was a layer of dust over everything, which was quickly and efficiently cleaned off, and a stock of firewood had to be bought for the heating season. There was linen in the house, which they had no option but to use, and gradually the house became livable.

Karl watched the whole procedure with mixed pleasure and anxiety. Sophie knew that he dreaded the day when they would all spend their time across the street on the Aarons's place instead of with Karl and Jo. Jo sat in her verandah with the blinds rolled up, watching intently. The worry in her eyes was even easier to read.

"When we move over there, we'll still come and play with you," said Ninel to Jo one evening. "It's more fun over here, with old Jupiter and all!" Jupiter was the old horse, who was making friends with the mare called Charlotte that Lena had ridden over. The two horses were pleased to have each other's company, and almost as pleased to enjoy the attentions of the playful little girl.

Ninel was once again the only child of her age in the area. So Sophie taught her. It was just four hours a day, now, from breakfast to noon. Alexandra and Sophie were alike in their determination that Ninel's education should be as normal as possible under the circumstances. Alexandra often rode up into the hills to hunt. The only meat they had to eat was what Alexandra could bring. On a weekend, Alexandra and Sophie would go together, or Alexandra and Ninel. The rest of the time, Alexandra and Lena (Hans, of course) worked for Karl, and worked at putting the Aarons's farm back in working order. There was no greenhouse here, of course. But there were things that Lena wanted to get done in readiness for the spring, and Alexandra helped without a word of protest.

Elly continued to help Jo in the kitchen. "There's no point doing everything twice," she had said at the outset. "Unless you prefer us eating over there, we may as well all eat together!"

"Very sensible," said Jo, "and saves me a lot of work! We've eaten very well since you arrived, Zora!"

With Lena and Alexandra doing the outside work, Elly working in the kitchen, and Sophie and Ninel working at their books all morning, that left Sherry to run back and forth from the town. She was very popular with the old fellows in the town, who looked for her each morning. She didn't go every day, but she went whenever they had extra stuff to sell, and enough eggs to take to Maggie. They had succeeded in hatching some of the eggs, and now there were two chickens, and two little chicks, carefully kept out of harm's way in screened boxes. Babysitting the infants fell to Sherry and Jo between them, until, of course, Ninel was free to help.

"The company and the infants are having a good effect on Jo," remarked Karl one evening to Sophie. "She complains a lot less about her aches and pains!"

"Well, she's running around behind that Lara outside, on warm days, and it's probably just what she needs, to keep her joints working!"

Karl shrugged. "It's a variety of things. Our diet's improved, too, thanks to you and Anna!"

Sophie grinned. Their diet had improved, thanks to farmer Karl.

Lena understandably found it difficult to tell Elly all the details about her trip home and back.

"Remember that Elena from next door?" she began awkwardly.

"Yes, what about the little slut?"

"Well ... she came all the way back to Skree with me."

"What?" Elly simply could not believe it. "The little bitch got her hooks into you, didn't she! But ... how did you keep her from getting killed?"

"She wanted to join up with Bertha's people."

Elly's eyes opened wide, and her mouth opened in a silent O. It was hard for her to understand how a man-eating she-devil like that Elena could have the bravery to cross through the lines and offer to work for the secret service of the enemy. Lena described how Elena —actually Nevenka— met Princess Genevieve, and Lady Sophie's mother, and finally Bertha. It was only Alexandra and Sophie that she had never met. Elly was amused at that.

"We're finally probably safe here," she said, putting her arms round Lena possessively. Lara snored her baby snores in a little crib next to their bed. Lena studied the face and body of her mate, trying to compare her with Nevenka. But it was impossible. Elly and she were partners in a way quite different to the way Nevenka and she had partnered together. They, too, had passion; a passion that had no obvious roots, except their slow interest in each other from their childhood days, when they had simply known that they would come together some day. It was as different from the insane attraction Nevenka felt for Lena as green was from blue. It was just different. And when she asked herself whether she could stand to never see Elly again, her heart utterly rejected the thought. Of course, her heart would reject not seeing Nevenka, too.

"It's really strange giving Alexandra orders," Lena said, thoughtfully.

"Why, does she get upset?"

"Not at all. She does it without a fuss. Sometimes she wants to know how something's going to work. But most times she figures it out." Lena tried to recall how it went. "I don't really order her around, anyway."

"I know you wouldn't. You'd say, what we've got to do next is ..."

"Yeah, that's how it usually goes."

Elly laughed. She had a lovely laugh, Lena thought. "I'd think she'd be good about taking instructions phrased like that."

"Uh huh."

"You know, Lady Sophie is just about ready to remember who we are! If she sees us together one more time ..."

"We shouldn't sit together at supper time."

"I don't think that has anything to do with it. It's only your hair and my skirt. If we dress like we did at the Lodge, or if we both start talking in Norslandish, the game will be up!"

"Does it matter any more?"

Elly shrugged. "They're just your instructions. But now that they're out of the camp, things are different. We may as well tell them."

"I don't know ... if I remind Alexandra about all that sort of stuff, I don't think she can play being a regular girl very well."

"She's a good mother, Lena. She's wonderful with the baby. She's done a better job than anyone could have expected."

"She wasn't supposed to have the child. That was supposed to be the Princess's job."

"Oh, they'll get over it. Come on, one more time, big girl!"

Elly was right. The next morning, Sophie found them together after breakfast. In their own language she told them, with a twisted smile, "It took me a long, long time, but I finally figured it out, Elly!"

Elly just turned red. But she smiled at Sophie, sketching a curtsey.

"No," Sophie said quietly and sharply. "We can talk, but don't do things that can be seen from a distance." Lena looked at Elly soberly and nodded. "It was the language that confused me!"

"Well, Lady Sophie," said Lena pleasantly, in her usual slow way, "what are you going to do?"

"Well, nothing! But why are you here?"

"To keep you safe, that's all, Lady Sophie," said Elly at once. "We were to stay close, and be ready in case you needed to escape. It was awfully close, that night at the camp, but I was too nervous to try and get all of us back to the ship by myself."

"There's a ship?"

"Yes. In the North Sea."

They looked at each other for a while. Sophie thought about those poor sailors, freezing in the cold waters of the North Sea. All for their sake, just in case. She glanced around; Alexandra was playing with the baby, and would come over if she suspected that she was being left out of some plan.

"It's good you didn't try."

"I don't know; I just wasn't thinking."

"But now that I know, if something comes up, we can talk together."

Lena nodded. That was what had struck her right away.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Alexandra, striding over as Sophie had thought she might.

"Oh, just L—Hans's adventures! Anna, it hardly seems fair that you get to play around all day, and I get to go to school!"

Alexandra grinned. "Want to trade?"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind!"

"Come and show me what you're doing!"

So Sophie got to go round with Lena that morning. In between jobs, they talked about the war, and Lena suddenly realized that she now had a radio, with which she could try to contact the boat. In fact, she was supposed to contact the boat. She said so to Sophie. "Maybe Elly has it where I can find it."

They headed across the road, and Lena quickly found the radio, and set it up. Sophie helped with the generator. This boat was manned by Norsfolk, and all it did was cruise up and down the coast, staying within radio distance. Now that they were 100 miles further east, it wasn't clear whether they were still within range. But Elly had told them roughly where she was headed.

"Hello? Hello, is that Black Prince?"

They waited on pins, and finally heard a crackle. "This is Black Prince. Ace of Spades?"

Lena grinned and went through the identification sequence. She told them that they had found the Queen, and that Lady Sophie had broken their cover. However, the Queen had not yet been told.

They were advised to stay put, and that headquarters would be contacted for further instructions.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Freiburg

Everyone at the stables had wondered how 'That slut Elena' had got herself a horse. But she had, somehow, and she got it saddled, and headed out towards Freiburg. She had had a perfectly miserable few days at the tavern. She had paid for the use of the room —which had puzzled the owner, because she'd never done that before— and in turn flirted with and repulsed the men. It was as though she had lost her mind, or was in the throes of what was called a 'nervous breakdown.'

"Giddy up, Charlotte," she said to the horse, who deeply resented being addressed by the wrong name. In the first place, 'giddy up' wasn't what you were supposed to say to a horse nowadays. Still, being a loyal horse whose heart was in the right place, he picked up the pace a little, slowing down a bit to let off a little fluid, just to keep her on her toes. "Eugh," she said, predictably, adding that she bet he had got pee all over his leg.

After a while, though, they got accustomed to each other. He appreciated the fact that she talked to him, and she could feel him coming around. "At least you didn't go off and leave me all alone," she said, sniffing. Yeah, he said, I was tied up.

It was late in the evening when she got close to the city. It had taken her and Lena three days to get there, but just one on a horse. She was light, and he was big, and it had been easy. She found a stables, and put him up. She picked up her bag, and walked down the road. She took a room in the first inn she found. The place was full of men, drinking. Miraculously, though they leered at her, they left her alone. She rolled her eyes. She had handled men for years; they were easy.

She slept on the floor; the bed was full of lice. There were mosquitoes, too; she could get the stench of clogged-up drains and canals, and it was no wonder that mosquitoes bred in such places. A few hours later, a cold front moved in, and the city fell into a relieved sleep. A cold front in warm weather did that.

She paid up early in the morning, and started walking. This was the complicated part. She had to find a dive in an unfamiliar city in the daytime. She did not have a map on her person, but she had memorized it. They had made her draw it on paper twenty times until she could do it perfectly. She had realized that she had a knack for it, after pretending to get it wrong nineteen times, just for fun. She headed back north for a couple of blocks, and headed west; and down, just past the big road that paralleled the shore, she found the place.

It wasn't a dive. It was a handsome building, and the establishment she was looking for was in the middle of it, not particularly prominent, but certainly not a dive. She walked around the block, until she found an advertisement. "Room To Let" it said. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

A man answered the door. He looked at her, bored at first, but his expression soon changed to one of interest.

"Come in, please," he said, taking the To Let sign off. He was a youngish fellow, around thirty, she thought. He had a thin mustache that made him look a little theatrical. She went in, and began to speak.

"I know, I know," he said, and ushered her up a long, straight, narrow flight of steps into a little office. He made her sit, and his eyes were wide with excitement. "Do you have anything to show me?"

She took a deep breath and shook her head. She saw him relax, and take his hand out of his pocket. Oh god, she thought, I thought I had convinced him!

"So. You want a room?"

"Yes, sir," she said finally.

"All right, all right," he said. "Enough of this. What's your name?"

"Nevenka!"

"What do you call yourself— professionally, I mean?"

"Elena."

"Elena," he said, savoring the name. He nodded. He took a deep breath. "Elena. How much do you know?"

"I was told that ... the leader of the ... armed forces was a woman. She comes here, to the ..."

"The Waltzing Cat, yes."

"...and ... I'm supposed to attract her attention."

He nodded. "It will be easy. You are exactly what she likes. Your job is to look uninterested. You understand? Look un interested." She nodded slightly. "She hates women who fall for her quickly. You must pretend you are utterly bored. Not hate her. Not admire her. Not despise her. Just don't notice her very much!"

"Yes, I understand."

"Come. I have just the thing for you."

She followed him, trembling.

That night, she ate early, and got dressed. As promised, the man had found her a costume to wear. It consisted of a black leotard, held up with spaghetti straps, sheer black hose up to her thighs, glued in place, really pretty and expensive shoes with heels, a tiny little black flared skirt, with a lace apron. He painted her eyes and her eyelashes, and pulled her hair tightly back and did it in a rather severe style, and sent her downstairs to serve hors d'oeuvres. The second she got down, there was a moment of silence, and the folk seated around, talking, stopped to study her. There were three other girls also serving, but Nevenka had been noticed. The conversation picked up again, and she walked about looking aloof, noticing little of the place. It was as if she didn't care what the place was. She had been shown a little window at the top of the stairs through which she could look. But when she was serving, she was to act as if she had no blood in her veins at all.

She had been told to walk up the stairs slowly, slowly. Walk as if she was wearing a gown. Again, there was silence. The sense of power was overwhelming. She looked neither to the right or the left but at her feet. Once she was upstairs, she calmly went into the kitchen, and waited for her tray to be filled. The other girls had noticed her now, and they reacted in different ways. A couple of them greeted her in a friendly way, a couple ignored her, and one looked as if she wanted to kill her. Nevenka was surprised to realize that their reactions mattered to her. But she was acting, and she only allowed herself a slight smile, and polite responses to them.

The evening sped by. She had more than made her mark. She had been noticed with a vengeance, and inquiries about her had been made.

It was almost three when the man came upstairs to the little office, where she was given a bed to sleep. He paced up and down, smoking a cigarette. He finally came to her bed and told her it had gone brilliantly. "Well," he said, "I'll let you sleep!"

But he didn't go. He stood staring at her. She realized that she had made a conquest.

What was she to do?

"What do you want?" she asked quietly. He only shrugged. "Come on, then," she said.

The next night, she had a different costume. All the girls changed their costumes each night. This night, one of the girls, Rowena, was to do a show. They had rehearsed it that morning. She was to do a series of lewd things to the sound of a drum, and Nevenka would play the drum. It was a soft-toned drum, which she had to tap with her fingers held like a slab, slapping the drum-head, as it were. She was to grip the long drum between her legs, and play it.

He taught her the rhythm, and she learned it at once. Then he coached Rowena in every little move. Every little touch, every little expression. Nothing was left to chance, to creativity, to spontaneity. Rowena was talented, and obviously a dancer. Nevenka wondered whether she, too, worked for Bertha. She decided she did not. Nevenka was stunned at the lewdness of the moves. They started off lewd, and ended off the scale completely. Rowena was perfectly happy to do it. Nevenka played her drum, hoping her wet stain was not noticeable.

After the food was served by the other girls, Rowena and Nevenka descended with the drum. The little raised stage was cleared, and Rowena got into her position. Nevenka played a roll, and began to play the rhythm. After a few minutes, Rowena began to dance. Nevenka wore a full skin-tight sheath in dull black, through which her skin shone. The lights were lowered, with only a fixed spotlight on the center of the stage, where Rowena danced.

Tonight she was in a good position for seeing the audience. Immediately she saw the woman. She was beautiful. She was focused on Rowena, and Nevenka could see that she was thoroughly aroused. She was attractively dressed in a tight skirt and blouse, and a light jacket. Her wavy hair was pulled back in a tight clip. Then Nevenka saw her eyes move, and just in time, lowered her gaze to the floor. She could feel the woman devouring her. Then her gaze shifted back to Rowena, who was moaning on the floor, still moving in time to the rhythm.

Back on the farm, the girls had got into the habit of looking up the hill, to check if the army was coming. Word had arrived from somewhere to the town that the army was looking for more food. The townspeople were furious, but they were all agreed: if the army wanted the food, they had to give it. It made absolutely no sense to fight against the army.

Lena began hiding food. Some of it was hidden in the cellar, some of it was hidden in a pit in the vegetable patch in a box buried in the ground, some of it was left in a box right out in front, labeled 'salt'. When the army came, it came from the east, and they realized that they must have come along the fast road, then up to the town, and back west along the so-called Old Freiburg Road, which was where the two farms were.

"Farmer Hans," said the soldier in charge, quite politely, "the army needs your produce."

"I understand, sir," said Lena, and packed up for them everything that was to be seen, in the larder, both from the Aarons's farm, as well as Karl's farm. Mercifully Alexandra had gone off into the horse paddock, and hid. She didn't trust herself in front of soldiers at all.

"I'm very sorry, young man," the soldier said, with a sad smile. Then he leaned close to Lena and said under his breath, "next time, keep a week's worth in a sack in the house. We don't search houses." Then he stepped back, saluted, and went off to the truck. Soon they were only a speck.

"What did he say?" asked Ninel.

"He said, next time, keep some of it in a bag in the house; we don't search houses!"

Everybody stared after the cloud of dust that the truck had raised. "Did he really say that?" asked Karl, surprised. Lena nodded.

"Well, we still have a little left!" She opened up the Salt box, and there was food for a week! They laughed, and felt better. When Alexandra was told the story, she, too stared out towards town, wondering about the little incident. It was so inconvenient to have to revise their stereotypes of Bernian soldiers.

The man's name was Victor. In a couple of days he was infatuated with Nevenka beyond all hope. He asked her what she wanted. Gifts, money, clothes, jewelry?

She had asked for paper. "I like to draw," she said, which was perfectly true. She drew all morning, except when Victor wanted her to rehearse for one of his disgusting little floor shows which the clients loved. And, to be honest, Nevenka loved, too.

After their first night, she begged him not to enter her. "I have been told that women prefer ..."

"What do you want me to do?" he gasped.

"I'll take care of it," she said quietly, and bent her head over his raging penis. He cursed and swore, saying he did not care for such things, but he could not bring himself to withdraw from her. He stroked her hair, feeling her taking control of his body, until he had released himself all over her.

It was a mess, and he tenderly helped her clean up. He apologized profusely, but she only shook her head. There was a shower, and they showered together. He was a gentle, sweet man. The only thing that had ever made him angry was the war, and the horrors that it had inflicted on both nations alike.

That night they lay side by side again. She snuggled against him, and he stroked her, as he talked.

"There have been many wars, Elena ... oh, this is not the first, nor the second. I have read books ... wars that lasted for hundreds of years. Thirty years. Spreading from country to country, like a disease. People herded together in camps, and killed." Nevenka shuddered.

"There was a battle ... in Oslo," she said. "I saw it all! We were hidden in the water. It was right on the beach, a huge flare was lighted in the sky, and so many thousands of the Norsfolk, men and women, charged across the river. And they were shot, like dogs." He was silent. "By morning, it was stinking," she said.

"How can you sleep?" he asked softly. "I have never seen such a thing; I have only heard of them!"

"I was with someone ... as long as I was with her, I could forget. With her, I can forget anything."

She looked up at him, and he was silently weeping.

"Forget it," she said softly, "I'm here ... there's no point crying, Victor!"

At least he stayed the night with her. He was like a lost little boy, with nowhere to go, no real power over anything. He was just brilliant, a master of arousal, of sex. But against Nevenka, he was helpless.

"Can you dance?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "I have studied it."

"Show me what you can do."

"I need a rope," she said.

Half an hour later, he was training another girl, Salome, to drum for Nevenka. She was to wear the same kind of dull black body sheath that Nevenka had worn. This girl, Salome, was the one who hated her. But that morning, she seemed calm enough. She was a thin girl with enormous black eyes, and beautiful lips. Nevenka thought she would like to kiss those lips.

Once she had begun to drum, Nevenka appeared, and began her act, while Salome's eyes popped out of her head. Victor's knees were crossed tightly together, and he watched, eyes narrowed, trying to think of little ways in which the act could be improved. He did manage to think of a few things. The man was a genius. With his improvements, Nevenka knew, her half-hour dance would bring any man to his knees. If Salome was any indication, a woman could barely resist it, too.

Afterwards, Victor excused himself, and Nevenka simply stood panting and exhausted.

"You're a sexy little bitch, all right," Salome said, with sincere admiration in her voice, and pinched Nevenka painfully on the nipple. Nevenka gasped, and got her vengeance by kissing Salome in the mouth, fiercely, forcing her mouth open, until she was breathless. She stared at Nevenka, eyes wide, and hurried away. Nevenka sank to her knees in excruciating pain, tenderly rubbing the flesh around her hurt nipple.

The dance was performed as rehearsed. Salome's nervousness could be felt by everyone, though her beat was rock steady. Nevenka began her dance, and knew how well she was doing by the difficulty everyone had in breathing. She caught everyone's eye in this dance; it did not work with impersonality. She had to woo every individual there, offering her lewdness to him or her. The woman sat there, her arms crossed over her breasts, her mouth hanging open. When Nevenka caught her eye, she pushed her knees together hard. Good, Nevenka thought, I want you to think about me tonight.

They applauded her wildly as she ran up the stairs with her rope, and all the way to the little office room in which she slept. Salome followed her, and when Victor arrived, they were making love, rolling about on the floor. Victor quietly left.

"Come with me! Let's run away together!" Salome begged.

"Why? You hated me!" Nevenka laughed, as she showered.

"Not anymore!" She gripped Nevenka's arms so hard, it hurt her. "Come on! I want out of here!"

"Salome," Nevenka breathed, "you must stay. We have a job to do!"

Salome watched her thoughtfully, as Nevenka turned off the water, and wrapped them both in the same large towel. She rubbed the girl's back gently dry, as if she were a little child. Salome was taller than Nevenka, but probably a bit younger. The girl's eyes looked panicked. They darted around and then looked at Nevenka with a pitiful look of fear. "We must both get out of here ... we must escape." She looked deep into Nevenka's eyes. "Do you know ... who these people are?"

"N-no, who are they?"

"They're the most important people in the country! It's they who run the war! And did you see how they looked at you?"

Nevenka grinned. "Yeah, just a glimpse here and there! They looked actually hungry!"

"Sometimes they ask for the girls, and take them away!" Salome put her arms round Nevenka and clung to her. "And they keep them there."

"I'd go," said Nevenka, "I don't care."

The girl fretted in her obsessive way. Amusing though it had been for a while, Nevenka was losing interest in her. Her loves and hates seemed not to have any pattern; she had simply hated Nevenka, and now she adored her. What a waste of passion! Nevenka asked her to go to sleep, and she went away. Victor came upstairs very late that night. He sat in a chair and slept.

Sometimes, when Sophie was seated out on the steps, thinking, Alexandra would come out, all dressed in her Bernian skirt, with Baby Sonja in her arms, and sit down next to her. She sat very close, so that Sophie felt the heat of her body, through the air. Alexandra could work all day, by herself sometimes, sometimes with Lena, only coming into the house to nurse the baby, who was down to just a couple of feeds a day. But a mood came on her, when she had to sit near Sophie.

"How was it today?" Sophie would ask.

"Good," she would say. "And for you?"

"Okay." She'd describe what Ninel had been studying, and any clever things she had said. She'd tell her what Karl had said to her; Karl invariably said something useful or interesting, either about the war, or about the children.

One day Sophie asked her whether she felt lonely. "You come out like this and sit with me ... and I try to make you feel like you have someone who cares for you, Alexandra ... but I'm so aware of my failings! I sometimes wonder how ... useful I am!"

She could feel how upset Alexandra was. Alexandra felt communicative in bursts. Unlike Sophie, who felt a steady need to explain how she felt, and kept silent simply for fear of complicating things, Alexandra simply felt. Communication from her was driven by some mysterious need that was unpredictable. Right now, sitting close to Sophie was her communication, ambiguous though it was. Sophie's outburst, however quietly made, would upset Alexandra, not least because of the need to formulate feelings.

Suddenly Sophie felt a soft hand on her, and she turned to look at Alexandra, and saw her eyes upset and worried. Then she realized that the hand was not Alexandra's, but the baby's. Little Sonja was looking at Aunt Sophie with wide, concerned eyes. "Mama," she said to Sophie. With a little cry, she picked up the baby. The little tyke was very fond of Sophie, her namesake, and went into her arms willingly.

"I just came here ... because it feels good to sit with you, Sophie, that's all." Alexandra spoke in a soft voice, so small a voice that she might have been a child. "And Baby likes you!"

It was just an excuse for an answer, but it would have to do.

A few days later, Lena learned that there had been a massive effort to push the Oslo front west across the river. A solid mass of Bernian troops had been building up, and they had rushed the river, trying to force back the well-entrenched defenders. But they had been repulsed. There were huge losses on both sides, but the invaders had lost more. Rather than being pleased at having held the line, the Norslandian army was thoroughly demoralized by the sheer numbers of their losses. Lena told the news to Sophie, who had to keep it to herself. She longed to be able to confide in Alexandra, but they were all worried about telling Alexandra who Hans and Zora were. It was getting closer and closer to the point where they'd just have to do it.

Victor paced up and down the little office in great excitement. He had awoken late in his chair and gotten up to smoke a half-dozen cigarettes, by which time Nevenka had been up for a while, eaten a slice or two of the awful bread that served her as breakfast, lunch and dinner, and drawn a few pictures to amuse herself, and carefully put them away. She was occupied drawing a rather explicit picture of a girl when he started talking to her.

"Last night ... you were almost in. You were perfect; I really thought she'd ask to be introduced!"

Nevenka shrugged. Some of the nonchalance she had been practicing had become part of her.

"Tonight," he said, "we're going to do something different." He led her to the wardrobe, and pulled out a gorgeous dress. It was a deep indigo strapless velvet evening gown, with a rouched velvet neckline. "Does it fit? I think so." She tried it on, and it fit perfectly. It was not a problem; there were people who could make it fit within limits. He played a recording, a shimmering, creeping, lush, slowly churning piece, and then told her what to do. When she was done, he told her she was just perfect. She had to do it perfectly that night.

All day long, Nevenka sat and drew. Then it was time. The evening had been in progress for a while, the food had been served, and the men and women had been drinking. They were in a poor mood. Across the way was a more rambunctious establishment at which the rowdier elements of the high command relaxed. Victor's little supper club had been created specifically to cater to certain individuals with more genteel and cosmopolitan tastes, among whom happened to be the woman who had inherited the reins of power once all the others had fled.

The lights dimmed, and a single light illuminated the lower end of the stairs. Soft music began to swell, almost prayer-like in its luxurious stillness. A girl slowly descended the stairs like a visiting Queen, daintily holding up her skirts. Her head was bent, and her eyes were on the steps. She was dressed in a midnight blue velvet evening gown that revealed her snowy shoulders and the light slowly lit her jet-black hair, her high, intelligent forehead. She sat on a stool, as the music began to swell, and bending over in a graceful curve, reached down through the skirt, to touch herself.

The light touched her alabaster shoulders, and there was an audible drawing in of breath all round. As the music rose still higher, the girl continued to rub herself slowly through the heavy fabric of her dress. The contrast between the way she was dressed and what she was doing was just too extreme. Her eyes were cast down the whole time. When she was done, she simply sagged, covering her face with her hands. Victor, as always dressed in a perfect formal black suit, came to pick her up and carry her upstairs. The applause swelled in the dark, as the girl put her arms around Victor's neck. She seemed like a little swan, lost in the power of her awakening self-knowledge.

Victor took her all the way up to the little office, and left her there. "That was beautiful," he said. "I'll just lock the door ... you don't want that silly girl forcing herself in here ..." He was gone, locking the door behind him. Turning the light on, Nevenka pulled out a sheet of paper.

A little later she heard an argument in the distance, and Victor's voice, vehement. She ignored it. Finally it went away. She had obtained colored pencils and inks. Such things were available, even if food was scarce. Something about the drawing excited her. It was a scene of a girl with her hand inserted inside her up to the wrist. It was her face that had gotten her excited; she was learning to put emotions on faces, and the girl had a mix of pain and pleasure that was perfect. Lovingly she added minute stroke after stroke, filling out the sketch, enough to give it richness, but not so much as to make it a pool of black ink. It took great concentration and restraint, both of which she had in plenty.

She felt a presence behind her, and a hand carefully holding hers and her pen. Another hand moved the light slightly. Her nose told her who it was.

"Have you done anything else?"

Her voice was low and gentle. Nevenka pulled out the small heap of drawings and carefully left them out on the desk, still seated the way she had been, not looking up at her. The hand picked up the pile of pictures and studied the one on top. Finally Nevenka turned to look up at her face.

Nevenka was surprised. Tonight she had come in an evening gown. It had a wide, boat neckline, and long sleeves in a deep green. Her face was attractive; she had regular features. She could have been anybody; you could never tell she was the one who doomed thousands of ignorant soldiers to death, hurling themselves against the entrenched might of the Norsfolk across the river at Oslo.

She had lovely deep-green eyes.

"Will you come with me, Nevenka?" she asked. Her face tried to smile, and it came out all wrong. She gave it up. Nevenka stood up. "Now?" She nodded. "Bring anything you want. I have a carriage. Bring your drawings, and your pens and ink."

This was too easy. But Nevenka had been shown how to do her job without equipment. She looked around her vaguely, and picked up the pictures and her pencils and her box of paper, and looked at the woman. "That's all? No clothes?"

Nevenka took a deep breath. Should she change into her traditional Bernian street clothes, or should she keep the evening gown she had on? She picked up the cloth bag with her clothes, and stuffed the drawing materials into it. She moved as if she was in a dream, slowly, not quite believing any of this.

The woman helped her down the long flight of stairs. She had curly blonde hair, caught in a clasp at her neck. There was a man waiting at the bottom of the stairs dressed in a coachman's uniform, and behind him, wide-eyed, Victor. Nevenka let herself be guided into the carriage by the woman, who sat next to her. The doors were shut with a heavy thunk, and they were off. The woman had her arm tight around Nevenka. On the outside she looked stony-faced and grim. But Nevenka could feel her tremble against her.

They drove through a heavily guarded gate into a compound protected by high walls surmounted with barbed-wire, up to a tall building. The chauffeur helped the woman out, and she, in turn, helped Nevenka out, and took her bag. They walked inside, through red-carpeted hallways, up several flights of steps, and into a luxurious apartment. It was then that Nevenka realized that there was one piece of incriminating evidence in the bag: her radio. She could not breathe.

The woman smiled, a little more naturally this time. She began to talk. It was all about how busy she was, how demanding everybody was, and how she couldn't trust anybody. She took out Nevenka's drawing materials and began to look at them. She blushed at some of the pictures. That was the moment when everything changed for Nevenka.

"Here," the woman said, "I'll lock this away, and go through it some other time." She took the bag, radio and all, and locked it up in a safe. The drawing materials were on the low table near the sofa. "I have to go through it carefully, though I don't think you mean me any harm, Nevenka." She came and sat close to Nevenka, her foot tucked under her, and Nevenka could hardly believe that this woman held the key to the war.

The woman looked at Nevenka and sighed. Nevenka decided that if she was going to do it, it had to be now. She could not let the woman make love to her, and kill her then.

"I was sent to kill you," she told her.

The woman froze. She did not fear Nevenka; she thought that the bag held a weapon. She looked at Nevenka, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Go on! Is there more?"

Nevenka looked about the room, thinking. The whole place stank of fear. It was fear that had made the woman bring her here; she was all alone with a bunch of men, and they had lost. They looked to her for comfort and encouragement, and the woman had brought Nevenka, in turn, with whom to seek comfort for herself.

"No," she said.

"And how are you going to kill me?"

"I'm not."

"What are you talking about? Are you going to kill me or not? Who sent you? What are you?"

"Madame General ..."

"Katya — call me Katya."

"I'm an orphan. My name is Nevenka Ludovici. I love my country so much, I made it through the lines, to the Norsfolk, and offered to be a spy for them. I killed two soldiers. They trained me, and sent me back. I was told how to find you, and how to ... do the rest. But — Katya, you have lost already. Twenty thousand men ... if you die here, tonight, the generals will send in even more men, out of fear. Out of fear! They fear you, you fear them ... it is madness!"

Suddenly Nevenka realized what she had done, and she held her head in her hands. It was certain death for her. What had she thought she would accomplish? She had been warned repeatedly about this, this tendency for a secret operative to throw herself on the mercy of her victim.

The woman rose from the sofa and went about, turning off the lamps. It was all electric. Nevenka watched her. The arrogant way she carried herself was all gone; she seemed to be a normal woman, graceful, attractive, very Bernian, except for the blonde hair. She came and held out her hand for Nevenka. She led her into a bedroom. The room contained nothing but a bed, a nice big one. They undressed, as if they had known each other for years. There were no windows, except for a glass pane on the roof which let in a little light, and would probably make the room colder in the winter.

Katya turned to her. She had a voluptuous body, and her arms were tanned, but the rest of her was pale. "Have you ever been with a woman?" she asked softly. "It is a wonderful experience!"

"I have," said Nevenka. "I know."

"You are too perfect," she said, after a while. "There's something wrong about this!"

"I told you what was wrong—I was sent to ... to kill you."

They were talking in soft whispers, like lovers. Their breasts brushed, sending the usual tug of feeling through her. Katya reached out to touch her; she had short fingernails, and her touch was gentle.

"Then why don't you kill me?"

"I would, if I thought it would help my people. But it won't! Your death helps nobody!"

"Who are your people, Nevenka?"

"Bernia, all those in the farms, the starving people in the streets, the Norslandish soldiers ... the innocent people who were killed by our gunmen."

"You're confused. You mentioned people on both sides." She ran her fingers tenderly through Nevenka's hair. Nevenka slipped her hands around the woman.

"No; they're all on one side. There's your generals, and the army, and these gunmen. And there's everybody else."

In spite of the weirdness of their situation, passion rose. Nevenka abandoned herself to her feelings, crying out aloud as she peaked, letting the woman make love to her, and making love to her in turn. It was not at all as she had planned; she had imagined that the woman would watch while she danced, or performed for her. But here they were, making love like normal human beings.

They relaxed in the afterglow, getting their breath. Katya toyed with Nevenka's breast.

"They want to kill us all," Katya told Nevenka in a whisper.

"No, they don't," Nevenka contradicted her. "I have spoken to their big general, and to their Princess Consort. There is no hate there, Katya. I know what they want to do."

"What do they want to do?"

"They want to take Freiburg. They want to disband the army. They want to confiscate the weapons. Then forests will have to be cut. Food will have to be grown. Livestock brought here. Homes built. Bodies buried. And the women must weep."

"The Norsfolk women don't weep. They fight like demons."

"They weep too. I have seen them."

The green eyes studied her in the dark, then defocused. Her hands continued their tender stroking of Nevenka. It wasn't deliberate; it was more the touch of a child on her pet, a need to show love that is in every creature, even one who has hurled death at countless innocents.

"We're working on a weapon," she said. Then she stopped, and her hands did too. Nevenka could tell what she was thinking: if she told her more, she would have to kill Nevenka. Nevenka smiled.

"Why do you smile?"

"Because ... I know you want to keep me alive!"

"Is life so dear to you? You who came to kill me?"

"But I ... I had imagined you a monster."

"But I'm not!" It was an answer to a rhetorical question.

"Not yet. How many countless lives will your weapon take?"

"Millions. We will set it off in Stefansberg!"

"Useless. It will be useless, and ... it will destroy priceless, beautiful buildings."

"Ah yes, the Palace of the filthy Norsfolk royalty!"

"You hate them. Yet they only ..." They only hold you in contempt. "They only want to defend their country."

"Can you blame me? There they are, sitting on all the culture, the beauty that we wish, that our country is starved for; how can I not desire it? How can I not hate them?"

"We had only to ask, Katya. They are a generous people. Oh, I could tell you stories that your very war had given birth to! Such stories of love and bravery and infinite generosity, in the midst of this ugliness! Of Norsfolk defending Bernians with their lives! Of Belgravians protecting Norsfolk children! Of Norsfolk hunting for meat to feed pregnant Bernian women. The war is struggling to stay alive, but it is dead."

"No. It is not dead. If we give up, I die. I am the war, Nevenka. I am the war!"

She was no longer whispering. She was speaking fiercely, and she had sat up in bed, covering her breasts with the sheet. "You must think me some weak creature, to come to you seeking comfort in the night!" She got out of bed and walked out, shutting the door. Nevenka did not need to check that the door was locked.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Ridge

Jo and Dee had been sent back to Skree for a week, and were back now. The road that had been built along the ridge of the mountains was one of the best ever made, and wide and fast. There were plans for straightening some of the most dangerous curves with tunnels and bridges, but at the moment, it simply followed the line of the mountains, except for a few really small bridges.

Manpower was scarce, now. The available volunteers were spread out along the road, with each town and village absorbing some of the available volunteer force. A few of the injured returning from the front were finding their way into the volunteer corps, but many of them were missing legs, and it was impossible to deploy them in the worst of the disaster areas. It was nearly a year, now, since the massive volcanic eruptions, and many of the wounded in the mountains had died of cold. Much of what was left to be done was to bury the dead, before the weather got cold again.
Leaving the greater part of the relief army behind, the twins and a young group of experienced volunteers had made a narrow trail deep into the East, once they felt winter approaching. Winter came early in the hills; when it rained in the lower elevations, it was snowing in the mountains. They took turns to hack their slow way through the forests, clearing rocks and stones with pry-bars, making a narrow trail. Those who came after could make a more suitable road, but all these wanted to do was to go as far as they could. They had found another twenty villages, some of which had been abandoned, others of which had been cut off. Often, people heard them coming, and set up a pathetic crying, trying to help them, telling them where they were with shouts. The advantage the team had was their tools: the hatchets, the pry-bars, the shovels, and, of course, the radios. Horses ferried food to them, and helped carry some of the wounded back. There was now more than a hundred miles of narrow trail past the portion of the completed road. In this way, Jo and Dee found themselves up in the mountains above Oslo. It was almost a clear line down to the sea, and there were no more villages caught in the path of the fault. The road would be completed down to Oslo someday, but they could see a road coming up from a small town across the river just west of Oslo, up the mountains to a ridge on which a score of Norsfolk soldiers with guns kept the enemy pinned down across the valley.

"Let's get back!" called Dee, exhausted and depressed. We're done, Jo, come on, we're done."

"I want to watch for a bit."

Jo watched for several hours. It was fascinating; both sides were cut off from where the girls crouched by a steep ravine. It was possible the soldiers of either side were not even aware of the advanced unit, so high up above them, though once the earth-movers got there, they would surely be noticed. Once it was dark enough, the defenders lit a bright light aimed at the enemy and the valley between them. A hundred lights stretched down along a ragged line, all the way to the sea, where a little to the left, Oslo lay, lit up as if for a festival. Only the height of the mountain on which they hid made it visible at such a distance; it would have been over the horizon, ordinarily.

The twins wondered why the enemy didn't simply shoot at the light. Finally, an hour or so later, one of them did shoot at the light, at which point he became the target for several of the defenders. Nobody was hurt. A little later the same thing happened, and they got the light. But another light was immediately lit. The twins saw that several of the lights were lit and turned low, out of sight of the enemy. It was impossible for either side to make a move.

Jo sighed, and the two of them silently backed away off the rock on which they had lain, covered only with a blanket. They were frozen and stiff. Eight hundred miles to the west lay home and a warm bed, and little Baby, one of the few precious things left now. Sonja had aged in the last several months, and so had Helga. Helga was a mere shell of herself, a dried-out husk of a woman, still outwardly cheerful, active, busy. Sonja had withdrawn, minding the animals in the farm, cooking for the grandchildren. Many of the others had scattered, some were on the ridge road, with the construction workers, with the medical teams, or as social workers. The twins had made many friends; little kids found twins irresistible. "Are you twins?" they always asked, especially since they were identical, and always went around together, and dressed alike. Many of the kids had lost most or all of their families, and reached out to whomever they could for human warmth. Jo and Dee weren't the warmest girls, but even they had forced themselves to be kind to the orphans. There were so many women and men with their mates killed or lost, parents with children lost in the cataclysm. The war had little meaning up here; it was war against nature.

From Oslo, sweeping left, it was all swarming with Bernians, they knew. Somewhere, out of sight around the new mountains, Belgravian troops were pressing in on the enemy. The Belgravians were hungry; they'd used up all the food they had brought with them, and then all the food they had found while they advanced, and now supply ships were coming in with food from across the sea. It had created a food shortage in Belgravia, so far away, as well as in the south, in New Hope. It was as if the cursed Bernians had used up the food on four continents.

Alexandra lay in bed, wondering what was happening. Where did her duty lie? Was it simply to stay alive? Was it to help the lost, confused people she found herself among, to put their lives back together? Was it to get back home, and comfort her own? Was it to guard the baby to whom she had given birth, who would one day be Queen? Was it to seek out Genevieve? Was it to keep Sophie safe and sane, so that Norsland would have people at her helm who were not embittered by the war, who were comfortable with the vanquished enemy, who could help rebuild?

Sophie's hand found hers. She was sensitive to Alexandra's moods; if she was awake, it was hard to keep her worry from Sophie. She felt Sophie's thin, bony fingers. The girl had a beauty all her own, severe, hidden except to the eyes of those who loved her. Alexandra was glad she was away from the fighting. Sophie had a way of getting too involved in it. Once she got started with her damned crossbow, she killed and killed ... she had never talked about how it felt to have killed so many. It would take its toll. The plans she had for Sophie needed a gentle, compassionate woman. At least she responded to the children; that was good.

"Are you happy, Sophie? As happy as you can be, with this war going on?"

"Yes, love," she whispered. "Strange as it may seem."

"Do you love me, Sophie?"

"Yes, Alexandra," she answered after a while, turning to face her. They had made love, but Sophie had never called her anything but 'dear', or 'Alexandra'. Alexandra turned to face her. It was time to stop thinking, and to comfort each other. Thinking made her want to go back, and she could be more useful here, among the Bernians. At first it had been a matter of safety. Now it was a matter of being useful. She felt Sophie's fingers on her breast. She often let Sophie suck on them; she had milk to spare, and it was a way of telling Sophie that she was loved, loved as much as she dared to love her. Royalty had discreet affairs, she knew. But it was laughable to call what they had an affair. They had become mates in every sense. Even Baby Sonja laughed with pleasure when Sophie came back after a hunt.

Gently pushing Sophie onto her back, Alexandra made love to her. They were practiced now; she knew what Sophie liked, and Sophie knew what she liked. But it was more than just pleasuring, though of course it certainly was that. It was a kind of bonding, something that brought them closer and closer, inexorably sewing up their hearts into a loose organism that thought with one mind surprisingly often, but was magically able to make them appear to be separate individuals. They had long since stopped talking about Genny, except as a beloved friend who lived tragically far away.

Nevenka remembered screaming as the men took her, and slapped the pad of sickening liquid against her nose. She knew she had struggled, forgetting all her fighting training. Her body was a mass of dull pain.

"I want everybody out of here," came Katya's voice. She heard a door close. Katya's head and shoulders appeared, leaning over her. She was in uniform. Her hair was pulled back, neatly parted and pinned. She looked confident, efficient and full of authority. Her cold eyes studied Nevenka from head to toe.

"What did they do? What ... did you have done to me?" Her tongue was thick in her mouth.

"You're an enemy spy."

Katya's eyes told her that she looked like hell. They must have defaced her, made her ugly. Katya could never have looked like that if they hadn't.

"Sleep. Rest." Complex, leashed emotions surged behind those narrowed eyes. Then she turned slowly and left. A nurse came in and turned a spigot on a tube, and Nevenka felt herself dropping off to sleep.

Off and on for days she woke up, struggling to get up, but failing. The ache in her legs was agonizing. They set her on a bed-pan, and she wept with shame at first. It was something she had never done. But she got accustomed to it. She tried to talk to them, but they told her to talk to the doctor.

The doctor was a Norswoman. Her accent was worn with many years spent in Bernia.

"What has been done to me?" Nevenka asked quietly and calmly.

The doctor sat down, tall and brown-haired, pretty in her own way. She had light-brown eyes, and wore glasses. Nevenka liked her at once.

"It was illegal and cruel. But the alternative was to kill you."

"I was ready to die. She knew that."

"But she wants you alive."

"Well?"

The woman took a deep breath. "We've hurt your legs and your hands, so that you aren't a danger any more."

The life went out of Nevenka. The woman sat and took Nevenka's silent fury. She simply watched her patient, her eyes dropping when she could not stand Nevenka's stare anymore, and rising again, to study her face for any sign of forgiveness. And Nevenka gave it.

"You had no choice," she said finally.

The doctor shook her head. "I am as much a prisoner as you are. And I have a husband and children."

Nevenka nodded. She wondered whether children lay in her own future.

"Tell me about ... my homeland," the doctor asked, eagerly. "You know where I'm from!"

Nevenka nodded. "They're fighting back ... food is scarce, there are lots of casualties ..." Nevenka strained to look around her.

"Yes, they're listening," the doctor said, her eyes flickering around the room. "I was allowed to tell you that. But I was allowed to ask about ... home. Go on, tell me what you can!"

"They aren't the monsters I thought they were."

"No, not all of them." She reached out to touch Nevenka lightly on the wrist with her fingertips. "It must be hard for you!"

"There is much good still alive in this country, doctor."

"I know!"

"I came to kill the woman. But I didn't have the heart. Something still beats there. If she loses her dignity, if she gives in to her fear, there will only be more ... more ..."

The doctor nodded. She shook her head, her eyes flicking to the unseen listeners. "They know I don't believe in the war, but ... I'm less qualified to have an opinion than you do, Miss Ludovici."

"From where are you, Doctor?"

"Call me Thora. I'm from Westholm. You've probably never heard of it ..."

A smile lit Nevenka's face. "I've certainly heard of it! There is a ... lodge there!"

The doctor smiled and nodded. "So you do know the country!"

Nevenka nodded. It pleased her that here was someone who had something in common with her love, Lena. "There is a woman from your town, whom I love very dearly!"

The doctor nodded again.

"Well," she said at last, "I had to face you sooner or later!" She struggled with her words. "You made it easy for me!"

Nevenka smiled in farewell.

One day, Sophie was talking to farmer Karl when he suddenly thought of something. He had learned that they were, in fact, Norsfolk, Sophie and Alexandra. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with that. He had felt betrayed by them, since they had deceived him for so long. But he had finally come round. He had been aggrieved at first because he had thought he had discovered decent young Bernians finally. Then he had been distressed because he was now a traitor, and what could he tell his friends in town? But they had assured him they were non-combatants. Sophie had done the assuring. Technically she and Alexandra were, indeed, noncombatants. Zora and Hans continued to be Bernians. Sherry was introduced as a Belgravian, but they already knew that; they had seen through her early. Some of the men had known Belgravians, and could tell the accent.

Karl had the instincts of an educator, and now, his audience being different, his goals were different. They were not young fellow-countrymen, needing to be educated about politics and philosophy. They were foreigners, getting a totally wrong impression of Bernian culture. There was much that was good and beautiful in Bernian culture, and Karl winced at what these young Norsfolk were seeing.

"You know, my son worked for the National Museum of Art! It's not far from here; Ninel would be interested!"

"An art museum?" Sophie knew their own art museum near Stefansberg. It was a dull place full of portraits.

"Of course! We have a horse and a cart, we should go! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a better cart somewhere. What we need is a rubber-tired hack. They're very comfortable. I'm sure Josephine isn't interested in coming. She's seen it dozens of times!"

They did find a decent buckboard, and they packed a picnic basket, and set out east one day with old Charlotte hitched to the cart. Ninel was all smiles as they passed the town, and everybody waved to them. Karl had promised Sherry and Alexandra to take them, too. It was an education for Sophie and Ninel, because for the first time they were seeing what lay past the town. The road got much better and smoother, and they could hardly feel the road under the rubber tires of the vehicle. They passed three towns, each larger than the one before, stopping for lunch at the fourth. Though it was larger than the others, it seemed almost completely deserted. There was one elderly couple walking along the raised sidewalk, whom they stopped and talked to. They said there were people, but they lived off the main street, south of the town, near the railway tracks.

"Poor folks," Karl told them once he climbed back up. "They're probably poor and old." Finally they arrived at a large square where there were large concrete tables and benches, just perfect for a lunch. There were a few pigeons very interested in their sandwiches, but Ninel drove them away.

After lunch, they found the art museum. "The National Art Museum, Thebes" it read in letters cut into the ornamental stone. It was a beautiful building, almost like some ancient temple. They went up the shallow steps, leaving Charlotte to graze on the lawn outside.

It was open. There was a unoccupied guardhouse at the top of the steps, and an iron gate. But the gate was open. Inside was a wonderland. There were a sequence of courtyards, and up some broad steps, closed rooms. The courtyards were filled with solid images of people —statues. They were mostly naked, and all beautiful. Hundreds of them! Ninel looked and looked, with Sophie and Karl following behind, talking incomprehensible matters. Ninel clasped her little hands together and gazed in amazement. In another courtyard were metal statues, with even finer detail. Then, upstairs, were rooms which were shut with bars. Inside were hundreds of paintings, hung on every available space on the walls, as well as photographs of paintings. Karl was frustrated by the bars, but he explained that some of the paintings were unbelievably precious, and were likely to be stolen. There was a picture of a sweet-faced woman with a baby, which Ninel knew at once had to be a picture of The Virgin. She knew all about The Virgin, who was a character whom Ninel loved. And the child was Baby Jesus, also one of her favorite characters.

They gave themselves an hour, and then they had to return. Karl didn't want to be out after dark, though Sophie had brought her crossbow. "One of the beauties of the place is, of course, the building itself. Notice that each courtyard is a little different! See how different the pillars are ... fluted, reeded, plain, and these things I don't know the name for."

Sophie nodded. She pointed at various things, and Karl gave her the names. Some she had known and had forgotten. Ninel knew then that Sophie was not too old to learn things, just like Ninel herself. And, she realized, Sophie and Karl taught each other things all the time. It was a new perspective on schooling that had seemed to Ninel before to be something inflicted only on children. Adults taught each other things all the time!

That night it was Ninel who described it all to Alexandra, who kept looking at Sophie and Karl for confirmation. She could see that Alexandra was excited. Sure enough, she said she wanted to go. She and Sherry would go, with Ninel to guide them. It was a point of great pride, to be able to show Mama and Sherry where the museum was!

As Nevenka's scars healed, her rage grew. As the pain went away, her weaknesses became clearer. Something had been done to her knees so that she could barely stand; she had to use crutches. Something had been done to her hands, so that she could not grip anything firmly. That was it; she had been rendered incapable of killing the woman, even if she had a weapon.

She had made it clear: she was not going to kill her! She had told her so within seconds of being brought to her apartment! Nevenka could not dress herself, could not clean herself, could not braid her own hair! And worst of all, she could not hold a pen. She could not draw. Drawing had become her life. True, she drew pornography most of the time. But it would have been a way to keep sane, to let her soul breathe —if she still had one. All the while she had lain on her back, ideas had raced through her head for possible things to draw, and ways to draw them. But all in vain; she could not even hold a pencil.

She thought about Lena, reunited with Elly. How often she had fantasized about finding them after the war, stealing Lena away from the woman, or insinuating herself into their household, or continuing her seduction of Lena in secret. Or finding a place to live near them, so that she could at least look at Lena occasionally.

The long-dreaded moment arrived, when Katya came to take her 'home', to her prison. Katya stood, stone-faced, while two men picked Nevenka up, and put her in a wheelchair. Her new crutches and a walker —a kind of light podium she could push around— were taken out somewhere.

Katya herself pushed the wheelchair out of the room, down a long hallway, down a series of ramps, along more hallways, out onto a concrete walkway, along a paved street. It was all inside the same walled compound; there was no traffic. Far in front, the men waited for them in front of a building which Nevenka recognized. The General unlocked the door, and up they went. The men carried the chair up, while Katya brought the equipment. There was some fussing at the door, and presently the men were gone, leaving Nevenka, and Katya, seated on the sofa, and Nevenka's fury, alone.

"Is there any pain?"

"Why didn't you ask me in the hospital?" Nevenka screamed. "Why ask me now?"

Nevenka stared, because Katya looked miserable. Not just embarrassed, but what would be close to tears in an ordinary woman.

"Are you finished?" asked Katya. Nevenka cleared her face of all emotion. Honestly, she could not think how to react. "There was nothing else I could do! I didn't want to kill you, but I didn't want to die, either!" Nevenka kept her lips firmly pressed together. Katya went round behind her to undress — it was around five in the afternoon, and it was getting a little dark already. She reappeared in a bath robe, and came to sit near Nevenka. She took Nevenka's unresisting hand in hers, and stroked it, gazing at her face.

"I need you to forgive me," she said.

"I can't draw," Nevenka said, looking her in the eye. "I didn't care about the legs." Katya looked shocked. "I wasn't going to try to escape. I wasn't going to kill you. All I wanted was ... to be with you, and give you some ... thoughts about things, avenues that were still open. I wanted you to have a sane person near you, whom you could come to trust! But I would have been a prisoner; I knew that. But I could draw! I could have drawn!"

"I never thought of it!"

Nevenka turned her head away, and tugged at her hand, but she kept it, clung to it desperately, as if keeping the hand was keeping her regard.

An hour later, Katya still stroked Nevenka's hand, as if to bring it to life.

"What are you doing with my hand?"

She reluctantly stopped stroking it, and let it go. She went to the larder, and brought out a plateful of food. She sat by Nevenka and proceeded to feed her. At first Nevenka turned her head, but at last, sheer hunger and Katya's patience cracked the wall of her determination, and she took the first mouthful. She held the water to her lips. Then she helped her to the toilet, and tenderly cleaned her when she was done. She brought her to the bed, and undressed her, and put on a thin shift on her.

In a hundred ways she was kind to Nevenka, so much so that Nevenka was filled with disgust for her. In the nights Nevenka went to sleep facing away and into the bed. Katya had to be satisfied with rubbing herself against Nevenka's back, which she did, making love to Nevenka's unresponding body. Often in the night, Nevenka was woken by Katya nuzzling her cheek, nibbling at her earlobes, whispering that she loved her. Once Nevenka came all the way awake and snapped at her, "Stop mumbling in my ear! I'm trying to sleep!" After that she didn't do that again.

After feeding her breakfast in the morning, Katya had to seat Nevenka on a bedpan until she returned from work. It was a terrible discomfort. At least she knew she wouldn't soil herself, but to sit on cold metal for hours was pure misery. But in a day or two, Nevenka could get about on her crutches, and go to the toilet herself. She was even able to clean herself awkwardly; her forefinger and thumb were able to grip fabric, if it was bundled just right.

A few days later still, she found she could hold her pen after all. Of course she had far less control over it than before, and the strokes had to be made excruciatingly slowly. But they could be made! This, again, was a turning point. She was able to forgive Katya everything. Everything except the war.

One day she arranged all her drawings on the large desk. They were hard to pick up, but not impossible. And in the center was a drawing of Katya herself, which she had done from memory. In the drawing, Katya was beautiful. She was beautiful anyway, but the expression she had put on her face was one of pure serenity. A shy, gentle woman at peace with herself.

Unexpectedly Katya opened the door, catching her on her way to look for something festive to wear. In a single glance, she knew that a change had taken place. She looked around and saw the desk. Nevenka hurried to watch her expression. She laughed at the pleasure and surprise on Katya's face. Suddenly they were hugging, kissing, weeping together.

"What have you done to me?" asked Katya.

The Bernians were firmly entrenched on the eastern edge of the north shore, while the Belgravian army faced them across the Verne River, a slow, icy river that flowed from the Alps down to the North Sea. The Belgravians had tried many times to cross the river, but had failed. There had been a period when they had tried to storm the northern beaches, but those attempts had also failed. Finally, they had come up with the idea of storming the beaches much further east. The Belgravian Navy had had success in keeping the waters clear of Bernian ships, so getting to the beach was relatively easy. But fifty miles away was the northern edge of Freiburg itself, and if there were enough to tempt their ships out of their harbor, they would come out, screaming like banshees. It was against the wind and against the current, but it wasn't far.

Accordingly, late one night in October, a number of ships put to sea from Northaven, and headed out to the northeast tip of Norsland, at the point of the landmass, a little east of the Verne front. The Novaspirians helped with a diversionary effort, rounding the minefield far to the south, and attacking south of Freiburg at the Naval harbor in Bremen. To top it all, there was a helpful fog over the Bernian Channel, obscuring the view of the landing point from Freiburg.

The landing was well underway before the Bernian defenses on shore knew what was happening. The landing troops headed straight towards the Verne, and in less than an hour, the east shore was secured. Suddenly the Bernian front was moved east by more than fifty miles. The action resulted in the first prisoners of war on the Norslandish side. There were several hundred prisoners, whose presence prevented the Belgravians from pushing much farther. But the river had been crossed, and that made a great difference.

Once Katya had calmed down, and she had looked her fill at Nevenka, she turned to the table. "I never got to look at these," she murmured. "You're very interested in sex, I can see," she said, and Nevenka laughed. "How did you draw this? Is it a copy of a photo somewhere?"

"No, it's just from memory," Nevenka said, proudly. "Is it good? Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful," said Katya. "You are truly an artist." She turned to face Nevenka, penitence and remorse clear on her face, and picked up Nevenka's hand and kissed it. "It must have taken hours!"

"All day," said Nevenka. But a day was not very long for a portrait. Nevenka was beginning to realize her own talent. She searched Nevenka's eyes, but Nevenka got the impression that she was searching her own heart. It appeared that Nevenka's body and her talent were to be the price of Katya's self-discovery.

She turned back to the drawings, and now she came upon the sketches of bodies. Troops of both sides, shot, slashed, stabbed, decapitated, blinded, disemboweled. Nevenka was forced to stare once again at the raw pain of her own work. She had drawn them to get the scenes out of her mind, but now they were a part of her environment.

"You witnessed these scenes."

"Yes. And a hundred more."

"It is war, Nevenka. I cannot feel. I must not."

"Don't feel then. Let me feel for you!"

Katya turned to her, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

Nevenka stared at her, confused. The words had just come out, and she did not know what she meant. All she knew was that she didn't want Katya to hate herself. That was counterproductive.

"You mustn't feel bad —all the time. But you must know the consequences of decisions you make."

"I see."

Supper that night was like making love. Neither woman could resist the power there was in the act of feeding and being fed. Katya fed Nevenka and herself in alternate mouthfuls, and afterwards they went straight to bed.

Nevenka lay on her back, her clawed hands too useless to even touch herself. She needed to touch her breasts, to relieve the ache there as Katya's attentions were elsewhere, but she could only rub with the back of her hand. She had to consciously make an effort to focus on the lovemaking, forgetting the war, forgetting how she had betrayed her mission, forgetting Lena. It had been an impulsive thing, to open herself to Katya, but now she was committed; she could not back out. Somewhere in the depth of her mind, she had decided to give Katya her unconditional love, not backing out of it even when Katya continued to prosecute her war. But, she told herself, she would criticize and condemn it without letting up one bit.

Her thought process was interrupted as Katya loomed over her, looking into her eyes. Her legs, like those of most Bernian women, were smooth-shaven, her skin silky-soft. But as she strained against Nevenka, the muscles were hard; she pressed her thigh between Nevenka's legs, knowing it would send a wave of desire through her. She sucked Nevenka's aching breasts, as the girl moved against her leg, making little whimpering noises. It wasn't long now; she recognized the signs in her. And in herself, too. The sight and sounds of a woman about to have an orgasm was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. Katya felt something deep inside her begin. Instead of cradling Katya with her body, Nevenka was focused on the sensation of the pressure between her legs. This was beauty in Katya's eyes, the gift of pleasure, an offering of rapture. Katya immersed herself in the heat of Nevenka's release.

When it was her own turn to pleasure Katya, Nevenka's hands were useless, but that, too, was a powerful erotic force. She used all she had, her face, her tongue, and she gave Katya what she could. Afterwards Katya laced her fingers between Nevenka's stiff claws, a silent admission of her stupidity. But Katya still clung to the thought that her role in this war was a sacrifice she made for the good of her country. In her own mind, she was a patriot.

"What did you do today?" Nevenka asked softly. It was an innocent question, but Katya was reduced to tears. Nevenka, instantly sorry, kissed her tears, hissing to herself in self-reproach.

"I prepared an army," she sobbed, "to send out to the north shore. We have to break past the Verne!"

"How many?"

"Ten thousand!"

"They haven't gone yet?"

"No!" Katya sobbed, and Nevenka held her close, wondering what she could say to console the woman. She said nothing, and Katya cried herself to sleep.

Late that night, there was a knock on the door.

"Katya!" Nevenka called to her, shaking the woman. She was heavy on her breast. "Katya!"

"What?" Her voice was slurred with sleep.

"There is someone at the door!"

Katya was up instantly. She quickly pulled on her bathrobe, and Nevenka hobbled out, loosely pulling on her own robe. What could be so important as to wake them in the night?

"The Belgravians have crossed the Verne eastward, General. They are fifty miles south of the point. There were many casualties."

"I'll be right down." The man left. She turned to Nevenka, who stood behind her, wide-eyed. "It's ... a setback. I have to go to the war room."

"You can use your army," said Nevenka evenly.

"What do you want me to do, let my boys be killed? Let them sit out on the beach undefended, so the Belgravians can come over and shoot them?"

"Surrender!"

"Surrender? Not now! Go to bed!"

In the war room, General Katherine Pfizer calmly studied the board. They could regain the lost ground with the army standing by. "Send them in," she said.

"Now? Against a head wind, against the current, in the dark?"

"Before the enemy gets settled in, yes."

The order was sent to sail, and ten thousand young men went against the Norsland beaches.

"Did you send them?"

"Of course! Don't ever try to influence me again!"

"Katya, face reality. That's all I want to do: influence you! Resist if you want, but don't shut me up!" She spoke gently.

Katya cursed, and stormed up and down the apartment floor, declaring that she wouldn't let any damn amateur tell her how to fight her war. But they kissed and made up, and went to sleep, and somehow they slept well for the first time in days.

But the new army only pushed the front the fifty miles back to the Verne, at the cost of several thousand of their own troops, and an equal number of Northlanders.

"What's this supposed to be?"

"That's the settlement at the edge of the forest where the Free Farmers live. I lived there for a year or so, until I met ... somebody."

"And this?"

"That's ... that's her." Katya nodded, not betraying any emotions. "You must not harm her!"

"Is she here, in Bernia?"

"I don't know!"

"I won't harm her. Tell me!"

"Why? She means little to me now!" Katya silently pointed at the drawing, painfully drawn, with Nevenka's now-useless hands. "She still means something, yes." Katya finished studying the pictures a little longer, then walked about the room, studying it. She was an attractive woman. Nevenka wondered how she had got into the business of war. She was proud and haughty; any man would have been honored to have her. She's a lioness at heart, Nevenka thought, like Norsfolk women. She wouldn't be satisfied to live like a Bernian woman. She turned and looked into Nevenka's eyes, her face serious as always. Then she smiled crookedly, and asked what Nevenka was thinking. Nevenka shrugged and murmured something. She turned back to studying the apartment.

Nevenka had fought her desire to make the apartment into a little love-nest for them. It was simply a sleeping-place for the warrior-woman. She was not a fighter like Lena was, not made for battle. Her arena was the war-room, moving forces about, strategy, planning. She had inherited the war late, materiel was scarce, they were running out of troops, and they faced three nations arrayed against them. But she fought on, wrong-headed though the whole thing was.

"I have to go back to the war-room," she said, eyeing the layout of the room. "If I stay away a single day, morale will falter."

"Of course you should go!"

"But ... it's a special day."

"Why?"

A pink flush colored her face as she stared at the desk. Even her ears and neck were red, now. She stood straight as an arrow, relaxed, her feet together, her hands clasped behind her. It was a special day because Nevenka had forgiven her. Nevenka hobbled over to stand behind her, and raised her hands to touch her hair. It was useless. She could do nothing.

Katherine turned and gently put Nevenka's hands down. The red flush was gone. She put her arms round Nevenka and said in a rough voice, "It doesn't matter. I'll look after you. If they let me ... I will look after you."

"Who? If who lets you?"

"Why, your Queen. She, and her people." Nevenka's heart sang. "If no one wants you, I want you!"

"Then you ... you ... you've decided ...!"

"I must stop now, before — all beauty is gone from Bernia forever." So simply, the war was over.

Nevenka pulled out her radio, as Katya and her generals watched. As she pulled out the antenna that had to be set out, Katya herself came to help, with an amused smile. They had talked for a long time, arguing, in Katya's little apartment, while Nevenka peeked through the bedroom door. They had accused Katya of falling for the wiles of a Norslandish spy. She had admitted it. But, she said, the spy had not been in a position to influence policy. The facts spoke for themselves. There were fewer than 5000 people in the country that they could send to the front. There wasn't a sufficient concentration of population to make their doomsday bomb a useful weapon.

"It was a foolish idea, friends," Katya had said quietly. "They have nothing that we want."

"The wealth! The mines!"

"The mines we have had for a year. What wealth?" She had asked Nevenka to come out.

"This is a Bernian woman," they had said, surprised. They questioned her at length. What had she seen? What was the Palace like? Were there signs of opulence? Technology? Were there televisions in every home? Electricity? Paved roads? Factories? Industry? There was nothing. It was a backward nation, content to struggle along in its own clumsy way. Their grandeur was largely a matter of style, not substance.

"We have held essentially the same borders for a year," Katya said. "If New Hope mounts an attack to our south, we are finished. And they did, last night, only as a distraction. Why do we cling to this stupidity?"

"If we go before the people now, we will be torn to shreds!"

"I will do it," Katya had said.

Katya had helped her put the radio together, and a young lieutenant cranked the handle. They had laughed at the primitive equipment.

"Hello, Black Prince?"

There was a brief silence, and then a crackling voice, "Black Prince here, who's this?"

"This is Nevenka, ten of clubs." It was a special code, that she had company, and it was an unusual situation.

"Go ahead, ten of clubs."

"We would like a frequency to parley."

There was a tense silence. "Anything else you can tell us?"

Nevenka looked around at the others, and Katya came forward and took the microphone. "This is General Katherine Pfizer. I would like to speak to someone of equal rank, operator. When you give us the frequency and the time, we will use our own radio."

"Yes, general," the woman said, in a more respectful voice. "Our equipment is ... not as powerful as yours, and we must use relays."

"I understand."

"I have been asked to tell you that headquarters will listen for you at 10:00 this morning, your time, at 61 meters. All other broadcasts will be stopped."

"Thank you, operator."

At ten, Nevenka was permitted to watch the historic negotiation from a booth. She was dressed nicely in a brown plaid skirt and black blouse, with a brown shawl against the chill and to cover her hands. Katya herself had helped her bathe, and braided her hair. They had talked, and Katya had admitted that the end of the war had been hastened by at most a few months. But it was clear from everything she said and did that Nevenka was indeed an important influence on her, and one that she was not ashamed to admit to.

It was General Bertha who was in charge of the negotiations.

"Greetings, General," she had said in her dry voice. She had identified herself, and stated that she was prepared to open negotiations while the government and the Queen were discussing the situation. Suddenly Nevenka realized, only the Queen could accept Katya's surrender. Since the moment she had identified herself as 'Nevenka, ten of clubs,' she could no longer initiate communications with the boat. Now it was imperative that Lena should call in.

"I would like to offer a cease-fire for thirty days, General Bertha. Various things need to be done to make —further proceedings— acceptable to our people."

"I understand. A cease-fire will be very welcome, sister. We will listen on this frequency once a day at 10:00 hours, for two weeks. And round the clock, if there is a crisis. Is there anything else?"

Katya looked around, and they shook their heads. "No. Thank you. Katya signing off."

"Roger, and out."

"I have something to tell you," said Nevenka excitedly, once they were back in the apartment. Katya was busy getting a festive lunch together. "Listen! This is important!"

"It can wait," said Katya, setting out two beautiful plates that she had got from somewhere. More and more her life was centered around Nevenka. Now she wanted to celebrate, and was determined that nothing should stop her. "We have four weeks, and ..." she walked to the wall closet from which she took out two beautiful cut-glass goblets. "... everything can just wait. I have done the hardest thing I have ever done; my life is finished, a new life is beginning, a life which you made possible." She stopped to look straight at Nevenka, her green eyes startling in a new openness that they had acquired. "It was not my job, to play politician. But there's no one left. The men won't do it. It has to be me."

"Katya, listen! The Queen ..."

"Yes, what about her?"

"She ... she ..."

Nevenka no longer feared for herself. But she feared for Queen Alexandra. If Katya knew where she was, what might happen? Could it fuel ambitions of turning the tide of the war despite the cease-fire, the negotiations, the hopeless position? Would they clutch at an opportunity to hold the Queen to ransom? How could Nevenka find Lena and initiate a contact with the boat, given her present condition?

Katya slowly came to where she was seated. "What is it, Nevenka?" She could see at once that Nevenka was fearful for the Queen. "All right, you don't have to tell me everything. Tell me what you can."

"The Queen ... is in hiding."

"I know that. She dropped out of sight August of last year."

Nevenka's eyes opened wide. "How did you know?"

Katya smiled wearily. "I had a device planted on her person. We knew where she was all the time, until we attacked a certain home in Skree, and she disappeared. We thought we had her, but she just dropped out of sight. The Norsfolk don't know exactly where she is, either."

"You know everything about it!" Nevenka said, somehow furious.

"It is war, Nevenka; if we could get her, she would have been a bargaining chip. It would have saved countless lives! But it's useless now ... we've given up on finding her. Anyway, most of our people have been pushed out. There's a couple left, but they're inactive. We think they've gone to the other side."

"But don't you see? If they can't find the Queen, they can't accept your surrender!"

"Why, they can simply ... accept!"

"No, they can't! Only the Queen can declare war, only the Queen can accept a surrender!"

It was Katya's turn to be angry. "What do you plan to do about it?"

"I know someone who can find her! I could find her, but ..." Nevenka held out her hands, a reminder of her helplessness.

"Tell me," said Katya, gently taking the clawed hands in her own. She always massaged them every chance she got. She wanted to reverse the damage, but she was uncertain whether it was possible. Nevenka loved to feel Katya's hands on her own. "What can you do? What can we do?"

"Remember that camp?"

"The so-called Free Farmers, who refused to fight?"

"Yes! I have friends there, who could help me contact the Queen!"

"Why don't we simply radio again?"

"When I gave my name, that invalidated the codes."

"Still, they will listen."

"But they can't call out! They can only wait for a call."

Katya nodded. "What shall we do?"

"Why don't you ... why don't you send the word out that you will be addressing a gathering right there, at the Free Farmers' commons! Say three days from now! Then everyone will gather there, and I can contact my —friend— who can send word to the Queen!"

Bertha faced her colleagues. "At last," she breathed, "at last! It is over."

"So your young spy failed!"

Bertha shrugged. "But the woman wants a ceasefire. Was it the Verne operation? Was it Nevenka? Or both?"

"The Verne operation failed, remember?"

"But it was a huge loss." It had been an embarrassment. The entire war was an embarrassment. None of the parties were in a good position to fight the war in the arenas they had chosen. The Bernians and the Belgravians were ill-equipped to fight a war in the rocky terrain of Norsland. The Norsfolk were not efficient in the water. The Novaspirians hated to fight except on the water.

"Where is the Queen?"

"We have thirty days to contact her. Usually, our woman who is with her calls in once a week, and whenever there is a crisis."

"Has she called in every week, without fail?"

"There have been long lapses. The longest was when she came here. Not all of you know, but she made a trip back, bringing in Nevenka. She was bearing a personal message to the Princess. I didn't think it was important ..."

"A personal message? Alexandra knows she is under surveillance?" asked someone in alarm. The generals were only partly resigned to the situation that Bertha only told them things on a need-to-know basis. "What was the message?"

"I don't know. It was personal."

"But it must have been important! How can we contact her?" The cries of we must contact her somehow were getting out of hand.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Surgery

It was the first address to the nation in a long time. The name Katherine Pfizer was known, but no one knew much about her, except that she had taken over as commander-in-chief when all the others had fought among themselves and resigned, or run away to other countries. It had been over a year ago that Chairman Michael had promised them the glory of an empire, and that their first glorious conquest would be the proud Norslanders. He had scorned women, and he had declared that in spite of their famous battle prowess, Norsland would fall within a month. Now Michael was gone, no one knew where. And a woman was in charge.

The motorcade proceeded along the fast East road without stopping, then turned north. The road was now a single-lane dirt road, climbing slowly, entering the forest. "This is not the way I came!" Nevenka protested to her general. "Hush," said Katya, embarrassed, "this road is better for carriages. We're going north now." Katya sat apart from Nevenka. She had explained carefully that the people would not understand their relationship. Nevenka was dressed in a suit, and mitts had been put on her hands. A complicated device was fitted to her, to enable her to walk and stand without help, a kind of frame fitted to her body, over her clothes. They could only glance at each other, exchanging as much meaning as their eyes could transmit. Katya's hair was gently pulled back with clips, and she looked grand in her dress uniform, all in black and gold. She was ready to prepare the nation for surrender. And she was going to do it at the same settlement at which Nevenka's adventures had begun, with the seduction of Lena so many weeks ago.

The carriage came to a halt. The horsemen in front had halted, and they approached the general's vehicle.

"The road has been washed out," the man said, very respectfully. "Apparently it will be another three miles. We can give you a horse, general."

She got on a horse and Nevenka was put up on another horse. Katya rode astride, like a man. It was a battle-skirt, slit in front and back. Nevenka was filled with pride at the sight of her, so proud, even in defeat. They arrived at the infamous tavern, where everyone got out of the way of the troops and the general and her party. Nevenka thought she saw people pointing at her. 'Our Elena,' she thought she heard. They didn't all hate her, then.

Katya herself helped Nevenka down. She hurt in a hundred places; it wasn't easy riding side-saddle with all the equipment on her, though the man had been considerate. Katya nodded to the people graciously as she looked about for some clue as to where to go.

"This way, general," Nevenka said, leading the way into the path that went to the camp. She could walk, with great difficulty, but it wasn't far. Katya patiently slowed her pace to Nevenka's. Nevenka, meanwhile, had never actually been in the camp, and this was all new. She looked about, feeling in her heart that it was a familiar place, and was confused with not actually knowing her way around it. Some of the men smiled at her cautiously, men she had flirted with, men she had slept with. There was no lewdness in their smiles, she thanked god. Finally, they were met by a tall, dark man who looked at Nevenka inquiringly. He had been at the tavern occasionally, drinking with the others. She knew he was their leader.

"Farmer Sergei, this is General Katya Pfizer. She would ... she would like to speak to the people."

"General Pfizer, madam, please be welcome. We have done our share, with the provisions. I hope there is no problem!"

"I would just like to address the people, Leader Sergei. Just a place to stand."

"General," interrupted Nevenka, a little timorously, "perhaps you should tour the farm first!"

Sergei glared at her. "It is a simple farm, general, not worthy of your attention! You are welcome to give your speech here, however, though we are not worthy of this honor. Maybe just over here ..."

Katya reached out to Sergei, gently touching his arm. "The government doesn't want your farm, Sergei. I ..." she looked around, at the curious-eyed people who surrounded the little group, and she began to understand what Nevenka had been trying to tell her. "...This is for me. I needed to be reminded of —what we were fighting for. Do you understand?"

In the stillness that followed, Sergei looked from one woman to the other suspiciously. The little girl in the paraplegic machine looked vaguely familiar. But the virile menace of the military was missing. The men who stood behind the general had more the appearance of those whose job was protocol and formality, not bullying and coercion.

"What would you like to see first?"

The general was conducted round the farm, shown the crops, the livestock, the classroom, the workshops, the kitchen, the homes, the road down to the sea up which they had first come ashore. But the eyes of the general was on the people, the children, the young men who had left their homeland rather than fight. There were almost fifty of them, but she was sure, there must be other encampments such as this one.

Katherine Pfizer faced the people on behalf of her more cowardly male colleagues. She stood on a low dais they had brought out for her. She spoke of the efforts they had made, the gains, the subsequent losses, the mistakes, and their current situation.

"It is very likely that we will lose this war," she said. It was received with a respectful silence. "My fellow generals and I have negotiated a cease-fire with the Norsfolk. I have a little less than fifteen days to discover the will of the people. Either we must all put one last effort into this fight; we must all be prepared to give our lives for this effort, with no guarantee of success, or we must surrender." She looked at the people who faced her calmly, dispassionately. The intelligence in the eyes of even the young ones was remarkable. It was a far cry from the mania in the eyes of some of the troops she had inspected, the determination in the eyes of others. "If we win, we will have the resources of the Norsfolk, and their people to help us rebuild all that we sacrificed. But friends, some of you know this: they are a forgiving people. If we surrender, we will have the same help. In this modern age, even the vanquished become the responsibility of the victors. We will have some measure of freedom to pursue our destiny, provided it does not involve militarism." There was a low murmur. "We will never be allowed to develop our arms." There were nods. Katya was not surprised. These were a pacifist people, who would die rather than fight. It was fortunate that there were so few of them. But now Katya wished there was more of them; there would certainly be more food if there had been more of them. "Are you for peace, or are you for war?"

The screams of joy were unanimous. Nevenka was crying and laughing. It had been the right decision! Katya was surrounded by those who would support the surrender, the right place to be.

"It says here," said Karl, looking tense, "that there's going to be a big speech by General Pfizer, at ... this looks like your old place, the Free Farmers settlement!"

"Let me see that!" cried Sophie, and Lena hauled herself over to read over her shoulder. "Why would a general want to talk at the commune?"

"General Pfizer ... is that the same as Katherine Pfizer?"

"How do you know her name?" demanded Sophie, though she suspected what the answer was. "And why in a pacifist camp?"

"Are they openly pacifist?" asked Karl, interested. "Have they refused to fight?"

"They fled the conscription," said Sherry, who had found out about that. "They holed up in the forests, some of them, and some came to ... some went over to Norsland. They settled on the north shore."

"It's the end of the war," said Karl slowly. "She's trying to get support for a surrender!"

In the excitement, Lena slipped away. It was lunch, and Sherry had just come back with the weekly newspaper. Within seconds, Lena had the radio going.

"Hello Black Prince?"

"Black Prince here. Ace of Spades?"

Lena went through the sequence.

"Thank god you've called in! Listen, there is a cease-fire. Your little friend messed up; instead of killing the General, she's talked her into a cease-fire, and maybe ..."

"Yes, that's what I guessed. Maybe a surrender."

"Listen. This means the deuce of hearts must be available to accept the surrender. Get going. We'll be waiting where you were dropped off. Your orders are to bring everybody!"

"No; I'll just bring the deuce. I can't transport everybody. But I can bring one person."

"Where are you, exactly?"

Alexandra was stunned when Lena revealed who she was. She turned bright red.

"Lena? Of course ... it is you! Your hair!" They were in the Aarons's farm, and it was the middle of the afternoon. The two of them were repairing the barn.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Did you recognize Elly?"

"Elly? Elly! Zora! I have been blind! And Lara is your child?"

"Adopted, Your Majesty! My Queen, there is no time. You must be back in Skree to accept a surrender. And the generals are sure that there will be one!"

"Lena! I want to see this general. It sounds as if she is the one in charge of the war!"

"She is! But, Your Majesty, it is madness! What if she grabs you? What can I do? Hundreds of lives are at stake!"

But Alexandra was adamant. Her days of taking orders from Lena were apparently over. She would not explain herself, she was determined to see the general. The only concession she made was that she would leave the baby with Sophie.

When the euphoria died down, the general became aware that Nevenka was struggling to get off the small platform at the rear of which she had been seated. She was also aware, again, of the couple who had arrived on horseback —rather a novelty now, since the army had taken most of the horses for its own use. The young man and woman were rather conspicuous. They had been standing at the edge of the clearing, listening carefully.

"Your feelings do not come as a surprise, obviously," she said, and there were quiet chuckles. "This is why I came here first. Others have lost family, property, some have lost everything. I have to talk to them, too. But it's good to know that you will help in the fight that's coming, to rebuild and replant." There was a murmur of support. They were not a demonstrative people, but they were solid. "I thank you for hearing me! Long live Bernia!" They cheered her, more soberly now.

Nevenka was gone. "She was heading that way," a man said. Sure enough, Katya could see a small figure hobbling towards the young couple. Katya got off the platform, and the crowd made room for her. She spoke briefly to Sergei, whose face was shining like the sun. "This is a good day!" he said. That was about all he could get out. He bowed to her, and in general the entire group treated her as though she was their savior. Somewhere in a corner of her heart a spark of hope sprang up. She had longed for fame and recognition as a war hero. But here, perhaps, was something that she could do: to lead the people in defeat and surrender. She would go down in history as the famous General Pfizer who surrendered. The taste of that was decidedly bitter in her mouth.

She craned her head for a sight of Nevenka. Damn the girl; she had been warned to stay close the whole time.

"I'm going to take a look round," she told her staff. They were honor guards, not security. There had been no fear for her safety this deep in the country. They bowed ceremonially, and prepared to wait for her. A little crowd of children surrounded her, curious, their too-big eyes staring at her. She was awkward among children; she had never known any children really well.

She caught up with Nevenka a little inside the woods. Nevenka was talking excitedly to the woman. As Katya came closer, she recognized the young man. She saw now that it was really a woman; Nevenka's former lover. They looked at her expectantly. Nevenka was radiant, as she had been since the cease-fire. As she had been even before; she had known that she would win, the little fox!

"It's time to go, Nevenka," she said quietly, nodding at the strangers.

"Ka ... General, if you please, ..."

"No, Nevenka, this is not the time!" hissed the woman disguised as a man.

But the other woman spoke up. She had a high, warm voice. "We were just in time for the end of the address, General. You give us all hope!"

"Nevenka, introduce me to your friends, please."

Nevenka seemed to lose all her confidence. She looked at the young man, who had hissed at her.

"General, my name is — Hans, and this is Anna."

"Pleased to meet you," said the general, nodding.

"Likewise," said Anna, calmly.

Katya let out the breath she had been unaware she was holding. "Well, I'll wait with the guard. Whenever you're ready, then," she told Nevenka. She managed a smile for the other two. "Enjoy your stay in our country, friends!" she said with a smile, and turned to leave.

"I'll come with you," Nevenka stammered, waving a fist at her friends. They were still not quite over her mechanical aids, but Katya decided they could make of them what they would. There were things to be done.

It was an empty feeling. Katya felt triumphant that this first speech had gone so well. She would go write it down, and say essentially the same thing. It had been pitched at the perfect tone for this group, but she would use it for everyone. It was time she began to treat her fellow-countrymen like reasonable human beings, rather than animals who had no more than their instincts. Behind her Nevenka labored to follow her; she slowed down to hold her arm.

"That was her!" Nevenka whispered urgently.

"I recognized her," Katya bit out. "We were pretty sure she would show up, yes?"

"No! That was her!"

"I heard you!" said Katya, puzzled.

Nevenka was going crazy. "You don't understand! That was ..." Nevenka spoke in barely a whisper, through gritted teeth, "that was the Queen!" Katya was thunderstruck. Nevenka tugged her forward.

"The red-haired one?"

"Yes!"

"But ... she called herself Anna!" Nevenka began to laugh hysterically, and soon Katya joined her. "Here, in Bernia?"

"Yes! She's been here for a year!"

"That's against all the codes of warfare. What was she doing?"

They found their contingent of guards, and headed out to where the horses were tethered. Katya had Nevenka seated behind her, her steel equipment removed and carried by a guard separately.

"She—helped with the farming, she helped build homes, she helped teach the camp children, she hunted in the forest, to supplement the food they grew, she built furniture, you know, all the usual stuff any of them did." Nevenka had her arms around Katya, though her hands could not really grip. It felt strange to feel Katya's stomach through the fabric.

"I thought she was supposed to be a warrior Queen," Katya said, with a slight edge to her voice.

"She didn't have much of a chance. The snipers made it impossible for her."

Katya had to laugh. "You have to tell me more when we get back!"

"I saw her for the first time close up today. We've never met."

"You met her ... spouse."

"Yes."

"What an amazing thing ... it hardly seems possible ... she was right here, under our noses all the time. Well, how did she like it here? Without all the comforts of the royal Palace?"

"She liked it very much. She likes children, and she liked the farming life. And Lady Sophie is supposed to have taught the kids mathematics and ..."

"Who's Lady Sophie?" Katya asked in exasperation.

"Oh, she's the Queen's main lady-in-waiting," Nevenka said airily. "I met her mother, and she's really nice."

Nevenka gradually grew more aware of her surroundings, and became silent. The guards rode in front and behind, leaving them a decent space for privacy to talk in, but Nevenka felt bashful. She wondered what the guards would think of her being so intimate with the general. Nevenka was beginning to see that Katya would have a prominent role in the post-war government, which implied maintaining a certain standard of decorum. She would have to work at erasing her war-time reputation as a womanizer.

Katya, meanwhile, was busy with her own thoughts. There was a meeting scheduled for the following day for the troops in the City. It was a tricky thing, to prepare for capitulation while a cease-fire was in force; both sides would have to meet in neutral territory, and agree on the procedure. She was plagued with self-doubt, unable to imagine what the next few days would bring, how she would be viewed by her countrymen, how the generals would react. She was certain that everyone would hate her thoroughly. There was only one person on her side, and she rode behind her, with her clawed hands pressed against Katya's belly. She took Nevenka's hands in her own, in the practiced motion of squeezing them, hoping that her insane plan of surgically preventing the girl from killing her could be reversed. The tendons that articulated the fingers had been carefully cut, she knew; perhaps they could be rejoined. Nothing could be done about her hamstrings, she imagined. At best they would support her slight weight.

Nevenka was at the center of her failure. It was she who had given Katya the courage to consider an end to the war, an end through capitulation. What if they had fought on? What if she had forced all those hale young men in the commune to put on uniforms? What if, like the Norsfolk, she had drafted the women? It was conceivable that they could have prevailed! What if, like the Norsfolk, she had planned a bold run in defiance of the Novaspirian navy, a huge armada, all the way to Skree? What if she had refused to listen to the girl — a woman, really; she was around twenty, and a trained spy — what if she had gagged her each night when she took her, used her like she had used other women before her?

The carriage had been turned around. Katya dismounted carefully, and helped the girl down herself, taking her weight on her own arms, and gently setting her down. One look into those brown eyes, and she lost all the hate she had been hoarding. Nevenka was all she had to cling to, as she planned for a surrender.

She caught herself staring at Nevenka, with the guards staring at them both.

"You're so light," she said, making her tone as light as her words.

"I'm short," Nevenka said.

They all knew. They knew she liked women; she looked sharply at the guardsmen to try and catch them smirking, but they looked back respectfully. Nevenka was smoothing her dress sedately. She had the manners and the bearing of a Queen; at least they wouldn't mistake her for a common slut. Katya's pretense that Nevenka was in fact her secretary felt valid. Let them think that she was getting fond of a staffer. God, she loved that long, long braid. It took a good twenty minutes to brush out and braid every morning.

"What happened?" "Who was she?" "What did she say?"

The questions came thick and fast as Alexandra and Lena rejoined the others. It was strange, to suddenly realize that two people you had been working with for months were old friends you had known for much longer. There were subtle changes in Lena; she was not the confident, laid back, slightly bossy girl that she had appointed her Warden. There was confidence, but a different kind. The bossiness was gone. She was still laid back, but it was more a kind of weary patience. Seeing her with Ninel should have reminded Alexandra of Lena and little Beate, but it hadn't, and just as well that it hadn't.

Explaining it all to Karl had been almost impossible. In the end, they had agreed that they would leave Ninel, Sophie, Sherry and Elly behind, and leave with the baby. In the scheme of things, the welfare of the farm was hardly a priority. But they owed the old couple something for harboring them for so many months. Sophie was glad to stay, but Ninel, Sherry and Elly wanted to return home with her. Alexandra had privately promised them that they would be brought over as soon as was practical.

All the goodbyes were said, little Baby Sophie Ninel was wrapped warmly, and they set out. They had bought another horse at the stables, which had taken all the money they had between them. They had a basket of cooked food for the road, and that was all. Lena led the way through the forest, with Alexandra following along. They alternated carrying the sling with the baby in it. She was an amiable child, and hung onto Lena as happily as she clung to her mother's hair.

"The girl seemed very fond of you," Alexandra said after a while.

"It is a sad story, Your Majesty," Lena said, obviously depressed. "You won't want to hear it."

"We have time, Lena. Just call me Alexandra. Or Anna; I don't care."

"She lived next door, in the room we had at the tavern."

"When you were an ostler."

"Yes. She would come in naked into our room, when Elly was at work. After a while, my mind ..."

"Yes, I suppose so. I'm no saint myself, as you know."

"That's one of the reasons I didn't want to go into it, ... Anna. I thought it would hurt."

"It hurts less, Lena. Go on."

Lena told her the story, leaving out nothing. It was amazing how vivid a picture Lena painted of the little woman. Alexandra could see how perfectly Lena could fill a hunger in the heart of a lonely orphan for someone strong and dependable. And she could see how the little brunette could fire Lena's imagination, inflame her passion, and all with no intention to deceive her. They were two innocents caught in the madness of their circumstances.

"But I watched the girl with the general," Alexandra said presently, "and she has made her choice, I think."

"But what have they done to her? She has been tortured!"

They pondered that for a while. The claw-like hands, the horrible, stumbling gait; Alexandra could hardly imagine what kind of torture would have resulted in such deformities.

"But if it had been torture, we would have seen it in her face, wouldn't we? Such pain leaves marks, Lena! But she looked ... happy. Forgive me, but she looked happy to be with her. She did look glad to see you, but not desperately glad."

Lena hung her head. It was true; Nevenka didn't look like one who wanted to escape. "You're right, Lady Alexandra," she admitted.

"Do you still love Elly?"

"Desperately. You probably don't believe me."

"As me whether I love Genevieve."

"No, Lady Alexandra, I couldn't do that. You make jokes at my expense."

"Oh Lena, you don't know me!" she laughed a bitter laugh. "You have no idea how much I want to be able to say, Lena knows me! Sophie knows me, ... who else is there?"

"Lady Alexandra, if you feel afraid, you know you can count on me. I volunteered to come out here to keep you safe!"

"I want still more from you, Lena—not that I'm ungrateful for what you have already done. I want you to be able to talk to me as an equal, like we did sometimes at the Lodge!"

Lena sighed. "All right; as you wish, Lady Alexandra." That was typical. Alexandra knew very well that Lena would think exactly what she wanted. But she was too diplomatic, she loved Alexandra too much to argue with her now.

"I love Genny, Lena ... I hope I love her enough that we can be lovers again. But Sophie ... she kept me alive! We had our own moments, fighting vicious men ..."

"Tell me about it, my Lady! I did not hear those adventures! Elly only told me a brief, short summary of the facts!"

Alexandra bit back a sigh. She knew Lena was changing the subject. "Well, you remember how we left with the women from Skree."

"Yes. I was told about the ambush, but I would like to hear the details."

"What happened was that Sophie, of whom one of the women was very fond, was persuaded to learn fighting. Unarmed combat. The youngest cousin, whom we called Baby ..."

"I her well, Lady Anna; it was she who selected us for this mission."

"I see. Well, she was determined to teach Sophie everything she knew, which was a lot. So, at every opportunity ..." Lena listened, amused at her young Queen's take on things. The girl had a wonderful way of telling a story, giving a clear feel for the moment. Lena enjoyed the story anyway, though she knew the Queen had recognized her clumsy attempt to head her away from more intimate matters.

Interrupted only by little Sonja's regular demands to be fed, they made their way to the shore as the story unfolded. Signaling took little time, and a boat scraped bottom near them in a few minutes. The Queen was joyfully welcomed with cheers on board the ship, as a wooden platform was lowered, to hoist the horses up to the deck.

Lena was ordered to the Queen's cabin, to sit and listen to the rest of the story. She was amused at the Queen's eagerness to share all the details with her, but it was an amazing record of heroism, especially that of Lady Sophie. They both shook their heads in wonder at her stubbornness. "She gives and gives, and then gives more, Lena." Alexandra was talking in a soft voice, as if to make Lena love Lady Sophie as much as she did. "After the baby was born," she whispered, "I lay with her." Lena cringed, but she could see Alexandra's sad face, and didn't have the heart to refuse to listen. "If you love me, Lena, and I want your love more than anything, you must also know my faults. I slept with her, and I have, every night since then. Sometimes—as one sleeps with a friend; other times ... as one sleeps with a lover." She stopped to think. "Some of it was for her. But most of it was for me. And I love her, and I hope I have the courage to tell Genny so. I don't want to be forgiven; I want Genny to know that she doesn't own me completely. Is that wrong?"

Lena heaved a heavy sigh. "I was brought up that it was wrong ... but my life has turned out the same. The way things are, there is an end to it for me. If Nevenka were to climb into my bed, would I turn her away? No. But I think I will be spared that pain. And it's pain to be spared it, too."

"Yes ... it is pain both ways. I can't presume to console you, Lena, but to explain, perhaps, that what we have been taught as normalcy, is only an ideal, not attainable ... not always attainable, anyway."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Lena softly.

"Well, it's late," Alexandra said. "It was a long talk, and I thank you for listening!"

"I'll see you at breakfast, Lady Alexandra! And you too, little one!" The baby smiled in the dark and cooed at her. She left, closing the door gently behind her.

When they landed, there was a large gathering to meet them, everyone they knew in Skree, as well as the Princess Genevieve, whom Alexandra watched with mounting anxiety. Everyone was stunned to see Alexandra with the baby. They were expecting it, but the reality still shocked them. She was broader, now, and her breasts were naturally fuller. Her hair had grown, and was a deep, rich red now, and the ends ragged, and her sandals and long gathered Bernian skirt and blouse completely transformed her. She could not have been recognized from any distance.

Genny stood with the cousins to greet her, her eyes wide with wonder. Genny looked haggard, but had been tended and dressed and prettied up by the cousins —Baby, most probably— and she was the first to come to hug Alexandra and the baby, tears of joy pouring down her cheeks. Her lips were soft against Alexandra's, and her eyes studied the baby hungrily. Alexandra gave her the child, praying that this reunion would be a healing one for both of them. Once again Alexandra remembered what it was to be married to one of the most beautiful women on the planet.

"You're so thin," she exclaimed softly, squeezing Genny's thin arms. Her head seemed enormous in contrast to the rest of her. Safe as she had been, marooned in the vicinity of the capital, she had suffered the most of all of them, being cut off from the others.

Genny studied Alexandra. Her new heavy breasts looked handsome on her broad shoulders. The demure figure-hugging blouse stopped at the waist, leaving a narrow band of stomach open to the eyes, and Genny's eyes were drawn to Alexandra's strong stomach. Her thighs were outlined by the soft skirt fabric, exciting her further. It was surprising how sensuous a big girl could be. Her clear, sweet voice brought back memories of their days together, their innocence which they had given to each other, but much of which still clung to Alexandra.

"You look tall, and healthy, and strong ... and sunburnt! Oh, you look so beautiful! And I'm so jealous, you had Sophie with you!" Genny saw at once the stricken look in Alexandra's eyes, and she knew at once that her anticipation of something between Alexandra and Sophie had come to be. But it is easy to forgive a sin you have anticipated, so she forgave her mate with her eyes. "Dear, dear Sophie," she whispered. She lifted her face for another kiss, and Alexandra kissed her.

"Did you recognize Lena?" Alexandra asked, laughing.

"Lena! Yes ... I saw her once before disguised this way! Give us a kiss, Lena!" Lena tried to kiss her hand, but was hauled in for a proper hug by the princess. Then it was a free-for-all, as Baby waded in, kissing each of them on the mouth, and stealing the baby away from her parents, and Elke and the others took their turn. Alexandra watched the scene, her heart full of happiness, blotting her eyes, with a smile on her face. And she wished Sophie were there, and she was grateful that she was not.

It was many long minutes before the entire group of chattering women could be escorted into the castle.

"Geneva is safe now," Alexandra declared; "Miss Nevenka has worked a miracle. I saw the general the other day, and she's preparing the country for surrender!"

"Is it true? Did you actually see her?" It was Bertha, who had come in behind the others. They all sat in the spacious sitting room of the castle, and Alexandra and Lena told them as much as they knew.

There were still stories to tell, but other things had priority. Lena had to go back, arrange for a couple of young folks to go out to help with Karl's farm, and bring the others back. While Genny made the acquaintance of her daughter, who gazed into her face with great interest, Alexandra planned with Lena.

"I'll send money with you. A young couple will be perfect. They can work the Aarons place, as well as help Karl."

"Karl has got some of his strength back, it seems."

"Yes; it was just a feeling of hopelessness. He will miss Ninel, though!"

Lena nodded. It had been a pleasant place, but perhaps that was because of the ugliness out of which they had made something beautiful. Lena longed to go back, and she could tell that Alexandra did, too. It seemed miserable that they had to abandon farmer Karl after raising his hopes so.

"How is Ninel?" the younger ones asked them.

"She does fine," Alexandra said. "She has grown tall, and Sophie teaches her for four hours each morning, mathematics and science, and reading and everything."

"Four hours! Mathematics? There's a war on!"

"All the more reason," said Sonja, firmly. "I'm glad for the child. It will be a shock to return to a dead village."

There was a silence. They looked at each other, the memory of that silent village in the moonlight an ache in their souls. Baby's eyes were huge with remembered horror.

"I heard it all," said Genny softly. These shared experiences bonded Alexandra to these girls, something that she could never be a part of. For the millionth time she cursed what she had been forced to do, cut off from everything. "You were all out, suffering, fighting, while I ..."

Alexandra took her hand tenderly. If she had been anyone else, she would have publicly recognized her sacrifice. But she was Princess Consort; it was hardly possible to elevate her more. "Many people helped bring this war to an end, Genny," she said softly, and they fell silent, because she spoke as Queen. "Lady Bertha, Lena, Sophie, Nevenka. But none of it would have been any use, if you had not kept us from losing it. I can't think why you were made to suffer in such loneliness; if Lady Trudy had thought of it, one of these girls could have kept you company, and made all the difference!"

"I was kept locked up in the castle, cousin Alexandra," Baby said at once. "Jo and Dee were volunteers for the rescue operation. Kirsten ran off and explored the north side of the fault."

"You're right," conceded Bertha. "Lady Trudy could have asked for some help."

Genny was exasperated. "I don't like blaming Lady Trudy for everything. And I'm not complaining."

"Mumm, mumm, mumm," said Baby Sonja.

"What does she mean by that?" asked Genny, curious. "Oh," she said, seeing Alexandra unbuttoning her blouse. She wore nothing beneath it; her swollen breast emerged, firm and so sensuous. "You've become such a peasant mother, dear!" Alexandra laughed, and picked the baby up, and set her to her breast.

"What does it feel like?" Genny asked, softly.

"Wonderful," answered Alexandra, sounding dreamy. Genny sat on Alexandra's leg, leaning her head on Alexandra's other breast, as the baby sucked away, watching her mothers with that absent gaze that feeding infants seem to have.

"What are the arrangements for the night?" asked Bertha.

"We're going to stay awake," said Kirsten, boldly, and they laughed. Lena laughed with them, because she suspected it was probably true.

But eventually, fatigue took its toll. Two of the younger cousins were still pestering Lena, when she began to nod off. They conducted her to one of the room, and Alexandra hoped they would let her rest. The older folk, including Bertha, had headed off already to various rooms, and Elke stood close by, ready to show them to the Royal Suite.

"She's fast asleep," murmured Genny, in whose arms the baby lay. Alexandra sat close to her, a bundle of tortured nerves, schooled to stillness. Elke caught her eye, and smiled. She was a wonderful person to have around, and Alexandra was grateful. Alexandra stood, and gently helped Genny up. She looked around for the small bag she had brought, and Elke said it had already been put away. They went to the room. There was a cradle for the baby, a lovely, ornate one that could be rocked. Genny laid her gently in the bed; already she was comfortable with the baby, in whose veins her blood flowed too.

Alexandra undressed quietly, awkwardly, wondering how much she could presume on Genny's forgiveness. Genny undressed down to her skin, and drew Alexandra to the bed. She was all bones, the months had been long, and her body bore the signs of her exile. It had been a spiritual exile from her loved ones.

"I have to tell you something," said Alexandra, sitting on the bed, a new, graceful Alexandra whose femininity was driving Genny mad with desire.

"What is it, my Queen?"

It was hard, so hard! "When I found myself alone, without your company, Genny, ... I turned to —someone else— for comfort. I lay with her first, after the baby was born, and then I continued to lie with her ... for these several months." She dared not look into Genny's eyes. She clasped her hands tightly together, to keep them from shaking.

"I have done the same, Alexandra. I can't lie to you."

"Oh Genny, you're only finding an excuse to forgive me!"

"It is the truth. I wouldn't make up such a thing."

Alexandra held out her hands. "Let's forgive each other, then! Oh, I lived in fear of this meeting!"

Genny looked at her, and began to laugh softly, tears pouring from her eyes. Alexandra patiently waited, holding her hand. She had climbed onto the bed, and sat watching her beloved, like some pensive mermaid.

"May I ask who the woman was, Alexandra? If I promise not to hurt her, or speak about it?"

Alexandra took a deep breath. "I spoke with her," she said, very softly, "and I said, if the consort wants to know, may I tell her? And she said yes. It is Sophie. Your friend, who still loves you dearly. I ask your forgiveness on her behalf as well, Genny!"

Genny sighed. "She is forgiven; I forgave you long ago, Alexandra. I sent her to you, knowing this would happen. It was my way of keeping you from—finding comfort with women less worthy of you, less worthy of us both!" Alexandra nodded, too miserable to really listen. Genny smiled, suppressing a desire to laugh. "Don't you wish to know with whom I have betrayed you?"

Alexandra shook her head, not meeting Genny's eyes. "It was Sophie. I have done the same as you, Alexandra! Come here, I want you to hold me when I tell you my own sins."

Alexandra obediently went to her. "I will willingly do anything for you, Genny, if I was sure this was not some—cruel joke, after which you will curse me, and send me away!" She found herself with Genny cuddled against her breast. She felt light, and the bones of her arms dug into her painfully. Genny sighed in pleasure as she rested her head against Alexandra's breast.

Alexandra held her tight. "She only binds us closer," whispered Alexandra. "Genny, half of me is given to her. My body can be faithful, I'm sure, but my heart has two loves. I must be honest"

"You are too honest, my Queen; don't expect the same from me! If I tell you I love you, I'm probably lying. I love you!"

And they made love. But a mosquito had made its way into the room. It made a point of flying close to Genny, drawing attention to itself. She stopped what she was doing to swat at it. Alexandra waited patiently, angry at the pestilential insect.

But Genny was distracted. She got out of bed, swatting at the insect with her pillow, then a piece of cloth that she picked up. But the creature would not be killed, and Genny's rage was so great that she sat on the floor and wept.

Alexandra turned on the lights, and hunted it, and Genny's sobs only grew more heartbroken, until Alexandra finally found the creature on the wall, and smashed it, leaving a smear of dark blood on the wall. Genny stopped crying with a gasp, as Alexandra smiled at her, and turned off the light. She came to where Genny was seated, and made to raise her to her feet.

"Alexandra," she whispered, "it isn't the mosquito. Sit here with me." Alexandra sat near her, a nameless dread taking her. "I love Sophie ... you know that."

"Yes, beloved; I love her too! But we have forgiven each other for that."

"But Alexandra, I don't love you anymore."

Alexandra simply did not understand for many long minutes, and then Genevieve was afraid. Genny was frustrated and angry at being unable to explain ideas that in her mind were utterly simple.

"I didn't say I would leave you! I will live with you!"

"Then what do you want, Princess?"

"I want to sleep—with Sophie, or, failing that—alone!"

"Am I become so ugly, that you ..."

"Alexandra, you may be able to sleep with anybody, but I can't do it. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who cannot."

Alexandra was silent so long that Genny began to fear.

"Is that all, my Princess?" The words were spoken in such a gentle voice, contrasting with their severity, that Genny's heart ached with sorrow for her Queen. If she did not love Alexandra at all, it would have been easier. But she did, and Alexandra's hurt cut her heart. She was certain that Alexandra did not love her, either. Only their lust kept them together, but Alexandra saw her honesty as betrayal.

"No. I want you to find love ... with someone else, if possible. I cannot bear you to be unhappy."

Alexandra slowly got to her feet, and found a shift, which she put on. Genny stumbled to her feet, and stood in the corner, afraid to do anything that would pre-empt Alexandra's decisions. What would she do? In whom would she confide? Would she announce their differences to everyone?

"I think I understand," she said softly, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. She stood still, in the dark, and Genny wanted to see her face. She reached for the lights — they were electric — and turned them on. Alexandra stood blinking, her eyes startled in the midst of perhaps shedding tears. She dropped her hand with which she had shaded her eyes, and looked at Genny, not trying to mask her misery. "I cannot run out of here, and declare to the world that something is wrong, Princess. We should break this to the world — gently."

"You don't even have to!"

Alexandra stared at her, clearly nonplused, but unwilling to appear obtuse. "I see. You would like to continue the appearance of ..."

"Harmony, Alexandra."

She nodded. "What shall we do tonight, until we can make arrangements to sleep apart?"

"We ... might share the bed?"

"I shall sleep on the floor."

"Suit yourself."

The light was accordingly doused, and extra sheets were found in a closet of the room, and Alexandra spread it on the floor, and lay down to sleep. The baby blissfully slept through it all.

"Alexandra," said Genny, unable to bear the tension between them, a tension, of course, of her own creating, "I don't hate you, or anything like that; I just—don't love you anymore."

There was a soft sniff from the floor. "It's all right. Good night, Genny!"

And Genny knew she had been forgiven, and she wept silently and bitterly, her face buried in her pillow.

Karl had been thoroughly confused at the proceedings.

"I see. So she seemed to imply that surrender was in the works. What happened next?"

"Well, Anna and Hans returned here, as you remember, Karl, and left with the baby."

"But why?"

It was the one question that Karl could not seem to get a reasonable answer to. He could not understand the connection between Hans and Anna and the baby. He had had his own thoughts about the mysterious Anna and young Sophie. That they were lovers seemed to explain their behavior towards each other, which was tender and considerate and extraordinarily loving. But to leave Sophie, and go off with Hans?

Sophie looked at the others, and they looked at her blankly. She took charge.

"Karl, you realize that Hans and Zora are Norsfolk. We're all Norsfolk."

Karl was thunderstruck. "I thought just you and Anna were!"

There was nothing for it, but to tell him the facts, glossing over some of the details.

"Anna is a person of some importance in Norsland. She was kidnaped by Bernian forces." Karl and Jo looked at her open-mouthed. "There's more! You better get comfortable!" The others laughed a little doubtfully. "Sherry, Ninel and I followed, without being seen. Ninel just got involved by accident, as it were." Ninel's eyes filled with tears, and Sophie bit her lip, cursing herself for being insensitive. "After many adventures, the three of us managed to break Anna free, with a lot of help from the Belgravian Navy, who blasted the kidnapper's vessel out of the water. So we were shipwrecked near the Free Farmers settlement, as we told you. We had not been with them all along; we found our way to them after we escaped from the kidnappers. And here we are."

"My goodness. You never said a single thing to give me any inkling of any of this!"

Sophie smiled. "We figured the less you knew, the less difficulty you would have, explaining what we were doing here to your friends in town!"

"Oh, of course; I didn't think of that. Quite so! Well, this being the case, why don't you speak in your own language, Sophie? Jo and I are fluent in it." Jo nodded confirmation.

Sophie's eyes went wide with surprise. The others nodded, and Sophie continued in her mother tongue. "The Norsland government learned that Anna was here, and sent Hans and Zora to keep an eye on her. They had a little radio with which they could keep in touch with a boat that remained offshore, in case of an emergency. They kept very cool, and Anna and I had no inkling that they were there, the whole time we were with the Free Farmers." Karl nodded. "Then Anna started fighting the soldiers who came to get a supplies levy from us. We had to run away, while Hans was on another mission. Actually he recruited a Bernian girl to assassinate the general. But apparently she has simply talked to the woman, and peacefully persuaded her to cease hostilities. If we had known that would work, she probably wouldn't have been sent to kill the woman, I suppose."

"That is remarkable," said Jo. "I didn't think we Bernians had it in us."

"And where is this girl now? Has she escaped with Hans and Anna and the baby?"

"No, she's apparently decided to stay with the general. These things happen."

"I can't get over how much you know about the war, Sophie. And you're such a young thing! How old are you?"

"Just seventeen, ma'am. But my parents are deeply involved. My mother is Lady Trudy Gustafson, who has guided and protected her Highness, Princess Genevieve, the Queen's Consort. It's the Princess who broadcasts on TV every night."

"Are you indeed Lady Trudy's daughter?" asked Jo.

"Yes I am! Do you know her?" exclaimed Sophie.

"Not personally, no, but she was well known in better times! She was a great favorite of the old Queen, Queen Beate, we knew. There was not all this secrecy twenty years ago, Sophie. In my youth, we knew something of the doings over there, and they visited Bernia, and we visited Stefansberg, often enough to learn the language."

Karl shook his head. "It is unbelievable," he said. "Now, finally, it makes sense. But why did Anna need to go back in such a hurry? It would have been safer to wait until peace was established!"

Sophie took a deep breath, and exchanged glances with Elly and Sherry.

"Lady Anna has to be back in Norsland for there to be a peace," said Sophie. "More than that, I can't tell you!"

Nevenka and Katya sat on the sofa together. The lights were all out, except for a single light on the low table.

"I spoke to the doctor," Katya said. She had just come back, having been out late, meeting with many, many people, evidently the doctor, too. Nevenka listened, her heart in her mouth. "Against my orders, she did not cut your hamstrings. Nevenka, you must believe me, I kissed the woman in my gratitude!" Nevenka nodded, eyes shining. With cut hamstrings, her legs would have eventually become deformed and ugly. And Nevenka was vain enough to want to be beautiful, to have a beautiful body for as long as she could. "She does have the ability to reverse the damage. There will be some ugly scars, and much pain. But there are pain killers, you need not suffer ..."

"Oh, I don't care, I don't care! Ask her to do it! I welcome the pain, dear Katya! Oh please, let her do it!"

"Yes, yes! But your hands!" Katya's face was anguished. "There, too, she was too clever. She cut things that she's sure she can re-attach. But it is fine, difficult work, and it will probably take many weeks. And she has to start right away. Once the muscles get set, it's apparently impossible to stretch them again!"

"At least one hand!"

"Oh Nevenka, if I could give you my own hands, I would!" They were in the arms of each other in a heartbeat. "You have made me a tender, weak, soft woman, girl; all my strength, my resolve, the things that made me a general, are all fading away!"

"But you are alive, alive!" cried Nevenka. "I looked into your eyes, and I couldn't do it! And look what I have found!"

"What have you found, Nevenka?"

"I don't know, Katya ... I listen for a word, but it doesn't come! You tell me how sorry you are, how I have destroyed you, how pretty I am. So I have your pity, remorse, regret, your admiration. But something wants to be born in my heart, Katya, it wants to know that you are still human, that pity isn't all that drives you!" Katya had a hunted look in her eyes. The hunger that smoldered there briefly was shocked away. Nevenka knew that passion waited in the wings, to be kindled at any time. But they couldn't live on passion. Passion was a destructive, demanding thing. It didn't nurture and heal and protect, it didn't forgive, or ask forgiveness. "Am I nothing to you, but something you destroyed?"

"I am too afraid to say the word," said Katya. "I'm sure I have said it, I must have. But I can't ...I can't!" She wanted Nevenka to take her in her arms and heal her, but Nevenka had no hands. Katya wept at the sight; the girl had such a generous spirit, she could make Katya well with a touch. But Katya was doomed to be the one who comforted her, until her hands could be repaired, if they ever were.

She drew Nevenka into her lap, and held her tight. Briefly Nevenka melted against her, and they were a single blissful being. Then she pushed herself away, pressing the backs of her hands against Katya's breast. She looked into Katya's eyes. She was as little able to resist Katya's sad green eyes as Katya was able to resist her own dark ones.

"When all this is over, what will you do with me?"

That was the big question. Katya wanted to be honest. "I know what I feel right now, darling. But I'm changing. Everything that happens is changing me. You started it, and ... it's been a spiral of changes. Right now, I feel that I'd like to take you away from here, and make a home for you, and be your slave forever. And I pray that I will not change so much that my vision of heaven will be different than that!"

"Is it out of pity?"

"No," wept Katya, "It's out of love, darling, out of love! There, that was the word ... I was afraid—I was afraid to say it, and not mean it!"

Katya, still weeping, gently forced the fingers out. They were still not so clawed that they would not open. Then Katya pressed the hand to her breast, rubbing her nipple against the soft skin of Nevenka's palm.

"I love you too," whispered Nevenka. "I wish I could say: I loved you the moment I saw you!" It seemed to her that one either loved at first glance, or grew into a love slowly. But though what she felt could be nothing else but love, it had built up over several long minutes, an hour, during which she fought herself, her mission, to kill the woman. She could have done it quickly, and with little pain. But her heart had stopped her. "But I loved you the moment I felt your sadness. It began as pity for me, too."

Katya's tears dried on her face as she rocked herself backwards and forwards, "You pitied me, the most powerful woman in Bernia?"

"What other word is there? You had only me, and I was an assassin!"

Katya paused in her obsessive movement. "I had thought of pity as a sad thing." Nevenka was learning about this woman all the time; words mattered to her. "Perhaps it was compassion ...What a pair we are!"

Nevenka considered the two of them as a single entity. Lovers. She had once imagined herself with Lena, standing on the steps of a home, their home. It had been a heartbreaking vision. Once again she was opening her heart to the vulnerability of that feeling. "We are a wonderful pair, you and I. Together, we can be, and do, so much!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Republic

The following morning, already, the surgery began. The legs were done the first day, and Nevenka was strapped into an immobilizer. While Katya was still outside waiting, the surgeon, Thora, same to sit with Nevenka. It had been done under local anaesthetic, but Nevenka was heavily sedated, and felt woozy. Thora studied her, her expression reflecting the sorrow she felt. Nevenka knew that her diminutive stature aroused protective feelings in the tall Norsfolk. "I can't bear to see you suffer like this," she said. "The woman is insane."

"Are they still listening?"

"I doubt it," said Thora. "It's a lot more relaxed now. Discipline is down, too."

"Did she order you to do it? Did she beg?" Nevenka wrinkled her nose, amusing Thora no end.

"She begged!" Thora searched her eyes, trying to figure her out. "Is she in love with you? It certainly seems that way!" Nevenka nodded, blushing and grinning. "Is the feeling reciprocated?" Another blush, and a nod. "Are congratulations in order?"

Nevenka sighed, and looked away. "We're—happy together, that's all I can say. The laws don't allow same-sex marriages, as you should know."

"You must be her first love. It's completely destroyed her."

"What do you mean, destroyed?"

"She's come apart. She's incapable of a reprimand! You've got to put some spine into her. It's your duty."

"What am I to say, 'Go reprimand somebody'?"

Thora frowned. They were traversing ground that would normally have taken weeks, to become close friends in mere minutes. "Well, you could tell her that discipline is important, even when surrender is being negotiated."

Nevenka nodded.

"Will I be able to draw?" she asked.

Thora took her hand and laced her fingers through it in a way reminiscent of Katya's touch. "I hope so," she whispered. "We owe you much, for ending this war."

Over the next several days, as Katya got up the nerve to take Nevenka with her to meetings, in her wheelchair, and to an informal gathering or two, Nevenka learned that she was widely, if informally, credited with bringing the war to a close. Not all those in the highest circles were hawks. Many had continued in their work out of loyalty. Nevenka met the spouses of many of the high-ranking men, and a good number of them were kind to her, and expressed their gratitude and admiration in subtle ways.

Following Thora's advice, she warned Katya to emphasize to everyone that it was not appropriate to relax into some kind of boneless apathy. If surrender was decided on, the enemy must find the troops disciplined and proud. The government must function with reasonable efficiency, a clean, healthy face must be put on the city and as much of the country as possible.

Katya agreed implicitly. That very morning, a meeting was called, and she firmly asserted that Bernia's ascendancy over her neighbors might be in question, but her pride was undiminished. Discipline must be maintained, the army and the troops would not be embarrassed by the failings of the leadership. "You have fought well, and there is no need to abandon your proud conduct now. We will have to accept foreign supervision of our post-war rebuilding. But if they must rebuild a city reduced to a slum, and a people reduced to a rabble, that will be a cause for shame. Forget the past! It is the future now. You are the pride of your people! Act like it!"

Her glance moved over her colleagues, who straightened up resentfully under her glare. She called a meeting, and respectfully put various civic responsibilities in their hands. One was to restore the city government of Freiburg, another was to restore the roads to some semblance of their pre-war condition, another was to make a plan for a systematic de-mobilization of the troops, another was to begin planning a system of public transport, another was to ready the harbor for civilian use, and so on.

Thora worked on Nevenka's hand, with three other surgeons and a bevy of nurses. They looked at it under a microscope, connecting tiny fibers with tinier needles and sutures. They worked continuously for nine hours, taking turns at it. Anesthetized, Nevenka felt only a vague, unpleasant tugging. When another was operating, Thora sat near Nevenka, her eyes closed.

"Why not do the rest tomorrow?" she had asked.

"More scars, more things to go wrong," she had said. "You can't feel it, but it's trying to bleed. Also, unless it's all done at once, it will pull to a side, and you will be in pain."

"I owe you so much, I could never repay you. This work would cost a fortune. I well know it."

"Relax, girl. You are welcome to it. Do you know, my husband and my daughters are dying to meet you? Well, they are!"

"Because you told them I stopped the war?"

"Everybody knows, young woman," called the doctor who was operating just then. "You were in the right place at the right time. And we didn't know it, but she was the right one to be at the top. None of the others had either the intelligence or the humanity."

"She is a good woman," said Nevenka, her heart full, raising her voice to address them all.

"She is now," said another one, a smile in his voice.

"Are you all Norsfolk?" asked Nevenka, curious.

"Some of us. Why?"

"Well, the Queen was in hiding right here, in the forest, for a year!"

Nevenka could feel the tugging cease. They were shocked. "What did you say?"

"Queen Alexandra was here, in Bernia, since last summer. She had a baby in a settlement of the Free Farmers, and remained hidden! Yes! The child is a little more than a few months old, I believe, and they have set out for Norsland, since of course they cannot accept a surrender without the Queen!"

"But why here?"

"She was being hunted by our gunmen, and grew tired of it, apparently!"

They were thoroughly pleased at the joke, and Nevenka was afraid they would make a mistake. She begged them to be careful, and they laughed at her fears.

"Tell me about these gunmen," one of the surgeons asked.

"Well, there were gunmen there, men with rifles, who shot at her all the time. They tracked her using a device that had been put in her clothes. She was in fear of her life."

It was a frightening thought. No doubt they thought that royalty should be prepared for such threats, but they also sympathized with the terror the young Queen must have felt.

Early in the evening, the last suture was tied in place, and Nevenka's hand was bandaged loosely but securely, so that she could not see it at all. The hand was strapped to a form that kept her fingers splayed, in order to take the strain off the tendons that had been joined surgically.

"Let me see," said Katya's voice. She had forced her way in.

"General, you can't do this," said Thora, firmly. "If you do not set an example of respect for medical procedures, how can you expect others to do it?"

"But it's been hours and hours!"

"All right then, you take care of her."

"No! I'm going!"

"Leave the bandages on, Nevenka. Just be dirty for three or four days; you mustn't wet the bandage. We'll send someone over to tend to it. Don't look at it; it'll be horrible, all bruised black and blue."

"I don't care," said Nevenka.

"You have pretty hands," said another doctor, with a smile.

"Thank you, doctor," blushed Nevenka.

"Eat well, dear, as well as our supplies allow. Have somebody feed you."

"She gets nutritious food," Katya insisted from the door. "You don't have to be so snide, honorable surgeons. I've done my groveling, and I'm finished with it. And I'll take care of feeding her, don't you worry."

"No pressure on the hamstrings, please," said Thora in a low voice, to Katya.

Katya had come into the light, and blushed. "Of course, that goes without saying," she said. After the doctors left, Katya demanded, "What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing!" Katya looked at her doubtfully. "They said that I was thought to have convinced you to sue for peace, but another one said that it was all luck; everything came together at the right time. And if you hadn't been in charge, no one would have had the intelligence or the humanity to do it. Their very words. I was so happy!"

"Do you think I am intelligent, my Nevenka?"

"Yes! And human!"

Katya sank into a chair by her bed. "You should sleep here tonight. It is a pity to take you away."

"I would like that. But I would also like ..."

"No. We must be careful. I'll get some food for us both."

"And you must feed me!"

And Katya looked at one hand, and then the other, and took a minute to weep in penitence.

"Dear fellow citizens," began Genevieve, who was dressed tonight in a lovely dark blue formal gown. "Last night was a night we must never forget! A few days ago, as you know, we heard an unexpected plea from General Katherine Pfizer, the high commander of the Bernian armed forces. She proposed a cease-fire, which we were glad to accept, and I was pleased to report that to you the next morning.

"You were not aware, however, and we were careful not to frighten you unduly, that at one time a bounty was placed on our Queen. Bernian marksmen were attempting to kill her everywhere she went. In a complicated sequence of moves, she, and Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir, the daughter of my friend and companion Lady Trudy, managed to hide themselves far away, in Eastern Bernia, in the very heart of our neighboring country." There was immediate consternation in every village, as they watched their nightly broadcast. "She was safe, guarded by a few loyal countrywomen who volunteered to stay close to her. And she was also protected by a great many peace-loving Bernians. The time will come, my friends, when we must open our hearts to our former enemies. That time may not be here, but it will come soon! And when it comes, we must remember Bernians whose humanity rose above obeying orders that went contrary to their conscience.

"But there is more! Before my beloved Queen and I were parted, we had conceived a child together. Though it was my duty, as the consort, to bear the Queen's daughter, circumstances conspired in such a way that it was her Majesty herself who carried the child. On April the twelfth of this year, a daughter was born to her Majesty. I am pleased to announce that we indeed have an heir, Sophia Ninel Alexandrasdottir, heir to the throne of Norsland, by the grace of god, and the consent of the people!" There were roars throughout the land. "A child is a message of hope for the future, my friends! We have suffered much, and so have our enemies. But this child, conceived in the midst of violence, and nurtured by our neighbors, could belong to both our peoples, if they would choose to embrace us in peace, and give up hostilities. We have never ceased to petition for peace. And if peace is at hand, we extend a peace with honor. In our time of joy, let us be magnanimous! The tide has turned. There need be no victor and vanquished. Let our suit for peace with dignity be acceptable now among those who speak for the Bernian nation. Let us move beyond this grief towards a better future for all of us!

"Before I give you my accustomed blessing, here is a sight that will be worth more than any words I can say! Her Royal Majesty, my beloved, Queen Alexandra II, and our daughter, her Highness Princess Sophia Ninel!"

Alexandra walked on screen, smiling graciously, with the baby in her arms, dressed in a pretty maroon smock, as Genevieve half-turned towards her, her arm extended with pride. The young Queen looked lovely, and every bit her youthful eighteen years. She seemed to tower over the somewhat shorter Genevieve, whose arm she held fondly.

"My people," she said in her high voice, making her sound even more youthful, "I ask your patience for not having addressed you for more than a year. As her Highness described, I owe my health and my safety to many, to Sharon of Belgravia, who threw in her lot with me, Lady Sophia, who came with me though all my troubles, Magdalena and Elisabeth of Westholm Lodge, Ninel of Geneva, farmer Karl Henderson of Bernia and his wife Josephine, Farmer Sergei and Mistresses Maria and Alena of the Free Farmers, and countless, countless others who fought for me, and by my side. Oh, all my cousins from Geneva! I have not forgotten you, and all our brave generals, who continued to fight, with their Queen in hiding. And I want to thank a young woman of Bernia whose story will surely emerge in these next weeks, and those who helped her." She took a second to breathe, and kiss the baby, who was looking thoughtfully at Genevieve, and then at the camera operator.

"I would like to give you words of hope, but Genevieve has said them already. We must pray that our neighbors in Bernia have the courage to trust their future to us. We must work together to find a way of life for us and for them, that will make their lives not only comfortable, but meaningful. We have failed in the past. But we cannot fail this time." Alexandra clearly struggled with her next thought. "I must confess that my life, this last year, was a happy one. I was far from home, and I had put my friends in danger, and my wife suffered not knowing where I was. But I worked hard, in a farm, repairing buildings, fences, raising chickens, digging ditches, things that were pleasant tasks, because I was working by the side of my friend Lena, and for Farmer Henderson, a wonderful, kind man. I saw with my own eyes, the treasures of art that lie waiting to be discovered again in Thebes. Lady Sophie and I spent hours teaching the young people of our little settlement mathematics and general science. Our little friend, Ninel, became a friend to a score of young Bernian children, wonderful children who knew Ninel to be a Norslandish girl, yet loved her as one of their own." Alexandra, unlike Genny, had spent little time articulating her thoughts into phrases that could be understood by a television audience. In addition, she had many more experiences that needed to be assimilated before they could be turned into useful remarks. Accordingly, she gave up extemporizing, and gracefully admitted defeat.

"There is much to think about," she said humbly, "to learn how to find happiness amidst the destruction of the war. But there is much beauty in Bernia, beauty that no one but Bernians can hope to own. Perhaps they will learn to see it through our eyes." She smiled. "Her Highness, Princess Genevieve, and Princess Sophie Ninel, and I, wish you a good night, and to you also, our friends to be, if you're watching, and I know you are. Good night, and god bless you all!"

It was sheer luck that Katya and Nevenka turned on the television in the hospital room. It happened that it was tuned to Genny's broadcast. "They've been listening to this every night!"

"You can't blame them, Katya, it's the only thing worth watching."

"That was her, all right. She's safe home now, thanks to my carelessness."

"Thanks to your generosity."

"The child is a sweet little thing." Nevenka reached to stroke Katya with the back of her free hand. Katya took possession of it, and spread it out and pressed it between her own. She wondered: what little plans were hatching in Nevenka's mind? They were racing towards a relationship that was disconcertingly domestic, and Katya could hardly wait. Ever since she had known that she had —what she considered to be— a deviant sexual preference, she had despaired of ever having a loving home of her own. Women she knew she could get; thanks to Victor, there were spectacularly lovely girls with brilliantly erotic skills. But she could barely stand to spend more than a night with any of them. They disgusted her in the morning, and she frightened them to death. Suddenly, with Nevenka, Katya felt like a drowning woman, gasping for the air that Nevenka was, pure free oxygen. She feared to let her out of her sight; that had been one of the causes of the madness that had almost cost them Nevenka's limbs. Suddenly, everything was possible! A home, a love, a life. Children! There had to be a way; if the Norslandian Queen and her wife —whatever that was— could conceive a child, then so could she and Nevenka! The thought drove her mad with excitement.

"Stop it, you're hurting me, love!"

"I'm sorry ... Nevenka ... if only we could run away, to Norsland! We could be together, it would be legal ..."

Nevenka wanted to laugh and cry at once. It was a pleasure to have her hopes confirmed in such a concrete way. "We don't need to be married, love; we could live in sin! It would be wonderful!"

"But—I want a child." Nevenka's heart soared at the woman's soft words.

"There are ways, I was told. Thora would know."

"Did she say so?"

"She's a doctor, Katya, from Norsland — think! How could she not know?"

There was a long pause, and Nevenka knew Katya would start on an unrelated topic.

"I was deeply moved by their speeches, Nevenka."

Katya's mind was like that; it moved from thought to thought in a seemingly unconnected way, but there was a thread, and someday she would learn how to catch it.

"These broadcasts have always been like that. Always reaching out. The woman is amazing—it was love at first sight ..."

"Ah yes, you met her."

"Katya, it was impossible not to love her. And the Queen — don't you think she has honest eyes? It is impossible not to trust her. Lena said that Sergei was in love with her!"

"That's the big farmer, the leader of the commune?"

"Yes!"

"I can believe it. He has an eye for livestock, that one." Nevenka laughed. "Yes. It seems a national trait, that sincere look. I suppose I could look honest, if I tried," she mused.

"You must look —and be— honest, Katya," Nevenka said, fiercely. "You are all we have, to face her across the table!"

Katya was once again surprised into silence. She kept imagining that others would do the negotiations. No; it would have to be her. She would have to be the figurehead government. If she took Nevenka to be her companion, she, too, would be a public figure. And a better one she could never find. Suddenly it all seemed possible, even necessary. She and Nevenka would lead the nation into the future together! It was not a choice, it was a responsibility. And she was deeply grateful that Nevenka was there. She wondered, aghast, what would have happened if she had succumbed to her fear and her fury, and killed her. But she had succumbed to her lust instead, and fate had been kind to her. Tomorrow, she decided, she would begin to push for peace.

In the settlement of the Free Farmers, it was an uproar. They had discovered that their Anna was, in fact, the Queen of Norsland. "I knew it! I knew it!" yelled Alena, out of her mind with excitement. She had suspected something of the sort, and felt vindicated by the facts. Maria grinned at her, bemused. Sergei stared, open-mouthed at the screen, as his friends laughed at him. They knew his secret, and knew his disappointment. "But for a while there, my friend, the Queen hunted for you."

"Indeed she did," he admitted, "indeed she did, my friend." Ah, he thought, what a girl. What a woman. And Alena watched him, the anger going out of her eyes, leaving only sorrow. The departure of the Norsfolk left an emptiness for all of them.

It was the following day that farmer Karl got to see the broadcast, with all the family. By then the secret was out, as the whole town had seen Alexandra often, and spoken with her. The baby had been a favorite with all the old ladies, and it caught their imagination that the little girl they had affectionately called their princess, indeed was one.

Karl was full of admiration for the young consort. He listened, riveted, shushing those who kept talking behind his head. He shook his head in amazement at the stirring words of Genevieve, her emotion, her pride, her nobility.

When the young Queen began to speak, it finally dawned on him. In the back of his mind, he had concluded that there was a lot that he wasn't being told. They could not surrender without Anna's presence in Skree. It had been a brilliant clue that he had missed. He was touched by Alexandra's awkward earnestness, and by her unstinting gratitude. And most importantly, the way they extended the hand of friendship without being patronizing, without humiliation. Like thousands of Bernian men, he wished that he had a daughter as noble, as high minded, as that young woman.

"I recommend that we negotiate for peace. Let's draw up a list of things we are willing to concede, and a list of things we are not willing to concede. The second list is important. If we fight for reasonable things, I think we will get them. Let's ask to negotiate on neutral territory. I suggest a ship offshore. And I'm willing to go. And I'm also ready to stay behind. Whatever we do, we seven are in charge. There is no other authority."

"There is no hope of prevailing in the war."

There was bitter laughter.

"Let's do it."

"No! Not while I live!"

"Oh, sit down, Hendryk." Hendryk walked out. The discussion continued with just the six of them.

By noon, Katya was authorized to speak to the troops. She appeared before the troops in Freiburg at a little past noon. "The generals and I have decided to submit, and sue for peace. The terms of our surrender will be negotiated, but until the moment when you ceremonially surrender your weapons, you must be under arms as you were trained to be. They can never take away our dignity. It is an end to our imperial ambitions, but we are still a sovereign nation, no matter what they may say we are. And you are still symbols of this nation. It is an honor, and a responsibility. Dismissed!"

An hour later, she was addressing the troops in Oslo, saying much the same thing. She inspected the troops up the shore, around the fault, all the way up to the Verne. The troops all accepted the message in silence. Perhaps they looked a little more proud. But they looked greatly relieved.

Katya was asked by the generals to contact the Norsland headquarters in Skree at the appointed time.

"Calling Skree, please come in," called the operator twice, after which they heard a voice,

"This is Skree, we receive you loud and clear."

Katya took the microphone. "Skree, this is general Katherine Pfizer. I would like to speak to General Bertha, or the Queen, or her representative."

A rusty old voice came on. "This is Bertha, General Pfizer."

"I have been authorized to ask for a negotiation to propose a plan for peace. We are open to suggestions. We suggest a ship of your choosing, off the southern shore of Oslo, beyond the minefields."

There was a brief pause, and a click.

"This is good news. How soon can you be ready?"

"We can be at the spot in ... approximately two hours."

"Good. The Novaspirians have offered the use of the Star of Hope. Give us three hours." Details about identification, and the flags to be flown, and so on and so forth, had to be settled. Katya left, leaving all that to the specialists.

She went straight to the hospital, where Nevenka's left hand was being restored. She was allowed to watch through an observation window. She watched for a few moments, then left to confer with her colleagues. Then three of them left for the navy vessel that would take them out to the rendezvous.

The negotiations took little time. Since the Bernians had taken the time to prepare, they knew exactly which conditions they would have protested. There were none.

"Where have you been?" demanded Nevenka, her pain making her impatient.

"I have negotiated a surrender. It will be done on Monday." Katya's eyes looked weary, but underneath the weariness, a little amused.

"Oh Katya!" Tears poured from her eyes.

"Are you so anxious that we should lose our freedom?"

"No, but on Monday, you will be free!"

"That's true, I suppose."

"Hold me! Look, I don't have hands!"

Katya embraced her. With her arms stretched out on either side, it was easy to hold her slim body, and press her cheek to Nevenka's soft breasts. "I want to make love to you," she whispered.

Lena returned to the farm, with four volunteers from the commune, on four horses, with four more on tethers. They were three mares and a stallion, good breeding-stock for Karl. The two men and two women were eager to work, especially as Lena had promised that a portion of the profits would be theirs.

"We have to go," said Sophie, smiling sadly. "I said I would wait until replacements were found, and I have."

"Lady Sophie, this is sad," said Jo. "There is no need for you to go, you are perfectly safe here!"

"Jo, she is Alexandra's right hand, weren't you listening? She's a cog in their government wheel, an important one. Sophie, promise us that you will visit!"

"I will!"

Farewells were made all round, with Ninel red-eyed with grief. She had come to love the old couple, though she was glad to go to Alexandra, and the new home in the Palace. Riding all afternoon and all night, they arrived at the shore mid-morning. They slept the entire voyage, waking up just in time to get off the boat, and onto the docks at Skree. They spent a night at the castle, being entertained by Alexandra's cousins, and then another boat, a fast Novaspirian one, whisked them around to Stefansberg.

A few days after they landed in Skree, Alexandra and Genevieve and the baby had left for the capital. They rode in a coach with the baby.

They had talked things over, after that painful, miserable, mosquito-ridden night, and Genny had persuaded Alexandra that they could sleep in the same room, and behave in every way as if they were still in love. Alexandra had said, with lowered eyes, that she would try. Genny had replied that she knew Alexandra would not consciously embarrass her.

Traveling in the coach together was hard. The baby was definitely aware that its mother was not comfortable with Genny. She smiled sweetly at her new parent, but she was very quiet, as if anxious not to provoke a disagreement. Occasionally, seeing something through the window, she forgot and made some incomprehensible remark, waggling her hands emphatically, making Genny laugh.

They stopped at the Lodge, and greeted all their loyal friends, many of whom wept to see the royal couple and the baby. The farmer and his wife sat across from the Queen and gave her a solid twenty minutes of relentless reproach. The tone was respectful, but it was nevertheless a thorough scolding.

"If they had taken Your Majesty —and they were this close— how broken-hearted would your subjects have been?" But she was fine! It was all over! "But, Your Majesty, just suppose it had gone wrong! Suppose, god forbid, that ... they did indeed send us — god forbid, but these people were not entirely sane — Your Majesty's head, or even a lock of your hair! Your Majesty, with all due respect, must realize ..." and on, and on.

Their biggest question was: where was Elisabeth, that is Elly, their daughter?

"Elly and Lena were protecting me, Farmer Lars," Alexandra said. "I did not know who they were, but they were protecting me. She is perfectly safe, and will be joining us shortly. She's arriving in the capital two days from now, with Lena. Lars, I cannot apologize more than I have, for putting your daughter in the way of danger, but she joined the secret service without my knowledge, and she is an adult, and she knew what she was doing. There were thousands more in worse danger, Farmer Lars." All her resentment at being lectured by the farmer came out in spite of herself. Genny looked at her with reproach, while the farmer and his wife looked at the Queen in dismay.

"Your Majesty, I only wanted to know!" He almost shuddered, but didn't quite. Frida looked a tad protective of him, though she, too, looked a little alarmed at his presumption, in retrospect. "I still think of her as a young one, you know how it is. She is a girl grown, I know, but ..."

"She is with kind people, farmer," Alexandra said quietly. "She travels with Lady Sophie and Sherry, this Belgravian soldier woman, and together, they can give a good account of themselves."

"In that case," said Lars, grudgingly, "I am satisfied."

"I apologize, farmer Lars," said Alexandra, her eyes shining, and beginning to sniff. "It was unseemly of me to talk to you like that."

"Oh ... I was to blame, Your Majesty. These are difficult days for me." He looked on the brink of tears, not for worry of his daughter, but for offending the Queen.

"We understand. Everything you felt, I felt too, and more, Farmer Lars," Genny said, and the man wept. They were silent, out of respect for his feelings.

They slept in separate rooms at the Lodge, each of them weeping silently, for their own reasons. The baby, who lay beside Alexandra, murmured soft comfort to her mother.

Their welcome at the capital was no less enthusiastic than it had been at Skree. But there was one sad note. Lady Trudy had passed away.

John Gustafson had been unable to decide whether to have the funeral before Alexandra arrived with Genevieve, or to allow the Princess one last look at her devoted companion, and while he was still debating the issue in his mind, they had arrived.

Gutrun Gustafson's mortal remains lay in state in the great hall of the Palace on the evening of the day they arrived, and there was a mass of people to pay their last respects to the outspoken, honest, loyal, selfless, spiritual woman. Alexandra gazed at her, lost in her own thoughts, while Genny knelt by the bier, weeping. The baby was with faithful Bernard, out of earshot of the quiet weeping that filled the room. A look at Gustafson himself made it probable that he would not last much longer.

Alexandra sat near him and held him tight. "I need you," she said softly. "Genny, Sophie, Bernia, Norsland, all need you."

He said not a word. They were cruel words to tell him at that moment, but they were true, nevertheless. And the feel of the Queen's arm around him at least was a reminder that he had children. Karl, his son, sat next to him, gazing at his mother's face, and at the Princess Consort who sobbed at her feet. In these last few days of his mother's life, the Princess had taken possession of the woman. They all knew that it was the strain of comforting Genny that had killed her, or at least finished the work of the many hard years she had suffered. But everyone knew the strain on Genny; it had been inhuman. And now Genny wept.

Later that night, they managed to drag Genny away from the bier. No one had the heart to ask her to stop weeping; it was Genny's tears that eased the bitterness in John Gustafson's heart. It was true she had vented her frustration on both of them, more on him. Now, in his wisdom, he could see that her reaction was a natural one for a girl brought up in privilege, as Genny had been, an only daughter of a king. She had shown restraint, in the last analysis. She had never once refused to speak when she was asked to; she had only lashed out at Gustafson and his wife.

Genny had clung to him and sobbed, and asked forgiveness. He had said there was nothing to forgive, but they both knew it wasn't true.

"I would do anything for him, if I could make up somehow for what I did." The royal couple were alone with the baby, now; there was no one to look after their needs, since Sophie had done it all. They did not trust anyone else. So Alexandra comforted Genny all by herself. "I d-didn't realize how much I l-loved her!"

"You did the best that you could, and more, Princess," Alexandra told her. "To speak, night after night, without a single word of hate ... you were a saint!"

"She was the saint! It was she! Couldn't you tell?"

"Did she write the speeches?" Genny mumbled that she had not. "Did she have to edit them, censor them?" Rarely, said Genny. "Then your hate and frustration had to go somewhere!"

Genny stopped crying and looked at her Queen. "Was it proper, to have done that?"

"No. But it was human!"

"You have grown wise, Alexandra ... while I have become merely a—an orator. I would trade it in a moment for your wisdom. I would trade it all, to have Trudy back."

"You'll have your wish," said Alexandra, quietly. "You will become wise, and loving, and — years from now, you will have Trudy back, for you will become her. And young women will say of you: she is like Lady Trudy used to be! If only people would weep when I die, as you have done at the foot of her bier! You have given her great honor." She took a deep breath. "I'm beginning to feel her gone. Tomorrow, when I see Sophie, I will cry."

"Oh, Alexandra!" said Genny, wondering that her former mate could not weep yet. But that was the way of grieving.

Sophie, Lena, Elly, Sherry, Baby Lara, and Ninel were on deck as the boat pulled in to the pier. And there, on the pier, were Alexandra and Genevieve, and Baby Sonja. They were a little sober-faced, and Sophie wondered why.

And there were three young girls who seemed to be friends of the Queen and the Princess Genevieve.

"This is Katie, this is Sara, and this is Megan," said the Queen's Consort. "Hi!" said the girls.

"I'm Ninel," said she. "We know!" said the girls, grinning.

Elly had Lara in her arms, and Lena's hand in hers, as they, Sherry and Sophie faced the Queen and the Princess Consort. Genny took Sophie in her arms, and whispered hoarsely, "Sophie ... I have sad news. Your mother passed away a few days ago. Lady Trudy is dead!"

She felt Sophie's legs weaken, but Sophie said not a word. She looked from Genny to Alexandra, stricken. Elly asked the girls, bewildered, what was the matter, and they explained. And they all held each other, because Lady Trudy was greatly respected and loved by all.

There was a coach to take them all, with the children huddled on the floor. The Palace was in mourning, and Lady Sophie was conducted to where her father sat, still grieving, near Lady Trudy's bier, and it was then that the Queen wept. She let Lady Sophie kneel first, to give her time alone with her mother, and then the royal couple knelt on either side. The Queen wept silently, and Ninel marveled that she could feel such desolation for the mother of a friend.

Seeing an old gentleman seated on a bench, she went and sat near him, not knowing that he was Lady Sophie's father. And Ninel remembered that she, too, had lost her family. Her mother Margaret, the village healer, always looking for herbs, giving a home to all the stray animals in the place, her father, a surly man, who was only happy when Ninel did well in school, her brother and her baby sister, all killed in their beds. And she wept quietly for herself.

She felt a kindly arm around her. The gentleman near whom she sat was turning his sad face to her with a smile. "Did you know Lady Trudy, child, that you weep for her?"

"I only know Lady Sophie, who was her daughter, sir. I'm crying for my family, who are all dead."

"All of them?" She nodded, respectful even in her grief. "Your loss is greater than mine, then. I'm Lady Sophie's father, and Trudy's husband," he explained. She extended a damp hand to him, and he took it. Somehow, the knowledge of a greater loss did not console him. There was only one Trudy, and she could never be replaced. But the child's grave manner gave him strength.

Presently Sophie came to sit on his other side, her eyes red, her tears all shed. She loved her mother, but it was her father who was her favorite parent. She was too young to see how precious an example her mother had been.

"This child's family is all dead," he whispered to his daughter. She leaned over to look, and saw Ninel. Suddenly, the tears that had come stingily for her mother, poured out. She laid her head on her father's chest, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

Naturally Genny was elected to speak the eulogy. She stood in front of the bier, a wet rag in her hand, and spoke quietly, through her tears. She said she felt unworthy of the honor. That it was Lady Trudy's generosity of spirit that had informed every word she had spoken to the people. She said that Lady Trudy had bequeathed a great thing for her people, namely her children, and her husband. "I have the example of many great women who have served me as models, foremost among them my mother, the Queen of New Hope, and Lady Trudy Gustafson. And my mother, who is here today, will be proud of me when I say, that I would rather be compared to Lady Gustafson at the end of my life!" She trembled with the depth of her emotion as she looked at her mother, the Queen, who sat with Lord Gustafson, because she was of their family. The Queen bent her head in assent. "To Lord Gustafson, I would say this, that the Queen and I offer our love, that in some small measure it may ease his loss, which he shares with all of us."

They were awkward, clumsy words, but Gustafson knew they were from the heart. He embraced her, and they set out to walk to the graveside, with the Queen herself helping to carry the coffin. And so, Gutrun Gustafson was laid in the ground.

That night there were many offers of company to the bereaved man. But the one that moved him most was that of little Ninel, who had decided to befriend him. Perhaps he saw in her some echo of his wife's spirit, or perhaps their shared grief had connected them. To everyone's amusement, Ninel invited Elly and Lara to join her in John Gustafson's home, and so he had more company than he had anticipated.

"Ninel," Alexandra said awkwardly, "why don't you simply visit with Lord Gustafson for a while, and we will bring you back to sleep here?"

"But he's all alone in a big empty house!"

"Lady Sophie will be there!" But Sophie hung her head. Much as she loved her father, she preferred to sleep in the Palace this night. Then Elly spoke softly. "If Lord Gustafson does not mind," she said, in her quiet, tactful voice, "Ninel and Lena and I could make ourselves comfortable in the kitchen, and perhaps we can be of help with the house."

And so it was settled, though they didn't have to sleep in the kitchen; there were comfortable beds for them all, because Lady Trudy had insisted that her servants be no less comfortable than her guests. Indeed, Sophie's little room opened out of the same hallway as the servant's rooms. And so John Gustafson had a little girl whom he had to make comfortable, and amuse that night, showing her Sophie's childhood toys, and little things that Trudy had made, fanciful things that lightened his heart. By the time they all went to bed, Elly and Evie had managed to brighten things up considerably at the old house. Sophie, too, walked around the house, like an angry ghost, seeing many things she didn't like. Her father knew she would like very little about the place, until her mother's lingering presence was transformed into something they could bear. She tucked little Ninel in her bed. "Will you be comfortable, Ninel?" The little girl nodded vehemently. The house which, to Sophie, was haunted with her mother's ghost, was simply a big old house to Ninel. "I want to go be with Lady Alexandra," she confessed. "You should wish your father good night," reminded Ninel. "So I will," said Sophie. She found him smiling, reading a newspaper. She kissed him, and went to the Palace.

Sherry had gone with Alexandra and Genny, while the others had headed to the Gustafson home. Genny had greeted her solemnly, and they had made a bed for her by setting out the couch in one of the alcoves of the large room, and drawing a curtain. Now she lay silently on her bed, tense, worried about disturbing the privacy of the royal couple.

For Sophie there was still something left to do: to make peace with Genny. When she finally got to her room in the Palace, Genny was waiting for her, in her bed. She said Alexandra was nursing the baby, who had been irritable, and wanted to feed.

Sophie undressed without a word, and slipped in beside Genny, wondering what would happen next.

"Sophie," Genny said in a quiet voice that had an odd note that frightened Sophie. "Can you forgive me?"

"For what, Genny?"

"For y-your m-mother?"

"Do you blame yourself? Don't, Genny," she said, feeling grief once more, but also compassion for the Princess; "however you might feel that it was you who caused her illness, she was ill before you came to our house. Long, long before!"

Genny clasped Sophie's hands to her eyes in a strange gesture of gratitude for her absolution. "But there is more you have to forgive!"

"What now?" asked Sophie, now thoroughly alarmed.

"I told Alexandra—and I'm willing to suffer your anger for this—that I don't love her anymore! I told her that it's you I love ... and she has accepted it."

Sophie was stunned. Before she could tell Genny anything about how she, Sophie, felt, she had pre-emptively all but cut her ties with her mate. It was the kind of reckless thing Sophie had suspected she might do, but had prayed she would not.

"That was hasty, and ill-considered of you, Genny."

"I love you, and you must stand by me!"

"Stand by you? Genny, I'm not about to abandon you, but do you want me to turn my back on her Majesty?"

Genny was startled. She shrank back, looking at Sophie with doubt and anxiety.

"No, no, of course not! You must do your duty!"

"What exactly did you tell her, Gen?" Sophie asked gently, taking Genny's trembling hand in her own.

Through her tears, Genny told her all, with a little prompting from Sophie. Tender-hearted Sophie had no option except to play along with Genny's assumption that they would be lovers again, though her heart went out to Alexandra easily as much as it did to Genny. She loved Genny with all her heart, but felt more sympathy for the Queen.

"Sophie?" Genny said in a soft voice, and laid a tentative caress on her arm. They began to make love.

"How are things at home?" Genny asked gently, afterwards.

Sophie smiled. "Ninel has taken my father well in hand," she said.

Unexpectedly Alexandra appeared, and before a guilty Sophie could pull on her shift, Alexandra had sat by her side on the bed, the baby in her arms. She firmly took the shift and laid it on the bed head, as Sophie blushed, and Genny watched soberly.

"What of Elly and Lena?"

"They're all comfortable," Sophie said, trying not to blush. "Elly and Evie have set the house to rights. It was in a bad way. Inga will come in the morning."

"We're all seeking comfort where we can find it," Alexandra said.

"Alexandra, please don't be hurt!" said Sophie earnestly.

"I'm not," said the Queen, "I just came to ask about Ninel. Goodnight, Sophie. Goodnight, Princess."

When she had gone, the two girls looked at each other.

"She used to get very lonesome," said Sophie softly. "Sometimes she would come to my bed ... and simply sleep."

"Yes; I remember in the Lodge. She finds it hard to sleep alone."

"What's to be done?"

Genny shrugged. "Perhaps she will find love discreetly."

Sophie looked at her, unbelieving.

"You want to sleep here every night, and encourage Alexandra to find — another woman?" Genny nodded.

Sophie threw herself back, her head beginning to ache.

The following day, Sherry awoke from sleep about an hour before dawn, considerably earlier than the others in the royal suite. Rising slowly, she tiptoed out of her little nook, and saw through the lace curtain Alexandra alone in her bed. Her suspicions were confirmed; all was not well. The baby slept in her new cradle, but the Princess was nowhere in sight; she had spent the night with Lady Sophie. Well, Sherry thought, after all, she is in mourning. Sherry silently left the room. Outside, it was still dark.

"Can I help, miss?" the guard on duty asked in a low voice.

"Is there a sink at which I may wash up?" she asked.

Once Genny awoke in the morning, and came in to find Alexandra nursing the baby, Alexandra asked her whether she would join her in adopting little Ninel. "She will be our oldest daughter," she said. "She cannot inherit, and she understands that. She must certainly have some little property in her own right— her parents' home. And we'll ask Helga to protect that on her behalf. But she shall be our daughter, and live with us."

"Alexandra, this is a foolish idea! One can't simply pick up a girl from the street and make her one's own!"

"She is not a girl from the street at all! We saw her family all dead, slaughtered by the Bernians! The girl shared all our trials with us! We cannot abandon her now!"

Genny was silent. She had heard about the orphan, and now she recalled the details. Still, she was doubtful, because it was a new idea; she hardly knew the girl in the first place. And Alexandra and she were hardly a happily married couple, to provide a loving home for an orphan.

"Are you determined to adopt her at once? Why don't we bring her to live with us to begin with, and ease into the question of becoming her parents?"

"I understand your caution. But think, Genny, is it fair to bring her into the Palace without making her position clear? Will she feel she is being made a servant? If her family was from Geneva, then she is of my blood, and honor requires that she be raised as family. Or I must send her away, back to Skree, to live with the memory of her dead family all around her."

"I want to get to know her," insisted Genny.

Genny looked around, taking in the empty alcove in which Sherry had slept, now all tidy. "A maid must be found, perhaps, to help with the baby," she said, and Alexandra followed her eyes to the alcove she now thought of as 'Sherry's nook.'

"I had imagined that you would help with that," Alexandra said, a little of her unhappiness finding its way into her voice.

Genny nodded. "So had I," she admitted. "It would be convenient to have an area set aside up here for her needs, with jars of her foods all ready for her, rather than a nursery far away!"

Alexandra nodded quickly. "Definitely in here," she agreed. "We must talk to Elisabeth."

That morning, Ninel was brought to the Palace by Elly and Lena. While Alexandra and Genny talked to them about things Ninel knew nothing about, she prowled around the room, and then went out to talk with Sherry, who had settled down to chat with the guard at the corner.

"What's happening inside?"

"They're talking about this and that," said Ninel, sounding bored. "They're ready to go home."

"They're talking about the Lodge, I suppose."

"That's it!"

Presently Lena and Elly came out with their little girl, and shyly bade farewell to Ninel. Ever since the adoption had been brought up, They seemed to treat Ninel differently. "We would love you to visit us, Ninel! And if you can, bring young Kate with you!"

Ninel grinned and shrugged. "If they bring me, I'll gladly come! I'll find you lots of herbs where you live!"

They laughed and said that would be welcome, and they all hugged Ninel, and Sherry conducted them away out of the Palace.

The Queen came out, and asked Ninel in.

Genny took a good look at Ninel, and smiled. She had an eye for children, and she liked this one.

"I hear you're a good huntress!" she said.

Ninel shrugged and grinned. "Small game, your Highness! I prefer herbing," she added, candidly. "That was my m-mother's skill!"

Genny's smile was replaced by a sober expression.

"I would like you to stay with us for a while, Ninel. The baby princess would certainly like a little company. And if you're happy here—who knows?"

Ninel nodded. She had hoped that the Princess would offer to adopt her at once. But at least this was a first step. She glanced at the Queen, and saw that she, too, was less than perfectly satisfied, despite her smile. Then the Princess Consort gently hugged her, and Ninel felt a slight hope that the great lady would learn to like her.

Meanwhile, the Bernians had sued for peace, and Alexandra met with her full war council, now all back in the capital, and at their suggestion approved the acceptance of a surrender, and authorized Bertha and several others, including the still grieving John Gustafson, and his daughter Sophie, to sign the acceptance of the preliminary articles on her behalf.

Some weeks later, the bandages came off Nevenka's hands. By then Katya was calling her Nina, a pet name that her foster-mother had called her. Thora was firm that the hands needed to be exercised. Nina asked if squeezing breasts was a good exercise! It was good in its own way, she was assured, but more rigorous exercise was needed.

One historic day, the Queen and her generals rode out to Oslo, where she formally accepted the surrender of General Katherine Pfizer. The Queen herself had planned the ceremony with Lady Sophie, the Princess Consort and John Gustafson. It was to be a solemn, dignified ceremony with nothing that would gratuitously humiliate the enemy. And John Gustafson had been assigned as the Civil Authority, who would supervise the establishment of a new government in war-ravaged Bernia.

Life at the Palace arrived at a certain stable pattern. Ninel had been assigned the little bedroom that the Queen herself had occupied as a little girl, a small room adjoining that of the Queen, but on the farther side. Ninel had brought most of her belongings, herbs, toys, books, clothes, and she had made the small room as homelike as she could.

In the mornings, she was woken by a maid, who brought her a warm cup of milk to drink. She had offered other beverages, but they had finally settled on this one.

"Lady Ninel," she had said, with a grave look, "you're awfully thin for your age!"

"Huh," Ninel had said to her, "you're not much older than I am!"

"I am eighteen, which is a lot older!"

"Oh!" Ninel had said, surprised. But they had become good friends.

Ninel had been surprised to find that the Princess had decided that she liked her. She often came, especially in the early morning, to sit on Ninel's bed, and quiz her about herself, and life in Bernia.

One day, she had confessed that things were not well between her and the Queen. "I expect you to keep this to yourself. If you are to be part of our family, there might be many facts that you will learn, but which the outside world must not know."

"I understand. Like when the Queen was hiding in Bernia!"

"Exactly. Ninel —I still love the Queen, dear, but not ... you know how those who are married, and those who love each other, you know how they sleep together?" Ninel nodded gravely. "That ... that's what the Queen and I—have given up."

Ninel's mouth shaped into a small O.

The Princess's eyes filled with tears. She reached out to touch Ninel's cheek. "But you make it easy for me, dear; I find it easier to look into the Queen's face, because we have you to love!"

"Highness ... am I the reason for your ... ?"

"No! Never think that! It happened long before you came to us!"

"Are you sure?"

"I swear it!" she cried. "I would never forgive myself if your believed that, and were hurt, Ninel! Do you trust me to tell you the truth?" Ninel nodded. "I love someone else," the Princess confided, looking hunted. She heaved a heavy sigh, and dropped her eyes, before she raised them again. "When the Queen asked me to ... agree to bring you here, I said: I would like to know her first. And now here you are, such a comfort to me! I'm beginning to feel that the world is being kinder to me than I deserve."

Ninel simply looked as miserable as she felt. Various theories buzzed in her head, as she was forced to consider thoughts that a child her age should not have had to. She began to speculate who Princess Genny's lover might be, and made the right conclusion. No one could mistake the looks that passed between the Princess and the unhappy Lady Sophie.

"Oh Ninel; you had to be told! Try not to let it worry you!"

"Do not worry, Princess," Ninel said, weakly.

Sherry was confronted with the same issue. Every night, the Princess disappeared into Lady Sophie's chamber, leaving Alexandra alone with the baby. Usually she just lay down and slept, sometimes restlessly, but quietly. Sherry could hardly bear to see the girl so lonely. A couple of nights, the baby princess fretted, and the Queen picked her up and paced back and forth silently.

"Let me do that, Your Majesty," Sherry offered, the second night, rising and going up to them. There were heavy drapes across her alcove, and heavy drapes across the Queen's bed, but they hung open now, since the weather had turned warm. Having insisted on being the Queen's bodyguard, Sherry was in the embarrassing position of sharing the Queen's bedroom, the only adult female besides the Queen herself. She was resolved to find some more decorous way of serving her Queen, but here she was, for the moment. She was furious at the Princess for making her situation so embarrassing.

The Queen indicated that she preferred to put the baby to sleep herself. She sang to it softly in her high, sweet voice, and presently the little girl slept. Sherry watched, as Alexandra tenderly tucked the baby in her crib. Then the Queen looked up and smiled in the darkness.

"Oh Sherry!" she whispered.

"Lady Alexandra," she whispered back, "why is the Princess not sleeping with you?"

The Queen looked at her uncertainly, her hand still on the crib. Then she slowly walked out to the window, Sherry following, and sat down in the window-seat, motioning for Sherry to join her.

"It's a long story," she began. She explained how the Princess and Lady Sophie had been left together for a few days in the first few days of the war. They had fallen in love. And despite all that had happened, the Princess's true love was Lady Sophie.

"But—Lady, what about what you and Sophie shared, all—all these many months?"

The Queen shook her head. "They claim they love each other. I must manage."

"Your Majesty, I am here!"

The Queen bowed her head. "I'm acutely aware of you, Sherry. Perhaps we should stop suffering apart. God knows you suffered enough." Sherry was aware of the Queen thinking carefully about the situation. She longed to say that her own suffering was not important, but she held her peace. "Now that I'm alone, if you like, we can comfort each other."

"Oh God! My Queen, I told you that I was in l-love with you when ... when I came with you!" she exclaimed, slipping to kneel before her on the floor, and Alexandra nodded.

She reached out to take Sherry's hand.

"Shall I come to your bed, or will you come to mine?" she whispered, leaning towards her, Sherry's hand resting on top of the Queen's, which seemed to be unsteady.

Sherry trembled with desire and fear and great pity. "Yours," she replied.

Alexandra bent to pick up the hem of Sherry's shift, and raise it over her head to take it off. She was still, staring at Sherry's naked body in the moonlight. Sherry gently took the shift, and folding it, set it aside. Alexandra pulled her forward, and Sherry stumbled into the Queen's arms, and they began to make love, in the window alcove.

Sherry's body felt warm and dry against her own. She had taken Alexandra's gown off, and she rested against Alexandra's body, skin against skin, and kissed Alexandra in the mouth, softly and delicately at first, but then with increasing desire, as her breasts pressed into Alexandra's flesh, and her arms drew Alexandra tighter against herself. "Oh, my Queen!" she whispered, kissing Alexandra harder and more insistently. Alexandra picked her up, and walked back to the bed and laid her down.

Sherry, though not a virgin, was inexperienced in lovemaking with a woman. Alexandra was disconcerted to find how much the two of them enjoyed each other. Sherry was hopelessly in love with the Queen, and was sweet and passionate in bed. But she was shocked when Alexandra made love to her with her tongue, and dismayed to discover her own body's response to it.

She struggled to sit up, and inspect the bedclothes, as Alexandra smiled faintly. Alexandra tried to pull her back gently into her embrace.

"Wait, Your Majesty ... look, I—I seem to have soiled your linen! Oh, this is terrible! It will look as if you've had a man in bed!"

Alexandra laughed softly. "That's normal, even for women" she said in a half-whisper. "Come, I want you!"

Even at her most passionate, Sherry was restrained, feminine. She allowed Alexandra to do anything she wanted, and together they soiled the bedclothes as much as they could.

It was hard for both of them to part in the wee hours of the morning, but they were determined not to embarrass the Princess by being in bed together when she came into the room in the morning to dress. Together, they bundled the bedclothes into discreet pile for the laundry, and spread new sheets on the bed, before they dressed again in their nightclothes, and with a lingering kiss, went apart to sleep separately. As always, Sherry was dressed and away before dawn.

But one day, Genny came in early, because Sophie had risen early for some errand. She tiptoed in, and found Alexandra and Sherry in bed together, their limbs entwined, the bedclothes scattered about them. For a long moment she stared at the sight, and quietly left. If she had thought the worst part of the failure of their marriage was over with her reunion with Sophie, she was set straight on that score. She had an inkling of how bad Alexandra must feel to see her in bed with Sophie. Somehow, the sight of the two of them, the way their arms lay protectively about each other, hurt her deeply. Not that Sophie wasn't tender towards her. Not that she had not felt sorry to see her Queen sleeping alone.

She slipped out again, and closed the door between the rooms, which had rarely been closed.

Later that morning, she came in through the outside door, to find Alexandra in the window with the baby in her lap, feeding her with a little spoon. As always, the baby was more interested in the spoon than the food. Genny found another spoon, gave it to the baby, and sat down next to Alexandra.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Separate Rooms

Sharon was gone. "I came in early this morning, and saw you with her," Genny said to Alexandra, while she brushed her hair. Alexandra's shock pleased Genny. "She's beautiful. You've chosen well."

Alexandra was determined not to become angry. The baby studied Genny with an expression remarkably like Alexandra's.

"We were anxious not to hurt your feelings, Princess," she said gently. "We'll try to be more discreet."

"What do I care what you do?"

It was obvious that she did care. Alexandra politely inclined her head, and resumed feeding the baby.

"Alexandra," she said softly, her voice calm again, "perhaps you should give the woman a better appointment—Lady in waiting, or nanny to little Sophie."

Alexandra nodded. "I'll think about it. She's a guard, by training."

Genny shrugged. "All the better. A lady in waiting who can protect you, is so much more valuable."

"Princess, I feel uncomfortable to have you too deeply involved in—my personal affairs. I have apologized; I don't want these things to intrude on your peace of mind. But you must desist from interfering!"

"Nonsense. I'm your wife still, and this falls into my area of—management, let's say."

"May I have a word with you, Sharon?" the Princess asked later that day. Sherry's blood went cold in her veins, as she turned to face the Princess. Her expression told Sherry that she had been discovered.

"Come with me to Lady Sophie's room, please, Sherry. I want to have your advice."

Once they were inside Sophie's room—Sophie having gone away for the morning—Sherry stood quietly, prepared to be punished.

"I shall move in here, with Sophie," she said gently, as Sherry listened, miserable. "You both deserve some privacy."

"Highness, it will not happen again. I had hoped your Highness would never have to see ..."

"I'm not upset. It's only fair. If I enjoy Sophie, Alexandra must have some comfort, too. I hoped she would find someone who loved her, who would care for her. Perhaps in time ..."

"Your Highness need not worry on that score," she replied. "You care for her?" demanded the Princess, and Sherry nodded, a fierce joy burning in her, to be able to bear witness to how she felt about her lover. "For a long time." "But you never went to her, all those long months in Bernia?" Sherry shook her head coolly. "No, your Highness."

To her amazement, Genny told her a myriad things to do, to make the Queen feel cherished and loved. Bathe with her, braid her hair, choose her clothes, make love to her, talk to her about her day's work.

"Some of these things, your Highness, I will gladly do! But the rest are your responsibility."

"True. But they are all things you could offer to do. There's no harm if we both talk to her about her affairs of state; the more opinions she hears, the better for her. Sharon, I believe she plans to make you a lady-in-waiting, so that you may more conveniently be close to her."

"She has taken all her things and gone!" said Alexandra, that evening, as she went upstairs to dress for supper.

"Only next door, to Lady Sophie's chambers," Sherry said. There were drapes over the connecting door, which was usually kept slightly ajar, but was now shut. They could faintly hear Genny and Sophie talking together in low tones.

"Did she talk to you?"

"Yes! I was given instructions about how to care for you." Sherry had mixed emotions about Genny's conversation with her. It annoyed her to be told to do things she wanted to do anyway, as well as to do things she had never expected to do.

"Such as?"

"Helping you dress."

The Queen herself locked the connecting door. Sophie could still come round the main entrance to the suite, which is how she had usually come in the mornings, ever since they had returned after the war. The connecting door had only been used in those first few weeks, when Genny was constantly in and out of Sophie's room.

"Perhaps you should bring your things in here," the Queen said, eying all the empty space in Genevieve's portion of the wardrobe.

"Please, Lady Alexandra, I'm not ready for that yet!"

The baby began to ask to be fed. She hardly ever cried, now, but simply asked, in her own language. Sherry walked immediately over to the baby and picked her up, while Alexandra unbuttoned her blouse and got comfortable on the bed.

"Sherry, with your permission, you are appointed my lady-in-waiting. The room you have occupied this far will be yours officially; a bed will be brought in. We will get clothes sewn for both of us; none of mine fit me any more. You must take some of Sophie's former duties, because Genny has her services now."

"Oh, Your Majesty! Things are getting worse and worse!"

There was a tap at the door, and Alexandra called out, "Please, come in!"

It was Ninel. She hurried in, all smiles, but grew sober at the expressions on their faces.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

With a deep sigh, Alexandra asked them both to be seated, and made space on the bed.

"Genny and I have ... become estranged." Sherry's breath came out in a soft hiss of embarrassment.

"I knew that," said Ninel, eyes large with quiet concern.

"Did she tell you already?" Ninel nodded. "Sherry has been—a great comfort to me, Ninel; and I have appointed her Lady-in-waiting." Ninel nodded again. "You must not have unkind feelings about any of us; me, Genny, Sophie, or Sherry." Ninel shook her head. "As far as I can tell, they all love you, my Ninel, and whatever we feel, we shall all be your friends. Genny, I know, loves you very much." Ninel nodded, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. Sherry reached out a kindly hand to lay on her shoulder.

"Where is the Princess?" Ninel asked, with a sniff.

"She has decided to share rooms with Lady Sophie," said Sherry.

The baby let go of Alexandra's breast, and looked at them inquiringly. "Hi, baby!" said Ninel, making her smile. She replied to Ninel in her own nonsense babble.

"We were just discussing that neither of us has too many clothes left to wear," Alexandra said, burping her daughter efficiently.

"A lady in waiting! That will give you some interesting things to do, Sherry! You won't have to simply wait around looking threatening!"

Alexandra smiled. "That's certainly one of the benefits!"

The three of them went down to supper, with Baby Sonja. Sherry had been given a simple dress that had belonged to Alexandra, and she looked a reasonable lady in waiting. Presently Sophie and Genny arrived, and they had supper.

As was usual these days at all their meals, supper was quiet. Alexandra sat at one end of the short table, with Sherry on one side, for the first time, and Ninel on the other, with the baby in a little play-crib behind Alexandra, out of the way of the serving maids. She sat there, watching the adults through the bars, like a little convict. Genny and Sophie spoke quietly to each other, and Alexandra and Sherry spoke to each other, and they all spoke to Ninel when they thought of it. Genny told Sherry that she looked nice, and Sherry murmured thanks. She dared not return the compliment.

Afterwards, they all went up in two groups, and Alexandra and Sherry went in to tuck Ninel in bed.

"Are you happy, sweetheart?"

"Yes, some," said she.

"Not as happy as when we were in Bernia?"

She shook her head. Then she smiled, and raised her cheek for a kiss. And Alexandra and Sherry went into their room. Through the door to Sophie's room, they heard a soft good night, and they called back good night.

The baby had drowsed off already in her little carry-basket, and Alexandra lifted her into her lovely, antique crib, in which she lay like a little cherub. Alexandra stretched out her tense muscles, and turned to study Sherry.

She was sitting on the edge of the little bench that stood near the crib. Her eyes looked a little sad.

"What's on your mind?" Alexandra asked softly.

"I was just thinking," Sherry said, very softly indeed, "how subdued she is."

"Genevieve? Sophie?"

"Ninel!"

Alexandra looked thoughtful. "True," she said.

Sherry warmed to her idea. "I remember how she—said goodnight; to everyone, to the birds ..."

"To the trees," Alexandra nodded, smiling sadly. "She really has sobered down."

"She's depressed! She loved Sophie, she loved you! My heart breaks for the child!"

"What does she do all day?"

"Nothing; she wanders around the Palace, exploring it. She spends a lot of the time in the kitchen."

"It's not a bad place. Some of the younger girls work there."

"Still, she's all alone!"

"She must start back in school. Sophie should have thought of it."

"Sophie doesn't do anything."

It was true; they were all still reeling from Genevieve's announcement. As long as only Alexandra knew, she was able to isolate it from everyone else, and they worked along, unaware of the tragedy that was coming to settle on the royal couple. But now, their entire little group knew, and it had stifled all their energy. Instead of looking outwards, being active and creative, they were going around in circles, spending all their energy adjusting to the situation. Sophie had done good work with the cessation of hostilities, but now it was all in the hands of the older generation.

"Should I speak to Sophie? Will you?"

That summarized much of what was happening to them. Alexandra avoided Genny and Sophie as much as she could, though in principle, relations were cordial.

"I haven't spoken to her alone for a long time." Alexandra looked so miserable, that Sherry relented. "We could both go ... they looked friendly enough at supper!"

"They might be in bed already," Alexandra suggested.

"It's now or never," Sherry said, getting up. Looking at the sleeping baby, she said, "She'll be fine by herself for a bit."

Reluctantly, they went out to the hallway, and over to Sophie's door. Sherry shrank back, and Alexandra, after a reproachful glance at her, knocked half-heartedly on the door. "Louder!" hissed Sherry. Alexandra knocked again. Just as they were about to give up, the door opened, and they stepped back. Genny appeared, wrapped in a sheet, while Sophie was a dim figure in the darkness.

"It's Alexandra," Genny called back to Sophie. Turning back to the two at the door, Genny asked, her face showing a slight frown, "Is there a problem?"

"We can talk later," said Alexandra, preparing to retreat. "It's about Ninel," said Sherry, at the same time.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sophie, coming to the door, also wearing a sheet. "I've sort of forgotten about the poor child. I—it's about school for her, yes?"

"Yes," said Alexandra, "I was hoping you might ... help with that."

"I'll take care of it, Alexandra," said Genny, firmly. "I should have thought of it. Sophie and I will do it."

"Sorry!" said Sophie, and it seemed to Alexandra as if their eyes were meeting for the first time in weeks. What was she sorry for?

"Thanks, Sophie," Alexandra mumbled, and the two of them retreated. Sophie shut the door quietly.

There was a silence in the hall. "Poor Sophie," said Sherry in a whisper.

That night, at supper, for the first time in weeks, they had a kind of conversation.

"My Queen?" Genny began, somewhat awkwardly, after they'd been eating for a while, "I just get the feeling that we can't stay holed up here any more. We should go out and see what's going on!" Her voice was gentle, but gathered persuasiveness and strength as she spoke. And though it hurt to be treated like a stranger, Alexandra was pleased that Genny felt so strongly about things as to want to persuade her to act. Suddenly all eyes were on her.

She cleared her throat and murmured that she thought it was a good idea. "How soon do you mean?"

"Right away! I'm suspicious that people out there might be doing things in your name, and you'll have to live with the results, whatever they are!"

Alexandra saw Ninel nod vigorously, and smiled. Sherry, too, seemed to agree, and so did the maids who were serving the roast beef.

"If I was sure that someone could hold things together here, I'd go!" she declared, keeping the whine out of her voice with a conscious effort. "Trudy is dead, Horvald is dead ... I need someone to take charge here. Your father, Sophie, is the most capable man, and he's doing the most difficult job of all, all alone in Freiburg! If he were here ..."

The others agreed with Alexandra. Finally, after some constructive discussion, some quite creative plans were put together. Genny and Sophie would leave immediately, heading East, to see the reconstruction of Oslo, and then head around to the North, and work their way down the coast to Skree, and back to the Capital. Meanwhile, Alexandra would send for Ilsa Evasdottir, the young judge from Skree, and Lady Lena and her niece Marja Helgasdottir. Finally, Aunt Sonja of Geneva could be conscripted to work behind the scenes.

The next morning, as they lay in bed, waiting for the baby to wake up and demand her feed, Alexandra talked to Sherry.

"I can't expect you to come on this tour with me. But the tour would be utterly—intolerable, if I had to go without you!"

"Of course I'm coming!"

Genny and Sophie were packed and ready to go. There was a small crowd gathered below the Palace steps to watch the young Princess Consort and Lady Sophie Gutrunsdottir set out on their tour of the nation. Alexandra waited on the steps, wondering what would happen. Would Genny simply wave and leave?

As the moment drew near, Genny and Sophie came to Alexandra and Ninel, who were waiting to bid them a safe journey. Genny hugged Ninel and murmured a soft word of farewell to her, which the girl returned with a sweet smile. Then Sophie hugged Ninel, and stepped forward to kiss the baby princess, who held out her arms, asking to be taken with them.

"Oh no, young lady," Sophie laughed, as everyone began to chuckle, "you have to stay behind, this time!" Then Alexandra handed the baby to Ninel, and held out her arms to Sophie.

Their embrace was gentle, and oh, so tender. Sophie's familiar musky fragrance brought back such happy memories that Alexandra felt tears filling her eyes, and could feel Sophie tremble. They quickly broke apart, mumbling farewells that neither could remember afterwards. Alexandra saw Genny watch with narrowed eyes. Ah, the green-eyed monster, she thought. Genny was acutely jealous of Sophie, no matter what she said.

Finally Genny stepped forward and hugged Alexandra and told her to take care of herself. Alexandra murmured something similar to Genny, who pulled away abruptly. She stepped back, and they got into the coach, and it departed. Alexandra turned, and saw a look on Sherry's face that shocked her by its similarity to the look on Genny's face when she was embracing Sophie. It was all too much for her.

She took Ninel and the baby upstairs, with Sherry following behind. Ninel went to her tutor, and Alexandra had Sherry to herself in their room.

"I saw your face just now," Alexandra said gravely.

"What do you mean?"

"You just cannot reveal in public what you feel, Sherry. I must only be your employer, your chief, your friend, most of all, your Queen. Only within these four walls can we be—what we are."

"I understand. Did my face betray me?" Sherry asked carelessly.

Alexandra looked into her eyes. "Yes! I was flattered ... but ..."

"You're afraid that there'll be a stink, and I'll have to leave the Palace!" The bitter words came out of nowhere.

Alexandra's face looked so stricken that Sherry regretted her words in a second. She knelt to ask forgiveness, and Alexandra knelt with her.

"I'm asking impossible things of you," she admitted. "It's a miracle that you don't hate me already!" Sherry could hardly bear the misery on Alexandra's face. She could only shake her head in remorse. She held Alexandra tight, and swore to herself she would never attempt that kind of humor again.

Shortly, the visitors from the west arrived at the Palace. Marja had been assigned to the Belgravian troops during the war, and wound up commanding a unit far up on the hill across the Verne from the Bernians. Except for a small scar on her cheek from a sliver of stone, and a wrenched knee from falling down a steep rock face, and having to have her leg in a splint for a while, she had been unhurt. The war had not dampened her spirits one whit, and she was eager to take on some administrative duties on behalf of Alexandra and Sophie and their team of young people. She quickly figured out the kind of things they did down in Sophie's little office, and settled in.

The judge was as efficient. She quickly learned what was needed, had an easygoing personality and exuded such confidence that the two young workers in Alexandra's office were greatly relieved.

Aunt Sonja arrived with Baby! It was clear that Baby got her own way with the old lady, and she had begged to come to the Palace as a reward for sitting out the war in the castle at Skree. They were charged with looking after anything that was left, after the Judge and Marja had tried to handle them. Lady Lena was to help her; in particular, Lena and Sonja were to deal with any cantankerous outsiders who might decide to bully the Palace administrators.

Allowing the team to get their bearings, Alexandra and Sherry got on horses, and inspected the city, something they had not done so far. There had been some damage, especially with two large bombs which had exploded near the guards' barracks. Alexandra dressed smartly in riding breeches sent from Belgravia as a gift, and a handsome jacket. There was a light crusting of snow all round, and it was a little chill. Sherry wore a sash that Sophie had given her before she left, an insignia that indicated she was a personal assistant to the Queen herself. Sophie now wore something that similarly indicated she was the Princess's assistant.

Before they had left the Palace, Alexandra had Sherry to help shear off the red-stained ends of her hair that had now grown out a few inches. The result was rather untidy and Sherry was highly embarrassed, but the Queen only smiled, and said it was fine. She wore a jaunty cap, and headed out with Sherry following closely behind, and no guards, despite Sherry's pleas.

"If only Lady Sophie and her crossbow were here!"

"Oh, you can do just as well with what you have. And I have a crossbow."

"Are you as good as she?"

"No, I must admit. I might be as accurate, but I'm slower."

They rode along the West Shore Road, as the Queen pointed out the scenes of her adventure. They stopped at Bernard's home and greeted little Katie and her grandmother, Lilia, who were pleased to welcome them in, and made a big fuss over them, especially Sherry, who both grandmother and granddaughter declared to be a great beauty.

Lilia was quick to condemn the Princess for going off on a tour by herself. "She should be by your side!" said the old girl. "So who do you have to look after you?"

Alexandra smiled and said that she was well able to look after herself, but Lady Sharon, here, looked after her very well. She was surprised at how much innuendo they got going, for being the sweet innocent folks she had known barely a year ago. Poor Sherry was trying not to blush and ended up looking pale and drawn instead.

They learned all they could about what was going on, and saw that all the war damage had been repaired. Only the acres of war dead remained, to remind them that all was not as it had been. Alexandra knelt at the cemetery, seen only by Sherry and a few random visitors, and bowed her head in silent thanksgiving for the lives of the victims.

Things at the Palace were proceeding smoothly. Lady Lena and Lady Sonja, as she was called, had things well in hand, and Baby prowled around the Palace, scaring the guards and all the servants equally. The word had got out that she was in line to the throne —no one knew these things as well as Palace servants— and Lady Sonja had quite a time making sure Baby didn't bully everyone.

Baby was all over Sherry as soon as they met.

"We got your letter, and oh, how relieved we were!" she exclaimed. "Everyone went crazy!" It was one of the details Alexandra had never been told about, and all in all, Sherry was considered rather a genius for sending it.

Penny the seamstress reported for duty almost every day. She was a Palace servant who lived at home except when she was actively working on a project. She begged for more to sew, "Otherwise, Your Majesty, I have to go home!"

"I'll be glad to send a little money with you, Penny," Alexandra said kindly, "though these rules are usually there for a reason."

"Oh, it's not the money," said Penny, blushing. It was clear that she just liked to stay in the Palace, in her tiny little room. Ninel knew all about her room, and told them afterwards. It was practically a bed-shaped closet, that was all, she declared. Penny used the sewing-room when she was finishing up work, a room near the laundry, and that was where she sat and gossiped with whomever she could get.

"She adores you both," revealed Ninel privately, with a mischievous grin.

"Don't leave me alone with her," said Sherry quietly, later.

"I thought it had been fun!"

"It was, but ..."

"Why, Sherry, I do believe you like me!"

The two great green eyes were raised to hers, and there passed a look between them that made Alexandra pause. The look apparently went both ways, because Sherry reddened and turned away.

Alexandra had always known that Sherry fancied herself in love with her. Now the meaning of the words struck her with force. She could not toy with the woman's feelings, and all they were doing together had the potential to be very cruel.

After supper, Baby came up to sit and talk. She reported about things in Skree, especially in Geneva. It had taken weeks just to get the stink out of the village. They had to get Ninel away while she described the village in detail. There was still no one there, except Sonja's family.

She was good company for Ninel as she did her schoolwork. Baby had not been one for academics, but seeing Ninel laboring away with her homework, she decided to join her. She was going into the academy for a year in the Fall, and she was ashamed of the gaps in her knowledge.

They set out one Sunday, having attended church first. The entire family had gone, including Sherry, who sat next to Ninel, dressed in a pretty gown Penny had made for her. Ninel, too looked wonderful in a smart blue suit, as did Baby, dressed in something similar. Lady Sonja was happy to have them all together, and they sang lustily, as it was the family's habit to do. "Beate could not sing well, but she sang anyway," said Lady Sonja afterwards. This fit in with Alexandra's memories. Her mother had sung to her, but the songs were odd folk-songs she had learned from her army friends, from distant parts of the world, and would naturally sound wrong to the conservative Genevan.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Tour

The party consisted only of Alexandra, Sherry, the baby, and two guards, young folk that Alexandra barely knew, but who had been strongly recommended by Miriam and Judit. Alexandra and Sherry had decided they would manage the food themselves, or eat in inns. There were several government lodges on their route, and they could stay there in comfort. The rest of the time they would camp, or stay at the homes of various members of the aristocracy.

The first leg of the journey was through the part of the country through which the army had tramped to and from the front at Oslo. While there had not been great destruction of these areas, the people were glad to see Alexandra for the first time. They lined the road, and called her name, and such things as Long live the Queen! Long live Alexandra! Alexandra was touched by their welcome, and showed her pleasure as well as she could. Some distance along the road, the East Shore Road, they came upon a large camp of Bernians who had come ashore in their little boats, and were now in refugee camps, being processed. They appeared to have been treated with less than courtesy by the administration.

"All I can do without being obnoxious is to be polite to them," Alexandra told Sherry.

"That should do it," Sherry agreed vehemently. "If you greet them with courtesy, it would be hard for the immigration fellows to continue to be rude."

Alexandra went among the refugees, with the baby in her arms, inspected their living conditions, and was thoroughly disheartened. Not only was there a shortage of supplies, there was a lot of hoarding going on. She gathered them into a central area and addressed them. She said she could not promise that life in Norsland would be immediately better for them —which they laughingly contradicted at once— but she would try to find resources for them. Meanwhile, she asked them to share what they had, regardless of from where in Bernia they had come. She had lived in Bernia, and received equal kindness from the Free Farmers, as well as landed farmers in the East. "Why bring your differences with you to these shores? You are all human beings! Make the lives of your neighbors easier! If you cannot do that in this camp, how can you do it when you get out? One family has plenty of blankets. Another family freezes! This is not our way!" The words were said with a smile, but the admonishment was well understood.

In spite of her harsh words, the Bernians surrounded her and smiled warmly. This was a sign of her personal magnetism, something which the romantic-minded Bernians had responded to even while she was living there in Bernia. In particular, they loved children, and especially babies. She smiled at the children, who reminded her so much of those at the settlement of the Free Farmers. Suddenly a young man came forward.

"It is easy to ask others to share, Your Majesty! It is harder to share what you have!"

Alexandra was taken aback, but Sherry was furious. The implied insult was something that Alexandra would find hard to counter.

Sherry stepped forward, her eyes flashing. Before Alexandra could reply, she spoke in Bernese.

"The young gentleman assumes that Her Majesty has great personal wealth. That is not the way it is in the Royal Family of Norsland. The people supply Her Majesty's needs. She cannot dress like a beggar, because she represents the honor of Norsland. She eats simple food; I know because I have eaten at her table. She lives in the Palace, which also contains many administrative buildings. She had little to call her own. She lives on the goodwill of the population. By coming here, you have undertaken to provide the means for the Queen to live modestly, the way she does. Your assumptions are wrong, sir!"

"I did not offer an insult, madam," the man said, reddening (though of course he had).

"No insult is taken, sir," Alexandra said quietly. "It is only part of your education."

As they mounted and moved off, Alexandra was thoughtful. She was glad she had not dressed ostentatiously, though there was constant pressure on her to dress smartly.

They spent that night at a government lodge in the forest some ten miles inland. Instead of a warden, this lodge had a lodge-keeper, a woman who lived close by, who saw them coming, and rode up to open the place up for them. Sherry marveled at the size of the woman, who was another giantess like Lena, fair-haired, big and tall. "Welcome, Your Majesty!" she said in a rich contralto, "My name is Olga! It is a pleasure to have folks in the lodge after so long!"

"Is there room for all of us, Olga?" Alexandra asked pleasantly.

"Oh, certainly," said Olga, "there are seven rooms, each with two beds. More beds can be put in if needed!"

"Is there food?"

"There are farmers who are pledged to provide, Your Majesty! Come, let me show you the rooms, and then I will go get the supplies. I need a few minutes to make the beds ..."

"We will help," offered Alexandra, but the woman wouldn't hear of it. The building had two floors, and the floors shook as she marched up and down, getting things ready. She was simply enormous, easily six feet tall, and probably 250 pounds of solid muscle. She wore a belted tunic like a short dress, and loose slacks gathered at the ankle, and heavy sandals, in defiance of the freezing weather.

"There!" she exclaimed down the wide stairs, "Come on up! And listen, you two guards can rest tonight; we will post a watch, don't you worry!"

"Oh, we won't need a watch," Alexandra said, laughing, but the woman grew serious.

"We heard all about the sniper attacks, Your Majesty. Better safe than sorry."

Alexandra insisted that Sherry sleep in her room, which Olga accepted with a shrug. There was even a little crib for the baby, who exchanged thoughtful looks with Olga. "She likes me, I think," said Olga softly, "but then, children seem to like me!"

The meal was wonderful. It was simple and well-prepared, and just enough for them. Olga was excellent company, and told outrageous jokes that made them almost choke on their food. There were lots of jokes about inept Bernian troops going round, and Alexandra wondered whether she should squelch them. But in the end she decided they weren't really vicious, they were the inevitable accompaniments to surviving a war.

"What do you thing, so far?" Alexandra asked Sherry, after they'd made love for some time. Sherry only shrugged; it was interesting to discover the country, but so far it was hard to tell much. They talked a while, and then got back to the business of sex.

The next day they started the day without much excitement, except that the windows were rimmed with frost. Once again, as in the Bernian days, Alexandra and Sherry had to manage little Sophie by themselves. She ate her solid food like a Trojan, and the rest was easy. Olga seemed quite sorry to see them go.

The second day was a repeat of the first, except that they stayed at a home belonging to Lady Constance Frickasdottir, an old woman of almost a hundred, of Lena's generation. In repayment for her hospitality, they were obliged to talk with her. She walked with the aid of a staff, and she was all hunched and bent over, but there was the light of mischief in her eyes. She gave the baby a brief, tolerant smile, and then ignored her.

"I used to be almost six feet tall, would you believe it? Look, if you measure ... all the way like this ... to here, it'll be six feet!" She cackled with great amusement. She had a strong jaw, and her own teeth, and looked like a friendly dinosaur when she grinned—and she grinned often. She tended to ramble now, but some of the ideas she expressed were so fresh that Alexandra was amazed. She could see Sherry listening to it all, her pretty little ears hearing every word, her pretty green eyes watching the performance, her sensuous lips bent in an indulgent smile.

Alexandra had got into the habit of watching Sherry's reactions to people, and measuring it against her own. And she was delighted to notice that they matched very closely, and when they didn't, Alexandra was persuaded that perhaps Sherry's reaction was more appropriate, or at least complementary to her own. She was beginning to persuade herself that she and Sherry made a good team.

That night, after they went through their nightly ritual of sex play, she lay back in the bed, with Sherry on top of her, facing up, so that Alexandra could caress her breasts. Sherry turned her head to kiss her from time to time, and made soft sounds of pleasure. Her cheek was soft and downy, unbelievably kissable.

What if Genny decided to give up the charade? What if she went home to her parents? What if she got killed? What if Sophie and she had a falling out? Alexandra was becoming obsessed with the thought of formalizing her relationship with Sherry.

They slept soundly, and in the morning had a wonderful time getting ready again. They fed the baby together, seated in Constance's large kitchen, with her and her handsome young housekeeper, and went back upstairs to wash and change, and then set out once again. Within a few hours they were at the infamous Muddy River, and were soon crossing the New Bridge that had been built across it, with Novaspirian aid.

Oslo, in contrast, was a ruin. There were the remnants of the concentration camps, with the little graveyards with new tombstones to mark the graves of those whose names were known. Little Lara's parents were buried here. The townsfolk came out to see Alexandra, hungry for assurance that things would be better. The mayor of the city had ridden out to meet them as soon as he heard that the Queen was in the city. Alexandra went through the tour soberly, her heart heavy. Many of the buildings and homes were vandalized or destroyed, ugly reminders of the occupation. The city residents were busy demolishing the defaced buildings and rebuilding. Alexandra went out on foot to inspect a building site, but they would not let her get too close with the baby in her arms.

The more she saw, the sadder she became, until she stopped at an inn at the Mayor's invitation for lunch. She sat down, and wept into the baby's hair.

"Your Majesty!" cried the Mayor, upset and concerned. "Oh dear!" he said, exchanging a worried look with Sherry.

"Let her cry, sir," Sherry said, smiling sadly. "She would be inhuman if she didn't have tears for this town!"

"But she must be brave!" insisted the Mayor.

Sherry urged him outside. "First," Sherry told him, "she must cry. There has been a disaster here, and there's no use denying it."

"But the Princess ..."

"What did she say?"

"That we must not shed tears. That tears will get us nowhere, that only hard work will rebuild the city!"

She made an impatient sound. "That's an oversimplification, wouldn't you agree? Grieving is natural and healthy! She isn't going to cry all day, your honor, just a few minutes!"

Everything went wrong. There was a problem with the lunch, but Alexandra and Sherry waited patiently until it was ready. The baby had a colic, and they had to find a cure for that. Genny had made some injudicious declarations, which Alexandra softened, or explained away.

When they got to their next Lodge, in a small town east of Oslo, they were shocked to find an unhappy-faced Lady Sophie. She hailed them from the front steps as they rode up, and Alexandra's heart sank. And the baby was making suggestions about being fed.

"Hello," she called up to Alexandra and the baby, and then her eyes filled up. Alexandra handed her the baby, and carefully dismounted. Taking Sophie aside, she asked her what had happened. The guards and Sherry were taking care of the horses.

"We had an argument," she said, her eyes full of tears. "Genny got very angry and ... I just decided I couldn't stand it anymore."

"But—who is she with, now?" Sophie held the baby back out to Alexandra, who opened up her blouse, and set her to nurse. Sophie shook her head. "Nobody?" Alexandra let out a sad sigh.

Sophie turned to head inside, and Alexandra was greeted by a handsome fellow of about thirty, who said he was the lodge-keeper. The lodge was in bad shape, having been occupied by Bernian officers for a year. The man said they hadn't really destroyed the place, but they had been careless with it, and during the first wave of the invasion, there had been shooting in and around the stone Lodge which had served as a defense point.

Alexandra was received warmly, and she indicated that Sophie was part of the Royal party, since it appeared that with Genny gone Sophie felt a little defenseless. Sherry efficiently took charge of bringing their things in, and on her own arranged for separate rooms.

"Come, let's go upstairs and sit down and talk," Alexandra said quietly, once the other two women had greeted each other with a warm embrace.

A little later, they were changed out of their riding clothes, and Baby Sonja was asleep in her little travel-bed. Her namesake smiled sadly, shaking her head. "This poor child has hardly been treated like a princess; look at her! Surely, she deserved a coach!"

Alexandra shook her head, grinning. "I couldn't stand the thought of being cooped up inside a coach the whole time," she said. "Sophie, what happened? I want to know everything."

Sophie glanced at Sherry, and back at Alexandra. She dropped her eyes. "You may not want Sherry to hear this," she said, "though the fault is probably mine more than ... the Princess's."

"I haven't had secrets from Sherry in a long while," Alexandra said softly. Sophie nodded slowly.

"Well," Sophie began awkwardly, "we've had disagreements all along. Sherry, Alexandra, this is a mixture of our personal relationship and the Princess's professional conduct, and it's all confused in my mind. Perhaps, after all, it's best that you hear it too." Sophie looked resigned. "Anyway, what set off the last argument was Genny's harshness to the Oslo folks. She accused them of—wallowing in their misfortune. She didn't quite say that, but that sums it up! It's a small thing, and I could have made light of it, but I'm afraid I simply couldn't take it any more."

They were seated in a circle in Alexandra's room. Alexandra folded her arms across her chest, pondering the situation, studying the other two girls as they smiled awkwardly, trying to restore the connection they had enjoyed for so long, which Genny's re-entrance into their lives had disrupted. For almost two months, now, Sherry and Sophie had avoided each other—or been separated, and it had been a strain for them all.

Alexandra sighed. "None of this had been very fair to you," she said. "To either of you! I have been apologizing to Sherry every night for weeks, and she has come to hate it, haven't you, Sherry!"

Poor Sherry was a bundle of misery, as was Sophie. "It isn't useful to give blame, or to take blame unnecessarily, Lady Alexandra."

"Call me Alexandra, Sherry; treat us as equals, please; we must deal with this as equals."

Sophie dabbed at her eyes. "I love her so much, and yet," Sophie paused, her feelings momentarily overwhelming her, "she's so insistent these days, so unwilling to see reason, so rigid!"

"She wasn't that way before!" Alexandra exclaimed, looking just as miserable as the other two.

"Indeed she wasn't! She was determined, yes, sometimes fierce, maybe, but she did not walk roughshod over people!" She blew her nose loudly. "I complicated everything when I allowed myself to fall in love with her, Alexandra, and then made things worse by not being honest with you. And I led you along, and I led her along, oh! I have been so weak! Everything is my fault, everything! Oh Alexandra, I want you to tell me that it will be all right, and that you forgive me, and that Genny will be fine, but you can't, and she won't, and things will get worse and worse! And Genny's out there, all alone, and my heart is breaking!"

Sherry was already on the brink of tears, and with this last outburst from Sophie, she gave Alexandra an anguished look, and went to Sophie, and drew her to her feet and held her tight. Alexandra, too, was in tears, and the baby was awake, and was watching it all, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes seemingly wide with concern.

Alexandra joined the other two, gently consoling them.

"Come," she said softly, "lie down, Sophie; this has been hard on you!" She and Sherry helped her to the bed, took off her outer clothing, and made her lie down, as she gave vent to her misery and wept, letting herself come completely apart in their warm, supportive fellowship. Sherry sat at the foot of the bed, while Alexandra drew a chair up close.

There was a knock on the door, and the Lodge-keeper came in. He looked alarmed, seeing the emotional scene in front of him, and backed halfway out the door, his eyes round.

"Please, go ahead and serve dinner, Lodge-keeper," Alexandra said, turning to him, with a slight frown. He indicated that the meal was ready. "In that case, ask the others to begin, we have a lot to discuss before we come down." The man mumbled a hasty reply, and left.

Sophie had still been saying she was sorry, and now she started up again. Sherry replied that there was nothing to apologize for.

"We have to go forwards, now, Sophie, there's no going back," Alexandra said sorrowfully. She had no inkling about how much of an impression that one sentence had, a few hours later.

Sophie hid her face in her hands and broke out anew in tears. Alexandra tenderly soothed her. Sherry was also in need of comforting, and Alexandra did so with a loving glance. "We can do only little things, to ease the way forward; there isn't one big solution to all our problems!"

Sophie calmed down enough that they could talk. Many of the things on Sophie's mind were based on questions about Alexandra, and her feelings towards Genny and herself, and towards Sherry. Seeing Alexandra and Sherry together, she began to understand the depth of feeling between the Queen and Sherry, and to realize that the solutions to their problems would have to be as complex as the problems were. Genny would find it impossible to manage on her own, emotionally. None of them could, but least of all Genny. She was bound to come looking for Sophie. "One of us must go with her, and I'd rather it wasn't you, Sophie, because you have done more than your share for us all!" Alexandra knew now what a sacrifice it had been. "I could offer to go with Genny..." This was not a realistic suggestion at this stage of their relationship, and Alexandra knew it as soon as she had said the words. " Sherry could go, but she doesn't know Genny very well, and ..."

"She shouldn't. Genny can be unbelievably cruel, not deliberately, but simply—taking on more than she can handle, and lashing out." It was nothing but the simple truth, that Sophie spoke. "And, with my deepest respect, Sherry, you're neither equipped for this duty, nor do you know her well enough to be able to —make a go of it!" Sherry nodded, accepting the obvious.

"Lady Trudy is dead. If she were alive, Genny could have leaned on her," murmured Alexandra. Sophie nodded.

"It seems that our family is the wax which Genny's candle burns," she said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice.

"Let's eat, and rest," suggested Sherry quietly. They helped Sophie get herself together, and went downstairs together, but they were so distraught that none of them could eat very much. Still, Alexandra knew, any few morsels they managed to eat was useful. Sophie took the baby in her arms, and thankfully managed to forget her woes in the smiles of the little girl. Sherry suddenly felt so hungry that she forgot her misery for a moment, and began to eat.

"If only Genny can find the compassion that she had in such abundance at one time!" Sophie said softly, almost to herself, as she kissed her namesake tenderly. Alexandra studied her, remembering why she had been so drawn to this gentle girl, and why she had loved Genny do much, and thinking, despite herself, that perhaps she could understand what had sprung up so strongly between the two women. If not for the war, the three of them may have managed to be happy for years, perhaps for their lifetimes. But the war had brought Sherry, and the intense feelings that had ripped them apart, and made Genny into a folk hero, and made Genny's love for Sophie into an obsession.

"It depends on whether Genny can do much good. If she cannot, then I could insist on sending her home," Alexandra said finally, a hard edge in her voice.

"Home to the Palace?"

"Home, to her parents."

Sophie hid her face in the cheek of the baby, who crooned into Sophie's hair. "She can do a lot of good. She was wonderful with the refugees!" Sophie spoke quickly, as if the thought was too repugnant. "All along the way, the people were crazy about her! And if she's sent home, I would probably go with her."

That told Alexandra more about the state of Sophie's mind and heart than all that preceded. If Sophie could understand something similar about how Alexandra felt towards Sherry, they would be less confused about their options.

"Let's get some sleep," Alexandra suggested. "Genny will be hard to face after a sleepless night and an empty stomach!"

Once they were in bed, Alexandra stayed awake, thinking it had been madness to suggest sleeping in separate beds. Without Sherry next to her, it was impossible for her to sleep. Then she heard the door open slowly, and she felt a weight settle in the narrow bed in which she lay, and then the soft, well-known touch of a familiar hand.

"Oh, sweet, darling Sherry!" she whispered, her heart soaring like a bird.

In a room close by, Sophie slept alone, dreading the return of her beloved.

The next day dawned, cold and clear, and Alexandra felt Sherry once again slip away early. But she returned, washed and dressed, to help with the baby's feeding and dressing.

"Must we wait here, Alexandra?" she asked. "It might be better to go back to Oslo, and see if you could encourage them a little, back there. Now, with Lady Sophie with you, she has a way of... she finds ways of getting involved!"

Alexandra nodded, and the little princess she was feeding nodded, too. In the midst of the chaos, Alexandra was feeling wonderful. Was it because Genny, who had so recklessly discredited herself, had lost the services of Sophie? Was it because her little daughter was so sweet and sweet-tempered? Was it because Sherry looked so stunning in her riding clothes?

They had hardly mentioned her name, when Sophie appeared, fresh as a daisy, and Alexandra signaled to Sherry to make her suggestion direct to her. She did it with her characteristic animation, and Alexandra smiled to herself. The princess smiled too, and cooed "Mama," which was typical. (She was a quiet child, who allowed adults to talk without demanding attention.) Sophie seemed willing. Anything was better than to wait for the Princess, doing nothing. On the other hand, neither did they want a showdown in public. In the end, thinking it was better to be useful, despite that risk, they borrowed a horse for Sophie, and headed west to Oslo again.

Once again, Alexandra sought out a war graveyard with her two friends, and gave homage. "I haven't done this often," she murmured to Sophie, "but this year, I'm going to try to remember to seek out graveyards everywhere. What more can I give them but my sorrow?"

Sophie nodded. "Genny does it, too," she admitted. "But I think it's more a token; she's too impatient to get on with the reconstruction."

They headed towards the reconstruction areas, while Alexandra allowed herself to grieve for the partnership she had enjoyed with the wonderful woman Genny had been, but which the war had stolen from them both. Genny was a good and passionate woman, and a wonderful leader. And with Sophie at her side, they, too, had been an unstoppable pair. Ultimately, it had been human things that had come between Sophie and the princess: Genny was still a little blind to Sophie's emotional needs. She was blind to emotional needs in general, except her own, or those that she recognized at an intellectual level. Fortunately, the latter formed a broad class.

With tact and caution, Alexandra participated in the construction of an apartment building. The mayor welcomed her return. He was pleased that the Queen wanted to show support, and even if a little alarmed that she actually wanted to help with the construction.

"She did some building during the war," Sophie told him, as she watched Alexandra and Sherry hammering away at the frame. It was to be a two-story wooden building, to replace a similar one that had been burned down during the war.

It was early afternoon, when a messenger brought Sophie a note. It was from Genny.

Sophie approached Alexandra, and caught her eye. The young Queen strode over with her hammer, and traded it for the baby.

"Genny is waiting for me back there," she said quietly, pointing. "She's out on the main street, in the coach."

"Want me to come?"

"No, I'll just go with her."

Alexandra embraced her, putting into it all the love that had ached inside her for weeks. "Be kind to each other," she said softly. "Be for her what—I wanted to be for her!"

"I understand," Sophie said, smiling up at Alexandra, squinting into the sun.

"Take her the baby, just to hold for a while, while you talk. Take my horse; I'll come along behind." Sophie smiled and nodded. She mounted the horse, and Alexandra handed the baby to her carefully. Sophie followed the messenger at a sedate pace, while Alexandra followed afoot, quickly falling behind, as she greeted people on the streets, who had gathered to see her, as word spread that the Queen was in the city, with her gracious smile, a shake of the hand, and a word or two.

Genevieve looked drawn and a little dull. A single night had done this. Despite that, Sophie discovered that she was glad to see Genevieve. She sighed; Genevieve was a total package, beauty, passion, generosity, love. And beauty was an enormous part of her personal magnetism. Having been parted from Sophie, Genny appeared to have suffered easily as much, or more, than Sophie. She watched as Genny's eyes lit up at the sight of her, and regained their brightness.

"You're back—with the baby!" Sophie only nodded, not trusting words. She let Genny embrace her tenderly, gently, almost as if she were afraid she would disappear. She lowered her head to kiss the baby, who smiled and babbled at her. Genny took her from Sophie and they babbled at each other for a while, but Genny's eyes always came back to Sophie with love, and a certain hunger that warmed Sophie's heart, but added to that heaviness in her guts she had felt ever since Genny had confided in her that fateful fall day when they had stepped off the boat.

"Alexandra is somewhere behind us," Sophie warned her.

Genny raised her eyebrows. "Should I worry?" Sophie shook her head. She looked around; the guards were at a safe distance, one of them holding the horse that Sophie had ridden in. "What did you tell her?" Genny asked, looking uncharacteristically anxious.

Sophie lowered her eyes, but her mouth took on a grim appearance. "I told her everything. That I loved you, that I felt sorry for the way you had treated her, for the fact that you saw the baby too little, for the way you were so harsh with the Oslo people —though I understand your reasons for it ... I told her I loved her, and that I wished things were the way they had been before, the way they should be!" Sophie's voice became vehement, though she kept it low.

"Sophie!"

"I love you very much, my Princess. But take me as I am, or let me go!"

It was a hard, hard lesson for Genevieve. She realized finally that Sophie did not always speak her mind, and that what she wanted Sophie to feel was not always what she actually did feel. But when Sophie said she loved her, it was true. There were things she could depend upon, and other things she had depended upon, which were in error. And there were things and people on her side which she had forgotten, such as the infant in her arms.

She seemed to look right into Sophie's soul. She turned to smile at her daughter, and kiss her tenderly. Sophie leaned forward to put her arms round Genny and kissed her. She didn't care if the guards were watching. She had understood what Alexandra had told her in her wisdom: it was the love one received that one could redirect out into the world. If the nation needed Genny's love it had to come from somewhere. And it must come from Sophie, and Baby Sonja, the only ones who loved Genny unconditionally.

"I'll take you any way you'll come to me, love," Genny said softly, after a little while, her voice trembling. "I have no one else."

"I realize that. But you can do so much good, Genny! Alexandra has much admiration for you."

"What else did she say?"

"That—we can only go forward, not back."

There was a spark of something in Genny's eyes, a hardening.

"I know what that means."

"Can you blame her?"

"No. I suppose not." Genny looked into Sophie's eyes, searching her face. "I can see that you approve."

"Hush, now, here she comes." They turned together to greet Alexandra, startlingly changed in appearance, with her hair cut short. A guard stood some yards away, holding Alexandra's horse. Alexandra brought her heels together and bowed to Genevieve, and walked forward. Genny studied her, her tight brown hose, now stained with sawdust, the brief pinwale skirt with slits front and back for riding, and matching vest. She looked a simple teenager, except for her full breasts, that gave her figure an allure that made Genny's heart beat faster.

Genny gave the baby to the young queen, and looked for a sign on her face. But her smile was genuine and pleasant, and seemed to wish Genny no more than the best. Alexandra smiled at the baby and talked to her, her face shining with love. Genny could not resist smiling at the sight.

"It's time she was weaned," Alexandra said with a sigh. "She could have come along with you, if you would have taken her."

"I certainly would have," Genny said at once, "but they say it is good to nurse as long as possible."

"She's cutting her teeth!"

"Indeed? She takes after my side of the family!" For a moment the byplay between the women reminded Sophie of a time that had been infinitely happier. Genny's mischievous eyes danced to Alexandra's hair. "So is this some new Western fashion? I notice others in your entourage had adopted it before you!"

Alexandra shrugged, saying "It was merely time to cut off the stained parts."

Genny's face sobered, and she nodded. "Sometimes it may appear that I don't ... appreciate the sacrifices you made. I am often too preoccupied with my own life." Alexandra acknowledged it for the apology that it was.

"I'd better go, ladies," she said awkwardly. She leaned forward and kissed Genny, a real kiss, but on the cheek, and Genny kissed her back.

"A new beginning," Genny whispered. Alexandra smiled and nodded. She walked back to the horse, and mounted her effortlessly, with the baby still in her arm. With a mounted bow to the other two women, she rode slowly off.

"You must think I'm a fool," Genny murmured for Sophie's ears only, turning to the coach, her eyes downcast.

"Yes," said Sophie. "But I should never have fooled around with you before the wedding."

"I could stand having her make love to me," Genny said. "It would be easy. It would be pleasant," she admitted to herself. "I see now, it is a lie I could get used to living."

"It's too late now," said Sophie grimly.

With Alexandra helping, the construction seemed to go twice as fast. She kept talking while she worked, and miraculously, frame after frame was completed and bolted to the structure, the upper floors added, the joists laid, and when the sun went down, the inside plumbing was being laid.

They decided to share the meager meal of the construction workers, and Alexandra nursed the baby while they told her stories about the occupation.

"But even while they were here, we watched the TV, in secret" they said. "It was the Princess who kept our hearts alive! And she showed us a picture of you, Your Majesty, that they were putting in a factory up north, in Bethlehem, I think it was. That reminded us what we were living for!"

"She's a wonderful woman," Alexandra said quietly.

"Indeed, she is that," they agreed.

That night, when Alexandra returned from her bath, she was shocked.

Sherry lay sprawled cat-like in her bed, but she was naked. In addition, a strange transformation had taken place. Her body was studded with metal ornaments, jewelry, in her ears, in her nose, in her body, her breasts, even her most private of places. There were bracelets on her arms, a thin chain stretched between her nipples, and she wore anklets on each ankle, and rings on every finger and toe.

As Alexandra came in, she got off the bed, and with a slight smile, asked her to sit.

"I want Your Majesty's permission to dance for you!"

"At this time? You'll disturb everyone!" she exclaimed, glancing at the sleeping baby.

"I will dance completely silently," she assured her, "except for the metal, which will make a tiny sound."

Alexandra sat down, still holding the towel, and nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. She had been deeply depressed and saddened by the events of the day, but it had been wiped completely out of her mind.

The dance began. It was beautiful. It displayed the beauty of the girl's body, her form and her limbs, all of her. She bent and stretched and posed in miraculous feats of balance and control, her movements sinuous without being lewd, graceful, light, enticing, erotic, almost magical. When she was done, she kneeled before the Queen, sitting gracefully on her haunches, breathing hard, her eyes wide and excited.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh heavens, yes!" stammered Alexandra, thinking that she could give up her entire life, if she could see this over and over again.

"It's a dance you're only supposed to do for your lover, and I learned it when I was young, in the academy!" Alexandra nodded, smiling. "I have rehearsed another one in my mind," she said, looking even more excited. "This one is more—lewd, more indecent ... something far more private." Alexandra nodded, moistening her suddenly dry lips. "It might be disgusting; you must stop me if you find it so."

"Please," said Alexandra, "I'm willing to take the risk!"

It was indeed different. From the outset, its moves were lewd, suggestive, designed to create urges in the watcher that only a lover could fulfill. She touched herself intimately, repeatedly. Her flickering fingers drew attention from the candles that were placed low on the little stands at the head and the foot of the bed. She wove her hips in a slow circle, her eyes intent on some inner vision that was driving her to ecstasy. Faster and faster she danced, still in utter silence, except for her breaths, which came in harsh gasps, until she vibrated in one place, and then the dance ended with a sigh, as she sank to the floor, her legs clamped together.

She bent to inspect her crotch and gave a little giggle. "Look," she said breathlessly, "I'm all wet, Your Majesty ..." she looked up again, her eyes searching Alexandra's face, "you didn't stop me, so you must have liked it! Oh—you're red all over!"

Alexandra was so troubled that she could barely think. Her body was indeed flushed all over. She knelt in front of the panting girl. She picked her up, jewelry hanging from every inch of skin, seemingly, and sat on the edge of the bed, settling Sherry on her lap. She proceeded to kiss her, mad with desire and love.

"Don't ever leave me," Alexandra whispered to her. Her body was wrapped around her possessively, eager to feel the metal biting into her skin. Even after her incredible dance, Sherry had energy left over to have rough sex with Alexandra. She had said it was a different style of lovemaking; for women who like to have their lovers decorated with metal. Again and again she told Sherry how much she desired her.

Finally Sherry turned to study her closely.

"I'm here for you, Alexandra! It's only a game, to increase our pleasure in each other. It worries me that you're so obsessed with it."

"I'm ... obsessed with you."

Sherry nodded. Her eyes began to shine with another emotion. She bent to kiss Alexandra gently on the lips. "You know what I wish?" Alexandra looked a question with her eyes. "That you were not the Queen!" she whispered.

In the next few days, they settled into a routine. Sherry and Alexandra became practiced at managing the baby, the horses, the traveling arrangements, and the guards. The guards were two stalwart women, as tall and as big as Alexandra, and about the same age. They looked magnificent in their black breeches and red jackets, their winter uniform, but they could turn their hand to watching the baby when needed, and to managing crowds when needed.

The baby thrived on their unusual timetable, content to be held by anyone, pleased to be allowed to explore a clean floor, delighted to be allowed to nurse three times a day. Her hair was growing apace, and Sherry put it in two ribbons, which suited her very well. She had a pretty heart-shaped face and a little cleft chin, which could change in almost any direction as she grew. Though blue-eyed, she had her first mother's thoughtful gaze, and the same level eyebrows, inherited from her grandmother Beate.

At night, Sherry did not wear the jewelry again, but there were other things in her bag that she delighted Alexandra with, pretty clothes that she wore only for her. She often danced for her, something Alexandra loved dearly. And she and Alexandra danced together. Alexandra already knew the basics of traditional ballet, but Sherry was an adept. Every night she taught Alexandra dances that were increasingly difficult. Modern ballet involved a wider variety of moves than did traditional ballet, and more muscle control. It was good for Alexandra, to regain some of the muscle tone she had lost in pregnancy.

The north central city of Bethlehem had never been in enemy hands, nor had it been shelled or bombed, except for a few attempts at sabotage that had left only minor damage. But the citizens of Bethlehem, a large city of almost a million, had awaited the Queen's visit with great impatience. Her arrival on horseback resulted in all businesses having to close down, and everyone lined the streets, shouting with glee, crying patriotic slogans, many unique to the city, and silly words of affection for Alexandra, the Princess Consort—whom they adored—and the baby princess Sophie Ninel.

Alexandra carefully took the baby out of her little harness, and rode along, holding her high on her shoulder. The tot obligingly waved back to the people, seeing them waving at her. Those close to the Queen and her party even waved to Sherry, and she smiled and nodded at them. They loved the Queen, and that regard extended to anyone with her.

Alexandra stood on the steps of the city hall, one of the most beautiful city halls in the nation, and addressed the crowd. She did not have the gift of oratory that Genevieve had in such generous measure, but Genny had given her some ideas for things she could say.

"My beloved subjects," she began, and immediately it seemed likely that not another word would pass her lips; so great was the noise of their cheering! But eventually they quietened. "You have been instrumental in our coming through this war. It is right that we celebrate!" She waited, smiling, until their shouting died down again. "I have traveled around the Eastern Province, and it is a time of building, of clearing away the rubble, of finding homes for the homeless, finding food for everyone for this holiday season, for people who have starved for twelve long months, some of them." There was silence. "The city of Bethlehem has been spared. Your work has already helped us prevail. But it is not over." Silence. "Across the sea, there is a nation that has succeeded in destroying itself, for the second time in twenty years. We might think, well, that's their own affair. But it's not so easy. I traveled to Belgravia, to get help for the war, and they gave it. They wanted a great deal in return, promises of trade concessions. Contracts for post-war development. Our medical expertise. They wanted military bases, which I allowed, with restrictions. They asked for territory, which I refused, on advisement from the council. But I made them promise one more thing: that they would help to rebuild Bernia." There was muttering. "Friends, there are countless widows and orphans there, too. I was there, and I have seen with my own eyes, how they have ruined their land, destroyed their agriculture, neglected their cities, abused their machinery, and left their young people uneducated, ignorant, and without hope. Our allies have pledged to reconstruct Bernia as a peaceful nation, without weapons, a threat to no one, a friend to all. Their leaders must now take charge of that work. But we must help!" The silence would have daunted one who believed in her words less than did Alexandra. But she went on. "We defended ourselves against an unjust aggressor. We were brave, and we were stubborn, and we fought back. But to prove ourselves greater than other nations, we must do more. If we help our former enemies, in the end we will help ourselves! If we help them to produce, we can enjoy that produce in years to come. If we help them economically, then they will become our consumers in years to come.

"Yes, these are new ideas, but think on them. We're moving into a new era, where no country, no people can go it alone. Think about it. The steel you produce here is far more than we need for our own country. With new techniques, more power, the technology that the Belgravians have promised us, we can produce good quality steel in far greater volume than Norsland can consume. We will sell it to Belgravia!" There were tentative cheers. "New Hope!" More cheers. "But the greatest consumer of our steel will be, yes, Bernia! They have no steel there!" Loud cheers. "But, my friends, if they're starving, they won't buy steel. If they have no factories, they won't need steel. If their children are not educated, they won't have factories. And there you have it.

"If we go into this selfishly, the results will come in unwillingly. If we can open our hearts to these people, not for the sake of growing customers for our products, but for the sake of our common humanity, our efforts will bear greater fruit, because god will be with us. Our hearts will be in it, not just our greed. And our children will be safer, because the children of the Bernians will know that they are sincere friends, not opportunists.

"If I have a wish for Norsland, it is that we were determined under siege, but magnanimous in victory. Pledge to join with me and with your fellow-countrymen, in this effort to rebuild not one nation but two! I wish you a peaceful holiday, and may your hearts be as generous as they are grateful! God bless you all! God bless Bethlehem!"

"Long live the Queen!" someone began to chant, and it was taken up by everyone, and Alexandra waved, grateful for even this slight positive response.

Afterwards, at lunch, the mayor of Bethlehem, a vigorous man in his fifties, smiled at Alexandra, but shook his head.

"That was a dangerous speech, Your Majesty!" he said. "The Princess might have pulled it off, but it was a risk for you!"

"It's what I believe in, and I cannot simply say things they want to hear, Lord Mayor."

"That may be, but my people consider themselves to have done their duty, working hard during the war, and they were looking to you for approval, not a lecture, Your Majesty."

"It was not a lecture, Lord Mayor, it was a simple plea. Our people must learn to look upon people of other lands as friends. How else can we expect the children of Bernia to view us as their allies, and not their prey? The competitiveness of the last generation must be replaced by a spirit of cooperation. We must reward cooperation, punish aggression. We cannot only punish."

But there was too much of a philosophical rift between them. Alexandra and the mayor had to agree to disagree. But after that, it was a pleasant meal, and the councilors tactfully avoided talk of politics with the Queen.

CHAPTER FORTY

Two of the Best

They headed into the hills, and toured the high road that the volunteer corps had made in the mountains. It now connected a number of towns and villages that had been connected in the past by a road that ran on the north of the fault. The fault had destroyed between a few hundred feet of the old road in some places, and nearly fifty miles in other places. The fault was now a burned scar that split the country in a long line that curved from the west to the south-east, and the new road ran a mile or so to the south of it.

That night they stayed in the mountain home of one of the nobles, Lord Sorensen, whose principal residence was in the capital at Stefansberg. The mountain home was in fact a large stone cottage in a small meadow adjoining a forest owned by the Sorensen family. The new road ran just north of the cottage, right through the Sorensen forest, and it was a natural place to stay. There was a caretaker who called in a young couple to get the cottage ready and prepare the meals. The couple, two girls in their late teens, were pleased to cook for the Queen and her party. They were enchanted by the little princess, and each took turns to play with her while the other worked. Alexandra could hardly tear her eyes away from the happy young couple, who chattered to each other as they worked and played, seemingly not aware of the Queen's thoughtful observation of them. They were similar, with middle-brown hair and merry light-brown eyes, and were dressed in the usual mountain dress of a short heavy sleeveless tunic-dress over hose and a soft under-blouse, and the leather sandals worn over thick socks. In wet weather, they would wear heavy shoes. While one dandled the baby on her knees, making her dance, the other watched, giggling. She would watch until she could not bear the pretty scene any longer, and then run up to kiss the head of the baby, and immediately bend to kiss the cheek of her lover, as if she would be hurt if she only kissed the baby. They were silly, but they warmed Alexandra's heart, much as Penny did.

"You long for a carefree life, with a woman who loves you, and a baby to play with," said Sherry, her eyes full of love, observing Alexandra studying the two young women.

Alexandra turned to Sherry. She smiled and nodded.

The two girls continued to chatter to each other. Suddenly one caught sight of the Queen watching them.

"The Queen watches us, beware," she told the other one, glancing at the Queen through the corner of her eye. The other one did the same, in such a similar manner that it was uncanny. "Indeed she is," she replied, softly, but still quite audibly. It was as if they thought Alexandra was deaf. "You had better get started on the food, dear." "Yes," said the other, hurrying to the kitchen table, "I will, this very minute." They kept glancing at the Queen and Sherry, and one shot them an artless smile, and so did the other, a split-second later.

"Leave your work and come here!" the Queen ordered, suppressing a smile. The girl who had been setting up to cook dropped her knife as if it was red hot, and wiped her hands on her apron and came close, followed by her mate, who was still holding Baby Sonja (who was seriously drooling). Both girls knelt down in front of Alexandra and waited, wide-eyed. "Now tell me your names," said Alexandra.

"Minna and Brinna, please, Your Majesty," they said in a comical chorus.

"Minna and Brinna?"

They nodded in unison. "I'm Minna, and she's Brinna," explained the one with Baby Sonja.

"What kind of names are these?"

"Oh, Brinna is short for Brunnhilde, which is an ancient name, Your Majesty. But we call her Brinna!"

"And her name is a diminutive also; her real name is Philomena, which means she who loves to think, but she has forgotten all that! But we leave out the Philo part, and only call her Mena, which has come to be Minna, to rhyme with my name!"

"And do you love to think, Mena?"

"No, not much, Your Majesty!" They both giggled merrily, seeing that the inquisition was a friendly one.

They watched the Queen closely, their eyes intent. They had identical light brown eyes and plain faces, made pretty with their humor. Occasionally one of them would glance up at Sherry, studying her in detail, only to come back to the face of the Queen.

"Are you mates, or are you sisters?" Alexandra demanded, silently rebuking herself for being nosy.

The question had an immediate and dramatic result. Both girls grew red in the face.

"Both, Your Majesty. We have sworn to have no children," said Mena in a small voice. "It is unusual."

"If you are sisters, what need do you have to swear as mates?"

"Because we are lovers, Your Majesty," explained Brinna.

"We have been, since we were small, Your Majesty, and the village asked us to stop it when they found out." Their eyes jumped to Sherry at the same moment, and jumped back to Alexandra's face.

"Are you twins?" asked Sherry, and the girls nodded.

"Will you have us beheaded, Your Majesty?" asked Brinna in a tiny, fearful voice.

"Of course not!" exclaimed Alexandra, frowning. "Siblings marrying is frowned upon, certainly, but it is not a capital offence!"

The girls stared at each other open-mouthed, full of indignation. "They lied!!" they exclaimed together. "They said that if you found out, you would behead us!" "Indeed they did!"

"Then why did you confess?" asked Alexandra, laughing.

"But it is impossible to lie to the Queen!"

Alexandra laughed so heartily, that the girls stared at each other again. "Another lie!!" they exclaimed in an angry whisper, causing Alexandra, Sherry, and even the two guards—who had come in and begun to listen—to hold their sides laughing.

The girls sighed, only the fact that they did it together making it seem comic. In their usual style of interleaved speech, they said, "Indeed, the village has been much occupied with our sin." "But this war had distracted them." "Yes, indeed, if not for these disasters, we would probably be dead of stoning by now!" "We would have run away."

"But here you are, safe and sound, and I hope, happy!"

They were all smiles in a second. "As long as we have each other, we are happy, as you say, Your Majesty!" "We get along well with anyone outside the village." "As long as we live here. If we moved to another village, who knows?" "We might hate everybody there!" They giggled. They had the most infectious giggles Alexandra had ever heard.

Suddenly Minna's expression turned mischievous. "Does Your Majesty think my sister is pretty?"

Alexandra gave her a severe look. "Since you both look exactly the same, you really want to know whether you're pretty! Am I right?"

They looked at each other, their jaws comically hanging. They were confused, and had no answer, and contradicted themselves thoroughly.

"I merely asked, because Your Majesty had such questions for us!"

"Her Majesty is happily married, sister, don't make innuendos."

"But her wife, the Princess, is not here!"

"Lady, you are not the Princess, are you? The Princess has long, golden hair, and wears blue dresses!"

"No, I'm Lady Sharon," said Sherry.

A sly look came into the twins' eyes, as they turned back to Alexandra. "Only say the word, Your Majesty," whispered Mena, "we will entertain you!"

Alexandra pretended to be shocked. "Entertain? Have you done this before?"

"Yes!"

"Not often, your Majesty."

"A couple of times, at most."

"We're not professional companions, you understand, Your Majesty!"

"We only offer to keep company with people we like."

"Both of us like." They nodded slowly.

"Very kind of you, girls," Alexandra said quietly, "but you'd better get back to the cooking, or Lady Sherry and I will have to take over!"

They were both alarmed and curious. Could the Queen cook? And Lady Sherry? But Queens should not cook, it isn't proper, and so on and so forth.

Alexandra took the baby, who suddenly realized that her caretakers could not be told apart, and blinked at them. They giggled, and headed out to the kitchen.

"They are so silly!" whispered Sherry, still smiling after them. "But so charming, even graceful. They have a natural grace all their own!"

They had wavy light brown hair they wore loose, cut at shoulder level, curling in at the ends, and it was a joy to watch them cooking. They kept up a constant chatter in their sweet voices. Their accents were definitely not typical Norslandish; it sounded more Belgravian, or perhaps southern. They spoke quickly, the words tumbling out like water in a brook. After each one spoke, the other one would agree with a soft falling Hm in two notes.

"I could listen to them for hours," said Alexandra.

"The Queen says she likes to listen to us, sister," they heard at once, and realized that the girls had one ear open to what they were saying.

"Just as well; you have been talking a lot tonight."

"Hm, I suppose."

"Sister?"
"Yes."

"I do not approve of this going around without her mate!"

"Who knows? They are important people, they may have business."

"But the child! It needs both parents!"

"But there is the Lady Sharon, sister. They do well enough."

"Indeed they do. The Lady Sharon cares for the Queen!" She sighed.

"They need no entertainment from us, you mean."

"Hm. But she is so beautiful." Alexandra averted her eyes just in time. "She is the most beautiful woman in the whole realm."

"In the whole planet!"

"Have a care. Such a thought smacks of mockery! We're short of onions."

Alexandra had to hurriedly leave the room, red in the face. Sherry followed her to the room they had laid out for the Queen, and they closed the door and laughed until tears poured down their faces.

"We're short of onions! Oh my!"

"Oh Alexandra, could we take them with us?"

Alexandra laughed. "We have Penny," she said, drily. "She nearly came with us."

It was Sherry's turn to laugh. "But there's just one of her. Perhaps we can teach her to talk to herself."

The meal was simple and delicious. Alexandra insisted that the twins should eat with them, but they in turn insisted that they would eat on their stools, ready to fetch anything the Queen and her company needed. The Twins even found wine kept in the Sorensen cellars, and they opened a couple of bottles and drank. They got the guards to loosen up and tell their stories, and Alexandra and Sherry told stories, and the twins told the most ridiculous stories of all. Eventually the guards took their leave, saying that they would keep watch, in spite of Alexandra's assurances that it would not be necessary.

It was discovered to be snowing heavily. As the girls hurried out to stare at it, the two guards came to the door, and said that they would have to watch from inside. "But there is a full moon, Your Majesty, the outside will be well lit, especially with the lights doused inside."

"If you insist, girls. I don't think we need to set a watch; we will be perfectly safe."

"My Lady, the twins should stay the night," said Sherry, quietly.

They noticed the poor things staring out the window.

They turned gaily and said, "Now, your Majesty, see how it snows! You may as well let us stay!"

"You're welcome to remain here, ladies," Alexandra said with a smile, as the baby sucked sleepily at her breast.

"If Your Majesty prefers, we could sleep in the kitchen," said Mena, the more thoughtful one.

"Come on," said Alexandra briskly, leading the way to the room set aside for her. The large bed was screened from the rest of the room with a heavy curtain, and there was a raised platform of stone designed for a portmanteau or trunk, on which the baby could be placed, heavily bolstered. "Look," she said, pointing at the thick rug that covered the center of the room, "there's plenty of room for one of you to make a bed here. Mena, you shall sleep here. Brinna, go with Lady Sharon and talk to her. Leave us alone until I send for you. I want to talk to your sister."

"Separately, Your Majesty?" Mena asked, her eyes round with worry.

"Yes; it's a little distracting when both of you talk at the same time."

"I sometimes forget the details, Your Majesty, that's why she interrupts."

"Still, that's what I want. Sherry, keep her occupied for a little while." Sherry grinned, and escorted the anxious Brinna away. Mena composed herself on the rug as if for martyrdom. Alexandra finished nursing the baby, and started to put her down. Mena hopped up, and came to help. They had anticipated all their needs, and blankets galore and bolsters stood ready. Then Alexandra turned to Mena.

"What does this entertainment involve?" she asked gravely.

"Well," said Mena, her eyes shifting about, "it is usually just a massage, Your Majesty. A hot oil massage for those who have gone hunting, and usually that would be all, seeing that we do not sleep with men, you see." Alexandra nodded. "If women are here, while the men are gone, then we give a massage, but stay with them the night. Nothing more is usually expected, Your Majesty, though if ... if a woman asked nicely, I would lie with her, you know? As I do with my sister. It has happened only rarely." She blushed. "Only once, Your Majesty!"

"I see," said Alexandra, still very serious. "This massage seems interesting."

"Oh, it is a special massage, Your Majesty! No one has ever complained. Lord Sorensen said it was the best massage he ever received! He is a wonderful man! We like him," she added.

"Well, then, Mena, if you would be so kind, I would like this massage! And one for my Lady Sharon, too."

"Oh, you will not regret it, my Queen! Oh, let me call my sister, to tell her the good news!" She was excited, until she remembered something. "Oh, Your Majesty ... there is one little thing!" She wrung her hands in worry.

"And what is that?"

"Since my sister and I are mates, Your Majesty, will it be too much to ask, to allow us to sleep together? Out here," she said, indicating the rug, "or in Lady Sharon's room, or out in the hall, it does not matter?"

"Very well," smiled Alexandra. "It shall be here. Make a bed first, before you do anything else."

Mena lovingly made a bed for herself and her mate, out of the way, with two blankets laid first, then a sheet, then another sheet, and finally one more blanket on top. She flashed a brilliant smile at Alexandra and murmured that she was going to fetch her sister.

Accordingly, the twins went out to turn down the lights in the cottage. Suddenly there was a tap on the window pane outside Alexandra's bed alcove. She looked outside, and saw Sharon, shivering in her nightgown. She quickly unlatched the window, which silently lifted outwards on a hinge. Sherry slipped in, giggling.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a little secret way outside, from my room to yours, under the eaves! It's hidden by a hedge, protected by the overhang, and kept nice and clean!"

"I arranged for you to have a massage first."

"Oh! Then afterwards I'm going to slip along this way!"

"Let me undress you, Your Majesty," Mena whispered. The room was dark, except for the single candle inside the alcove, and a nice fire in the fireplace. Brinna had hurried off to Sherry's room, and Mena had stripped completely naked.

"Yes; I thought I remembered that the clothes had to come off. But why are your clothes off?"

Mena paused. "I will begin to perspire, Your Majesty; it is hard work."

"All right then!"

Finally Mena had her Queen naked, and she stared, worshipful.

"You must forgive me, Your Majesty, but I wanted to see you this way; it's why I—I—"

"Thank you, Mena; you're pretty too."

The girl blushed deeply.

"If you will turn over, I usually do the back first!"

Alexandra rolled over, and waited. The touch of her small hands was pleasant, The warm, scented oil felt silky soft, and the girl really knew what she was doing. She climbed on Alexandra's back, and kneaded the oil into her neck and shoulders, insistently and firmly, but without the usual beating strokes that the professional used in the capital. She used her knuckles and her thumbs, finding the knots in her muscles and working them out, speaking softly to her the whole time in a low murmur. "Your Majesty," she said, and the words were a soft caress, "you have the most wonderful back ... you are as handsome as a man, from behind ... your lady wife is so fortunate!" She worked on the backs of her arms, sighing. "Your arms, too, Your Majesty, so strong and beautiful! There are so many, many knots everywhere ... relax, Your Majesty, Mena is just ... talking to herself ... let me soothe your aching muscles ... let Mena ease all this tension ... all this tightness down your poor back ..." she shifted round, and began to talk to Alexandra's buttocks. "So strong, so firm ..."

"Do you love your sister, Mena?" Alexandra asked, sleepily.

"As much as life itself, Your Majesty ... she is my other self ... to make love to her ... is like making love ... to myself, such a natural thing ... and I look into her eyes, Your Majesty, ... and it's like I can hear her thoughts, sometimes ... I like to hear her heart beat against my breast, Your Majesty ... when it thunders outside ... I can only sleep holding her... we are like any lovers; surely that's how lovers are? Only, I didn't have to learn her ways, Your Majesty ... we've known each other since the moment we were born!"

"Don't you ever fight?"

"Never, Your Majesty! It may happen someday, but we cannot stay angry for long!" She was finished with the back. "Now the front, Your Majesty. Don't be embarrassed, Mena will be careful!"

Alexandra turned around. The back massage had been as perfect as she remembered ever having.

If it had been sensuous to listen to her, it was wonderful to watch her. There was already a sheen of perspiration on her body, and now she got to work on Alexandra's shoulders and arms. Then she started on her feet, and worked her way up each leg to the thighs. She stayed clear of the 'privates,' as Genny termed them, but pressed firmly on the lower belly, a very erotic touch. But she could not resist caressing Alexandra's breasts.

"I'm not supposed to touch your breasts, Your Majesty," she confided, her eyes full of longing. Her hand rested lightly on Alexandra's stomach.

"Perhaps it's as well not to; since I'm nursing ..."

"May I check for lumps, Your Majesty?" she asked, hopefully. "I can stimulate more milk, too!"

"Thanks, but I have all we can use, dear."

"Then ... just because I ask, your Majesty? It is said to be good luck, to touch the breast of a great lady!"

"Is it, really?" Alexandra asked, sounding doubtful.

"Yes," she insisted, nodding solemnly.

"All right, do it then. But don't tickle."

She did a thorough job of it. Alexandra's breasts burned with the circulation.

"Thank you, your Majesty!" she whispered, and leaned over and kissed Alexandra on the cheek, and giggled.

"Are you done?"

"Yes! Was it good?" Alexandra smiled and nodded. "Did you like to be tended by a little naked wench?" Alexandra smiled and nodded again. "Do you want two little naked wenches to keep you warm tonight?"

Alexandra smiled and shook her head. "Just the thought that the two little naked wenches will keep each other warm, that will keep me warm tonight," she said.

Mena's mischievous smile became serious. "your Majesty did the right thing. There is the Princess's honor, after all."

"There is, indeed!"

Mena leaned over Alexandra to blow out the candle, her little breast with its little berry of a nipple inches from Alexandra's lips.

"I want to hug a little naked wench before I sleep," Alexandra said softly. They had become very comfortable together, and it felt good to have the girl's strong little arms around her. Alexandra hugged her tight, and they smiled at each other briefly, after which the girl went out to her little pallet, to wait for her twin. The fire had burned down, and she had expertly set it to a low glow.

Soon there was a knock on the door, and a little naked buttocks slipped in. At the same time, Alexandra felt rather than heard the window open, and a cold body slip in beside her. Keeping completely silent, Alexandra and Sherry kissed, and settled down. It was clear that they could not indulge in the sorts of intimacies they usually indulged in; but this night it seemed as if it was enough just to hold each other close, and feel each other's warmth.

"Ooh, sister! Was she beautiful?" asked one, they could not tell which. They spoke in hushed whispers, but they were clearly audible.

"Like an angel! The most beautiful of all angels! The Queen of all angels! And Herself?"

"The same! And so kind, sister! She has a heart of gold. I love her dearly; I would die for her!"

"Yes, they are both the sweetest of women." They sighed gustily together.

"It is a comfortable enough bed."

"I laid down two blankets below, the thickest ones I could find."

"Sister ... I want you so much ... touching her made me crazy for you!"

"She let me kiss her!"

"Oh ... kiss me!"

Early in the morning, Alexandra shook Sherry awake. The twins were awake, and they were back at their kissing, the blanket thrown off, and their slight bodies clearly outlined through the thin sheet. They were lusty little things, but they were touchingly tender towards each other. They kissed passionately once, but after that, they were soft, soft kisses, mere puffs of air, like butterflies.

"What a night it has been!"

"Shall we wake the Queen?"

Sherry disappeared out of the window, a naked ghost. Alexandra put her head out, in case she could not get into her room. She saw her climbing in, a nymph in the dawn light. She closed the window and listened again.

"Get dressed!"

"Why? She doesn't mind!"

"Both of us? Naked?"

"Yes! Come on!"

Alexandra could barely keep from laughing. She was stark naked, but she didn't care. She lay back, pretending to sleep. She knew they would whisper for a while before they actually woke her.

The curtains slowly parted, and she heard the soft rustle as they brushed against the bedclothes.

"Oh, look at her!" they said, and gazed in silence.

Alexandra began to laugh.

"She is awake!"

Alexandra reached out and grabbed the closest one. She opened her eyes, and saw a face peering into hers, a broad gleeful smile shining on it. At the foot of the bed, its twin stared at her, devouring her with her eyes.

"Which one are you?"

"Brinna, your Majesty! Good morning to you!"

"What were you doing, staring at me in bed?" Alexandra demanded, but the treacherous smile made an appearance, making a joke of her pretended severity.

"My sister said you were beautiful, and I wanted to see!"

"Well, am I?"

She nodded vigorously. "Like a goddess, your Majesty! Your body is like a goddess, and your face is that of an angel. Only your hair is too short."

"I had to have it dyed for a disguise."

"Oh. And it has grown out." Alexandra nodded. "Then your Majesty will grow it to a decent length?"

Alexandra nodded. "How long should it be?"

"Just long enough for a foot of braid!"

"A little shorter. Her Majesty is a warrior."

"Indeed. Shorter, then. You should dress, your Majesty. There is so much to do! Even in the winter, this is a wonderful place!"

"And the Lady Sherry will be ready soon, no doubt!"

"What does that have to do with me?"

The two girls looked at each other, and drew closer together, holding hands. They were probably around sixteen, though they behaved as if they were eleven. "Your Majesty doesn't trust us," said Mena; at least Alexandra felt sure it was she. "There is no one more loyal than us, your Majesty. You can always trust twins!" "Because they only talk to each other, that's why."

"What do you want to know, my little birds?"

"Not to pry, your Majesty, but ..."

"The baby, she's awake!"

"She isn't crying, she asks to be nursed! What a wonderful child!"

"I'll get her!"

They brought Sophie to her mother. Alexandra sat cross-legged on the bed, and began to nurse. One of them laid her hand boldly on Alexandra's leg, and the other snatched it off. They stood so close, she could feel the warmth of their bodies.

"Remember us, your Majesty," said one of them, eventually. "We talk to ourselves a lot, but we're smarter than we appear." "We can cook, and sew, and we eat very little!" "And we're good with children!" "We are." There was another long silence. "But there must be many young girls wanting to work for your Majesty." "But there's two of us!" "That can come in useful, sometimes."

They clearly wanted to take service with Alexandra. Alexandra was sorely tempted. Something told her that they could be trusted; they could satisfy the normal human craving to gossip by just talking to each other.

She tried to explore that idea by asking them about Lord Sorensen and his family. But they saw through it at once and laughed at her. "How could you trust us, if we told you tales about his Lordship?" "Oh, take us with you, your Majesty!" "We love you, and we trust you, and we want you to be healthy and happy!" "And we want to see the capital, and all the wonders of the country!" "And we could take care of the little princess!" "And when your lady wife comes home, see, there are two of us!" "Unless she doesn't want us around." "Some folks don't care for the chatter." "We don't chatter all the time." "Indeed we don't; we're intelligent in that way."

"How is it that you talk so fast?"

"We're Belgravian, your Majesty, or at least, our parents were." "Indeed, our grandparents came with the Princess Atlanta, one of your lady mothers!" "They then took service with his Lordship." "Our grandfather was a forester." "And their daughter was our mother, who married a woman from Northhaven, who was also Belgravian."

"Belgravian on both sides, then?" They nodded vigorously. One of them snaked her arm around the other's waist, and she leaned her head on her sister's shoulder.

"Are you always so affectionate?"

"Always!" they said.

"So, what do your grandparents think of the two of you?"

"Our grandmother is dead," said one, "... and our grandfather likes us. He's the only one who likes us. Our mothers don't like us." "They work for Lord Sorensen in the City."

The girls looked at each other, wide-eyed. "Our mothers will be there in the City!"

"What harm is there in being close to your mothers, really, girls?"

"Oh, being Belgravian, your Majesty, they have very strict rules of behavior!"

"Lady Sharon is Belgravian."

"I knew it!" they chorused.

Baby Sonja was done with a loud burp. Immediately the twins took her, and headed out to change her. Sharon was just coming in, fresh as a daisy, and the naked twins greeted her on their way out.

"Are they going to go around like this all day?"

"They're all excited! They'll dress themselves presently, I suppose. They're Belgravian, did you know?"

"I suspected as much! They talk fast, don't they! They couldn't have told I was one; my speech has slowed down considerably."

"You have, but your tongue is still quick; have I told you how much I like the way you talk?"

Sharon blushed. Another of their famous looks passed between them. When they looked into each other's eyes, Alexandra could forget all the suffering she had undergone at Genevieve's hands. She was beginning to fall so in love with Sharon, that she was beginning to believe that her feelings for Genevieve had just been youthful infatuation.

"I have been thinking," said Alexandra. Sherry raised her eyebrows in inquiry. "Once the hard work of reconstructing Bernia is finished, I want to concentrate on my own life for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to be happy. I want things to be with the monarchy as they appear to be. I want there to be a real marriage in the Royal bedroom, or no marriage at all."

"What are you saying, Alexandra?" gasped Sherry.

"I want to abdicate."

Sharon's reaction was not the pleasure Alexandra had expected. It was the opposite.

"No! No!! Please, Alexandra, no! I beg you!"

Sherry shook her head and began to weep in earnest. Alexandra stared at her, furious not at her, but at the circumstances that mocked her happiness at every turn. She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, that it was only a while later she saw the two shocked figures in the darkness of the doorway.

"Get in here, you two!" she called. The two girls crept in, one holding the freshly changed baby, both of them looking horrified, holding each other in utter distress. "How much did you hear?"

"N-nothing, your Majesty!"

"Only th-the word a-a-a-abdic-cate, y-your m-Majesty!"

Sherry walked up and took little Sophie, murmuring something to the girls.

"Why were you listening at the door?"

"W-we weren't!" "We were j-just coming in!"

Both Alexandra and Sherry burst into helpless laughter. It would be easy to catch them in a lie, since they talked at the same time, and nine times out of ten they said the same thing, but once in a blue moon, they contradicted themselves, and that was a lie.

"Get dressed at once!"

They quickly dressed. Alexandra walked out, and handed them a comb, and they combed each other's hair. They held the comb out to Alexandra, and awaited her verdict. She glared at them, unconcerned with her nudity, and for once the twins had their eyes glued to the Queen's face.

While Alexandra pondered on what to say, one of them spoke out boldly, but in a whisper.

"Our hearts are heavy for you, your Majesty. No punishment you could ever imagine will hurt more!" The other girl was silent, only nodding agreement.

"What are you talking about?" Alexandra demanded. The two of them hung their heads, and looked at the floor. "Look at me!" They looked up into her eyes. Sherry, meanwhile, brought her a thin robe, which Alexandra absently put on, with the twins awkwardly trying to help her with it. Alexandra impatiently snatched it away from them, and they retreated, looking sad and hurt. "What are you talking about, girls?" Alexandra asked more gently.

"It seems obvious that only two things would drive your Majesty to abdicate."

"That is, if your Majesty has been disgraced, or ..."

"If your Majesty's marriage is failing."

"It seems to me that it can't be the first one."

"It must be the second, therefore!"

"It becomes clear, why you asked us if we're happy!"

"Oh, your Majesty, her Highness is such a wonderful, beautiful, proud, noble, ..."

"... intelligent, passionate woman!"

"How has this happened?"

"Can nothing be done?"

"Is it only us who will grieve? No, everyone will be shocked, everyone will weep for you!"

"And the baby!"

"Now, look here! Cease this nonsense at once. I can't talk to two of you all the time. One of you talks, and the other only interrupt if there is a misunderstanding. What are you trying to say?"

Mena took a deep breath. At least Sherry was sure it was Mena.

"Is it your marriage that is failing, your Majesty? We have no right to know, but I ask, hoping you will show us the kindness of trusting us!"

"You will spread rumors all across the country, and then the marriage will fail!" Alexandra was even more furious because the objects of her annoyance were so obsequious, but still so insistent.

"We will not utter a word! The village will surely put us to death if we started such a rumor!" It was clear that Alexandra's distrust was hurting the girls very much. In their own minds, their integrity was beyond question.

Alexandra paced up and down.

"All right. Suppose it is. What would you do?"

The girls, who had dropped their eyes gradually to the floor again, looked up at Alexandra.

"Do?" said one of them, and heaved a heavy sigh. She hung her head again, and Sherry prayed that Alexandra would not snap at them again. "N-nothing, your m-Majesty. We have been taught that—such things are private, and must be—worked out by the couple themselves!"

"Then why, for crying out loud, are you pestering me about this?"

The girls flinched away, thoroughly disturbed. "We merely said that ... we were sorry, your Majesty! I forget what we said ... but we are truly sorry ... and to know that we can do nothing ... the joy has gone out of our lives forever!"

"All this babbling is to tell me that you're sorry!"

"Yes, indeed, your Majesty," said both of them together in a bare whisper.

The anger simply left Alexandra, leaving her without energy. She rested a gentle hand on the girl who had answered, and she burst into tears, and then the twins were sobbing together, holding each other awkwardly. Alexandra reflexively removed her hand, and then felt immediately sorry.

Alexandra turned away from them, baffled, and came towards Sherry. "What's going on?" she demanded quietly, her face creased in a frown.

"They're tender-hearted little things, and they guess that all is not well in Camelot!"

"The word will get around, no matter what they say."

"They'll simply refuse to talk at all, and that alone will be suspicious."

"Curse my stupid mouth!"

The twins heard that last ejaculation, and began to howl even louder.

"What's up now?" Alexandra demanded, rolling her eyes.

"Your Majesty must not curse herself!" said one of them, her face a soggy, twisted, miserable mess, and continued with loud boohooing.

"There's no possible way we can use these two in the Palace," Alexandra muttered. "With all this caterwauling and carrying on, there'll be no peace at all!"

That unleashed the worst bawling of all, and the girls ran to the kitchen, where they were heard to be crying piteously.

Alexandra was deeply depressed. It was bad enough to have her wife say she was leaving her, but it was a hundred times worse to think that she was somehow betraying her loving subjects by having it happen.

It took half an hour for the girls to stop crying. Then they washed their faces, and came to see Alexandra, with counterfeit smiles on their faces, to apologize for the awkwardness. Then they went to make breakfast.

It snowed all morning, but the twins declared they could make their way home. They had brought their boots, and it wasn't far, they insisted. They would come right back, bringing warm coats. Lunch was ready, and they would be back to make supper, because the Queen would probably prefer not to ride in the poor weather.

"They're going straight to the local rumor mill," Alexandra muttered, watching the two of them trudge off in the snow, hand in hand. "There's something uncanny about them!"

"They're very innocent, and they've got each other to reinforce it. Being regarded as two little teenage perverts, they're probably left well alone!"

"I'd like to go into town and see the place!"

"Let's wait until it's dry," suggested Sherry.

They occupied their time by talking with the guards, and deploring the weather, and then the four of them sat down and had lunch, and true to their word, two forlorn looking faces approached a little after lunch, wearing heavy fur coats and boots. They really were small-made, both slight and petite, and seemed to disappear to nothing once they had taken off their coats. To everyone's surprise, one of them pulled out from under her coat, a little puppy.

It was an instant hit. She was a little black terrier pup, and the girls immediately showed her where she was allowed to wet, which was in the snow outside the kitchen. Then the little thing bounced into the cottage, and came straight to the little princess, who was seated on the floor. She wagged her tail.

"How can they tell?" Sherry exclaimed. "Babies attract puppies like magnets!"

"And the other way, too!"

The twins beamed at them, thrilled at their success in charming the baby.

"Its name is Maura, Lady Sherry!"

"Maura!" The puppy immediately looked at Sherry with its intelligent black eyes. "What kind of dog is she?"

"It's a kind known as Scottish terriers, Lady Sherry, or Scotties. We were given this one's dam by his Lordship, and she was bred to another Scottie somewhere. His Lordship is particular about such things."

"And where is her dam?"

"With our grandfather, Lady Sherry." "There were five puppies!" "They're all given away, except this one!"

While the twins were cooking, Sherry and Alexandra kept an eye on the puppy and Baby Sonja. The pup was a well-behaved little thing, who would dance around the princess, and then sit down to let her pet it. It had the most comically short legs, but was indignant when little Sophie tried to grab her eyes, which Sophie thought were the most wonderful little things. But the little dog had figured the baby out fairly fast, and they were left to play on the floor.

"Two girls, two dogs ..." Sherry smiled. "It does gets a little dull sometimes, Sherry." Sherry didn't think it was quite that bad. But she had taken a liking to the silly girls, and the little pup. Sherry considered how the twins and the pup would regard life in the Capital. What would they do if Alexandra had to travel? They would have to stay behind, bored out of their minds.

"They'll be company for Ninel," she mused.

"They'll make the other servants jealous, though."

"Assign them to me! They're Belgravians, after all."

"A wonderful idea! Yes, that would make sense!"

"If only we knew where Genny and Sophie were; we could send them along in the Coach."

"And miss their comments on everything along the way?" Sherry had to laugh.

"They're light enough to ride on one horse," Sherry said thoughtfully. "If only there were double-saddles, with two pairs of stirrups!"

"I'm sure they'll manage," Alexandra said, confidently.

It was decided to take the twin girls, the pup, and its dam, also a black Scottie of great dignity, along with them. It was the week before Christmas when they set out again. They headed back to the East, with the twin girls riding happily together in the same saddle. The little pup and its mother rode on the packhorse. It was cold weather, but it wasn't snowing.

Back in Oslo, they were able to get a saddler to make them what they wanted, a saddle for two little girls, with two pairs of stirrups. They already had the best fur coats of any one in the party, nice and warm, and they seemed oblivious to the cold. As the party rode, it was accompanied by a constant stream of chatter from the two girls. Inspired by them, little Sonja kept up a stream of babble. Alexandra was sure that they could be heard coming when they were still miles away.

The shore road east of Oslo wound northward about sixty miles later, and abruptly disappeared. A new road was being built out to sea, to meet up with the Southern part of the country, which had thrust up about twelve miles of sea bottom. They rode along the causeway, and arrived at the edge of the escarpment that marked the edge of the fault.

"This is the fault line," Alexandra pointed out to the twins. "This used to be under the sea. All this was sea bottom ... it's dry now ..."

The chatter stopped for a few minutes, before it started up again in earnest. The twins, who had never been to the shore, were seeing marvels at every turn. They could hardly pass a seashell without exclaiming in wonder. They went almost berserk when they saw an ancient anchor that had been dragged away from the designated road bed. "It is an anchor!" they cried.

The normal commercial development that took place along the beach was now displaced twelve odd miles inland. When the party arrived at the towns, they were dead. There were some buildings that were open, but the inhabitants seemed to have disappeared at the sight of the guards. Finally the twins discovered a little boy hiding in an alley. He too had been about to disappear, but the twins had distracted him, and the guards had grabbed him.

He simply shook his head when asked any question, until Sherry tried Bernian, at which he began to chatter in evident relief. He said his name was Arun, and his family was Bernian. They were hiding in the back, since they thought it was the Norsland police.

"How old are you, Arun?"

"Seven, lady."

"Will your family talk to me, if I leave the guards on the street?"

"What will you do to them, lady?"

"Only talk with them."

"I'll go tell them!"

"May I come with you?"

"I don't know!"

In spite of being told to stay behind, the diminutive twins tagged along, until they reached an annex in the back, when he turned and began to chatter to them excitedly.

"Little man, I can't understand a word!" said Mena, smiling. "We've got to learn some of these languages," murmured Brinna.

"Go on, son," Sherry said in Bernian, "we'll wait here!"

Presently a couple came out reluctantly and nodded to them. The man spat off to a side, a nervous habit among Bernians that did not have the same connotations that it did among Norsfolk. The twins stood aside, looking from the Bernians to the two ladies.

"You have left the shop untended and run away!" said the Queen, pleasantly.

The woman remarked softly that they were speaking Bernian, and was shushed by her husband.

"There are troops going back and forth, Lady; it's safest to stay out of sight," said the man.

"Have you owned this place long, shopkeeper?"

"Almost eight years, lady, from long before the war!"

"You must speak Norslandish, then!"

"Indeed I do. But in these days, I don't know what language is safe to speak! Who are you ladies, and what can I do for you?"

Alexandra introduced herself and Sherry, and the couple took a step back in alarm.

"Where did you learn to speak Bernian like that?" he asked in Norslandish.

"It is a long story," said Sherry, glancing at the Queen. "Do you have enough for us to make a meal? There are six of us. We have money!"

"Your Majesty! Of course, I cannot charge you for what little I can provide!"

"Then charge me half of what you would normally charge," suggested Alexandra with a smile.

In short order, the entire family came out to serve the party, all smiles. There were five children: three girls and two boys, and they were all charmed by the elegant Queen, and the lovely Lady Sharon. The two boys were very interested in the twins. There were even some scraps for Maura and her mother, a Scottie of great dignity and patience.

Sherry paid the shopkeeper the promised amount, and a little more. Alexandra came up to him, and told him that there was no need to run away from anyone at all. "There will be Bernians all over the country," she said, "and they will be part of our society. And we will expect them to help rebuild. If you're bullied by anyone, send us a message. Remind me of this meal, and I will remember. And Lady Sharon will remember! Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lady," he said, and the Queen made a point of turning to his wife and giving her a brief embrace. They had all to squeeze the cheek of the poor baby for luck, and the party moved on.

They made their way past numerous towns, heavily settled by Bernians, some from decades long ago, others from just before the war, and a few who had slipped across in that first wave of refugees. They took the new bridge over the famous Verne. Alexandra and Sherry patiently talked to as many of the refugees as they could, giving them the courage to venture into the society they had longed to join, but which they hesitated to do, uncertain of how welcome they would be. The war had done these good-faith immigrants more harm than good, obviously. The big city, such as it was, was Sparta, where things were settling down already. And there, in the official residence, they stayed the night.

It was their second night with the twins. The first night had been in the Lodge near Oslo, where the twins had fallen asleep as soon as they had been shown which bed they had been assigned.

It took a little effort to keep the twins to instructions. They were too easily tempted to go exploring when they were supposed to put their things away and go get washed. The old Scottie had to sleep with the guards, while Maura was tied up near the twin's assigned bed, which was the second bed in Alexandra's own room. They would rather peek into every corner of the room than wash. In the end, Sherry had to haul them into the bathroom, make them sit in the bathtub, and pour water over them.

"Oh, we could do this, Lady Sharon! We're not babies!" "Sister, take it from her!" "Lady Sharon, sit down yourself, and I will pour for you!"

"You girls do not obey orders, so there is nothing for it but to treat you like little children!" Sherry said, frowning. "This can get tiresome. It's twice the work to look after you, and look after ourselves."

"This is all new to us, Lady Sharon, that's why!"

"This cottage is much different from the one we work in!"

"Presently-presently, we will know our way about, you can be sure. Oh, yes."

"Sister, we must do a better job of this, or the ladies will be driven to distraction."

The last was said in low voice, while the speaker scrubbed her sister's back, looking a little anxious. Sherry couldn't resist the temptation to wash their hair and fuss over them a little, as she had for Ninel. They seemed to be made of rubber, excitable and easily distracted. When their hair was washed and coiled in towels, they insisted in bathing Sherry. She made it clear that it had to be done quickly and efficiently, because the Queen was waiting, and they rose to the occasion. But they insisted on trying to dry her, which got a little ridiculous.

Somehow, they got to the dining room, where the guards were waiting hungrily. The guards and the Queen grinned at the late arrivals, guessing already what had happened. Sherry suspected they had been making bets about how late they would be.

The girls were curious about every dish. It was different from how they fixed it, or it wasn't as good, or it was better, or it was done a way they had never seen it done. The guards were in stitches, laughing at them. They gave the guards a reproachful look. They had to do it so often, they began to flutter their eyelashes at them, making a joke out of it. They had to be kept from clearing the table, and generally getting in the way. They were, however, allowed to take a plate of scraps up to little Maura. One of them carried the baby, while the other carried the plate, anxious not to spill it.

The twins were pleased with their bed. "It is a bed like the Queen has!" "It is not proper, sister!" "But it will be inconvenient to have anything else!" "It will have to do, then." They took it apart, and re-made it to their satisfaction, and were only prevented with some difficulty from improving how her Majesty's bed was made.

They felt betrayed for a moment when Alexandra revealed that Lady Sharon would be sleeping with her. In their old, threadbare shifts, they sat on the edge of their bed, taking it in. Alexandra and Sherry faced them solemnly.

"So then, it is true, and there's no going back!" It was Mena, and Brinna was silent, knowing that she would be silenced. Alexandra shook her head sadly. "Why, your Majesty?" asked Mena, imploringly.

Alexandra sighed sadly. "Her Highness fell in love with another. A good, decent, loyal woman, who loves her Highness very much."

"It was the war. It was nothing to do with you, then!"

Alexandra hung her head, and studied her hands. "No, it wasn't exactly the war, little ones. It happened almost before we were married." Sherry turned to Alexandra, wide-eyed. She had never understood the history of the matter. "They were in love, but they didn't know it. For a while, her Highness loved us both. But after the war, her Highness's perspective changed; she decided that she—needed to love this woman with all her heart. She was no longer willing to pretend to me that she loved me. But so far she is willing to conduct herself in public as if we're still happy. We have moved into separate rooms."

The girls were utterly downcast. Huge tears rolled down their cheeks.

"This is not an easy thing to repair," said Mena in a sad, choked voice that brought a tear even to Sherry's eye. "Your Majesty has suffered for a time, then."

Alexandra nodded. "Several weeks ... more than a month. It was a lonely time. And Lady Sharon is my comfort. She is my lady-in-waiting to the world, but in my heart, she is my lady love."

"And a more beautiful, kind lady you cannot hope to find," Mena whispered, as her sister nodded. "There is nothing left, then, but to accept things as they are!"

"It is much to ask of you girls."

They shrugged. "They are complications of the adult world. So many things that children would not understand. Isn't it so, sister?"

"Indeed. I can hardly believe that I understand the matter. But the way her Majesty described it, it was as if I could see it with my own eyes."

"It comes from their education," said Mena, marveling.

"Indeed. There is so much to learn."

"But ... what will we do if we meet her Highness, in the Palace? How are we to behave?"

"Be kind to her, obey her orders, give her your love. She has never asked anyone to do wrong. She is still the Princess Consort, and you are still subjects of the crown."

"She is a good and great lady, except for this one flaw."

"We must treat with her as if nothing is amiss. We can do this. Sister, ... the dog needs to be taken out!"

Conversations with them tended to end abruptly.

"That was amazing," said Alexandra, as the girls left to walk the puppy. "They are clear-headed where it counts!" Sherry nodded. "And the questions about Genny!"

"Very practical. They approach the emotional issues from the point of view of how to act. And you left the ethics to them."

"I left the ethics to Genny."

"But they won't obey a direct order to hurt you. I wouldn't have what to do if I had been given one!"

Alexandra felt very tender towards her lover, as they sat next to each other on the bed, in their shifts. For the first time, they could be affectionate to each other in front of others, in this case, the twins. Being the sentimental little things that they were, it was a sweet agony to hold each other close. Again, it seemed as if they did not need to make love to feel that gentle comfort that only strenuous sex had previously brought them every night. Even if they could not hold hands in public, they could do it before the twins, and see an appreciation in their eyes.

"Remember what you were saying, that brought all this to a crisis?"

"Yes. I was threatening to ..."

"Just think it, do not say the word again!"

"I will do it."

"I understand that you want to do it. You must look at all the consequences."

"What consequences?"

"What happens to Genny?"

When the twins came back inside with little Maura at the end of a long piece of string, it was all Alexandra and Sherry could do not to burst out laughing. Maura, of course, was perfectly content to run about with the string attached to her little collar, except when it got under her feet.

"What have you got in your hand?"

"An old piece of rag, Lady Sherry. It is for emergencies in the night." The pup had been trained to relieve itself on a designated object, such as a piece of cloth or paper. So now they went about telling it what the cloth was for, and Maura seemed to understand. Indeed, she was tied up so that she could hardly relieve herself anywhere else.

She strained towards the baby's basket, and gave a little yip.

"She wants to say goodnight," said Brinna. She brought the dog to the basket, showing her the sleeping baby. The dog gave a very vocal sound of pleasure. "Yes, the princess is sleeping, girl. Now you go to sleep!"

Again, in the darkness, the two sisters whispered soft words of love to each other, and exchanging a few kisses, settled down to sleep.

"I love you," said Alexandra to Sherry.

"I love you too," whispered Sherry.

Traveling along the northern shore was highly instructive. Alexandra and Sherry met hundreds of Bernians of all kinds, some left over Free Farmers, Bernian troops who had fought repatriation, and gunmen gradually coming out of hiding. Genny had been through, energizing the efforts of the workers, encouraging those who longed for some contact with the capital, promising aid. There were occasional messages from Sophie, whenever she found a problem that she knew could be solved by Alexandra. Often Alexandra discovered more problems, or more extensive problems. There were left over Belgravian officials refusing to relinquish responsibility, Bernian immigrants refusing to subject themselves to authority, Norslandish officials not understanding the needs or complaints of Bernians. Often the Bernians had no clear idea of what kinds of things the government would provide, and what they wouldn't. They were indignant about not being issued alcohol, while never thinking to ask for help with shelter.

Oftentimes, the immediate problem was to get the immigrants working together to solve problems which would take much longer to do through official channels.

"We have filled out the forms for our group, lady. Now the people over there must do it."

"Did you bring them forms to fill out?"

"No, of course not! I don't think they know how to write, actually."

"Could you fill a form out for them, if they tell you what to write?"

"It may not be legal, lady. It is better for the official to do it herself."

Alexandra completely lost her temper at that point.

Another time, a mass of people sheltered in great discomfort, while a forest stood nearby. Alexandra led a dozen men into the forest with axes, and began putting together a long cabin, as she had seen the Free Farmers do. There was plenty of creativity between the various groups, but fear of officialdom, and suspicion between the groups stood in its way. Once it began to break down, leaders emerged, and things began to improve.

That night, the little group camped out with the refugees. The Queen herself helped to hunt, as she had done in Bernia, and marched back triumphantly with a deer, two pheasants, and several fish. The twins insisted on cooking them all, using the cooking utensils in the church, watched and appreciated by a variety of folk from the different groups, and they were praised to the skies when the food was tasted and found excellent. But they refused to put the fish in with the other meats, and so a few lucky folk had fish for dinner.

They were offered rooms in the living quarters of the priests of the parish, but Alexandra asked her little group whether they minded sleeping with the refugees, in the newly-started cabins, and they said they did not. Sheets were hung to make walls, tarpaulins were spread above for shelter, brush was laid down for beds, and they settled down to brave the cold northern night. Alexandra found herself sleeping between one of the guards and Baby Sonja, and was warm as toast. Sherry reported that the twins had kept her sides warm, while little Maura had done the same for her feet.

The next stop was in the home of Lady Anna Francis, a youthful councilor who had been trapped on the northern shield from the early days of the war. She had found herself pregnant, like Alexandra, and had sat out most of the war at home, unable to travel. When they arrived at the Francis home it was the beginning of a gale, and Alexandra was exhausted, happy to get indoors. Anna welcomed the travelers, and reported on Genny's group, who were by now around a week ahead of them.

"She seems really nice," said Lady Anna. "It was good to see young Sophie after so long! I understood that you were all together in Oslo?"

"Well—not exactly. But we did meet there. Since then we have been involved in several projects that slowed us down," Alexandra explained.

"Are these young women one of your projects, Alexandra?" asked Lady Anna. She was an old friend, and was accustomed to calling Alexandra by her name. The twins had stood in the vestibule, staring all about them, holding hands as was their habit in any new environment, as if they could exchange silent signals through some kind of internal wiring. After a few minutes during which Lady Anna and Alexandra had gotten re-acquainted, a friendly senior servant had conducted them away to help with the disposition of the party's luggage.

"Yes, they are. I want them to work for me in the Palace. They are wonderful cooks, and have been a lot of fun on the road!"

"The puppy looks very sweet! Is it housetrained?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. They have some mysterious method with a piece of cloth ..."

"Aha! So they have matters well in hand!" She smiled at Sherry, who nodded.

They were led inside to a day-room, a comfortable place in which Lady Anna could work at her projects, with the baby at her side. She was somewhat overweight from the pregnancy, and not particularly strong. Her husband was supposed to be even more delicate and retiring than she, according to Alexandra. She had evidently suffered in the war, more spiritually than physically. She urged them to make themselves at home, telling them to make her home her headquarters for as long as they needed.

Alexandra sat down to nurse little Sophie, while Anna sat down to talk to Sherry, whom she had never met. Too late Alexandra saw that she might have given Sherry a warning about Anna's interview, but she decided Sherry might as well have her trial by fire with Anna as with anyone else.

"So you're from Belgravia!" Sherry smiled and murmured that it was so. "How did you meet her Majesty, then?"

"Her Majesty was visiting the King, and we happened to meet while they were exploring the city. She made such a powerful impression on me," she said, laughing, "that I followed her, and offered to enlist in the army!"

Anna smiled mischievously, and Sherry knew that Anna had cut to the essence of things. Alexandra smiled from her corner, looking encouraging, as well as a little relieved.

"Well," she said, "the Princess and Sophie looked well, except for being a little worn-out. Sophie is a marvel."

"Yes, she is."

"She said you all had such adventures in Bernia! But she was tired, and I got the feeling that her Highness was not so interested in hearing them all over again!"

Sherry laughed pleasantly. "She probably wouldn't have been! She really seems to have resented being kept out of things, and she was, from ..."

"I can relate; I knew things were going on just a few miles from here, but it all seemed to happen as if we weren't even here. I was just pregnant, and I was so nauseous all the time, ..." Sherry made a few appropriate sounds of sympathy. "I was certain he would never make it alive. But he seems fine, knock on wood!" She smiled at her little child, a boy whom she had introduced as Isaac.

A few days earlier, when the royal coach had rolled up the drive, the weather had been a little milder. The communications with the south were still only available around the coast, and she had had only a vague message from the Belgravian Navy that a Royal visit was to be expected.

She had been surprised to see young Sophie Gustafson step out of the coach, dressed rather roughly in breeches and a warm coat, and had thought, oh dear, she's taking after her father, always slouching around in dirty old pants. Isaac had been cranky all day, and had just had a bowel movement. He was bawling his head off, and Anna was already feeling bad for having handed him off to the nurse, old Ginny.

Not having attended either the coronation or any of the subsequent events, the woman whom Sophie helped out of the coach was a stranger, even if her face was well-known. Anna went down the steps and waited for the women.

"Sophie Gustafson! I recognized you, though I haven't seen you in more than a year! Welcome to my home!"

"Lady Anna, I hope ..."

"Just Anna is fine, Sophie, so far from the capital!" She smiled at the woman she recognized as the Queen's new consort, and waited politely to be introduced.

"Your Highness, let me introduce Councilor Lady Anna Francis; Anna, her Royal Highness, Princess Consort Genevieve."

"An honor, your Highness," Anna said, bowing in lieu of a curtsey.

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Anna, and we hope you will let us stay the night. You have my undying gratitude if you do, and we understand perfectly if it is inconvenient!"

Anna quickly assured her that they were quite welcome. She studied the young Consort without appearing to stare.

"You probably got the message that her Highness was touring the country, assessing some of the damage, and giving much-needed encouragement. We're now heading westward," said Sophie

Anna murmured a reply. The princess had a beautiful face, a face that must have glowed with youthful perfection before the war—indeed, over the television, it had seemed perfect—but now, its beauty had a kind of intensity that was almost hard to look at. She looked too thin, her skin was too dry, her movements were those of a much older woman. Her honey-blonde hair looked brittle, and she seemed to be running on nerves alone.

Sophie, on the other hand looked moderately good. Her hair, which was neatly tied back at her neck, still had the healthy glow of the hair of a child, her skin still looked healthy, if a little pale. It was odd to hear her so at home with matters of protocol and diplomacy. Anna knew vaguely that Sophie had been chosen by Alexandra to be her personal assistant, but to see Sophie in the flesh, as she conducted herself with the easy confidence of courtiers far older than her, was a marvel.

While Sophie was speaking of official matters she seemed relaxed and comfortable, but the rest of the time she looked withdrawn, almost disengaged. The exception was her obvious affection and concern for the Princess.

Anna had been honestly delighted to have company. She had always been fond of Sophie, even if they had spent little time together, and meeting Sophie as a young adult confirmed her feelings for the girl. The Princess was absolutely charming, and Anna took a liking to her instantly. Anna, who had been utterly frustrated to have had to stay home, far from the capital during the entire duration of the several disasters of the last year, sympathized with the Princess when she described what had happened to her. But it was soon clear that the two girls were deeply unhappy. They brought Anna up on events, but their underlying ennui was disturbing.

"How is Alexandra? I hear there is a baby? Are they well?" Anna had asked, after Sophie had persuaded the Princess to retire to bed early.

Sophie had taken a deep breath and let it out with a long, sad sigh.

"Things have been very hard for all of us, especially Genevieve and Alexandra," she said quietly. "Extremely hard!" Anna nodded, silently, realizing that Sophie was doing far more than just whining. "On the surface, it has been just—trying. But there were hidden hurts, Lady Anna, things that I can't explain, things that ..."

She was on the brink of tears, and Anna sat frozen, knowing that a single touch would destroy Sophie's composure. It was one thing to hold someone, and encourage them to cry as much as they wanted. It was quite another to put them together again, and Anna was sensitive enough to know her own limitations.

"It's not surprising you're so exhausted," she had murmured. "It's obvious that you care for them greatly."

"Yes, Anna; I wish I wasn't the only one! Lady Trudy, my mother, is gone ..."

"What? Oh god, Sophie, I didn't know! Nobody told me!"

"It's been more than a month," she had said, matter-of-fact-ly, but Anna could see the momentary flicker of pain in her eyes before she went on to something else.

Anna could hardly sleep that night, agonizing over her duty to the two young women; they, too, were far from their support-systems, and there should have been something Anna could do, to ease their burden of responsibility, or suffering, or anything else. She had found no answers in her heart, and before she awoke the next day, they had eaten breakfast, and gone.

In contrast, seconds after she had seen Alexandra and her lady-in-waiting, she had begun to take the measure of the situation. It was clear that the Queen and the Princess had had an estrangement. While young Sophie was doing as much as she could to keep the energetic and charismatic Princess on an even keel, she was having less than complete success. Alexandra and her lady friend were both of them less volatile, and while Anna could see sadness in the two women, it was moderated with patience and resignation on the part of the young Belgravian, and a kind of steady determination in Alexandra. It said a lot that they had taken on two new members to their group.

Neither woman seemed so wearied that she wanted to retire early. Clearly, Lady Sharon was less deeply involved in state affairs than was Sophie. Sophie, after all, was the child of intellectuals, and born into the complexities of government (despite Gustafson's determination to stay out of politics, a stance he had to abandon during the war). They were good foils, because Alexandra could handle the technical aspects of government while on the road, something the Princess Genevieve did not have power to do with the same degree of latitude.

For a while the three of them talked babies and other feminine matters, at which point supper was ready, and the two young women Alexandra had brought with her emerged as very entertaining diversions. Anna's staff had firmly sidelined them, so they stood in the hallway outside the dining room, making hilarious remarks about everything within sight.

"Are they like this all the time?"

"They're on their best behavior," Alexandra assured Anna. "At least they're not touching anything!"

"The Queen says we aren't touching anything," they heard, just audibly out in the hallway.

"Just now?"

"A second ago. And we weren't. We're not supposed to."

"We don't know where anything is, sister, it's quite reasonable."

"I wish we could help, in there, where the Queen is!"

"I suppose they'll be out presently. Can you smell the pork? I'd like to have it done a little more, myself."

"Wait until you have some, silly! You can't tell from the aroma, can you?"

Anna's grin was so wide it made Alexandra want to laugh.

"They seem to have opinions about the cooking," she said. "I'm almost afraid to remark on anything, for fear of being reported!"

That was too much for Alexandra, who burst out laughing.

"They're constantly bringing every little thing to each other's attention!"

(From the hallway came: "I can't hear what they're saying, sis, they're speaking so low!"

"They've heard you carrying on, that's what. Folks don't care to have what they're saying repeated so. Have a care, they can hear you. That's what it means.")

"I can't quite place the speech; perhaps it's southern?"

"Well, from my part of the world," confessed Sharon. "The heredity has been established in detail!"

("They're using foreign words, sister! Oh, there's so much to learn...")

"Go to bed, little ones," Alexandra told them kindly, after supper. "You can make and re-make my bed any way you like it. Walk little Maura, visit her mother, bring any laundry down to your friend the housekeeper, and ask her politely whether she would take care of it on our behalf. Do not offer to do it yourselves. Leave it with her. Then go upstairs to bed, make sure Princess Sophie is comfortable, and guard her. We'll be up presently, and if you're awake, and we're not tired, we might talk a little. You've worked very hard, and I'm very proud of you!"

The two of them had nodded solemnly, and gone off together to follow orders.

"That was beautifully done," Anna said, with a smile. "I get a feeling for what you're up against!"

"They've got the tenderest little hearts, and they're quite intelligent. Their limited experience comes between them and what they want to do. And of course, they have to do it together, being twins!"

"Identical twins, obviously! Alike as two peas!"

"Oh, there are very minor differences," Sherry said, amused, "but not in appearance. I cannot tell them apart, and until I know they resent being treated as a single entity, I'm going to address them as a single person."

"I'm the opposite," Alexandra said firmly. "Sometimes they give you compound answers, and it's just too much."

"They get emotional," Sherry agreed. "But I'm getting very fond of them. Alexandra has promised to let me keep them as my own personal helpers. It's the most wonderful thing that I have to look forward to when we get back!"

"Where do you plan to spend Christmas?"

"Oh, back in the capital," Alexandra said. "We'll be back in Skree in a few days, and then we'll take ship out of Skree. Otherwise we're liable to be kidnaped and held there."

"Alexandra has some very determined cousins there," Sherry explained.

"Yes, these are Queen Beate's folks, I believe." Alexandra nodded. "And how did you like the other branch of your family?"

"Very well indeed," Alexandra said, enthusiastically. "I felt as at-home with them as with the folks in Geneva. There is a similar sense of energy and enthusiasm in both places. The two groups would love each other, based on their personalities, but for reasons that are not clear to me, they're very suspicious of each other."

"That's so sad!"

"I'd like to get them together a few at a time, especially the young ones. The two youngest cousins, one on each side, are really wonderful girls."

"Be careful you don't get a reputation for matchmaking!"

"That's true, too."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A Postwar Christmas

The nights were long, heading west along the northern shield as the upper half of the country was called. The best Alexandra could do was to meet the people at indoor events, meals, gatherings, meetings, and talk to them. Occasionally she joined in a construction project, or moving furniture, or raising a roof somewhere, but most of the time she was simply helping serve at a community meal, or visiting a child-care center, or talking to folks working at a garment factory.

There were several Bernian refugee camps which had minimal shelters already made; to wait longer would have been to freeze. As always, the problem with the immigrants was their unwillingness to mix with their fellows; none of the hardships they had endured together seemed to have counted for anything. They gathered round Alexandra and Sherry, pleased to hear the Norslandish nobility (as they classified both girls) speak their language. While they were talking to the Queen, they were all together, seeming to forget their differences. But was it only temporary? What would it take to have them unite? Talk about the good old days back in Bernia? It was a puzzle. In the end, Alexandra was content simply to make them feel welcome and wanted. She avoided big public speeches; she was now gathering folk in large circles, and telling them what Norsland meant to her, the attributes she valued in her people. Great personal wealth was not among them, she emphasized. The income levels were low, but the people were content and happy. Incomes in Bernia had oscillated, and often been higher than those in Norsland. It proved nothing. She had been befriended by a farmer, who spoke of having been wealthy in his younger days. When Alexandra and some friends had thrown themselves on his mercy, he and his wife had owned little more than a farmhouse, and a farm that produced nothing. A few months later, with four chickens, with a day's worth of fishing and hunting in the forest, he declared himself to be happier than he had ever been. And Alexandra told them honestly that it had been one of the happiest years of her life, something she admitted with shame, because at home, people were dying, and there was suffering everywhere.

In the end, her story seemed to go nowhere, but it served to help her audience relate to her. She tried to explain that it was better to fight for a better future for one's neighbor than against one's neighbor.

They made a special detour to visit the site of Sergei's farm, and did find a farm there again. Ironically, it was a group of former gunmen who had taken the place; Sherry actually recognized one of them. Alexandra collected them all together, and told them off at length. She told them that they were a vicious bunch of men who had nearly destroyed two nations, brought unbelievable hardship on countless inoffensive people, personally made her life hell, and dispossessed folks who had worked hard to tame the land and make it productive. She said that she hoped they would stay and farm the place well, and take care of it. She told them that if they fed the poor and hungry for the rest of their lives it would barely begin to be an atonement for the evil they had perpetrated.

They each protested that he had personally done hardly anything. She impatiently cut them off, and stormed away with the others, seething.

It was one of the few occasions Sherry had seen Alexandra really angry. It had been hard for her to tell them off in Bernian, but she had managed it. (The twins observed to each other that her Majesty had been awful mad, but that they'd rather hear the details whenever the Queen was ready for it.)

There was a large government guest-house in Northhaven, a small seaport of strategic significance, where the Belgravian fleet was still getting its last few stragglers together to leave for home, except for a token presence in the harbor according to the terms of their agreement of alliance. The lonely port in the far north, which was frozen for half the year, was a miserable place to have to spend the holidays in, and Alexandra arranged for an informal appreciation of the Belgravian navy at a holiday supper. Genny had been there a week ago, and they all declared that the Princess was one of the most elegant and charming ladies they had ever seen. Lady Sophie had her own reputation, after her work on board the Star of Hope had become known. Sherry, now a respectable and fashionably costumed civilian, was the toast of the Belgravians, in whose estimate she was pulchritude personified.

Finally, having decided to take a day off, Alexandra and her little company could relax. The lodge in which they were put up was a small stone building, fully equipped, for housing visiting dignitaries from the capital or elsewhere, traveling either with a retinue, or alone; in the latter case, there were staff who would provide the housekeeping, in the former, they were left to themselves.

The twins were in seventh heaven to find themselves in charge of the whole place once more. The caretaker, the oldest son of a tax official of the town, showed them where the linen was, and left with a smile.

The Lodge was just the right size to be homey; there were in fact two sections sufficiently separated to give both the guards and the main party a degree of privacy, but to allow them to have meals in common if desired. The kitchen, unlike in the Sorensen hunting-lodge, was a separate room, with an oven, and a nice metal stove. Alexandra couldn't resist the impulse to watch the girls gloat over their territory for the two brief days.

"What is that?" they asked, seeing the big metal stove.

Sherry explained what it was. "This is a stove-top," she said. "You place firewood in the firebox, under here, and leave it more to one side, you understand? That heats the metal top to a great heat, then you leave the pots on the metal top; for high heat, to the left, low heat, to the right, ..."

"Oh, of course! What a wonderful invention! And the pots never touch the flames, and need hardly any scouring!"

"And we can fry the onions on here, or in this pan, here ..."

"We could grill the meat on the stove-top, or make a stew!"

"Oh, Lady Sherry, your Majesty, you must leave now, please! We shall make such a supper for you!"

"The most deliciousest supper you ever ate!"

"Now, don't get too excited, and wear something appropriate, not your best clothes, girls. When Lady Sherry and I cook, we wear the oldest clothes we have around." Sherry giggled; she had hardly been given an opportunity to cook anything. Alexandra put her arm around her affectionately; it was a good opportunity to rest, and take care of the little things that made life bearable.

The girls promised to wear the 'raggediest things we have, your Majesty, and we really do have some,' and Alexandra and Sherry said they'll take care of everything else. They ran to the room that they had been assigned, and came out in two pretty plaid dresses that were far too short for them, evidently previously owned by one of the Sorensen children. But the girls were so narrow-shouldered that the dresses fit them across the chest, and only their thin shanks gave them away. The guards were duly dispatched to shop for meat and vegetables, and the girls bustled about in the kitchen, almost too busy to talk. Any time Alexandra went close to the kitchen, she was chased away. After the third time, the door was closed, ever so silently.

"They do not want me in there," said Alexandra, gloomily.

The baby did not want a feed, and the little dogs did not want to be walked. Young Sophie had really grown in the last several weeks. She was now creeping about with great determination, and pulling herself up, to sit, or even to stand against chairs and tables. The older dog, Susannah, turned out to be an even more wonderful babysitter than her offspring, logically. She let the little girl pet her, but turned her head away when she got too interested in her eyes, occasionally giving her a warning whine. The younger dog was good company, because she was always around the little girl, so that she never felt neglected. There were now several toys the little girl could play with, and which she generously shared with her puppy.

The guards had a pack of cards with them, and Alexandra and Sherry had promised them a game once they got back and washed up. The two of them waited impatiently for the guards to return; it was boring, because they wanted to wash up together, and they couldn't with the little girl on their hands.

Alexandra knocked on the kitchen door.

A head popped out. "It's her Majesty, sis! Do you need something, my lady?"

"I don't suppose you could keep an eye on Sophie, while ... I say, what's that I smell?"

The girls grinned at each other in delight, as Sherry walked up, following her nose.

"It is milk rolls, ladies! It is a special treat, and we have an oven, so we made them! They are the most tasty things you can imagine! They'll be out in a second!"

"The bath can wait, I suppose!"

"What do they mean, a milk roll?"

"It's probably something we've eaten before, just a different word they call it."

The girls had found a bottle of milk that had been brought for them, and flour, and had made a pastry that was delicious. There were a couple of dozen little pastry twists, which were delicious by themselves, and even better with a little cheese. They had even made something suitable for Sophie to gnaw on. Little Maura wagged her tail hopefully, but she would have to wait for the guards to return from their foray. While the oven was hot, the girls were making bread, and were ready to do any baking that anyone happened to be interested in.

The guards arrived, loaded with provisions. The girls had asked for homely things: onions, garlic, potatoes, the usual vegetables that would be available at that time of year, and any kind of meat that was available. The guards had brought lamb.

"You don't need to carry her about, if you don't want to," Alexandra told the girl who had volunteered to take first shift with Sophie. While she was eating her milk-rolls, Alexandra was giving her instructions about the baby. The guard was a rather quiet girl called Agathe, who fortunately didn't seem too perturbed at having to babysit. "We'll barricade her in with the furniture, and she'll be fine. If she needs to be changed, just call one of the twins."

"No problem," said she, with a lazy smile.

"Hungry, aren't you!"

"These are good," she agreed, eating another one. "You go ahead, your Majesty."

As Alexandra and Sherry slipped into the bath at the end of the hall, they saw a pair of faces peeking out at them through the kitchen door. They saw a friendly wave, and the door closed.

Bathing each other in perfect privacy was a heavenly luxury. They didn't have to hurry; the guards had their own bath at the opposite end. Earlier in the day, the guards had drawn water for both rooms and filled the containers. Now all they needed to do was to heat the water in the fireplace, and proceed to bathe. Sherry filled the kettle with water, and struggled to hang it over the fire. She was dressed in a large towel, and so was Alexandra. She came to sit close to Alexandra. Alexandra thought her green eyes were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. And her ears were perfect; just the right size, and a perfect shape, with beautiful, sensuous lobes, with holes in them to hold her ear ornaments. And her short, straight, sharp nose was perfect, with a little perforation on the nostril. And her lips were full, sensuous, almost chiseled in their utter perfection.

"Oh Alexandra, stop!" she murmured, as Alexandra stroked her lips against Sherry's ear. Alexandra took no notice, she gently peeled down the towel to just below her breasts, and caressed her breasts. Sherry's breasts had long since gone beyond perfection in Alexandra's eyes; they were a pillow, a place, a rest, a home. The image of Sherry's breast as a home was something she clung to every day, now. The Palace was no longer home; it was where Genevieve lived, a place to which Alexandra felt chained, where every eye was on her, a trap. She dreaded having to go to Skree, because Genevieve might be there, waiting, or she would have just left, and her cousins would turn their inquisitive eyes on her. Or perhaps their eyes full of sympathy, or pity, like Anna. But she had Sherry's breast, in which she could bury her eyes, and pretend the world did not exist.

"You are my life, and my home," she said, her whole heart in the words.

Sherry had felt herself responding to Alexandra's caresses, but Alexandra's words stopped her.

She knew she had become Alexandra's home already; she just hadn't put words to the thought. It was the sweetest feeling in the world, that she who loved Alexandra so much, had earned her love with infinite patience, never touching her, trying never to gaze at her lovingly, never arranging to be around her, as she had been tempted to do a million times. She had played the faithful guardian, the servant, the handmaid. The moment had come like a flash of lightning; one moment she had been ready to return home, leaving her heart behind. There were two loving women to care for Alexandra: Genevieve, and Sophie. The next moment, Alexandra had nothing, and Sherry had been flung into the whirlpool of Alexandra's desperate loneliness. Within weeks, Alexandra's feelings for her had advanced beyond the mere result of abandonment, and they were deeply, deliriously in love.

She found Alexandra's hand and kissed it, and made love to it, but something was gone. All her tenderness was there, all her love for Alexandra, but her desire was hidden away somewhere.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing! I love you, I love you!"

"Why are you crying, Sherry?"

"I—I'm just frightened by—you're always threatening to—to ..."

"Abdicate."

"Yes!" she whispered, afraid of the word.

What frightened Sherry most was Princess Genevieve. She could see in the Princess's eyes something that frightened her. There was no danger to Alexandra there; Genevieve was a principled woman. But there was the terrifying possibility that if life did not come up to Genevieve's expectations, she would quietly kill herself. Sherry could see it clearly, and it was not a thought she wanted to share with anybody. It was a terribly private, personal thing between Genevieve and her god, and on principle Sherry could not interfere with that, except to do everything in her power to make sure that Genevieve was not pushed to a tragic decision prematurely, or out of misunderstanding, or because of something that could have been done, but was not.

Sherry made love to Alexandra, her brain furiously chasing these thoughts. It had been an awful moment for Sherry when Sophie had learned Alexandra not only slept with Sherry, but that they had fallen in love. That was what Sophie would have told Genevieve, and Genevieve would have pretended that it was none of her affair. Perhaps it indeed was none of her affair, but if there had been even the slightest possibility of a reconciliation, however late, it was Sherry who stood in the way.

"Come on," Sherry stammered, "I'll bathe you first."

"Something is really bothering you!"

"Just sit down, and I'll explain!"

Alexandra lowered the kettle first, and mixed it before she sat down in the tub.

"Alexandra," Sherry said quietly and gravely, "you must be Queen; you must be Queen until—the little princess is old enough to be Queen. Or you must die Queen."

"Why?" Alexandra was stunned by Sherry's vehemence. The throne seemed less and less attractive to the beleaguered young Queen, if it had ever been attractive at all.

"Think, Alexandra! Think how fragile is Genevieve's existence! Think on how thin a thread does her authority depend! What is she without you? Now imagine her once you have given up the throne!" She was silent as Alexandra stared before her, unseeing. "Is our happiness worth so much suffering?"

Alexandra remained thinking while Sherry bathed her, tenderly rubbing detergent into her short, shaggy hair. At last, Alexandra turned to her and fixed her with her great grey eyes, like some sad owl. It was Sherry's turn, and Alexandra bathed her with equal tenderness, and they silently cleaned up behind themselves before they left the room.

They dressed in silence, united in misery and despair. There was no way out. Sherry, who was a few years older, wondered what it must feel to be trapped in this cage for a young mother of eighteen. It had been nothing but sorrow for Alexandra since her mother had died three years ago.

The game of cards with the guards was a failure. Alexandra kept making mistakes, and sheepishly apologizing, but her mind was simply not on the cards. Wonderful aromas wafted from the kitchen, together with hushed whispers, as the two eager conspirators shepherded along their fabulous creations. It was almost a relief when the baby called out "Mumm mumm?", and Alexandra had an excuse to leave the game.

"Her Majesty is having a bad day," murmured one of the guards, with a solemn face. "Well, she'll do better at love, then," said the other, and immediately blushed bright red, her hand over her mouth.

Sherry looked reproachfully at her, her color high.

"I was about to offer to play a three person game," she said softly.

"It just—came out, Miss Sherry," she whispered. "I'd better go shoot myself!"

"Oh, relax, Maia," Alexandra called, with a tired smile. "But please be careful; you never know whom you hurt."

"I apologize, your Majesty; you'd within your rights to call discipline."

"All right. You have to sit after dinner, and listen to me gripe for two hours."

They laughed, and the new game was begun. Sherry's eyes shone with pride for the wisdom and self-possession of her Alexandra. She had tried to think ahead, to plan, to make strategies, but her heart was not in it. She was content for the moment to point things out to Alexandra, and leave her to work out the details. It was cruel, but better than saying nothing at all. She hoped that Alexandra would know how far she was willing to go, to protect the ones she loved: not just Alexandra, but Genevieve, Lady Sophie, little Baby Sonja, all of them. There was no way of working for the good of any one of them; they had too much invested in each other.

Baby Sophie flapped around for the other teat, and sucked away, as the dogs watched her intermittently. She absently noted the puppy scratching herself. As long as she could remember in her little baby memory, there had been two little dogs, and they had gone around on horses. And there were two funny identical women, who seemed to be missing at the moment.

"Well, we're almost done," said the girls coming out, flour on their faces and hair, and big smiles. "We'll get cleaned and be right back!"

"Okay, Maia, you won!" The guards had decided to wear festive clothing, to cheer up the ladies. Maia was in a blue skirt and brown plaid top, and Agathe was wearing a holiday dress and shoes, looking almost feminine. Her fair hair was held back with clips, and her cheeks were rosy with the heat coming out of the kitchen.

They began to clear up the dining table, while Sonja wanted to be put down so she could walk about again. She liked to stand, because she could see more. She could see most of all when Mama held her, but Mama made her hot.

Sherry ignored the dull feeling of doom in her heart, and smiled. Everyone was happy, the twins were having a great old time bathing, and the food smelled delicious. Alexandra wouldn't allow anyone in the kitchen, keeping her promise to the twins.

Presently they hurried out in their nicest clothes, new skirts in a heavy plain material with a line of lace along the hem, and simple shirts with butterfly collars. One skirt was green, and the other was blue. Their hair was neatly pinned back, and they stood for a moment in a circle, savoring the pretty clothes. Of course, it was Lady Sharon who was the most perfectly dressed.

The table was laid, and out came the food. There was fresh baked bread, and potatoes and carrots, and a wonderful roast lamb whose fragrance was unbelievable.

Little Sophie sat on her mother's knee, cautiously trying on a quarter of boiled potato for size. The twins were seated side by side, between the two guards, while Sherry sat next to the Queen, eating her tiny portion. The twins ate quite daintily. Clearly they had been taught at Sorensen's table, or their grandparents had done a good job of their table manners. One of the twins stopped and looked at the others expectantly.

"What would you like, er, Mena?"

"It's Brinna, Lady, and could you please pass me the gravy?"

"Oh, sorry." Sherry handed her the gravy as requested.

"Now, why couldn't you ask me?" demanded Maia, frowning.

"She's afraid of you," said her sister, grinning.

"Listen, I don't eat girls for dinner when I'm wearing a dress!"

The twins laughed, and Maia winked. She wasn't a grumpy girl at all, but she had a little fun at the girls' expense.

Alexandra made Maia wash up with her, reminding her of her punishment. The twins were sent off to get the beds ready, and get the baby washed and changed.

"I'll wash, you rinse," said Alexandra, using a traditional plan that had been tested for several millennia.

"Your Majesty, I didn't mean nothing by it, honest!"

"Here, wear this," said Alexandra, passing her a clean apron. "Maia, it hurts most of all because there is some truth to it."

"You don't need to tell me, your Majesty!"

"I know I don't, but —here you are, it's heavy— but I don't mind. The truth is better than a lie."

"That's true."

"I can't speak for Lady Sherry, but I admire her very much," Alexandra said, turning a deep red. "And at the moment, the Princess and I are ..."

"Traveling, I know."

"No, not just traveling, Maia."

"Oh! Oh no! It can't be true!"

Alexandra tried to shrug as nonchalantly as she could. "We've agreed to—remain together, for the sake of the child, and ..."

"I understand. Oh, Majesty!"

Maia's dismay was genuine, and Alexandra was moved, and also alarmed. She should have realized, based on the reaction of the twins. People made mistakes, yes, but not the Queen!

"I can't believe that—that the Princess ..."

Alexandra washed a number of pieces, and passed them to Maia.

"I would appreciate your keeping this to yourself as long as you can, Maia." Maia swore that her lips were sealed. Alexandra smiled. "On the positive side, both the Princess and I are being—frugal. If I were to go about carousing with every woman in the realm, I couldn't live with myself."

"Nobody would blame you," muttered Maia.

Alexandra was surprised. "Why would you say that?"

"It is the Princess's duty ..."

Alexandra shook her head, as Maia stopped rinsing and stared at her in disbelief. Her medieval world had very definite duties, and letting the Queen have her way with the Princess was one of them. "No," she said softly, "it doesn't work like that. And you shouldn't forget it."

"Me?"

"Just remember; nobody has to sleep with anyone they don't want to!"

"Not even if they're married?"

Alexandra shook her head and smiled. "It is a little-known decree passed by my mother the Queen. You cannot beat either your wife, nor your husband, nor your mate; you cannot force them to have sex, and you cannot force them to have children!"

Maia was shattered. "You can't?"

Alexandra smiled. "If you know what you're doing, you can make them beg," she said, and Maia laughed.

The washing and rinsing proceeded a little faster. Alexandra found that Maia was a lot of fun, in spite of her rather primitive view of marriage and family. Her cave-woman attitudes were tempered with a generous and affectionate spirit. And Alexandra learned that the girl was very protective of Alexandra, and loyal.

Fortunately, once the lamps were turned down, and Alexandra climbed into bed, Sherry had chosen to forget her fears, and was in the mood for love again. There were whispered calls of "Good night, Lady Sherry! Good night, our Queen!" which they answered appropriately, and then settled down.

The following day, at around three in the afternoon, with the sun already low in the sky, they set off on the next leg of their tour, aboard a vessel bound for Skree. They had to tack into the wind, but they rounded the island, and flew before a stiff breeze from out of the north, to coast into Skreehaven around seven at night. There was no one to greet them. They rode up to the castle gatehouse, and made their presence known formally. The guards took their leave, embarrassed but pleased when Alexandra gave them the rough 'guard's embrace'. "We'll be here whenever you're ready, your Majesty," Maia said gruffly.

Genny had returned to the capital. A boat had brought them across, coach and all, and after a brief visit, they had headed back east on the south side.

Alexandra dreaded meeting the cousins. It had been hard to stave them off the last time they had been here, she and Genny together. She remembered Genny being determinedly kind and loving for a few hours, and then the moment she had snapped. For days she had run those minutes in her mind, trying to see if there had been something she had said or done that had triggered Genny's change in attitude.

Helga was as cheerful and energetic as always. The war had aged her a great deal, but she was clearly determined not to let it set her back. Alexandra was fascinated by her distant cousin, the daughter of some mysterious Sonja, not her own grand-aunt Sonja. She wondered why the woman seemed to remain single, all alone. She was a wonderful, cheerful, loyal, strong woman with a positive attitude. She remembered those few wonderful weeks when all she could think of was to pair people off; she had been so insanely happy with Genevieve that it had seemed tragic that everyone wasn't as happy as they.

Alexandra became aware that Helga was studying the two of them.

"I presume you know?"

"Know what?"

"Nothing," said Alexandra, but the damage was done. Sherry turned red and dropped her eyes, a frown marring the smoothness of her face. Alexandra cursed under her breath. She was very fond of Helga, but it was unfair to reveal their situation to people so far on the fringe of her inner circle. "No, it's not exactly nothing," she said.

Sherry silently got up and walked away. Alexandra was utterly disconcerted. She got to her feet awkwardly. The baby slipped just a little, and she caught her, and settled her against her shoulder. The twins stood near the door, looking dazed.

Alexandra found Sherry alone at the entrance, staring outside.

"I'm sorry," Alexandra whispered. "That was unforgivable!"

"You just caught me off-guard," Sherry said quietly.

"This is why I want to—do such desperate things! I hate to hurt you! You cannot know how much I hate to hurt you!" She spoke softly, but the vehemence in her voice was like a bludgeon.

Sherry turned to her, and baby Sophie reached out her little arms to her. Sherry felt deeply sorry for Alexandra, not least because the little child felt unsafe in her mother's arms. "Calm down, my love!" she whispered, "You must learn to live with this pain!" Alexandra's face was a study in anguish. "Your success will be measured in how long it lasts! That's just the way of things! I'm strong, I can handle it! Just be calm, and let's learn to forgive ourselves—many times a day, if we have to! I love you! I love you so much!" She lovingly stroked Alexandra's arm, and said once more, "I love you!"

She was rewarded with a strange look of triumph in Alexandra's eyes. An exultation seemed to hum through her, as if she had drunk strong wine. They had had these moments before, when for no particular reason they suddenly realized how much they loved each other.

The little princess spontaneously gave Sherry a big wet kiss on her cheek, and chuckled to herself, grinning at her, her little rosy lips bowed in a smile that was almost jolly, like a drunken little old man. Sherry laughed, and Alexandra chastely put her arms round her.

"You'll have to explain to Lady Helga now," Sherry said, with a smile.

"Do I have your permission, Lady Sharon?"

"Don't, your Majesty; it feels as if you're having fun at my expense. I could take it from almost anyone else, but ..."

"I apologize again." Alexandra sighed. "We must get back before I put my foot in my mouth any more. I've a good mind to run away without going up to Geneva."

"Why is Geneva so important?"

"The massacre."

"If the Princess has visited the place, that is enough."

"Let's go talk to Helga."

Lady Helga was leaning out of the door, wondering what was going on. Alexandra and Sherry had heard vaguely in the distance a pair of familiar voices giving their guesses.

"Is everything all right?"

"In some ways yes, in other ways, no," said Alexandra, ushering Sherry in with the courtesy due a Queen. "Please sit, Lady Helga; this story might take a little explaining."

Helga was smiling, but it was a fearful, sad smile that told Alexandra she was beginning to suspect the truth. "I'm too reluctant to guess, dears, but I know you're too much a gentlewoman, Alexandra, to be unnecessarily careless! What can it be?" She glanced at the twins, who began to fade towards the door.

"They can stay, Aunt Helga; they've heard all the facts from me. Sit, girls; dinner will be taken care of, you only need to relax. Have you seen to the little dogs?"

"Oh, yes, your Majesty. They are quite comf'table!" "They might need to be walked, sister!"

It was one of their rare contradictions. Alexandra firmly bade them sit.

"Genevieve has fallen in love with—Sophie Gutrunsdottir."

"Oh, no!"

Helga guessed the rest. She asked them questions, all delicately phrased, and the two of them replied honestly, with the twins occasionally contributing a nod of their heads, only to shrink back, wide-eyed, when Helga looked at them in bemused surprise. Eventually Helga's worried questions slowed to a trickle, and then stopped.

"Well, Lady Helga, what is your verdict?"

"Alexandra, you are the Queen. The needs of the nation are more important than the private lives of a couple, however beloved they are, however much the hearts of the people have been won by them! However much their romance inspired the nation, and heartened them during a war! You see how difficult the thing is! So far, you've done well. You've exposed poor Sherry to a little more scrutiny than you need have, but I've been eighteen, I understand how it is!" Alexandra blushed crimson, but perhaps, thought Sherry, she needed to hear that. "In the light of what you've said, I begin to see why Genny looked so drawn. She may have been living on nerves for private reasons, but I can tell you, she was speechless with rage, to see the empty houses in Geneva. Oh, she was angry! I tell you, I could not understand how I stayed sane after seeing that sight. It was a terrible morning, to see twenty guards slaughtered, and a whole village, and a dozen women disappeared, including you. You could guess, Alexandra, but I lived it. It shortened my life by twenty years, I don't doubt." She turned to the twins and smiled, to soften the harshness of her words, and turned to Sherry and showed her admiration in a smile to her.

"Sherry Williamson," she said, "I haven't had a chance to tell you how much I admire your bravery and your loyalty, for helping Alexandra on that day of desperate need, and then for a long year afterwards. I know you did it out of love, but that doesn't devalue what you did. And your patience and your tact now is also appreciated. You and Sophie are special people, and I'm truly baffled how to react to the things you both do for those whom you love, and whom we all love." She smiled. "A year and a half ago, Alexandra landed here with Genny, and stole our hearts away!"

Alexandra smiled sadly. "How well I remember!"

"Sometimes you must wish that your people loved you a little less!"

"I try not to wish one way or the other, Cousin Helga; it's like wishing I was taller! Who knows how really useful it will be?"

"Oh Alexandra!" She sighed mightily. "Will you share a room?"

Alexandra looked at Sherry, who blushed and shook her head, and the twins nodded, and then looked aghast. Helga was startled, and then greatly amused. She turned to Alexandra and pointed to the girls.

"These two seem to have definite opinions on everything you should and shouldn't be doing!"

"Yes, something which has been noted by lots of people."

"It was a slip, your Majesty, we will never do it again!" "I thought the lady was asking about your usual habits. Oh!" "We will be quiet, your ladyship! Sometimes we're a little too helpful, as you have seen!" "We talk too much!" "But we're very loyal to her Majesty, and to Lady Sherry, too."

"That will be quite enough, girls. Go with Jeanne, isn't it?"

"Yes, Jeanne. She can manage by herself, I daresay."

"It doesn't do any harm to have everything done twice, as long as we aren't subjected to their opinions for a while!"

"Yes, your Majesty, we understand. Come, sister."

"They're good girls," Sherry assured Helga.

"Just not attuned to the politics of speech and silence, you know. They talk to each other, and they confuse talking with thinking, I suspect."

"That explains a lot," murmured Sherry.

"Girls, I personally don't care if you share a room."

"We must get used to using two rooms. It's a deception, but at least it isn't meant to hurt anyone."

"Genny and Sophie shared a room, come to think of it."

The dinner was, as Jeanne always threatened, fish. Everyone ate it without complaint, because it was good. The twins went out of their way to tell Jeanne that they liked it, and were determined to make fish that way when they got the chance. It was just the right thing to tell the young cook, who invited them into her kitchen for a chat.

That night the four of them sat and talked late. The topic was about life in the Palace, especially in regard to the personality of the Princess and Lady Sophie. Sherry was as helpful as she could be, while Alexandra was glum though without being surly.

When Alexandra woke up in the morning, she could not find Sherry anywhere. She and the twins looked every possible place, and when Helga came in, she puzzled over the disappearance. It took them an hour or two to come to the conclusion that Sherry had simply run away.

Alexandra was shocked. The baby cried, feeling Alexandra's distress, and the twins, too, were bewildered. They waited close to Alexandra, too distressed to do anything, or go anywhere.

"Go and lie down, or something," Alexandra told them vehemently.
"We feel safer right here, your Majesty," said a small voice. "We'll kind of watch over you."

"What's there to watch over? What do you think you could do, silly girls?"

They only looked at her sadly, not having the heart to tell her that they were afraid she might run away too.

"You should go back," said Helga. "This tour isn't going to become any easier for you!"

Alexandra nodded.

Little Sophie raised her arms to her mother, and Alexandra stared at the baby, recalling some of her obligations. She picked up the patient little girl and hugged her. "At least I have you, love," she said tenderly, realizing that she viewed Sherry's flight as a betrayal.

Feeling dead inside, Alexandra allowed herself to be put on board a boat bound for the Capital. A thorough search of the entire Fort had not produced the runaway lady-in-waiting. She sat in her cabin, stunned by the turn of events.

Why had she done it? Alexandra couldn't reconcile it with the things they had spoken about the previous night. It was as though she couldn't trust her heart to know that Sherry had ever loved her.

"Maybe she never loved me," she wondered out loud.

"Oh, indeed she did!" cried her companion. It was one of the twins, the other seemed to have gone on a solo errand, surely a rare thing. The guards were back with the horses, on deck; they were as baffled as Alexandra. But they weren't accustomed to demanding logical explanations for everything. The aristocracy was whimsical by its very nature. The boat slowly maneuvered its way out to sea.

"What could you know about it?" asked Alexandra, feeling deeply resentful. "I'm thinking aloud, Mena—or whoever you are—don't feel you have to respond!"

"I love Lady Sherry, your Majesty, and it doesn't feel right to me that you should think ill of her."

"What else am I to think? She's gone!"

"Putting myself in her position, your Majesty—though I shouldn't, being just a village girl, your Majesty—I would think the reason was that she was having to hide her feelings, Majesty. You see my sister and me, we don't care what people knew that I love her, your Majesty. And the same for her. That was one reason why the village didn't like us, you see? And Lady Sherry had to pretend to be just a friend, like my sister and me! It hurt her, you see?"

"Is she any better off, gone somewhere, all alone? Who knows what sorrows and dangers she's suffering now?"

The girl was dumb. It was precisely the question she might have asked herself, but there were no answers. The other girl came in, and the one she had been talking to disappeared.

"Where do you keep popping in and out from?"

"The women's room, your Majesty. Ships have them." She was red-eyed. She had been crying.

"I know ships have them!" Alexandra snapped. The girl flinched. Alexandra cursed herself.

The business with Sherry was affecting her behavior. The twins would normally have enjoyed the ship voyage. But because of Alexandra's irritable behavior, they simply sat near her trying to keep silent, a huge effort for them.

"Please go somewhere, and leave me alone!" she begged, and they burst into tears. It was impossible for Alexandra to grieve in private, because the twins grieved for her, talking mournfully about Sherry, and how heartbroken Alexandra was. Mercifully, they took care of the baby, leaving Alexandra only the duty of nursing her.

The seas were rough. There was a turbulent wind, and the boat tossed a lot. Fearing for the baby, Alexandra stayed downstairs. She was blessed, because the twins had stomachs of steel, perfectly unconcerned by the motion of the ship, they focused only on Alexandra's and their loss, and the needs of the baby. That night, they silently came to Alexandra's bunk, and slept at her feet.

What should have been a joyful homecoming for the young Queen was a dull, uneventful affair. The guards dutifully conducted Alexandra, the baby and the two girls to the Palace, and bowed and took their leave. Without a doubt, the Palace servants were glad to see their Queen, but as she quietly made her way up to her room, she was met and greeted by no one. All she had was a patient little infant, two girls, and two little dogs.

They got into the royal bedroom without being noticed, and Alexandra decided to keep the twins by her, in her own room.

"Can you share a bed, girls?" she asked softly.

"Indeed, we can, and always do, your Majesty!" they replied.

"Here, this shall be your bed," she said, "at least until I can think of a better idea," showing them Sherry's alcove and the shelves and the rail on which Sherry had kept her clothes, some of which were still there. Lovingly Alexandra folded them, and laying them in a small pile, wept silently for the first time at the loss of her last love, and in many ways, the sweetest.

The baby talked to Alexandra for a long time, while she absently stroked her hair, and nursed her. She gave the child to the girls when they came for her, then lay in her bed, and fell quickly asleep.

When she awoke, it was broad daylight. She had a bad headache, and the baby was calling her urgently. A small distance away, there were two people watching her. At first she had a little trouble remembering where she was, but then she remembered, and sat up. Her shoes had been removed, and her outer jacket, but otherwise she was fully dressed. Her eyes were sticky and crusty, she had been crying. Ah, she recognized her little friends. She rubbed at her eyes, and tried smiling at them. She got to her feet, and the two girls came forward to fetch her the baby, who was seen to be rather soggy. They looked about for the baby clothes, and found them in Alexandra's saddle-pack. "Just clean her up," Alexandra croaked, "we can change her later." She tried to clear her throat, and it didn't seem to work. Every muscle hurt. Finally the baby was at her breast. Alexandra felt itchy and sticky, and smelled of sea air and perspiration.

"Mama?"

Ninel was at the door, with a pair of maids behind her. Alexandra became confused, as everyone began to talk at once, and the twins got out of the way, looking uncertain. Ninel hurried in, and gave her foster mother a quick hug, and turned to welcome the feeding baby, who stopped sucking and gave Ninel a big grin.

"She's grown a great big pair of teeth! It's been so long!"

Forgetting all about her feed, the baby reached for Ninel, and they began to waltz about the room, and it seemed brighter, somehow, in spite of the pain in her head, and a kind of dull heaviness in her heart.

Her mind slipped back to Sherry, and for a while Alexandra lost track of what was going on around her, lost in her own vague thoughts. The hardest part was to decide whether she was angry at Sherry, or at herself. The loss of her and the loneliness was like a dull beating ache, with her anger a sickly confusion in the middle of it.

Ninel came to sit next to her with the baby, and began to talk.

"You must have come in last night; you've slept in your clothes!"

Alexandra nodded at her. She tried to say something, but it seemed too great an effort. She heard a whisper far away: "Is there a—convenience we may use?" "We need to go really badly!" The maids directed them to the closest bathroom.

Suddenly the room was a lot emptier. Alexandra hadn't told them where everything was; and now that her head was working a little better, she realized that she hadn't eaten last night, and worse: the twins had starved, too.

"Who are those girls?"

"Oh." It was all too much of an effort. But Ninel would have it out of her sooner or later. "Just two girls."

"They're twins, I'm sure they are!"

"Yes," said Alexandra. Feeling the urge to use the bathroom herself, she stood up.

"Mama, where's Sherry?"

"She's gone," Alexandra said, and began to weep bitterly.

She completely lost track of things while she wept. Ninel took charge, sending the Palace maids away, and together with the twins, got the baby cleaned, changed and fed, and while one of the twins stayed with Alexandra, the other and Ninel went out to walk the dogs, and make arrangements for them. The twin who stayed led Alexandra to the bath, got her toilette complete, helped her wash and change, made her sit while the bed was made with fresh linen, and got her comfortable, sitting up in bed.

She kept up a running chatter in a soft, soothing murmur. There was a simple breakfast, which the girl brought her on the tray, and left on the stand by the bedside. "Maybe you should just stay in bed, Majesty," she suggested, "just for today, I mean."

Alexandra ate most of the breakfast, suddenly hungry.

"Have some," she said, pointing at the food, feeling guilty for not giving them any supper. The girl looked at the food, trying not to smack her lips, but failing. She politely declined, but Alexandra knew she was hungry.

Finally, she accepted a small piece of bread and butter, and then another, and then stopped. She looked anxiously at the door, no doubt looking for her twin. Neither of them ever ate alone, without her twin.

Baby Sonja's pen was all ready for her, with her favorite toys in it. Ninel had taken her to walk the dog. Alexandra blessed the child; she was becoming indeed the older sister, unafraid to make decisions when Alexandra was unable to think.

The girl hurried to the door, hearing something. Sure enough, the others trooped in, first the two dogs, who ran in and skidded to a halt in front of Alexandra, who had just got out of bed, followed by Ninel and Baby Sonja, with the twins greeting each other in the back, as if they had been separated for a month. Ninel turned to look at them with an amused grin.

The maids appeared, with more food on trays. They looked suspiciously at the twins, who had decided to moderate their excitement. The twins sidled up slowly to Alexandra and whispered, "Will we have uniforms, your Majesty?" "Like those girls, there?"

The 'uniforms' were simply pinafore dresses in blue and green, which the youngest maids wore. Queen Beate had put a stop to very youthful maids working full time at the Palace, and the youngest now were sixteen, and expected to attend the city school in the mornings. There were younger ones during the holidays, usually children of Palace servants, who made the Palace brighter by helping decorate and make holiday treats, things that they could not usually afford to do at home.

The two maids looked at Alexandra. They were older, around twenty, and had known Alexandra for years. She nodded, and they called to the twins. "Come with us, we'll find you a couple of these."

"Bring them back up here, and tell Lady Elisabeth that I would like to see her," said Alexandra, her voice still not back to normal.

Baby Sonja was put in her pen, and Alexandra sat at the little tea table with a sigh. She picked up a roll, and took a bite.

"What happened?" asked Ninel.

Once again, Alexandra found herself unburdening her woes, this time to young Ninel. "No letter, nothing," she ended up.

"I'm so sorry!" Ninel said.

It was a condolence, and Alexandra realized that she was bereaved. For a while they sat quietly, Ninel holding her hand in silent sympathy. Finally Alexandra looked up at her and essayed a smile.

"I'll go tell Lady Sonja that you're back," Ninel said. "She's been wanting to go back to Geneva for a long time!"

"How did things work out with Lady Lena, and the Judge, and the others?"

Ninel shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose everything is okay. They wouldn't tell me, though."

"How is Baby?"

Ninel grinned. She shrugged. "We've been having a good time, but we've had a bit of a fight, and we aren't talking, but she'll come around!"

"Can you tell me?"

"Oh ... I kidded her about one of the guards, and she got mad!" Ninel giggled. "She'll come by when she hears you're back."

"I just want to lie low, for a while," Alexandra said.

"Mama!" said Ninel softly.

"Yes?"

"Nothing ... I missed you!"

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The Queen Takes a Ride

Ninel skillfully took over matters. She brought Elisabeth up to Alexandra, and got the twins installed as Alexandra's personal maids, and gave them rooms upstairs, a little down the way from Alexandra, in a small room that had been kept for body servants long ago, and was now used to store sewing materials for the Queen's own use. Responding to the Queen's mood, the girls were quietly helpful, looking after the baby, running errands, preparing clothes for her, seeing to her laundry, and keeping Ninel company when the Queen was too depressed to talk to her.

After Alexandra had ignored two of their attempts to talk to her, Sophie and Genny gave up. They summoned the twins and spoke to them kindly, and asked details about what had happened on the tour. The girls answered truthfully to the extent that they thought the Princess should know, but they firmly kept their mouths clamped tight when Genny slyly asked questions about the sleeping arrangements and such, despite Sophie's indignant protests.

"Aren't you girls surprised that I'm not in there with her?"

"No, your Highness."

"Why not? What did she tell you?"

"That you had moved into your own room, your Highness." "That's all, your Highness. Nothing more was said at all." They nodded. "Except that your Highness was very fond of her Ladyship." "That was what she said, and no more."

"No more?"

They shook their heads.

"And what do you think?"

They hung their heads. While Lady Sherry was with the Queen, things did not seem so bad, but now everything was different. They wished themselves far, far away, except that poor Lady Ninel and little princess Sophie would be neglected.

"Send Lady Ninel to us when you have a chance, girls," said Lady Sophie, kindly, and they nodded. They looked bright and cheery in their blue-and-green pinafores, like two birds, each with her hands clasped firmly together. Genny took the hint, and let them go.

"Sherry's gone, and she's sulking," said Genny, a little amused. "But there's business to be done, before the holiday. She should snap out of it."

"That's easy for you to say, Genny; I ran away, but I came back." Sophie was angry, and Genny could tell. She hated it when Sophie took Alexandra's side.

"What's she fussing about? She's got that enormous room, two new maids, and you do a lot more work! I want that room, if she's just going to lie in bed! There's two of us, and we could really use it!"

Sophie shrugged. "I'll ask about the room; it's set up with a little nursery, but who knows? She might agree to exchange."

Genny started. She had forgotten about the baby. "No, that's too mean; let her keep the room."

"I don't mind asking, really," said Sophie. "It really does have more space."

Alexandra had asked Ninel why she wasn't at her books, and she had replied, indignantly, that it was Christmas week. "Everybody's decorating for Christmas, why don't you come down?" Alexandra shook her head and looked away.

There was a light tap at the door, and the twins came in.

"Lady Sophie would like to see you, Lady Ninel!"

Ninel came back presently to tell Alexandra that there was an important official event the following day, in which Alexandra was expected to offer war honors. The families of the dead, wounded soldiers, and special heroism were to be recognized. Princess Genevieve, Lady Sophie, and General Bertha had done the preliminary work, and Alexandra had to look it over. There was one day to make any changes.

Alexandra took a deep breath. The holiday was over.

It was snowing steadily outside. It had been snowing for a whole day, but the sun managed to shine through somehow, making things frustratingly cheery outside. There was no chance the event would be canceled, but Alexandra knew in her heart that the event was overdue.

She found a long brown gown in a soft knit fabric, pulled on some hose and soft shoes, and headed out, resigned to being pestered by everyone. Her shaggy hair was untamable; it stood out everywhere. Out in the hall, the air was cold, and she was glad of the jacket she had worn over the gown. Miraculously she was left alone, and she made it down to her office without interference. Lady Sonja was there, and she greeted Alexandra with a warm embrace and a smile. She sat Alexandra down, and went through the list, which was beautifully organized by category. After each name was a brief paragraph describing the circumstances or the achievement of each person. There were eighty in all. Then there was the roll of the dead, almost thirty thousand.

"What about Sophie? What about the twenty women from Skree? What about Mistress Nevenka Ludovici? Lena? Sh-Sherry?

Sonja smiled. "Lena and Sherry, and young Ninel are there, if you look. So are Nevenka and Elisabeth. Sophie and the rest of us from Geneva are not, Alexandra. Perhaps you can find some other way to honor us, if you insist."

"How?"

Sonja sighed and hunched over, to rest her forearms on her legs. "If I were you, I'd think of something simple, a one-time recognition ... a memento. I don't want anything for myself, Alexandra, you understand?" Alexandra impatiently agreed, but urged her to continue. "Why don't you write the names down, and think of something appropriate? If it isn't a national honor, but something personal, instead, it could be anything you like. For personal service to the Queen. It has often been done, and the favors have been treasured by the families of the recipients. Being your own family, Alexandra, we don't expect special recognition. We will always honor you, and you're always welcome in our home!" The woman's kindly smile brought a choke to Alexandra's throat, a feeling that she was loved by these rough women of her family, who did not feel comfortable throwing themselves in her face, but were ready to offer comfort when she was ready to ask for it. She was grateful for a long minute, until she remembered Sherry again.

She began to write the names down, with Sonja's assistance.

There were the women from Geneva, including Aunt Sonja, Bernard and his family, and Sara and Megan, Miriam, Sophie and Genny, John and Trudy Gustafson, Sergei of the Free Farmers, and Farmer Karl Henderson and his wife Josephine, Cousin Helga. She had all the time in the world, to think of something, but the sooner, the better.

She felt a little better after that, and managed to steel herself to face the Judge. The latter was about to arrange to leave for Skree with Lady Sonja and Baby. She agreed to return soon after the New Year, to brief Alexandra on a few decisions that she had to make in person, but otherwise, she said, everything was under control. Lady Lena was next, and she was glad to see Alexandra. She said things had gone swimmingly, considering, and offered to stay through the holidays. "Marja is making noises about going home, but I think she likes it here, too! We've been getting the house all decorated, and you must come and visit!"

"I assumed you'd stay in the Palace!"

"Oh goodness, no; we stayed in our town house. We had a room here, and we used it a couple of nights, but we lived at the house! You're looking fine, young lady! How are things with you?"

"Oh, all right, Lady Lena."

"Hmm. If you say so! Good to have you back, dear!"

"Thank you, Lady Lena!"

Ninel and Alexandra sat and talked about the matter of recognizing the ladies from Geneva, a sad topic for the little girl, but something she did seriously. It had been a year, now, and she was beginning to come to terms with her new life. Alexandra could tell that as long as Ninel could talk to Alexandra, she would prefer to stay with her. Being left all to herself was hard on her.

"I know!" she said. "Make something with crossbow quarrels!"

That gave Alexandra an excuse to steal away from the Palace with Ninel, the baby, and the twins. Ninel had rifled through Lady Sophie's pack which contained her beloved crossbow, and stolen her ancient crossbow quarrels, and replaced them with brand-new quarrels from the armory. There were just enough for their purpose.

Next, they had to find some wood, for the purpose of making small square bases. They slipped out through a little postern gate out into the schoolyard next door, and found their way to the long street which led down to the shore, twisting and turning between residences, shops, a church or two, a theater, some apartments, and a row of warehouses. Dressed in simple clothes, Alexandra looked like any other mother with her baby, her head covered in a scarf. The twins danced along, delighted to be exploring the town. Finally Alexandra found her way to the home of Bernard.

"Your Majesty!" exclaimed Bernard's mother. "What brings you here?"

"Is Bernard here?"

"No, but he'll be along at three; it's a half-day at the Palace—but you knew that!"

Katie appeared, looking shy, and brightened at the sight of Ninel. Alexandra did the honors, and asked the kids not to disappear; they'd have to help her.

"Mistress Lily," she said, "I need to have some woodworking tools; I was hoping Bernard would have some!"

Lilia's face dropped.

"No, Your Majesty; his interests are all cooking and wine, and such. Oh, here he comes now. Son, her Majesty is here."

"Lady! What are you doing here?" he asked, bowing hurriedly. He had a packet of things under his arm; he had evidently been given a holiday packet by someone or other.

Alexandra quickly outlined her needs, and thinking a moment, Bernard said he could find someone who would have what she needed. The word was sent round, and presently Alexandra was conducted a few houses away, to a fellow who owned some woodworking tools, had a worktable in the back of his house, and enough lumber for Alexandra's project.

"Let me pay you, only for the wood!" Alexandra asked, and the man grudgingly agreed to take a token payment. "You may not believe this," Alexandra said, ignoring the circle of watchers (who had been asked not to send for anyone else, explaining that she wanted to keep this little project a secret), "but I know a little woodworking. I could use a little help cutting this into blocks once I'm finished, though!"

She painstakingly beveled the narrow strips, and smoothed them. Then they helped her cut it into squares, which, with Ninel and the twins helping, and a few of the friends they had just made, they shaped into little square pedestals, which the Queen carved with Anna. Each one was done by hand, while Ninel and the twins looked on, taking turns holding the baby.

"She did some carving long ago," Ninel told them, "and that's how she signed the carvings: Anna."

"She surely does it very fast," said one of the twins. It took about half an hour, since Alexandra was being very careful indeed. Finally, the quarrels were tapped firmly and carefully into the squares of wood, and a drop of thin glue set in to seal them. They were finished.

"What is it for?" the onlookers asked, and the little group only shook their heads and smiled.

"Promise you will not tell a soul!" They promised. The little mementoes were put in a sack, and they left for the Palace, thanking everyone. Bernard was asked to bring Katie to the Palace the following day, to play until it was time for the war honors.

The war honors ceremony was a solemn one. It was held at two in the afternoon, in the great hall. Lady Sophie read the names, and the medals were handed to each recipient, or a member of his or her family, by Princess Genevieve, as her Majesty looked on from the throne. Some of the medals were not claimed, notably those of Lady Nevenka Ludovici of Berne, and Lady Sharon Williams of Belgravia.

The five generals were honored with the Order of the Mace, as was Lord Gustafson, who was home for the holiday, and Lady Gutrun, posthumously. These awards were made by Alexandra herself, after which the recipients were congratulated and embraced by the Princess.

Katie found Alexandra after the ceremony, her eyes dancing with excitement. "I know what those things are for, that you made!" she said. "Well?" asked Alexandra, looking a challenge at her. "You want to give some prizes, like these medals today!"

Alexandra nodded and put her finger on her lips to signify that Katie should keep mum about it. She nodded and raced off.

The day before Christmas, Sophie came by to ask whether, when it was convenient, Alexandra would consider trading rooms. "We know it's not proper, as such; but Genny and I are ... a little cramped in there, and it would be really convenient!"

Alexandra could not find a reason to refuse. But she could see that Sophie was regretting having asked it. It was, when you got right down to it, rather preposterous to ask the Queen to give up the designated royal bedroom. There was no precedent for it.

"I don't mind," Alexandra said. "The twins will see to it."

Alexandra felt irrationally angry afterwards, despite having agreed to the move beforehand. Sophie's room was tiny, simply a room with an attached bathing-nook. She stayed away, allowing the twins and Ninel to do the move.

The private library, a small collection of books near the chapel, was Alexandra's hidey-hole. The books were mostly silly and useless, and hardly ever consulted. But Alexandra had put a few of her own there, three of them gifted by Sophie, the other a book she had been given by her mother on the lives of saints; not the ancient saints, but modern ones. (Some time after her mother's death, Alexandra had become almost obsessed with knowing more about her. What was she like, to her friends? If Alexandra were to meet her today, what would think of her? Would Beate have liked Genny? Would she have liked Sophie? Sherry?)

Today she waited there for Ninel, to learn how the move had gone.

"Alexandra!"

She turned, startled, to see Baby in the doorway. She hadn't seen Baby since she had returned; apparently the girl had been in a sulk, and Alexandra had been relieved not to have to relate to her again, though she was fond of the kid. But here she was!

"Briana!" Alexandra said, finding that she didn't have to pretend pleasure. She was coming to realize that she liked talking to a pretty woman almost any time, and Baby was a stunner.

Before she could think, Baby had her arms around Alexandra, hugging her. With Baby, a hug was a wonderful experience, and Alexandra let herself enjoy it.

"Will you talk with me?" she asked. Her big blue eyes were major weapons, and they were boring into Alexandra now. "If you don't want to, I'll go off."

"Baby ... it's very personal, and you're young, and ... people could get hurt."

"I know that, Alexandra," she said. She had given up calling her 'Cousin Alexandra' now. Indeed there was a new maturity to her; she was growing up. "But I think I'm ready to keep a secret. And—you need a friend. And Ninel is too young."

"What do you want to know?" asked Alexandra, suppressing a sigh.

Baby took the question to be an invitation. She came to sit near Alexandra. "I know most of it ... Her Highness has become very fond of Sophie, and moved out of your bedroom. I know she's moving back, but anyway. Sophie has taken Genny in with her. You toured with Lady Sherry, the Belgravian woman. I know she was fond of you, and I assume—well, I assumed that you found some comfort with her, Alexandra, ... and now she's run away."

"You seem to know all of it. There's nothing more, Baby."

"Did you love her?"

"Very much." Alexandra's composure was rapidly falling apart. "I had nobody else! Do you understand? I loved Genny ... and Sophie ..."

"You got robbed of both of them at once!"

"Yes!" Alexandra cried, in a strangled voice, almost a sob.

She was trembling. All of the bottled feelings inside her were threatening to come out. Only the fact that Baby was so calm and restrained kept her in control.

"Did you really love her, Alexandra?"

"Really love her? What does that mean? How many kinds of love are there: real and unreal?"

"Oh Alexandra!" Baby could see the answer to her question written clear on Alexandra's face. "If it was me, I'd go after her!"

Alexandra stared at her cousin, distracted by her beauty. She really was very pretty. Baby was still young enough to be utterly romantic. Alexandra was deeply disgusted to find that Baby could so easily turn her thoughts away from the misery in which it had wallowed for so many days. Baby's hair was streaky, glowing honey-gold, like Genny's hair, but healthier, soft, wavy. Alexandra could imagine Baby hunting Sherry down; she'd never see either of them again. Baby was every human being's wet dream personified.

"I'm the damned Queen, Baby, I'm stuck here!"

Suddenly Baby looked unhappy, in a different way. "Alexandra, I want to ask you something else."

"Go ahead."

"I'm in love with Sophie. It's driving me crazy! What can I do?"

There were noises outside, and presently the twins and Ninel came in.

"Hi Baby. I'm sorry!" said Ninel, at once, seeing her.

"It's okay; I wasn't mad at you, anyway."

"Your Majesty, it was easy. It's all done, now!"

"How did you do it?"

"We moved her Highness's things into the little nook, and then moved Lady Sophie's things out into the hall." "Then we cleaned Lady Sophie's room thoroughly, with boiling water, and wiped it dry!" "Then we moved all your things into Lady Sophie's room ..." "But first we stole some of the furniture for you!" "Indeed we did! Especially for the baby." "We arranged it nicely, and then made the beds with fresh linen. It is a smaller bed, your Majesty, but after all..." "There's two of them, aren't there? It seems fair to let them have the bigger bed."

Baby was finding it hard to suppress her giggles. Ninel had a wide grin on her face that was making things worse. Ninel's freckled face had the capacity to look very comic indeed.

Ninel joined in, hurrying it along. "We washed your room, and threw the linen down for laundering, and moved Lady Sophie's and the Princess's things in. They're all set. All the nursery stuff has been fitted into your new room."

"That's it, in a nutshell," agreed one of the twins, thinking it over. They stole a glance round the room.

"You girls are very funny," said Baby, frankly. "The maids told me about you, but I did not believe them!"

The twins grinned. "It's just that we're from the country, Lady, and we don't know any better!" "But we're twins, so there's two of us, and when we look silly, we only look half as silly as we would, normally!" "It get's divided up!"

Briana simply could not stand it anymore. She roared with laughter, and Ninel joined in, and Baby Sophie's face had the widest grin ever.

Alexandra took her daughter onto her lap, and they looked at each other, thoroughly amused with all the goings on.

"Have the girls been doing your hair?" she asked, and the baby princess nodded, tugging at her ribbons. "You're going to be talking any day now, aren't you?" The baby pulled at the little pieces of fabric and said something that sounded suspiciously like 'ribbons!'

"You will be talking soon!" Briana said, excited. "May I hold her?"

"Sure!" said Ninel, moving her to Briana's lap.

Presently, Briana said a sad goodbye to them all, and she, the judge, and Sonja left by coach for Skree. Suddenly the Palace seemed a duller place. Briana had only spent a few minutes with them, but her departure was very noticeable. It affected Alexandra more than the small room into which she had been moved.

There was somewhat of an uproar in the Palace. The servants were angry, especially Elisabeth, who had not been consulted, and Wilfred, one of the oldest and best-educated servants in the Palace. They spoke up during supper, to the discomfiture of Genny and Sophie. Not all of them knew that Genny had moved out of the Queen's chambers; the maids involved, and Elisabeth, had kept the secret well. Now everyone seemed to know the new setup, and it appeared as if Alexandra and Sophie had traded places.

"It's very improper, Lady Sophie, and Your Majesty; you must think of appearances. The Royal Bedchamber is for Your Majesty, and there are things there, safeguards, especially intended to safeguard the Royal Person! There are all sorts of things, such as what is done during an emergency, where we go, how a fire is fought! You must reconsider, Your Majesty, especially for the sake of the baby!"

Genny looked very alarmed, and looked down the table to Alexandra, who was beginning to think that coming down to supper had been a mistake.

"I had no idea; I've got accustomed to having Lady Sophie help me with all my work, and it seemed convenient to have her in the room, that's all, really." She was a bad liar, and she blushed furiously. But Wilfred, who had just understood the situation, stuck to his guns.

"There are safety issues, your Highness. The Palace guard knows the Royal Bedchamber, and in an emergency, if they rush up there, the Queen might be lying injured in—the other room, and the guards may not find her."

"Wilfred, I have decided. I will move back, but not immediately. Please let it be known among all those concerned, that the two rooms are now considered a single suite, and her Highness and I will arrange ourselves in the two rooms. Both rooms must be looked into, in an emergency; indeed, the whole floor must be checked. The baby princess could be anywhere, including Lady Ninel's room! This special consideration for the one room is far too restrictive. Make it known please, Master Wilfred, and Mistress Elisabeth."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Remember, we only had your safety at heart!"

"I know. But it is decided."

"Very well, Your Majesty."

Alexandra ate fast, and hurried upstairs, with Ninel following. The twins, as was their habit, were puttering around the small room, putting a few more things away.

The day before Christmas was a confusing day; the wonderful smells that continued to waft through the Palace reminded Alexandra of earlier, happier Christmases. The little dogs that padded about were a great help, and so were Ninel, and the twins. The three children had a wonderful time –thinking of the twins as children– and the baby, who had mastered standing by herself, was happy to walk around her pen, holding the rail, throwing toys outside. Why did she throw her toys? Ninel thought it was for the pleasure of having them brought back. "No," said the twins, "because throwing is fun, don't you think?"

Occasionally—more frequently now— Genny sent for the baby. Sometimes she sent for some of the other things: baby spoons, the smaller playpen, toys. Alexandra was glad that she was involving herself with the child. But ultimately, Alexandra's world was now the baby, and Ninel, and the twins. She sent them out to help with decorating the Palace; apparently, in spite of it having been decorated for months, there were still some things done at the last minute. The baby was with Genny and Sophie, who were going back and forth between their room and the Gustafson home. Genny seemed a little healthier, and Sophie seemed happy to have her father back. And when Alexandra sent the baby to Genny, and when the three girls were out decorating, Alexandra was very much alone.

In the main rooms of the Palace, music was playing. The Belgravians had sent electrical music players once the Palace had been electrified. At the moment all the electricity came from a noisy oil-driven engine in the lowest cellar, but plans were afoot to harness the power of the upper Muddy River to provide current for the whole country. The lights were all still mostly candles and gas lamps, but a few tiny electric lights were coming up in unexpected places.

Alexandra hid in her little hidey-hole; she knew that the twins could find her, and Ninel. Dear, sweet Ninel. She had slipped into bed with her one night, since she was all alone, but in the morning, Alexandra had felt urges that shamed her. She had firmly told Ninel that Mama was fine; she should sleep in her own room. "Can I come in and snuggle in the morning, then?" Alexandra had said that that would be all right.

Aunt Sonja had done Christmas shopping for her. There were presents for everyone from the Queen. Elisabeth had helped her find things for the twins, including many clothes from Alexandra's own youth, and new fabric for the girls to sew what they liked. It was all ready to be laid at the foot of their beds that night.

Alexandra played her harp softly in the silence of the library, quietly enough that no one would be curious to see who it was. The Palace Chaplain was beginning to get ready for the midnight mass in the little Palace chapel, which some Palace workers preferred to attend, instead of the large celebration in the city cathedral church.

The twins and Ninel came to escort her to Christmas supper, which was usually a small, private meal. Sophie and Genny were there, looking happy, the baby sat in Genny's lap. The soup smelled delicious. The twins had been allowed to help serve today. There were some young folk in the kitchen tonight; it was traditional that the families of the Palace staff would share some of the meals during the holidays with their parents. The holiday meal, which was lunch on Christmas Day, had essentially been prepared and put away. A few servants would complete the meal in the morning, and it would be served in the large dining hall. There were traditional guests who would be there, as well as some family of servants, but those who wanted to spend Christmas at home would be allowed to do so. It was a masterpiece of planning, so that the festive meal could be celebrated both at the Palace, and in homes.

The twins wore their own clothes, instead of Palace uniform, their own colorful plaid dresses, from Sorensen's generosity, and they were thrilled to be serving her Majesty in the Great Palace of the Kingdom, as they called it, and you could hear the capitals. Despite their foreign descent, they were patriotic to their last atom.

Genny was in a mellow mood, exclaiming over every course and dish. Sophie was in a better mood than usual. She reported that her father had, in fact, been invited by the Sorensens, (and so had she, but she had declined,) and she was relieved that he wasn't alone. The little princess was cautiously eating bits that Genny was feeding her, and it was amusing to see how strong her preferences were. It was also fascinating to see that there were definite resemblances between Genny and the child. Her mouth and her forehead were similar to Genny's, while her eyes and her eyebrows and her nose seemed to come from Alexandra. Her eye color was, of course, from grandma Atlanta. The girls had dressed her all in red, a Christmas tradition, apparently, and she looked as pretty as a picture, with her pretty white bib.

Outside the snow had stopped, and down the hall, one of the electric music players was playing old Christmas music brought from Belgravia.

The supper was sliced roast beef with gravy and potatoes. Alexandra ate with quiet satisfaction, pleased with how Ninel was enjoying it all, and how the twins were enjoying themselves, and felt both resentful, and yet oddly pleased at how happy the other two women looked.

After supper, Genny and Sophie said they would rest until midnight mass, which Sophie would celebrate with her father, at the big city church. Genny was unsure what she would do. Apparently she was of two minds about spending Christmas night with the Gustafsons. Alexandra had promised to take the girls out to the city, too.

Alexandra and the girls and Baby Sonja went down to the little library, and they sat round the candelabrum and talked.

"Why don't we visit the Sorensens after mass?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" "Yes, it would be ungrateful not to see them, sister!" "But our mothers will be there!" "Oh dear, that puts it all in a different ..."

"How bad could it be, to meet the poor souls? Will they scold you? Will they beat you? This is childish!"

"They just don't like us, your Majesty!" "They're embarrassed about us, you see!" "They're smart, and fashionable, and we're like bumpkins, maybe."

"You should give them one more chance," Ninel said. "Perhaps you have improved, so that they can be proud of you now!"

Alexandra drew the girl close and hugged her. The twins were undervaluing something that Ninel had lost violently, namely their mothers.

"If your Majesty thinks it's important, we should try to ..." "We should try to be at least cordial." "We should try to be friendly, sister. Perhaps loving. Or just civil, to begin with."

"We may just meet them right at church. That would make things easier."

"Oh, indeed, that is very likely! They told us that they do go to mass with his Lordship! Yes!" "I remember now! Every Christmas, they said."

"Are they pretty?"

"Oh, the prettiest women you ever saw, your Majesty!" "Not tall, like yourself, but of a nice size and proportion, you understand? Like– er, like most Belgravian women, you see." The little near-reference to Sherry had not gone unnoticed by Alexandra, but she ignored it.

They didn't notice the time; the conversation was pleasant, and the little princess was fast asleep on Alexandra's chest. It was as pleasant as it could be, given that Alexandra was reduced to spending the evening with children, with her love gone away. Over the last few days, her anger towards Sherry had faded. Ever since Baby had spoken affectionately about her, Alexandra had felt more fondly towards her memory of Sherry. She felt generally listless, but every once in a while, she found herself thinking seriously about trying to find Sherry, and win her back. But tonight, it was a night to relax, and let the others make the decisions.

Sophie unexpectedly appeared at the door.

"There you are!"

"Is something wrong?"

"Your Majesty, may I join you and the girls when you go to mass?"

"Oh. I assumed you were going home first."

"Father will come directly to church with the Sorensens. I was hoping we could walk together."

"Bring the crossbow along!"

Ninel laughed. It was not often that Sophie and Alexandra joked together, and Ninel wanted very much for them to be comfortable together, as they had been back in the happy days in Bernia.

"I'm sure we'll be safe; I just wanted company, Your Majesty."

"Then her Highness is not going?"

"She's already in the chapel."

They set out together. It was strange to walk along with Sophie, dressed all feminine in a long gown and a heavy shawl against the cold. Alexandra, in her newly self-aware state, could feel herself yearning to pretend that there was something more between them than simply one woman escorting another woman's lover to church. In the mood Alexandra was in, the very fact of walking along with her—with any woman whom she could care about—made her feel utterly lonely, and sorry for herself. Sophie turned towards her, as if she could read her mind, and held out her hands for the princess, who had just awoken, feeling the cold air. She went straight to Sophie, and Alexandra felt their arms touch for a moment. For a while, it was an effort to keep up her front of calmness.

They were out through the main gates, and went among the townsfolk headed towards the church. Alexandra and Sophie were recognized at once, as the lights from the tapers people were carrying lit their faces. It is the Queen, it is the young Queen, the excited whispers flew around, and adults and children alike smiled at her, and at Sophie, and the fortunate girls who seemed to be in the Queen's party, probably cousins or suchlike, the people reasoned. At least Sophie and Ninel were with her, and she was not all alone.

Sophie, unusually gregariously for her, spoke to a young girl who was walking along next to her, and asked what her name was, and was told it. Was that her little brother? Indeed yes, lady! How old is he? He is three, please, lady! Is he always so good? No, it is just that he's half asleep, lady! Peter, give the lady a smile, you oaf! Meanwhile, Ninel was watching the twins interact with an enormous man who was carrying two little boys on his great big shoulders. By him walked a handsome boy of about seventeen, and the twins eyed him, too. They told the man that they were from the forest above Bethlehem, from a little village called such-and-such. Never heard of the place, said the man, and the twins giggled.

Presently they were in the enormous courtyard of the church. Scores of people were milling about, greeting their friends, trying to get to various places to rendezvous with friends, looking around for familiar faces, standing on tiptoe and waving, and so forth. Sophie was looking everywhere for her father and the Sorensens, unsuccessfully.

"Where did you agree to meet them?"

"Inside, but in this crowd I doubt we will see them."

"Let's go in; I'm sure they'd have saved you a place!"

Sophie gave Alexandra an exasperated look. The Queen felt a twinge of envy for Genny, who had the pleasure of those sparkling eyes any time she wanted.

"Are you missing her?" Sophie asked softly.

Alexandra quickly looked away and shook her head. She didn't know what she felt. Loneliness, frustration, sadness, desire, intense pleasure. She kissed the baby. It was good to have something. Anything at all.

The church steps were lit by a powerful gaslight, and recognizing the Queen, everyone made space for her. The priest was standing on the church steps, and greeted them with pleasure. "Your Majesty! Lady Sophia!" he said.

"Father, has Lord Sorensen's family come inside yet?"

"Indeed they have! And your father too! Look carefully, they are there!" Sophie thanked him.

"Our mothers will be here!" whispered the twins to Ninel, who nodded. Alexandra loved Ninel's eager nods. She caressed her head, and she looked up to smile back. Alexandra wondered whether she remembered how she had sent down her nightgown to keep her warm. It was not something she could ask, but in her own heart, she had made a bonf with the girl in that moment.

"There they are!" said the twins, excitedly. The large church was a hubbub of eager voices calling across and along the aisles. Alexandra explained that the twins' mothers worked for the Sorensens. Sophie was surprised. "Oh, I can see them," she said. As the word spread of the presence in the church of the young Queen, there was a gradual hush. It was a little awkward, with everyone making way for Alexandra and her small party. The Sorensens and Lord Gustafson had kept one seat for Sophie, but now they seemed to need a whole pew in the crowded church.

A nun hurried up to their party and pointed them towards the royal pew, all the way in front. Alexandra asked Sophie in a whisper whether she'd like to come up to the empty pew, but she said she would sit with her father. A little disappointed, Alexandra led the way forward, following the nun, trying to nod graciously at the faces that smiled at her so adoringly. She remembered the pew from many years ago; she had stopped going to mass years since. They arrived at the pew, and Alexandra found that they were missing the twins. "They're talking to someone back there," said Ninel, quietly. Alexandra tried to feel comfortable with only Ninel and the infant princess by her. Her first attendance at midnight mass as Queen, and her consort was not with her. She did not love her consort, her consort loved another, and the one Alexandra loved was far away, god only knew where.

She carefully sat, and made little Sophie comfortable on her lap. Ninel sat very close, her thin arm pressed hard against Alexandra. It made her feel a lot better. The baby climbed to her feet on Alexandra's lap, to look over her shoulder at the congregation. Alexandra had to smile; it was a thing that every infant in church seemed to want to do. Ninel talked to the baby, as if to establish that the baby was somehow hers. She was Big Sister. Presently the twins hurried up, faces glowing, and stood in the aisle, near Alexandra, awaiting permission to enter the pew. Alexandra made way for them to slide in, and they sat next to Ninel, their three heads huddled together.

The church being lit with large lamps, all tapers had been extinguished as the people came in. Now the girls put their tapers in the slot made for them on the kneeler. The lamps were lowered for the service, and the music began. It was a magical, dream-like experience, not religious in the usual sense, but emotionally intense. The old myths of Christmas had different meanings for each person, and of course, a few believed them literally. Alexandra had always loved the story, but assumed that it described a miraculous birth in another Bethlehem, on another planet far away. The music was heavenly, and it was easy to believe that choirs of angels existed, since choirs of human children could sing so beautifully.

"The twins want to sit near you!" whispered Ninel, while they were singing a popular Christmas hymn. Alexandra nodded. The girls walked behind them, to stand on Alexandra's other side. Their shiny faces looked up at her, radiantly happy.

"What's all this?" she asked, bemused.

"We want to hear you sing, your Majesty!"

Alexandra could put her arm round both of them, they were so thin. The sermon was brief and inspiring. This must be a season of rejoicing, the priest said, of generosity and forgiveness. They had a wonderful opportunity to exercise all those faculties this year; the end of a war, the need to share, and the need to reach out to their former enemies.

Many carols later, the gas lights were turned out completely, and lights were passed from taper to taper throughout the church, which excited the twins almost past bearing. Ninel shook with silent mirth as she watched the girls light their taper, and then hold it, trembling with excitement, for Ninel to light hers. The old carol of Earth, "Silent Night" was sung lustily by everyone, after which the priest pronounced the benediction. As he recessed slowly down the aisle to the rolling tones of the ancient organ, the children's choir followed, and the nuns at the back of the procession asked Alexandra to join them. It was a traditional privilege extended to the Queen for generations, presumably. It was only her first time. Alexandra motioned to the twins to go ahead, and followed with the baby and Ninel.

Once they were outside, the priest asked her to stay and greet the people as they left. "Your mother used to do it a long time ago, your Majesty! It is only a request; nobody expects it!"

"I'll try it," she said, positioning herself a little beyond the priest, with Ninel and the baby near her, and the twins standing behind, wide-eyed, wondering what would happen next. "We're to wish the people a merry Christmas," Ninel explained. The twins nodded their understanding. They proceeded to do it as the people streamed out, shaking hands when they were offered, allowing themselves to be hugged occasionally. Baby Sonja was relatively relaxed as she waved at everyone.

Alexandra heard the twins' excitement before she saw the two women who greeted them. She knew they were the girls' parents by their slim, petite build, as well as their faces. They were attractive women, apparently in their late thirties, and they curtseyed with easy grace to Alexandra.

"We hope they behave for you, your Majesty!" said one of them. "They can talk the hind-legs off a donkey, they can!" said the other, with similar bright eyes and smiles.

"They have been wonderful," said Alexandra, sincerely. "I hope we find a way to get you all together, now that they live in the city!"

"If it isn't too inconvenient to your Majesty, we would be grateful!"

Alexandra shook their hands, and wished them a merry Christmas. The Sorensens came out, and greeted Alexandra and the twins with obvious pleasure. There were two daughters, who greeted the twins with smiles, evidently recognizing the dresses the twins were wearing. Alexandra told them that she would like to arrange a family visit, and they heartily agreed. Lord Gustafson came next, and shook Alexandra's hand and hugged her. He looked tired and old, but cheerful.

"I will visit and tell you how things are going," he told her. Sophie was behind him, and opened her arms to Alexandra and hugged her.

It was all she could do to keep herself from crying. Never again, she thought, will I have someone of my own.

"Merry Christmas!" said Sophie brightly. Alexandra nodded, and mumbled something. Then Sophie was swept away in the crowd, and Alexandra was shaking hands and calling out merry Christmas, afraid that her tears would show.

"Such an evening it has been!" cried one of the twins, later, "I will never forget it, as long as I live!"

"Why?" asked Ninel.

"Because, we're here, in the capital, living in the Palace, with you, Lady Ninel, and her Majesty!" "And our mothers were so kind to us, and pleased to see us!" "It is magical, we could dance!" And they held hands and danced, threatening to set fire to themselves with their tapers.

Christmas Day was happier than Alexandra had expected it to be. Genny was subdued, because of having to spend Christmas night by herself. She asked to have the baby for company, and Alexandra let her. The twins were busy in the kitchen, being part of the skeleton staff scheduled for the big event. The presents had been opened, and they had been pleased with theirs. Ninel had hugged Alexandra, saying she didn't care what she got. What she had got was Alexandra herself, and she cried a little. Why? Alexandra had asked her. Because Sherry was gone, she said. It had been Sherry who had first taken her under her wing, and it seemed that Sherry's flight had hurt Ninel as much as it had hurt Alexandra.

The festive meal gave Alexandra another opportunity to be Queen, with old retainers coming back to greet her. Most of the members of the court spent Christmas Day at home, except for Sophie, Lord Gustafson, and a very few other nobles and their families. Most of those present were Palace staff, who were just happy to eat in the same room with Alexandra and her small family. Afterwards, they filed past to greet the little baby princess, in the arms of her mother, the Princess Consort, and touch her, and give her their blessings, while Genny smiled at them, bemused. What a glowing event it would have been, if they had been a normal, happy family! But even the appearance of it made everyone very happy.

After lunch, Lord Gustafson came to talk to Alexandra in her office. "Everything is going moderately well, but there seems to be very low morale. General Pfizer—you remember her?—does a magnificent job, but the population is fragmented, somehow. A lot of suspicion; a lot of corruption, distrust, lawlessness. I don't know what to do!"

"Can't that Nevenka woman help?"

"She does! She is one of the most important people on our side."

"What about Sophie? What about Genevieve?"

The look Lord Gustafson gave her told her in a second that he had reservations about the Princess Consort.

"Do your want me to come? Would it not look too much like gloating, Lord G? Those poor folks have suffered enough from their own folly, without my rubbing it in."

He shrugged, despondently. "It is possible they will see it that way," he murmured. "Perhaps, after all, I should talk to my daughter."

"She likes the Bernians, Lord G, which is the main thing. It is a great thing to be able to look them in the eye and say: we want you to succeed."

"This is true. Genevieve will say it, but one wonders whether she believes in it. At one time, she was wonderfully persuasive. But she had changed for the worse, I have to say."

"Let's give them a chance!" Alexandra said, and felt better for having said it.

Sometime later, leaving the baby to Genny and the washing up to the staff, Alexandra got on her horse, and rode out.

The intense feelings she had felt when Sophie embraced her had turned into bitterness. She turned the horse up along the North Road, which would lead eventually to Westholm and the Lodge, some two hundred miles away. As she rode, she found it easier to think. Lying in bed, her thoughts were always fragmentary, flitting from one thought to another. Sitting in the little library, her thoughts tended to gravitate towards comfortable themes. But here, as she rode, she was able to concentrate, and follow a thought to its conclusion.

The final product of her hard thinking was not pleasant. It was a resentment against the things that kept her in the Palace, trapped there, unable to find happiness as a human being. All the thinking she had done thus far had suggested that her personal happiness did not matter. Helga had said so in so many words. Sonja had implied it, or so Alexandra seemed to remember. It seemed to her that Sophie had an instinctive sense of what Alexandra was going through, but she was all twisted up in her own personal tragedy, namely that Genevieve had turned out to be so mean-spirited and intolerant. Alexandra supposed that Genevieve would come round; if Sophie gave her the love and support she craved, and she had the baby to take care of and spoil, once she found herself fitting into the image she had made in her mind of what her life should be like, she would relent and relax, and allow her gentler nature to come through.

But unless Alexandra did something about her own happiness, no one else would.

She rode along, farther and farther, thinking harder than she had ever thought before, inspired by how logically she could reason things out. She saw her shadow against a rock, as the sun sank lower. She laughed unpleasantly; her shadow looked so tough, leaning forward in the saddle, riding hard. But in fact she was weak, soft-hearted, slow of speech, simple-minded. In spite of how the common people loved her, she was too much of a sissy to deserve a real woman. She had lost three girls, Genny, Sophie, and Sherry. And she had whimpered, because she was a pathetic weakling. She needed to be a tough woman, one who would attract women like flies, who would never lose a woman, and even if one left her, would never care.

She finally pulled back on the reins, and wearily wheeled the horse around. "We have to go back home," she told it. "Take it easy, now; it's a long way." God, she thought, what a sissy I am; I'm even talking pap to the horse.

A couple of days later, Alexandra had managed to obtain a deed to a parcel of land along that very road. It was bought and paid for out of her own personal money, and was a wide strip of land that was a slice of forest, through a little stream, up into a mountain. It was all hers, and she was going to farm it, without anyone's help. The problem was that it was midwinter, as close as made no difference, and the snow was beginning to come down harder and harder.

She rode out the day after she bought it, found the place, and saw that it had been marked by the recorders, with stakes hammered into the ground, with her name on them: Alexandra Beatesdottir, and the date. (She had the Queen's name as a royal privilege; normally it would have been Atlantasdottir.) All she had was her crossbow, an ax, a gas lamp, and a small tent. Within minutes, she realized it was a crazy idea; she could never last a night there.

There was nothing to do but to get a fire going. It was around ten in the morning, but she would freeze before noon. She realized she had brought nothing for the poor animal. It was a terrible start to a crazy project. She rubbed the animal down, and it made soft, grateful noises. It was her favorite horse, but it belonged to the Palace stables; it was not hers.

She headed into the track of land, looking for fallen deadwood. She found a lot of it, and hauled it out to the little cleared portion adjoining the road. It felt silly camping alongside the road, but this was just to get started. She left the deadwood where it was, and walked further into the forest, and found a clearing of about fifty feet square. Trees had been cut here; clearly bandits hiding out in the forest! She was delighted. She wanted nothing more than a good fight with someone. In the mood she was in, she would probably hack them beyond all recognition.

The spot was well away from the road, nicely screened by the trees. She brought her deadwood into the clearing, and started a fire without difficulty. She began to chop the deadwood, to stack it in a pile, to keep the fire going. She was thirsty, and ate a little snow. It was perfectly clean snow, freshly fallen and white. Now she had to eat.

She pulled out her crossbow from its sack, and headed out, carelessly leaving the fire burning. She didn't care if she started a forest fire while she was gone. Of course, there was no game; it was winter. She wondered whether there would be deer wintering in a thicket somewhere, though venison was not her favorite meat. But instead of deer, she found a cave with three bears in it, two adults, and a half-grown cub. She got three quarrels ready; she had to kill all three.

Somehow she did it. Three bears lay dead. She decided to eat the cub first. She skinned it, butchered it carefully, and took it to her camp, which unfortunately had not burned down. She went back to get the big male, and drag it to the campsite. When she went back for the female, she found a big jungle cat eating it. She stood and cursed it. Wasn't it supposed to be hibernating? It growled at her, and she backed away, hating herself. If she had Sophie's speed with the crossbow, she'd have killed it; as it was, it was more likely to maul her to death.

Already it was noon, and she had done was eat. She stared around her, not allowing herself to show the dismay she felt inside. She went to her pile of things, and pulled out the ax. She would cut down some of the trees. The first blow went in with a satisfying thunk. She had plenty of experience with cutting down trees. She put on her gloves, and began to cut. It was almost sundown, around four in the afternoon, when she had several trees down, trimmed, and roughly squared. She felt a lot better than she had for a while.

She missed the baby already. She was not nursing very much anymore; Baby Sonja liked cow's milk very well, and Alexandra suspected that she nursed only as a sign of affection for her mother. Alexandra made a mental note to start taking the herbs that would dry her milk. She had a fleeting memory of a lover who had sucked at her breast, long ago.

The poor horse was cold and hungry. "Let's go and see what we can find for you, old fellow," she told it. She packed her tools and other belongings on the horse, and strung up the carcass on a tree. With luck it should be there when she returned, because she could not survive the night there, nor could the horse.

"Come on," she told it, and it reluctantly let her drag it along the road southwards. It was several miles before they came to a cluster of homes up a little side road, a little village. She walked up to the closest house and knocked in the door. A suspicious face looked through the frost-encrusted window, and the door was opened a crack.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"Hello! I—I was just up the road a short distance, working on my property. I forgot to bring any hay for the horse! May I borrow some, or buy some, please?"

"Hay? We don't usually sell the hay; wait, I'll see ... look, girl, it's too damn cold to go out!" The man grumbled about inside, and finally came out. He took a good look at Alexandra, and narrowed his eyes for a minute. Then he shook his head, and walked towards one of the other houses. He glanced back at the animal. "Nice horse," he remarked, almost to himself.

They gave her the hay, refusing to take payment. They were not happy that she had starved the poor animal, but they appreciated that she hadn't ridden it back in its present condition.

It was quite late when the two of them got back. But the horse was quite recovered, and the air was still, and therefore not as cold as it could have been.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The Homestead

The baby was happy to see Alexandra, and she took her in her arms and walked down to the little library. She was exhausted and cold, but the twins did not say anything, nor did Ninel. Alexandra wondered what mischief they might have got into, but did not have the energy to ask.

Baby Sonja was talking at her, obviously trying to ask her something.

"Oh baby, I can hardly wait until you can talk, sweetheart. It won't be long, now. It won't be long!"

"Uh-uh," agreed she. She let loose another long rattle of her own words, prefixed with a very clear "Mama," and much pointing and waving of her arms. She wasn't asking about things in the room, but using her arms as adults did, to make a point. She was also able to do a wonderfully expressive shrug.

"I wonder where the little dogs are?" Sonja shrugged first, then pointed up. She knew already that this was the lower floor, and that the dogs were upstairs. "Come on, then, let's go find them, then you can talk to them while Mama washes up!" The baby laughed, as if to say that she couldn't talk to the dogs.

Alexandra had got over her fear of sleeping with the baby while she was on the tour. A couple of times they had found themselves sleeping all together on a single big bed, and Alexandra had slept with little Sonja cuddled in her arms. She was glad that Genny didn't make a fuss about letting her have the child overnight.

That night she asked the twins for a massage, which they were pleased to give her. But then they slipped into bed with her, and she was too sleepy to throw them out. It was strange to feel them making love right next to her, talking in hushed tones, utterly affectionate.

As she had known she would, in the morning she found herself very aroused.

"Good Morning, your Majesty!" they whispered, having watched for her eyes to open. "We'll bring you some warm milk!" The feel of their soft bodies against her was unbelievably sensuous, but then they were gone in a rustle of robes, and by the time they came back, Alexandra was calm and relaxed.

She drank the milk, and there was some for the baby, which she held all by herself, and drank, her blue eyes wandering all over the room. The little puppy was now grown larger, and stood near Alexandra, its tail wagging, wanting to be petted. It seemed to regard Alexandra as its owner, though its mother looked to the twins. The twins usually gave Alexandra the plate of food to be given to the puppy. Alexandra had thought this a kind of superstition, until it became clear that it had successfully established her as its Lady. Both of the dogs were now thoroughly at home in the Palace. A few more minutes, and Alexandra had eaten and changed, and verified that she was not needed in the Palace for anything very urgently. Her office told her that Lady Sonja would be expected early in the New Year. Lady Lena was said to be looking forward to a visit from Her Majesty.

Today Alexandra found a quantity of hay, as well as a pack-horse. There were a few more odds and ends she needed. Once she was all ready, she took a look round at the Palace, and saw two pairs of light brown eyes regarding her from a window overlooking the stables. She gestured for them to come down.

"We could be useful, your Majesty, if you took us along!" "We'd be good company, too!"

"It's dull work, girls; I'm clearing ground in the forest. Once it's clear, we'll all go down together!"

They dropped a curtsey together, accepting her decision. They looked very sweet and innocent this morning, having put away the holiday uniforms for their usual dull brown attire that they preferred. It was a uniform all their own, for they were in uniform all the days of their lives! Alexandra waved at them, and they brightened up a little and waved back.

As she rode off, Alexandra thought of those two and sighed. They had been following her, but had not even told Ninel, whom they loved very much. She thought of the way they had dressed: long brown skirts and matching blouses with draw-string collars, and aprons, all in different shades of the same brown color. They had explained that the dye was actually a variety of clay, in other words a pigment. She knew the blouses and skirts were wool, for warmth, but the aprons were of some vegetable fiber fabric they had obtained from a tradesman. Alexandra hoped they would set themselves to sew something with their Christmas fabric. As much as the dogs, those two seemed lost without her. It was amazing that they had offered no arguments to be taken along after she had said no. She wondered about that.

But she could not afford to take them along at all. Her resolve would falter; they appealed to a softer side of her that she was determined to gradually stifle. At the moment she could relax and indulge it a little in the evenings. But as soon as the twins turned to Ninel instead of her, she would no longer have even that obligation.

They made good time along the road, and stopped at the little village. Alexandra was determined to pay the farmer who had given her the hay the previous evening. She turned into the yard and got off the horse, and knocked.

"Ah! It is you!"

"I have brought some hay; I felt I owed it to the fellow who gave me some last night!"

The door opened, and the man came out and studied the horses and the hay.

"Such a small amount of hay ... it's easy to see you're not from these parts, lady!"

"Well, now I am. I intend to farm up along the way. It seems a good way to make a start, and return whatever I have borrowed!"

The man shook his head, and stepped forward to carefully touch the horse, and stroke its side. "A little hay for a horse is always available; what can you do, let it starve? No, that's part of anyone's duty to the horse, if not to the owner!"

Alexandra smiled slightly. "Thank you my friend; I suppose I had better keep some on hand for the next starving horse that comes along, then!"

"Exactly! Well, come back if you need anything! We'll be glad to sell you tools, or anything else you might need." He gave her a wry smile. "Not the season for it, though, I must say."

Alexandra shrugged. She thanked him again, and rode off. She liked his rough ways. She was learning a lot about country courtesy. Miraculously, they hadn't recognized her. She put it down to the shorn-off hair.

The bear carcass had frozen solid overnight, and it had snowed, and Alexandra was utterly discouraged. It seemed like any clearing in any forest, a mass of fallen trees, no sign of any recent human presence at all. She may as well never have been there. Well, she thought, she would have to thaw out the ground enough to sink the posts. She took care of the horses, rubbing them down carefully, and set out hay for them.

She lit a fire with great difficulty, and spent an hour feeding it until it was large and hot enough. One of the first orders of business was to melt some snow for the horses, though she assumed that they'd eat snow if they had to. Once that was done, she looked about her, and let that rock-hard feeling take her over. No matter how hopeless, she would keep at the place; it didn't matter if she achieved little apart from making her shelter all winter long.

It was slow going with the posts. She only managed to get two of them up. She gave up in frustration, and began cutting down more trees. She could do that well enough. She brought down the carcass, and cut off a portion of it, and tried to thaw it well enough to cook it. The horses looked at it with great alarm. She needed more deadwood. She wondered whether the smoke from her fire could be seen from the little village up the road.

At least the two horses were in fair condition. She was determined to hurry with the shelter; it was not good to keep the horses in the cold. The next day she would rig a shelter with standing trees first thing. The cold kept her from thinking clearly.

It was well after dark again when she got back. She helped rub the horses down, and soon noticed the little faces in the window. The little wisp of sentimentality crept back into her consciousness, and she waved, and got a cheery wave back. Before she got indoors, two dark bundles scuttled out to greet her. She picked up the smaller one and made a fuss of it, and set it back down. It raced up and down the yard, and paused to make a little yellow stain in the snow in a corner of the courtyard.

Once she was inside, with the little doggie feet appropriately cleaned off, it didn't take long for Ninel to find her.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you all day!"

"I'm working on something. I've been gone all day. How have you been?"

"Well, Baby called to say she coming up soon after New Year's. Everybody's asking about you!"

"Tell them I'm fine. I'm just keeping myself amused, that's all."

"Is it a girl?"

Alexandra stopped and stared at Ninel, and she stared back, a little defiantly. "That's not appropriate, Ninel."

"I'm sorry, then," said Ninel.

"No, it isn't a girl."

"I'm really sorry; I won't ask again!"

She put her arm around the girl. There it was again; the hurt just followed on any soft emotion she felt. She excused herself and slipped into her bath chamber and washed up quickly. The twins magically appeared, and she sent them out to get the baby. Instinctively she had decided that she would not compromise on keeping her ties to the baby, at least not yet. There would be no massages today; she needed to keep a little control of her environment.

They reappeared with the baby, who gurgled delightedly at her. "Mama!" she said. Alexandra couldn't help it, her face betrayed her and melted into a loving smile for her child. She found herself murmuring the familiar nonsense that the two of them always indulged in.

"So what do you call Her Highness, my sweet?"

"The tries to say her name, your Majesty!" said a twin.

"Genevieve?"

"Just 'Gen', or a sound like it." "She tries hard. The princess has been teaching her!" "Is that wrong of her, your Majesty?"

"Of course not; she has to call her something." Alexandra remembered; she had called Princess Atlanta 'Mama' when she was alive, and Alexandra had just been an infant, and called the Queen Beate My Lady, or just Lady. If Genevieve wanted the child to call her by name, that was fine with Alexandra. When she was old enough, she would probably call her Princess, or some such thing. Already the baby had a certain baby dignity, a kind of presence that pleased Alexandra.

She had supper by herself in her room, fed the dogs, and went to sleep early. In the morning she ached in every muscle, and she groaned. Instantly the little dogs were near the bed. Alexandra regarded them, as they sat back and grinned at her. Shortly afterwards the twins appeared, chattering softly to each other.

"What shall we bring you, your Majesty?"

"Girls ..." It really was too early to think. "... just call me Lady Alexandra, if you don't mind."

"Oh, we forgot, your Majesty." "We forgot, Lady, she means." "Indeed, that was what I meant!"

"Maybe a glass of milk ... whatever there is around ..."

"This is the Palace, my Lady," one of the twins said, with something that sounded suspiciously like sarcasm, "They have everything."

"Whatever you think is good, girls; I'm hungry. Give the dog a little milk."

One of the twins ran off with the order, while the other poured the milk that had been left over from the previous day into the puppy's bowl, and handed it to Alexandra. She was to give it to the puppy herself. They were always doing that. The puppy licked her hand, and then proceeded to lap up the milk. Then she picked up the bowl in her teeth and set it down in its proper place. Alexandra smiled at it, and got a wag of the tail. The twin waited just long enough to ensure that the little performance had been appreciated, and then ran off to help get breakfast.

Ninel turned up next, to smile sweetly at Alexandra. "Will you stay with us today?"

"I want to get back to work on my project, love."

"Can I come?"

Alexandra thought hard. One day out there should cure her of her eagerness. "All right then," she said. "Wear rough clothes: breeches, a heavy shirt, gloves, and bring a warm cap."

Ninel was exultant to be out again. She kept up easily with Alexandra. She had become a fair horsewoman while Alexandra was gone; Baby had taken her riding often. Alexandra watched her with approval. She was filling out; her legs, in particular, were getting a little stronger and better muscled. And it made all the difference in the world that her clothes fit her perfectly now; the twins would not allow her to wear anything that was too small. They would sit and sew all evening to add a panel, or a strip of lace to a skirt, so that their beloved Lady Ninel would be properly dressed. They gave her all the love they had for the Queen, but which the great lady would not accept from them.

"We're here," Alexandra said, her horse turning into the little path of its own accord. It knew the way now to the cold, dismal place that attracted its rider so mysteriously.

Ninel looked about her when they alighted, the dismay clear on her face. She looked up at the bloody carcass hanging from the tree and looked away quickly. Alexandra could see the place through her eyes, and didn't like it herself. But what was to be done? This was first of all an excuse to get herself out of the Palace, even if she froze herself half to death each day.

"The first thing we're going to do is build a wind-break for the horses," Alexandra said, a little embarrassedly.

"But there aren't any leaves on any trees down here!"

"Well, at least some branches, something to keep them a little warm ..."

"Hmm, let's see," Ninel said, thinking hard.

Alexandra smiled to herself, and hauled out the supplies she had brought. It was annoying to have to haul them up and down every single day, but there was no way to leave them behind without having them stolen. Ninel saw the rope, and brightened a little. "I'll go bring some brush back," she promised.

Despite being unable to get up quite the iron-hard determination that was now a habit, Alexandra felt more energized, more eager to get to work. She selected two trees close together, then selected one of the slimmest poles she had cut, and hauled it up to one of the trees. She began to lash it to the tree as high as she could reach. Then she lashed the other end of the pole to the second tree. She looked for Ninel, but she seemed to have disappeared. Alexandra sighed. She should have told her not to wander too far away. But she should have faith in the child; she was cautious and intelligent, and not likely to get into danger.

There were two more trees that would fit into the plan of the windbreak.

Alexandra had three more poles slung across the trees in a short time. Then she heard crashing through the trees, and a little happy humming. Presently Ninel appeared with a whole bundle of pine branches, and two little fish! "There's more branches I left behind," she said, "I couldn't bring them and the fish and everything."

Alexandra was so happy to see her, she hugged the girl, and carefully put the fish high on the crotch of a tree. "Let's go," she said. The horses were carefully tied, and things were safe for a short while.

As Ninel had promised, there was a large pile of pine branches a little beyond the stream. The deciduous forest gave way to a pine forest, which all had their needles on them. They brought as much of the branches as they could carry down with them.

The two of them together were more creative than Alexandra had been alone. The shelter, necessarily large because of being made between trees, took all the wood Alexandra had cut, but it was covered on three sides, now, and half of it was roofed over with pine branches.

"Oh, it is a darling little house for us!" Ninel said, pleased with their work.

"It's mostly for the animals," Alexandra said, bringing the horses inside. It was already past noon, but they had been so intent with the work, they had had no time to feel hungry. The water had all been drunk, and they melted more snow for the horses, and settled down to cook the fish.

The twins were utterly forlorn to be left behind, especially with their friend being allowed to go.

"We were told to sew, sister," said one.

"Indeed we were."

They decided to sew in the Queen's chamber. It cheered them up, because it seemed to have a little of her presence in it. The little dogs prowled around for a while, and then lay down to wait. The girls cut and sewed, and cut and sewed. Then they stopped and sighed.

"At least we have seen our mothers," said one.

"And they don't seem to hate us too very much."

"Indeed, they seemed to be pleased to see us."

They shook their heads. Who understood the thinking of adults? They had been worthless things, despised by all except his Lordship, who had showed them kindness. They had found worth only in each other's eyes, except, of course, for his Lordship. Then her Majesty and Lady Sharon had suddenly come into their lives, and had given them pride and excitement, and ambition. Then along had come Lady Ninel, oh such a sweet, friendly lady! But now it appeared that the Queen had developed an interest that kept her away from the Palace all day, and it promised to become very dull for the girls indeed. Things had begun to go wrong from the moment Lady Sharon had fled. That day was a day they remembered in nightmares. Not nightmares of fear, but nightmares of sorrow and loss.

"Let's go look if they're back," they said to each other, though there was no hope of it. It would be long after sundown when they returned.

The fish was delicious. Fish was always delicious.

After lunch, Alexandra began to cut down more trees, and Ninel went off to get more branches. Once the shelter was complete, Alexandra got the bear carcass down, and cut off another chunk of it.

"You're going to eat it?"

"Sure! It tastes like pork, actually."

"But we've already eaten!"

"I was thinking, if we have supper here, now that you're here to help me, we could make a fireplace for the cabin. You're clever with things like that!"

"Oh, I'll do that, but I don't need to eat, thanks!"

"It really isn't bad, darling; why don't you decide after you've eaten a bit of it?"

"It makes me sick; it's like eating people!"

Alexandra couldn't understand her remarks. Why Ninel should think of eating bear as cannibalism she could not imagine. She spiced the meat thoroughly, and set it to cook. By now they had set a fire long enough to be able to dig up a layer of earth in which to set the hearthstone. While she excavated, Ninel hauled stones from the stream, grunting with the effort.

They labored until it was dark, at which time, Alexandra lit the gas lamp she had brought. It shed a brilliant light around them, and they worked some more. They had helped with the great fireplace in the hall in the Bernian forest, but there had seemed a greater variety of stone there. Here, they had to shape the stones with great effort, and finally only got it built to a couple of feet. It was very discouraging.

"We got a lot more done than I had done in two days by myself," Alexandra admitted, looking at their handiwork.

"Then I can come tomorrow, too?"

Alexandra groaned. The whole point was to discourage the kid. But she was eager to come back.

The twins were relieved to see them again. The Queen was clearly exhausted, but Lady Ninel was in a cheerful mood, and eager to tell them all about it. Alexandra regarded the three of them with amazement, feeling too tired to do much more than greet the dogs, and go inside. There was a message from Lady Lena begging her to come by. "It doesn't matter if you're late," the message read, "we're up until past midnight. Bring Genny and Sophie if you like." Alexandra had to smile. Lady Lena had a mind as sharp as a whip.

When Alexandra had washed and changed and sent for the baby, Genevieve herself turned up with the little girl. She looked neat, and her hair looked a little healthier than it had in a while. Alexandra knew that she and Sophie had their problems, but they were becoming more mature, both of them, learning their limitations, learning to be happy with what they had.

"Where do you go all day? Where are you taking Ninel? The baby misses you, and calls for you all day long!"

"I really can't believe that, Genevieve; she seems content to see me when I arrive."

"Look at her!" The little girl was leaning towards Alexandra with a happy grin. She had still more teeth now, remarkable for eight months.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

Genevieve gave her a long look, and went away. She wore her hair in a braid, now; presumably Sophie had told her she liked it that way. All through the war she had worn her hair simply tied at the neck, or put up in pins close to the head. The braid emphasized her slender neck. She really was a graceful woman. Alexandra felt an odd feeling. It was strange to look at a beautiful woman, and think: I loved her once; I felt for her far beyond what I felt for her beauty.

In spite of her fatigue, she felt the urge to visit Lady Lena. Marja was always a lot of fun, and they counted as some of Alexandra's few friends outside her family. Ninel was game to go, and the twins went crazy at the idea. Oh, what would they wear? Oh, who would serve the princess at dinner?

Much to the twins' disappointment, Alexandra dressed modestly in hose and tunic, and Ninel wore something similar, and they took cloaks with them. The twins wore their festive clothes again, and little cloaks that had been found for them by some of the older servants, who seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of cast-off clothing for anyone in need, in spite of all the clothes given to charity at the end of the holiday season.

A coach was called for, and they slipped out, telling only the kitchen. Alexandra did not want Genny and Sophie tagging along. It was a freezing evening with a rather brisk wind from out of the northwest. "Oh, sit closer, sister," each twin was telling the other, though it was hard to see how they could possibly sit any closer than they were already. They looked out from under their hoods and smiled as they always did when they thought their mutual affection was being laughed at. Actually, it was one of the few things that made Alexandra's life bearable. Baby Sonja, alone of all of them, didn't seem to much notice the cold. She looked out the window and pointed at the lit windows as they drove by homes in the city, until they came to what the coachman assured them was the town house of Lady Lena.

A sharp-looking butler came to the door, and instantly recognized the Queen. "I'll tell them at once, your Majesty," he said bowing, throwing the doors wide open, and showing them into the main room. The twins bent to peek into the hallway with their insatiable curiosity. Lady Lena swept into the room to hug Alexandra and the baby with every show of pleasure, and Marja limped in shortly afterwards.

They had a good visit, with lots of holiday sweetmeats being shared around, and such delights as eggnog and wines of various kinds. The twins were given a bench to sit on, so that they would not miss the conversation. After a while, Baby Sonja asked to go to the girls, after having spent a decent amount of time in the lap of Lady Marja.

"Well," said Lena, never one to mince words, "you seem to be managing well, under the circumstances. I can only say that I'm very, very sorry, Alexandra. Very sorry indeed." Marja rolled her eyes.

"I'm not entirely sure to what you allude, Lady Lena, but I'll take your word for it," said Alexandra, drily.

"Well, if you'd rather not talk about it in front of Marja, I perfectly understand, but it seems silly to avoid getting it out in the open. I daresay even the young women know all about it."

"If you're talking about Genny, ..."

"I am!"

"Well, if you think it would be helpful for Marja to know, I'm not too embarrassed to let you have your say. It's only for the sake of the general population that Genny and I maintain this little fiction. Marja doesn't fall into that category!" She took a deep breath. Ninel was looking wide-eyed, unhappy at what she was hearing. "Love, why don't you and the twins go in the back for a while?"

Lady Lena called her man, and then turned to Ninel. "Young Ninel, you know that Lady Alexandra has done no wrong, neither has the Princess. We're mainly going to discuss—other issues, such as what would make life a little more bearable. You understand?" Ninel nodded, suddenly thinking that it was not as fun a visit as she had thought it would be. "Ferdinand, conduct the girls to the music room, and let them play."

Soft sounds of music played by awkward fingers came down the hall.

"I'd keep you company," Marja said kindly, "except that I'm of the wrong persuasion!"

"Kind of you, Marja, but I'm not in the market. You've probably heard about Lady Sherry."

"Yes, we did. That must have been very hard!" Marja was not the sympathetic type, but in this instance it appeared that some chord had been struck in her heart.

Alexandra took a deep breath. She decided to tell them the one thing that would be new to them.

"While we were in Bernia, it was Sophie and I who got very close," she said.

"Oh." Lady Lena and Marja were equally surprised. They stared at Alexandra, as their minds separately analyzed the implications of the admission. Marja shook her head.

"I had some —inkling— of what it was like," she said, blushing. "It was for a very brief time, of course; I wasn't out there for more than two months. But there was someone who became very close. I think he suffered more than I did."

"Yes, you understand, then. When I see them together, it isn't seeing Genny that hurts me now."

"I begin to see," said Lady Lena. "Tell me about this Sherry, dear."

Alexandra began to talk. There was not a lot to tell, because it was all what they felt, rather than things that they did. But various incidents during the tour illustrated Sherry's kindness, her nurturing spirit, her sensitivity. And the two women also learned more about how much Alexandra cared for the lovely Belgravian. They listened attentively to the story of that last day, and the last few hours.

Lena sighed.

"Of course, Helga could have said nothing else. You know that your life is not your own, Alexandra. You've known it a long time, I'm sure."

"Yes, but . . !"

"It wouldn't have hurt if you had never loved Genevieve!"

Alexandra nodded slowly. Lady Lena and Marja marveled that she showed no tears.

"If Sophie didn't stay with Genevieve, she —Genevieve— might give up her foolishness and make peace with you!" Lady Lena suggested, not really hopefully. Alexandra was distantly amused to see the old lady searching for ideas. She didn't usually lack for enough of them.

"I think the time is long past when Alexandra would have been interested in such a solution. It should have happened before she —became fond of Sherry. Just to be practical, Alexandra; perhaps in your own mind, Sherry was a positive element in your life."

Alexandra shrugged. "We were friends before. We should have left it there."

"All right. Alexandra," said Marja gently, "I could go look for her."

Alexandra was stunned.

"Go to Belgravia? All by yourself?" Both of them nodded. "You would do this for me?"

Marja smiled. "It's not the wilds of Bernia, after all; we're pretty sure she's in Belgravia, aren't we?"

"But ... all the expenses! I can't offer you state money, Marja, and I've just spent a large portion of my personal funds to buy a stupid plot of land! But I will give you the rest!"

"I daresay Marja has a little more disposable income than you do, Alexandra," Lady Lena said, sarcastically. "You'll discover more income as you grow older. It's as well you don't know all your personal resources."

Alexandra was flustered. "But if you find her, what will you do?"

Marja shrugged. "Anything you like. I could ask her how she feels about the whole thing; whether she would consider returning, provided she can stay hidden; whether there was some reason she left; who knows? She may have met some former friend ..."

Alexandra gradually began to feel hopeless. She had dreamed about leaving everything behind, and going searching for Sherry. But now that the fantasy was suddenly a possibility, it seemed clear that it would not work.

It was a little odd for Marja. She had known Alexandra from their youth, and had liked the younger girl very much indeed. Marja, though brought up in the liberal environment of her native land, where sexual preference was varied and tolerance was great, still felt uncomfortable being close with those of Alexandra's preference. But in spite of this, her personal regard for Alexandra remained high, and rose higher all the time.

Playing middle-man in this awkward game of love between the two illicit lovers was both romantic and disgusting. Traveling to Belgravia on an investigative mission was exciting. But dealing with the love-sick girl was going to be awkward. Alexandra was being very restrained, and Marja was grateful for that. But who knew what a pile of tearful mush this Sherry might be once she was found?

It was a thoughtful Alexandra who rode home in the coach with her little company.

"What did they say?" Ninel wanted to know as soon as they were on the way.

"Maybe we should wait until we're home," Alexandra told her.

The baby was fast asleep, and the twins were beginning to blink sleepily. "Hey!" said Ninel, punching the closer one on the arm. She sat up straight, eyes wide. "Don't fall asleep now; we can't be carrying you in!"

"No, we're awake, I think," said they, looking at each other.

But Ninel had to walk them upstairs, half asleep, and they were put to bed in the couch in Alexandra's room, in their clothes. Ninel helped change the baby and put her to bed, after which she kissed Alexandra, and went off to bed.

Alexandra sat on the edge of the couch, gazing at the twins, who had turned towards each other by instinct, and were fast asleep with one twin's arm thrown protectively over her sister. With the Palace food and comfort, they were putting on flesh, and there were hints of dimples on their elbows. Alexandra tenderly covered them with a sheet. They looked like overage cherubs, in innocent repose. Laying a gentle hand on each of their foreheads, Alexandra turned out the lights and sat down to think.

The talk of the previous night had disturbed Alexandra a great deal. All through the night she had wondered what might come out of it, since Marja was determined to do this thing. It would be wonderful to find Sherry, if she could be persuaded to come back. Even just to find out what she had thought, why she had run away; these were questions that had buzzed around Alexandra's head for weeks.

If Sherry were persuaded to come back, Alexandra's life would be as miserable, except in one important aspect: she would have a comforting companion by her side. But now, knowing how sensitive Sherry was, it would be agony to keep her from getting hurt, to keep herself from doing and saying things that hurt her. It was an intolerable situation, but one that seemed to Alexandra to be infinitely more attractive to her.

The only even more attractive situation was to leave the country in the capable hands of someone else, such as Karl Gustafson, and go out to Belgravia herself, perhaps with Marja's company, to find Sherry, and then to make a home for themselves there. She could take the baby with her, or leave her to Genny; she could take Ninel if she so desired. The twins would have to stay behind, unless Ninel was going, in which case, it would make sense to ask them if they'd like to come along. Once in Belgravia, Alexandra could live incognito, and live well, she didn't doubt. She would miss the baby, though.

The twins were miserable at having slept in their clothes. They chattered to each other plaintively, deploring the situation, wondering whether to wash the clothes at once, or leave them to wash later. They looked thoroughly confused, and Alexandra decided for them, and told them what to do. They were relieved.

It was New Year's Eve, and Alexandra was pondering whether she should make a trip out to the farm, when Ninel turned up, all dressed and ready to go. Alexandra grinned ruefully, and began to dress. The twins arrived shortly afterwards, and set up a caterwauling, asking to be taken.

"Please, your Majesty, grant us this one favor! It is unbearable to stay here with both you and Lady Ninel gone all morning! We will be good and silent. We will never say a word!" promised Mena, while Brinna kept silent, emphasizing that it was a plea important enough for them to adopt the 'one twin only' rule.

"Who will look after the little dogs?"

"Where are we going, your Majesty?"

"Into the woods."

Their eyes opened wide. "They could come along, then! It will be a wonderful excursion for them!"

Alexandra's resolve was completely gone. So they set off with just one horse, with a cart on which all their materials were piled. There was a lot of interest in the cart and the things Alexandra put in it, but she had enough of a reputation for being ill-tempered that they were left alone. Wilfred knew where they were going, and chose not to fuss about it. Alexandra drove the cart, and the girls sat in the back, with all the supplies, and the two little dogs.

"We have never been this way," the twins said, once they had passed the Gustafson home.

"No, you haven't, since you came by ship," Ninel pointed out. "This is the way to Skree by land, if you had a mind to ride there."

"Are we going to Skree, then?" was the next question, and they were assured that they were going nowhere as far as that.

When they arrived, and Alexandra had helped them out of the cart, Alexandra and Ninel unhitched the horse, and led him to the shelter, where immediately the girls pointed at the corpse of the bear hanging from the tree and gave a scream. The corpse was now frozen more than solid, and was covered in snow as well.

"It's only a bear carcass that the Lady has been eating," said Ninel. "It isn't too bad, really."

"Oh," said the twins, disappointed. "We have eaten bear, sister, haven't we, many times?"

"Of course; it's like pork, I remember."

"Good eating. But that one ..."

"It will need to be thawed a great while."

"That was what I was getting at."

The inside of the shelter was nice and dry, and Alexandra and Ninel were quite pleased with themselves, except that, unfortunately, some mice seemed to have made their home inside it. Alexandra was grateful that something larger had not done so; with a large cat, for instance, she would have surely had quite a fight on her hands. The mice were duly chased off by the older dog, after which they began work on the fireplace again.

Alexandra should not have been surprised, a few hours later, to find that the chimney was completed. They had had to hunt for stones from all over, including the land outside the borders of Alexandra's parcel. "It needs to be sealed," the twins said of the chimney, "but not in this cold, Lady. Bring us out in the spring, with a sack of lime, and we can do it!" They had been watching everything in their village since they were little, and knew how to do a great many things. What one missed the other noted, and between them they were a lot better than most people. Now they sat and peered at the fireplace, talking quietly together, no doubt deploring the absence of common attachments such as a hook for a kettle, and so forth. But Alexandra was more interested in building the little cabin around the fireplace. While she worked on that, Ninel and the twins headed out, and came back with more fish. Ninel could find fish anywhere, it seemed. Alexandra left the girls to clean and cook the fish, and found that the work proceeded well, even with the dogs getting between her legs. (Once the puppy figured out where Alexandra was likely to be going, she carefully sat out of the way, in a spot where she could keep an eye on the action. She was an intelligent little thing, and Alexandra wondered how long it would be before she deduced that all the fallen trees were going to be a building.)

While they were cooking, the girls kept up a running commentary on how the cabin was taking shape. The twins now had Ninel joining their ongoing stream of words in a three-way variation of their usual chatter. It was interesting to contrast their highly speculative conversation with Ninel's more down-to-earth remarks. They broke for lunch, which was delicious with fish as well as some roots they had gathered or brought with them, after which Alexandra got down a large hunk of bear meat to thaw and cook for an early dinner. She buried the meat in a pit with coals from the fire all round it. It would be thawed and partially cooked by dinner time.

Ninel knew better than to disparage the bear meat, but she couldn't quite keep the look of distaste from her face. It was the fact that it was bear-meat that bothered here, not its taste, which was excellent. The little dogs sniffed around the cooking area curiously, and they wondered what the dogs were thinking. The twins were adamant that the dogs should not be given raw meat, though they weren't sure exactly why.

After lunch, they began to help Alexandra put the logs together to make the cabin walls, and very soon, it was done. It was a little square cabin, with a doorway in front, the fireplace at the back, and no windows.

It was the tradition in the twin's family that they would cook a pot of milk on the hearth, to make the house into a home. Suddenly Alexandra wished she had the baby with her; her little family was all there except for Baby Sonja. It seemed very appropriate that the twins supervised the house-warming of the little cabin, because with Sherry gone, it was the three teenagers who had become Alexandra's emotional home.

The milk was duly warmed and shared, with a little for the dogs, and Alexandra sat with her head in her arms and silently cried, not with sadness, but with happiness. The girls whispered amongst themselves, sounding sorrowfully sympathetic, but not disturbing her. After a while Ninel stroked her arm, to indicate their concern, but said nothing. Alexandra took her hand and softly squeezed it.

Alexandra sighed. Their odd relationship both worried and amused Alexandra. Ninel was far too old to be Alexandra's daughter; that was obvious. But it was still true that Ninel had bonded with her far more than with any of the others. It was not a childish crush, though; Ninel cared for Alexandra in a subtly different way than she would have in the case of a romantic attachment. She was caring and concerned, but not flirtatious, and not jealous. It was a gift of love that made Alexandra feel quite unworthy, as the admiration of the twins also made her feel, though to a lesser extent. The twins had set themselves before her in the role of servants, even if very close servants, whereas Ninel related to her more as a younger sister—a much younger sister, who would obey her as if she were a parent. But increasingly, the three of them were becoming simply her friends.

The fireplace functioned beautifully, probably because it was very cold, and the hot air rose easily and quickly. The chimney was far from airtight, and in the event of strong wind, would not work, in spite of the care with which it had been put together. They had filled in every chink with slivers of stone, but it needed sealing.

The bear meat was unearthed and cooked, and they ate, giving the dogs a little of it. The horse reminded them of its presence with the pungent aroma of its droppings. As night fell, even the fire burning in the fireplace could not take away the realization that they could not be comfortable in the cabin overnight.

They packed the cart, hitched the horse, wrapped themselves warmly, and set out for the Palace. Initially the return journey was accompanied by uninterrupted chatter among the three girls, with occasional comments from the two dogs, but in half an hour or so they were down to an occasional remark or a loud yawn. Still, it was very different to have the company along. Alexandra began to wonder whether she would be able to finish her little project by herself. With the idea of sending Marja across to Belgravia, everything was different. She could not make herself focus on the farm with all this going on in her head. It was only the presence of the children that had kept her going.

Once they arrived at the Palace, there were messages that Lady Sonja and Baby had set out for the Capital, and would arrive the following day. Alexandra's mind turned towards the cousins at Geneva, longing to see them, and feel their presence surrounding her.

The presence of Genny and Sophie in the room next to her was oppressive and wearisome, and Alexandra longed for more pleasant companions. Ninel and the twins were so wonderfully entertaining and relaxing that she had briefly forgotten her sorrow, but the Palace reminded her of Sherry again. She could hear Sherry's voice in her ear, see her eyes, her lips, parted in speech, or bowed in a smile. How could she have not forgotten all in those eyes the moment she saw them? Why had she not gone insane with desire for her that day in Athens, when she had looked down from the Royal Box at the opera, and seen her in all her glorious beauty? She had been distracted by Sophie. Sophie had been her heart's food for a long year, until she had been stolen away. Then, her eyes had been opened to Sherry, and Alexandra had wanted her, and they had begun the tragic affair.

Again, she asked for a light supper in the room. The food they had eaten lay heavy in her stomach, and there was a deeper hunger in her that was making her crazy. The twins were watching her eat, as usual, and she sent them away. They reappeared a little later, asking if she wanted them to bring the baby. She snapped at them saying she did not. The second they were gone, she regretted it. She must not take out her anger on the baby — or the twins, for that matter. Would the twins turn to Ninel for comfort? That idea angered her. She finished eating as much of her supper as she could stand, and stole over to look in on Ninel. She found the girl sitting alone in her room, playing with something.

"Mama! Come in!"

"No, I just want to be alone for a bit. Good night, Ninel."

"Good night!"

The happiness of a wonderful day now successfully erased, Alexandra headed back to her room in a black mood, fed some of her food to the dogs, and locked them outside. She expected that the twins would be along to look after them by and by.

Alexandra undressed, and lay in bed, her pillow hugged tight between her legs. Guilt ate at her; she suspected that she had only desired Sherry at a strictly physical level. It was a common accusation. I'm just your whore, in bed! You love your horse more than me! All her grand ideas of pursuing Sherry to the ends of the earth were turning to dust. What good was it, to find her, and to discover that all she wanted was to use her body? And the tragedy was that there was no one with whom she could talk about it, no one who would reassure her that she truly loved Sherry. More than anything in the world, that night, she wanted that reassurance. There was no one; Sophie was gone.

It was a miserable night. A little after midnight, Alexandra felt a painful bellyache, and had to rush to the commode to empty her bowels. She staggered back into the room, to hear scratching at the door. The dogs wanted to get inside. She let them slink in, looking at her in anxious suspicion, as if she had ever been violent to them. She paced up and down, sickened by the overripe smell of the leftover food. She had locked her door, and they had not been able to remove her tray.

A couple of hours later, Alexandra had slipped downstairs, and gone into the stables. There was only a guard at that time, and she had told him she was going out to the usual place, Wilfred would know. He had nodded, trying not to look alarmed. "I'm just angry and unhappy, and I can't sleep, guard. A little work will set me right. Don't be too alarmed!"

"That all right, Your Majesty," he had said, grateful for the reassurance. He was hardly older than her, poor fellow.

She packed all she could on her horse. There was no point taking lots of horses with her. She had left hay there, and some equipment that wasn't worth stealing: straw, a pail, a flint for starting a fire, the ax handle, rope, and so on. Today she would leave the blankets in mothballs. She had brought a whole lot of mothballs, which she hoped would discourage mice as well. She would make a trunk to put the things in, using only the ax. The main thing she would have to do was to make a roof for the cabin. She would have to make herself a ladder, first. She couldn't be scaling trees, like Ninel. The way Ninel had improvised the roof of the horse shelter was nothing short of miraculous. She was ingenious, and Alexandra was full of admiration for the child. And the twins were steady, knowledgeable, and wonderful company.

The horse knew its way well, now, and kept up a steady pace without any urging from her; it knew there was hay there, and shelter, and looked forward to arriving at its destination. At the turnoff, Alexandra looked up the road longingly. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to her cousin Briana, who would be coming down the road in a day or two, if they happened to be riding. They might have chosen to come by boat, in which case they would arrive that very night. She had thought about Briana of and on almost daily. The girl was sixteen, now, of age; if they chose to find pleasure in each other, no one could find fault with it. They both had healthy appetites, and both had lost the ones they desired. What did it matter if they used each other? She grew hot at the thought. No doubt there was some principle they would be violating. She was Queen, and Briana was second in line to the throne, and they were cousins, children of two sisters.

Alexandra faced the fact was that she was physically attracted to Baby. In other ways, too, she liked Baby; she was the sister she had never had—now that Sophie seemed dead to her. She liked Baby's aggressive, passionate, physical nature. Baby was all that Alexandra didn't dare to be. Baby was refreshingly different from everyone Alexandra knew.

It was almost dawn; she could barely see, because the moon had set. The first thing she did was to chop up more dead wood, embarrassed by the noise she was making, and to look for her flint, and start a fire in the fireplace. Then she saw, on the floor, a clump of clay. If there was clay, she reasoned, it just might be possible to fix up the chimney without waiting for the spring!

An hour later, she had a pail full of clay mixed in a large pit she had dug in the floor of the cabin, where the bear flesh had been buried. With enough hot water, it became the right consistency to force into the cracks in the chimney. She practiced on the warmer inside first, and soon had the hang of it. The roofless cabin was still freezing cold, but the inside was marginally warmer than the outside.

It was light by the time she was done, but there was a light, steady snowfall. She had no breakfast, but a thin slice of bear-meat could be her breakfast bacon. If she only knew how to smoke the stuff, it would be so much better! The twins would know, she thought to herself. She ate carefully, anxious about her stomach, still sensitive from the previous night.

She hauled some wood inside, and set herself to make a ladder. She had plenty of rope, and it was not too hard. Then she started to cut some wood into laths. The cabin had a roof ridge beam, and several beams down to the sides, but it needed cross-members. She could make a roof by slicing off slabs of tree with bark still on it, and building it up from the walls to the ridgepole. A saw would have been nice, but she had to make do with the ax.

It was slow going, but she had half the roof done by lunchtime, and half the rest done by mid-afternoon. She decided to use the rest of the daylight to chink up the chimney on the outside. She got more clay from the stream, more water, heated it up, and started on the outside. It was hard on her hands, so she improvised little wooden tools to help her, forcing as much of the clay in between the stones as she could. The chimney was so large, the same could be done from the inside out, she thought; perhaps she'd get the girls to help with that.

Sure enough, once the sealing was done, the fire became far steadier, roaring up the chimney smoothly. Alexandra put some potatoes to boil for a soup, and resumed work on the roof. She was done quickly, and the cabin was now very warm and cozy indeed. She headed out to find more deadwood. She began to think ahead; something had to be found to cover the ridge, and a door had to be improvised. The gaps in the logs had to be chinked with more clay, or perhaps moss. With luck it would be done by the end of the following day.

She cut more trees down. She wanted something for the floor, she needed firewood, and in any case, she needed to clear enough space for farming. But most of all, she needed to be doing something, so that she didn't have to sit down and think of how much she wanted to slake her passion on someone; roll on some flat surface with some body, willing or unwilling, until her hot body was rid of its pent-up need.

After one massive, careless stroke of the ax missed her foot by a mere inch, Alexandra stopped. It frightened her that she might have had to dress her own foot, and ride all the way back to the city, bleeding. It was still light, barely; there really was nothing more she could do. She felt lonely, she wanted to see the girls, apologize to them for being so hard on them, to pet the dogs, to see her baby, whom she hadn't held in her arms for more than a day.

She took special care to put things away. The cabin was now almost complete, all it needed was something to cover the ridge on top. Two wooden planks nailed in the shape of an inverted trough would do. A center pillar would support its weight. But it was too late to start on something new; she was utterly exhausted. She had eaten very little, except the strip of bear and the boiled potatoes.

Having put everything away, including the extra blankets, she saddled up the horse, and noticed that the mare was missing a shoe. She looked everywhere, and found it near the road. It had been knocked off the last possible second before she dismounted. She cursed herself for not seeing it before. What was she to do now?

She led the horse down to the village again, the horseshoe in her hand. The silly animal frisked about, as if nothing was wrong. She was young, and eager to go back home.

"Hello! Ah, a shoe has fallen off!"

"Yes, I was wondering if there was a smith among you?"

The man grinned. "A sort of one, yes; there is ..." He spoke to his wife, presumably, and came out, putting on a heavy coat. "At this time, though, he—might not be good for much!"

"I'd rather not ride her home like this!"

"Ho, I wasn't saying you should, I'm just wondering ..."

They walked along the rows of houses, until they came to what was probably the village pub. The place was empty, except for a single man who was drinking all by himself.

"Hugh! Work for you!"

He looked up, and in the dim light, Alexandra could see that he was already none too sober. He stared at them for a while, and got to his feet and shuffled out to them.

"Put the stein down, man, come back for it later!"

It made no difference; the man wasn't about to give up his mug. He wasn't very tall, and he wasn't very big, but he looked like a blacksmith, with black hair and thick black eyebrows, and black eyes, and a black beard.

"Horse needs shoeing." Alexandra nodded. Her companion grinned at her, gave her a salute, and backed away. She looked at him in alarm, but he said that Hugh would take care of her, and melted into the night.

Hugh led the way further into the dark village, until they came to what looked very obviously a smithy. Lamps were lit, and Hugh put on a huge leather apron, and came up to the mare. He took one last huge draught from the mug, and gave it to her to hold, with a smile. He was a little taller than Alexandra, and had a gentle, quiet smile. He talked to the mare softly for a while, stroking it, and gently picked up its foot. He hooked a stool with his foot, and slowly sat down.

Every move was slow. He slowly pared the hoof down, slowly picked out the bits of stone, slowly positioned the shoe, and slowly tapped the nails in. He slowly set the foot down, and stroked the horse some more. He turned to Alexandra awkwardly and nodded, smiling.

Alexandra smiled back.

"What do I owe you, blacksmith? It was good work!" He shook his head and smiled. She pulled out her purse, and gave him a generous number of metal coins, because villagers famously had trouble dealing with paper currency. He simply shook his head, refusing the money.

In the end, at a loss as to what to do, Alexandra held out her hand to him, and he took it with great care, almost reverently. Alexandra wondered whether he had guessed who she was. She had been careful that there should be no mark on either her clothes or the horse that would reveal her identity. She clasped his hand, and felt his big hand clasp hers tight, but not painfully tight. And then, to her surprise, he drew her gently into an embrace that she would normally have pushed away from with a curse. But somehow, she found herself letting him hug her, wrapping her arms around him as if she had known him for years. When she finally stepped back, there was a glisten in his eye, but he was smiling.

"Thank you!" she said again, feeling happy. He only nodded, and gave her an odd salute, raising his hand.

The warmth of his embrace stayed with her all the way home. She was so puzzled by his behavior to her, and her response to him, that she was surprised to find herself at the Palace stables, with the stable-master talking to her. She reported that the horse had needed a shoe put on, and he checked the work, and said it was well done.

Three girls and two dogs came flying out of the kitchens, and Alexandra greeted them with a smile. How far had she got? What had she eaten? Why hadn't she taken them?

Somehow she didn't feel like snapping at them. She was tired, but her body did not ache, in spite of the hard work she had done. She talked to them and told them everything as they walked upstairs using the back ways that the twins used to go up and down, thereby avoiding people whose questions she wasn't interested in answering.

"Are you tired and all achy, your Majesty?" the twins asked, eagerly.

"Tired, yes, but not achy today," she said thoughtfully. "Last night, though, I was thoroughly sick."

They were concerned. But she shrugged it off. It could have been her state of mind, she knew. She was seldom so angry for so long.

"We could give you a massage again, your Majesty!"

"Oo, can I watch?"

Before Alexandra could say anything, the twins nodded. "Certainly, Lady Ninel! It is a good thing to learn! We can give the massage first, and then her Majesty can take her bath. We can use heavy bath oil, then!"

Alexandra laughed, surrendering. The girls took her completely over. A sheet was spread on the wooden floor, and Alexandra was asked to lie there, while the girls stripped down to their shifts. Alexandra was relieved to see that their demonstration for Ninel would be a notch less titillating than what they did in private.

A different aromatic oil was slathered on, and both girls massaged her at the same time, giving Ninel a complete and intelligent description of what they were doing. It was a lot more scientific than the kind of drivel Sherry had indulged in at one time, but still quite Belgravian in flavor.

"Mama," said Ninel, "you've gotten more muscles!"

"She's gotten harder," the twins admitted. "Look at her arms; she's almost like a blacksmith!"

"Well, she'd been working hard for months; she only stopped to have the baby."

"Where did she work, and at what, Lady Ninel?"

Ninel told them briefly. The twins nodded wisely; that kind of labor did harden the muscles. It was time to turn over. Ninel's eyes twinkled, but the twins were very restrained this time. They worked on her shoulders, arms, legs, and stomach, but left it there. Ninel stared wide-eyed; from in front, the musculature was even more well-marked.

They helped Alexandra to her feet, and took her to the tub, and helped wash her. Then she was dried, and the baby was brought round.

Alexandra ate moderately, by herself again, so that Ninel was forced to eat with Sophie and Genny without Alexandra's company. But the twins were there, and fortunately Genny and Sophie had their minds on other things. After supper, the twins rushed upstairs to Alexandra's room, and she had to give them a more detailed account of what had happened that day.

They didn't quite know how to take the story about the blacksmith. While they were clearly interested in it from a romantic point of view, many of the details did not seem to support that. Alexandra was sure that the girls would sue with great determination to come along the next day.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Blacksmith

The following morning Alexandra got out of bed, and tiptoed to the baby. She had slept nude, again; the room had been warm when she went to sleep, but had cooled off during the night. She had to wrap a sheet around herself to keep warm.

Little Sonja, though, seemed to be as warm as toast, pumping out gallons of heat through her little blankets. She smiled as she woke, and reached out for her mother, murmuring Mama in her early morning cooing voice. The puppy came round, tail wagging, to greet them both. She had a way of soothing Alexandra by simply being there, not demanding any attention, a complete contrast to what little dogs were expected to be.

It was still dark, and Alexandra expected to be able to feed the baby, and set her to playing, and slip away unnoticed. But the twins were knocking at the door in seconds. How had they known? Very soon all of them were dressed and ready, and an enormous picnic basket as well. Alexandra grinned at them in resignation, and let them come along.

Once they were out in the yard, and the cart had been brought out, and loaded with all the tools and supplies Alexandra wanted, which were now being kept for her by some of the garden staff who seemed to have decided it was not worth pestering the Queen about these things, the girls began to talk in normal voices, though quietly, not whispering anymore. Furthermore, the twins and Ninel seemed to know a great deal about where all this stuff was kept. Alexandra felt a wave of resentment against losing some control over her hobby.

Alexandra checked the feet of the horse, hitched her up, and set out. The baby had been left with one of the maids who was a friend of Ninel's.

"You realize you're going to miss Baby when she arrives," Alexandra said as she drove off.

"Oh, is she arriving today?"

"She could, if she's coming by ship."

"Oh, she probably would come by coach. The judge and Lady Sonja are coming with her."

They went along, hardly noticing the distance, as the sun slowly crept above the horizon. Much of the snow had melted, and there was only a little frost on the hills. They turned into their little path, now well-worn by horse hooves.

"Oo, look, it's almost perfect!" Ninel cried, and the twins gasped in surprise, as they looked at all the work Alexandra had put in the previous day. "It only needs a door and windows!" they exclaimed. Alexandra told them that there was a gap in the roof along the ridge, and she wasn't planning on putting in windows anyway. "Lady, put in a half-door! Divide the door in two, so that the upper part can be opened separately!"

Alexandra pondered that idea. She had seen such doors, of course; there was one on Lena's farm in Westholm. It seemed like something that would work well.

It was a day full of fun. Ninel insisted on first getting a lot of fish, so that they would not have to eat bear, and headed off to the stream. The twins stayed behind to inspect the sealing. They were very impressed, though it was lucky that Alexandra had found clay on the property. They suggested several alternative ways of flooring the cabin: with woven reeds, planks, and so forth.

"First," Alexandra said, "I want to make the door, and then a chest, to put my tools in, and then some furniture!"

Things went along smoothly for a while, and Ninel came back with her catch of five fish, ready to cook. Alexandra cut down an enormous tree, the biggest one yet, from which she was hoping to cut planks for the door. Then they all stood in a circle, looking at the tree, while the dogs looked at them. They all had to help haul it to the middle of their clearing using ropes, and the horse had to help as well. It was one thing to saw a small log into planks, but quite another to saw such a great old tree. It had been an enormous undertaking to cut the old patriarch down in the first place, and Alexandra wondered whether it would be wasted. That would be unforgivable.

The dogs turned around, and began to bark. "Look!" said the twins, "it is your man, your Majesty!"

Ninel shushed them, fiercely, though they hadn't spoken loudly at all. There, standing where their little path opened into their clearing, stood the blacksmith, smiling uncertainly. Alexandra broke into a surprised smile. "It is he, indeed! Why is he come?" she murmured.

He was dressed for walking, in ordinary clothes, not his grimy work-clothes.

"Welcome, Hugh, it is good to see you!" Alexandra said, walking forward to greet him, holding out her hand. He took a few steps into the clearing, smiling awkwardly, and nodding at the children, and took her hand. Then he took a few more steps, looking about with wonder, a surprised smile on his face.

"A lot of work!" he said, looking at Alexandra with a clear question: had she, and these children, done all this?

Alexandra shrugged, while Ninel and the girls nodded vigorously, smiling proudly. Alexandra realized that they had great pride in Alexandra's achievement, something that hadn't struck her until then.

The man inspected everything carefully, smiling at them shyly every once in a while. He finally came to stop at the enormous log.

"What is it for?" he asked.

"Oh, master blacksmith, it is for the door!" "It needs to be sawed into planks, you see?" "And we're going to do it with the ax!"

He smiled at the girls, and then at Alexandra, and shook his head. "Maybe a saw," was his verdict. Ninel ran inside, and brought out their little saw, a tiny thing of barely more than a foot in length. He shook his head and indicated the size of the appropriate sort of saw with his arms spread wide. The girls' eyes went round.
"Such a one?" "But we didn't bring one!" "It is for two people!"

"I'll be back," he said, still smiling, and walked slowly away, calling a low greeting to the horse as he passed it. The horse watched him alertly, catching his scent.

"He's gone to get a saw!" whispered the girls. "But how can you saw such a huge tree?" "You need a saw-pit," said the twins. "You lay one end inside, and the other end sticks out..." "Oh, yes! Or one gets in the pit, and the other stands outside; it's a two-man saw!" "One man, and one woman!" "One Blacksmith, and one Queen!"

"Hush! If he finds out, he won't be back," said Alexandra, using the most powerful argument she had. The girls agreed at once.

"Oh, your Majesty, you should ask him for hinges!" "Yes, indeed! Large hinges, you'll need, for a door so big!" "Oh, he'll certainly help you with those!"

"We can improvise with wooden hinges," Alexandra said, stubbornly. This saw business was detracting from her plan to make the cabin all by herself, with no adult help at all. But she was pleased and excited with the blacksmith's attention and his offer of help.

"Let's make the fish, and offer him some!" "Yes, yes! Come, quick, let's hurry."

Soon the wonderful aroma of fish frying in oil drifted over the clearing. Alexandra wondered whether she should have offered the man the use of her mare. But the thought of an enormous saw whipping about, mere inches from the poor horse's skin made her think it was just as well she had not. How big a saw would he bring? And what could she give him in return? She blushed; would he want another embrace?

He was back with a very large saw, almost six feet long. It had big, hungry teeth, but the blacksmith looked even hungrier, as he got the smell of the fish.

"Leave it aside, and let's eat first, Blacksmith Hugh," Alexandra said politely. They had enough plates and forks, and they had brought bread from the Palace, and soon they were sharing a wonderful meal. The girls laughed and joked, and the man smiled and grinned, and Alexandra ate, feeling strangely bashful.

He looked to be quite old, around fifty, she thought. In the light of day, he looked a little bent, but he was plainly very pleased to sit with them, eating fish. When they were all done, he looked at the twins, as if he could tell that they had done the cooking—their aprons gave them away—and said, "Very good!" They beamed and nodded their thanks.

"Ninel caught the fish!" they said, pointing at her, and he grinned an acknowledgment of her achievement, too, making her blush with pleasure.

"Mama killed a bear!" said Ninel, pointing to the carcass that hung rather pitifully from the branch. The man looked up and stared at it, and looked down at Alexandra with mixed amusement and admiration. It was not uncommon for women to kill bears, but Alexandra really was rather young for it. She felt herself glowing.

A sawing-pit was exactly what he had had in mind. He began to dig, shaking his head at the frozen ground. They gave up after a while, and built a fire. While it warmed up the ground, the twins tried to explain to the blacksmith the hinge they had in mind. They cleverly drew it on the ground, talking at him furiously, until he admitted with a smile that he knew what they wanted. You could buy them, the twins said, but he shook his head.

"I wanted to make the entire house by myself," Alexandra said, when there was a gap in the conversation.

"Make the hinge yourself?"

Alexandra shrugged. "I know no smithing, Master Hugh! It is a special skill!"

"It is dying out," he said, "in our village." There was a sadness in his voice that even the children caught.

The fire had warmed a small spot in the middle of the clearing, and Ninel was soon battling with the ground, huffing and puffing away. She soon gave up in disgust. The twins laughed and took the spade. They had a lot better luck. But there were lots of stones in the ground. The blacksmith offered next, and dug a narrow, deep hole, while Alexandra pried out many stones with a pry-bar. Once it was about six feet deep, the man declared it was deep enough.

Alexandra and he cut off the branches at the top using the ax and the smaller saw, and, measuring the length Alexandra wanted exactly, marked the point on the trunk, and began to cut the trunk off first. For a blacksmith, he seemed to know quite a bit about lumbering. Once the trunk was a single log, it was time to cut it into planks. They set one end inside the pit, and marked off the planks they would cut very carefully, with chalk, all round. Hugh smiled at the girls and shrugged. It didn't always go true.

They began the first cut. Very quickly Hugh realized that Alexandra was a lot stronger than she appeared. His eyes widened. Alexandra was so focused on putting all her energy into the sawing that she had not noticed his reaction to her performance.

It was a warm day, and soon they were down to breeches and vests. Perspiration poured off Alexandra as she sawed away. The enormous saw was a joy to use, and went through the lumber like butter. They were sawing two-inch planks. Once all the cuts had been started for nearly a third of the length of the log, it was time to dig some more.

The day wore on. The pit was dug, the log was set one way, and then the other, Alexandra got inside the pit and sawed, and presently they had six beautiful planks with which to make all sorts of things. Alexandra could hardly take her eyes off the things, and Hugh stood there smiling, with admiration for the woman; both for her strength and determination, as well as her beauty. Because she was, indeed beautiful, and the girls knew it. She was getting harder all the time, but at that moment, she hadn't quite lost her girlish beauty.

She saw him watching her, and quickly put on her shirt, blushing. He did the same. They broke for snacks, and Alexandra started trimming the planks with the small saw, so that they could be joined into the door.

Later, none of them quite remembered how it happened, but Alexandra was trying to find a way to thank the man, and the twins were asking him how a thing such as a hinge was made, and Ninel was telling them her theory about the method, which was surprisingly accurate, as it turned out. But they found themselves packing up, and walking the horse and cart over to the little village in the late afternoon light. (It was still winter, and the days were short, but being in the hills, depending on the angle of the sun, a day would be longer than it should be.) Alexandra would help make the hinges. "You're strong," he had told her, "you can do it." The fact of the matter was, Alexandra liked him, and didn't want to go home just yet. And the girls knew it, but cleverly drew no attention to the fact. If they had, Alexandra would have found an excuse to take them home at once.

The village was relatively unsurprised by the influx of a number of women into it. They went straight to the smithy, made the horse comfortable under a shed, and while the girls tried to light the lamps that lay around the workshop, the blacksmith put on his leather apron, and got out a sheet of steel, and a steel rod.

The girls succeeded in getting the lamps lit and primed. The gas lamps gave a bright white light when hung high from a rafter. Then he began. First the shape was drawn on the iron, then cut out using a combination of files and saws and chisels, and finally heated to smooth it out, and quenched to harden it. For the first part, Alexandra worked the bellows, watching. Four hinges were needed, therefore she had lots of practice doing it. It was hard, exacting work, using a lot of the kinds of procedures that were commonly used to make things on demand.

Hugh watched Alexandra closely, and a little anxiously. The question was not whether she had the strength to do it—she certainly did—but whether it interested her. The girls, who were watching the two of them like hawks, relaxed when the man's face softened with satisfaction. Alexandra was taking obvious pleasure in making the hinges, which was something most people would have taken for granted.

"Two more small ones!" she begged, "for the chest!"

He was only too pleased to help her. Again the girls designed a handsome pair of hinges for the chest, and Alexandra executed it with economy and growing skill. Looking up from the work, they noticed that a small crowd had gathered to watch.

"You've got your apprentice, Hugh!" said an old fellow. Hugh smiled. There were about six or seven of them, mostly men. The two women who came a little later to see what was the excitement were a lot older. They grinned at Alexandra and nodded. "Good for you, girl," they said. "Keep him in his place, you will."

Alexandra tried to ignore the innuendos, but after a while she began to doubt whether there really was the kind of innuendo she had expected. She also realized that the folk were mostly older; in fact, Hugh appeared to be the youngest man in the place.

Gently, without appearing to be too inquisitive, they found out where exactly Alexandra was making her little homestead, and whether she needed to make it livable in a hurry—was she in urgent need of a home? Realizing the kindness behind the questions, she said no; she simply wanted to get away from her city home from time to time, and might move in, with the children, if she felt comfortable there. To her surprise, they were very clear that they wanted her to come live out there.

"I'm very grateful for your welcome, but why?" she asked.

"It's the war, dear," said one of the women, "all the young ones, and most of the girls went off and never came back!"

"I see," said Alexandra, swallowing, suddenly nervous. "What about the children?"

There were a few, now living with their grandparents. There had been some movement out of the village into cities, even before the war, but it was those in the prime of their lives, in their thirties and forties, that the war had taken. And without a word spoken, with looks and their expressions, they indicated that Hugh's girl, or wife, had been one of them.

Finally the hinges were ready, and Alexandra thanked Hugh earnestly. The crowd melted away.

"Please, may I give you some money?" He smiled and refused, as he had the previous day. She insisted, but he kept refusing. "I can't simply pay you with hugs, you know!" He blushed deep red, and she blushed too, and it was a miracle that the girls were quiet, though they did smile.

"Offer to come help with the smithing, Mama," said Ninel, softly. The man brightened up, and Alexandra realized that what he wanted most of all was to have her around.

"Would you like me to help you with the smithing?" she asked, softly, though it seemed a peculiar question to ask, given her principal responsibilities.

"If you like to," he said, his eyes shining. "It's a good skill to learn, takes intelligence!"

"You think I'm up to it?" He grinned and nodded. "All right; next week, then! Monday."

He nodded firmly. It was settled. On Monday, she would apprentice with him for a day, to pay off what she owed for his help.

He helped them hitch the horse, and they rode away, with their lamp lighting the road, waving to him cheerily, as the Scotties barked greetings to the dogs in the village.

"He is so nice!" said Ninel, the minute they were out of earshot. "He is the nicest man in the world!"

"He is that," agreed the twins at once. "Lady, you learn so fast!" "You were doing all that smithing after watching once!" "It wasn't that hard, really." "But you have to be strong!" "Well, strong she is, all right." "But there's more to smithing than making hinges! You need to shoe horses!"

"I bet I could learn to shoe a horse," said Alexandra to the kids. "I'm going to ask Charles to teach me."

"I'm going to learn, too," declared Ninel. "That would be something I could do back in the village, if I go back."

"What about herbing?"

"Oh! I'd forgotten all about it! I could have looked around the forest at the homestead!"

"You do that, next time. Bring your bottles and labels; who knows when we'll need medicines for stings, or whatever?"

But the next day, Ninel came down with a cold. Apparently the exposure had been a little more than she could bear, or maybe she had been due to catch a cold for a while. A lot of the Palace servants had been going around with sniffles, and Ninel was friends with many of them. In any case, it seemed reasonable to ask the twins to stay and keep Ninel company, so Alexandra set out alone, with the cart.

Her heart beat loudly with anticipation. What if he visited again? What if he liked her? What if they were working there, all by themselves, side by side, and something happened? What if she liked men, too, and hadn't known it? If he asked to sleep with her, would she let him? What if she got pregnant?

When she arrived, she was immediately distracted with all that she could do with what she had. She cut up one plank, and made a saw-horse with it. Then she began trimming the other planks, and joining them. She had learned basic woodworking at the academy, as a practical skill; everyone had to learn two practical skills; she had learned carpentry and sewing.

As soon as she had joined the boards for the upper panel of the door, she heard footsteps, and Hugh appeared, holding two fish. He looked about, smiling, and Alexandra came forward to welcome him, blushing. "They had to stay home, because Ninel is down with a cold," she told him. She offered her hand, and he took it again. The shyness they felt was part of the wonder of what was springing up between them.

"I brought fish," he said, offering them, and Alexandra accepted them gratefully.

"Thank you very much," she said, "I prefer fish, but Ninel is the expert in catching them!"

"She spears them, I think, judging from the wounds!" Alexandra said yes, that's how she caught them.

He admired the panel, and without a fuss got ready to help her. He was wonderful at accepting instructions from her. While she got the fish cleaned and cooking, he started the lower panel, having asked her for detailed specifications. The door posts were put in place, the hinges were affixed, strips were attached to make the panels lie together to make the door, and the door was ready! Alexandra was delighted, and the blacksmith was all smiles at her pleasure.

They were a good team. The chest was next. Planks were cut, then little dowels for the corners, cross-pieces to strengthen the lid and the bottom. With four hands, it was easy to put it together. The hinges were put on, and the lid attached, and she had a chest! Then, magically, he produced locks for the chest and for the door. She stared at them, as he held them out to her. And suddenly something happened in her heart. It was awkward between them, but also warm, and somehow good. She stepped forward, and gave him a kiss on his lips. He stood there, looking strangely troubled. His hands slowly dropped, and then he held out the locks again. She took them, blushing, and thanked him with words.

She looked at the locks, and at the chest, uncertain what to do.

"I'll help you," said he, his voice sounding strangely rusty.

"Let's eat first," she said. He agreed. "We need stools," she said, as she served him a portion. He said that was true. Maybe a table, too.

There were nice big boulders they could sit on, when blankets were spread on them.

Finally, they were comfortable, and they settled down to eat.

"I know your wife is dead," Alexandra said gently. "Tell me about her?"

"She went to the war," he said. "I went first, but I got ill. When I came back, she went. And she was shot in Oslo. She's buried there."

"Children?"

"No. We never had children." She nodded. He spoke gravely, but it was clear he loved his woman, and missed her. At any rate, he longed for company; he was lonely.

She smiled, and he brightened at once. The way his face lit up when she smiled at him was an ache in her heart. She did not want to be the light of his day. But she knew with certainty that she was what he looked forward to each day, just as she was beginning to look forward to his visit.

"You have a daughter," he said suddenly, looking serious. "She has a father?"

"Well," she said, swallowing, "I have a little baby, who's too young to bring out. Ninel is—adopted." He nodded, understanding. "Her family died in the war, too, you see?" he nodded, looking concerned. "But my baby—I was married to ... I am married—to a woman."

The light simply left his face. She looked into his eyes, and he looked back, unafraid to look hopeless. He was past all pretense. She shook her head. It was so stupid! She hated herself for playing games with him. She looked down at her plate. She wished she was so upset that she couldn't eat, but unfortunately she was very hungry indeed. Everything was all wrong. As a human being, she didn't follow the rules. She ate several more mouthfuls, ignoring him. She had to admit the fish was excellent.

But after she had eaten, she didn't feel quite so good. She should learn from her mistakes; when she was upset, she always overate, and felt sick afterwards. She put her plate down slowly.

"I'm very unhappy with my—wife," she said, looking right in his eyes. He nodded, his misery taking a back seat to his concern for her. She indicated the clearing around her. "All this is—me trying to get away from her, really. I can't leave her completely, because I have the baby." He nodded, dully accepting the difficulties in her life. Could he understand? What was marital disharmony compared with being bereaved?

She searched his face, unable to carry on her meaningless story. He was a man who had lost the focus of his life; she knew it well. Unable to talk very articulately, all he could tell her was the facts: his wife had gone to war when he had come home sick. And she had died. He felt lonely, and guilty, and his bed was cold, and he liked Alexandra, and she brightened up his lonely life, and she was a note of excitement in his dull world. But she was sad and lonely, too, and she didn't just want to get away from Genny, though she did want that; she wanted someone who would listen to her, and understand her, and tell her she was right, and who ... who would make love to her.

"Go ahead, Hugh, finish eating ... I want to tell you something!" He obediently finished eating the fish he had brought her. It was good fish, and she had done a good job with it. He gave her the plate, and she left it aside. "May I hug you one last time? Maybe you will ... What I have to say is—rather unpleasant."

He looked at her sadly, and nodded. "I understand," he said. "You're from the city; things are different."

She went to him and drew him to his feet. She put her arms around him, and hugged him tight. She was from the city, all right. If her problem was simply that of being an urbanite, she would move, and there was an end to it. "There are more things wrong with me, Hugh ... I need a friend, I need a friend very much!" He gently patted her back comforting her. He understood none of this, but he knew he liked her. She drew away from him, so that he could look her in the eye. "I am the Queen, Hugh. I am Alexandra."

He pulled away in shock. His hands hung at his sides. She could see him trying to make sure he understood what she said, and then she saw him making adjustments for her shorn hair. Her hand went unbidden to tug at her hair, a futile gesture. She saw belief in his eyes. He fell on one knee. She knelt too. She waited.

He raised his hands, palms up, in supplication. "Your Majesty—why, why ... ?"

"Why?" she forced a laugh. "My horse; the shoe came off!"

He smiled. He was beginning to realize that in spite of who she was, he had really got to know her. "But, why are you—making this place?"

"The rest is as I told you, Hugh. The princess—the consort—and I are unhappy. I cannot escape the Palace completely you, see; I am needed there. But I can come here sometimes, and be happy."

She looked around; she was happy here. It had worked. She smiled, as she realized that it had been, in fact, a good plan. "Hugh, if you keep my secret, I could be happy here! Hugh, please; I'm not doing anything wrong! If you don't say anything, nobody will know! Will you keep the secret?" She stood up, and drew him to his feet.

"Of course, your Majesty; you are the Queen. I will obey."

Alexandra hung her head. I will obey. She sighed. If their places had been traded, that is exactly what she would have said. But she would have done it willingly. If she loved him, and he was King, she would have kept his secret. But that was because she was probably far more love-sick than he was. She would do anything. What would he do for a Queen who had sent his wife off to war, and made him a widower?

"I lost my love to the war, too, really," she said. "Don't blame me for your wife. All those dead; I can't take responsibility for all of them! I had little control over it, Hugh."

"No, Majesty; who can blame you?"

She sighed again. He was being generous. She couldn't ask for more.

She picked up the plates, and headed to where she washed them, usually, in a bit of a gully in the trees. He tried to take the plates, but she smiled and kept them firmly. "No, no, I want to be the hostess here. It is my home. It is my only home, really; I'm only a guest in that—other place," she muttered, briskly washing the plates using the ash from the cookfire. She kept muttering that she wasn't as helpless as the people probably thought she was. She couldn't stop; she wanted to keep him there, and she said anything that popped into her head, as if she was one of the twins, talking to herself.

"I have to put the locks in," she said. She smiled at him, and he smiled in reflex. "Will you stay and help?"

He hurried forward, but she laughed and gestured for him to stay back. "I'll do it, your Majesty!"

"Please, this is what I meant; can we do it together?" she asked, as sweetly as she could. He blushed deep red. Perhaps he resented her flirting with him. Since she was now so definitely out of his reach, he was probably very resentful of her toying with him.

One thing at a time, she told herself. She got the lock set on the chest, first, and realized that some fancy chiseling needed to be done. She had the chisels she needed, and she was actually marginally better at it than he, and he let her do it. He had brought screws for the locks, and she used her awl to start them, and set them in beautifully. She made an exaggerated show of enjoying how the lock worked. He began to relax. "Now the door lock," she said, and they installed that together, too.

They stood awkwardly, he wondering if he could make a break for it, she determined to keep him there.

"Do you need to go? I need help putting a ..." she indicated a ridge-cap. He nodded. "Do you need a metal one, Majesty?"

"No, just a wooden one, maybe with a couple of planks from one of the other logs?"

They did that together. It wasn't easy, but they managed. The roof was finally done; once she stuffed all the chinks with moss, the house would be rain-tight, provided she dug a rain gutter all round the wall.

"Now," she said, "what I'd like to do, is to make a few stools, so that you can sit when you visit!"

"No, your Majesty," he said, "I'll bring some chairs; I have many!"

"Oh, indeed you shall not. At least, maybe we can make a bench? Or perhaps a table?"

She kept him there until it was really too dark to work anymore. For the first time, she could put things away inside the cabin, locked in the chest. She didn't have to feign her delight. She put as many things away as she could. Finally, she packed the cart with the remaining things, as well as some of the extra lumber, thinking that she might work on some of the furniture while she was home at the Palace.

He waited for her to get on the cart, but she wanted to walk him home. She asked him if he would lead the horse, and she walked along, holding his hand. "It's dark," she said, "nobody can see."

"What do you want from me?" he asked, and she could hear tears in his voice.

"No more than this," she said. "No less than this, please."

"It's hard, your Majesty!"

"Call me Alexandra!"

"It is hard!"

"Do you want me to—stop holding your hand?"

"No!"

"I will try to make it easier, blacksmith Hugh. If I can think of a way."

They parted at the road to the village. He waited until she climbed on the seat. "Please, keep my secret!" she begged before she rode off. He said, "All right."

Lady Sonja and Baby had arrived, and Alexandra washed up and joined the others for supper. Baby insisted on sitting close to her, on the side opposite Ninel. Alexandra was amused at the occasional glances Baby shot at Sophie. The kid had grown up a lot. Alexandra knew what was going on, otherwise she would not have interpreted Baby's glances as being full of longing. Baby's infatuation had not decreased a whit with Sophie's devotion to Genny. Alexandra considered the ease with which she herself found a new object of devotion when each previous one was taken away. She wondered whether that meant that she was shallow. The twins stood where they could see her, and she had to keep her face under control, because the crazy girls were quite capable of saying something to start her off. Genny had Baby Sonja on her lap, and was feeding her while she ate.

"How was the ride up?" Alexandra asked.

"Oh, fine," Baby said. "The Lodge is doing beautifully, Alexandra; that Lena is wonderful. I really like her."

Alexandra agreed that they were a great bunch. She was startled when both Sophie and Genny heaved sighs. They blushed, hearing each other, but did not look at each other. Alexandra was annoyed; if there was anyone who longed for those nights, it should be her. The other two, after all, had what they wanted.

"Alexandra, perhaps it's a good idea to get some holiday entertaining over with. You could have a couple of old friends over each night, together with an ambassador or a trade envoy, and finish them off in a week."

"Oh! Are we supposed to do that? We never did anything like that before!"

"Well, it's time to start," said Sonja, wryly. Genny and Sophie nodded. At least they were being civilized.

They proceeded to talk about the social responsibilities of the Palace, and about their need to do some minimal entertaining of diplomatic visitors, the kinds of things that would have taken place if war had not broken out when it had.

After supper, Sonja sat down with Alexandra and laid out some of what she saw as the more pressing obligations that she could see. Alexandra nodded as she talked, wondering whether she should bring up the issue of Marja's proposed trip out to Belgravia. Part of what they needed to do was to look at reports that their ambassadors to various countries had sent back, as well as to set dates for the Council to meet. Alexandra sat up and took notice of that; she wanted the Council fully functional as much as anyone else did. She wanted Anna Francis, in particular, back in the capital as soon as possible, and for her to be given assistance to travel if she needed it.

Alexandra thanked her assistants, and headed out into the private area of the Palace, leaving Sonja to talk to them some more. It was a little scary to think of all that was expected of Alexandra, but would not get done without Sonja being there. Alexandra scolded herself for not thinking. Automatically, she turned towards the chapel, and found herself in the little private library. She sat down and began to think. If they could get through one year, she thought, subsequent years would be much the same. It was the approach of a kid, who did not really want to do anything innovative. If Gustafson were around, he would tell her what to do. Or at least ask why certain things weren't getting done.

She sighed, and reclined in the comfortable chair, thinking, when suddenly Baby came in. It was almost an hour later when she finally left, that Alexandra stumbled upstairs, changed and fell into bed, leaving the twins to deal with whatever was left to do. The last thing she heard was the baby calling to her softly.

The next morning, again, Alexandra slipped away early on her horse. Most of the equipment was stowed away in the cabin, and she had her keys. She rode hard and got there before it was light. She hoped that the twins would look in on the baby early. The little dogs had greeted her with wagging tails, but today she was not in the mood for company.

She had always wondered whether she could be attracted to a man. So far, she had never been attracted to a boy, though with Sergei of the Free Farmers it had come very close indeed. Most girls of her age in Norsland worried about such things, because of course it changed the shape of your life; you either spent your life around men, or around women. And the previous night had brought her very close to something she had never really dreamed of: sex with a man.

So far, she had been intimate with only Sherry, outside the Nobility. (Outside the Royalty, in fact, since she knew now that Sophie was of Royal blood.) With a warmth increasing in her body as she thought about Hugh the blacksmith, she couldn't help contrasting him with the far more aggressive Baby, whose attentions the previous night had been surprisingly sweet and thorough. She was grown quite tall—as tall as Alexandra herself—and full-fleshed. With the blacksmith, if she was intimate, it would because she was drawn to him, not because of his beauty, but because of his sweet, grave ways. But no, she thought, nothing could happen between them. If in a careless moment he happened to reveal who his lover had been, or that they had been lovers at all, the dignity of the crown would be badly compromised.

The little place now looked quite settled as she rode up the path into the clearing. There was a little widening of the road where she always turned off, which had always been there, then a narrow path between trees, probably a deer-path, and then the clearing, which was obscured from the road by the woods. She would plant a kind of screen of bushes, she thought, to give her greater privacy, a thought that made her blush. It was hard being at an age in which matters of the flesh seemed to dominate her thoughts all the time. She longed to spend more time with Baby; her freshness and her unique blend of earthiness and innocence could easily be addictive. With a sigh, she thought she'd rather spend the day with her cousin, out here in the woods, than ... than with whom? Than to be alone. But then, she wouldn't get much work done.

She brought the horse into the shelter, out of the rather steady chill breeze. She opened up the cabin with some excitement, and everything was there, in place. She closed the lower-half of the door, just to see how it worked, and grinned with pleasure. The inside of the cabin would soon be light enough to sit and work in. She sighed; she had left the lumber for the stool back in the Palace.

She started up a nice fire, to warm herself, and to make herself a little malt. Malt was a sweet drink for children, but Alexandra had remembered how much she had liked it, and had brought a can of the powder along. It would keep her going until—until somebody brought along some fish! She felt warm and happy at the thought.

Today she would spend making furniture, and the next day she would work at the village, enjoying meeting the villagers, perhaps seeing some of the children there, cheering up the older folks. At this time of winter there would be nothing to do; most of the work of a blacksmith would be in the spring. But it would be a good time to learn, without pressure.

The fire was going beautifully. (She had to be careful; if a large cinder were to be tossed up onto the roof, the whole place could burn down.) She came out, opening the lower half of the door! They had made a clever latch that sprang shut; it was as smooth as silk, with the beautiful hinges. She went to look for the wood stacked a little away from the cabin. It was green wood; once things were more settled, she'd begin to use seasoned lumber. She could provide furniture for the village, and make herself useful that way. She didn't want to live in the middle of the village; it was too close to too many people. But she wanted to be a part of it, even at this distance. It pleased her that they liked the youthfulness she brought to them. Too often of late it had seemed as if she were an old woman, slogging along with her numerous responsibilities and duties, her youth all but forgotten.

Thinking carefully, she planned what she was making as carefully as she could. She would make a stool exactly like the Free Farmers did. She would brace the legs carefully with inset joints, and then fill the frame with rope for the seat.

Cutting the legs was a little harder, but there were edge-pieces ready-cut; all she needed was to trim them into the triangular legs. The legs were not tapered, but quite square all the way down, like a prism with one side slightly curved. She made the cuts perfectly square, to that they would fit together well. Just as it was getting really light, she was done with the cutting, but now there was a lot of chiseling to fit the pieces together. But she had a work-table, and even a vise!

The malt was ready. She drank it, smacking her lips. Oh, it was as good as she remembered it! With great care she cut out the joints: oh, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever made! It would stay together even without glue or dowels, but she would set both dowels and glue to hold it firm. She got as comfortable as she could on a rock, got out a ball of good, smooth rope, and carefully anchored it; that was the secret. If it came loose, repairing the seat was a nuisance. Then she wove the rope into the characteristic pattern that formed the seat, making a few ornamental innovations of her own. It was a tall stool, of a good height for her, well braced at the bottom. She tried it out, unable to resist a smile at the comfort of it. Her feet felt comfortable, hooked into the braces at the bottom. It was an unqualified success. She decided that she would make all her furniture now, while she waited for the weather to make it possible to farm.

She immediately made a second one, taking her time, now, since there was no urgency. She could work seated, and enjoy it. She could hardly wait for him to come! Oh, he would be so surprised with her gift! It was a gift to him; and it contained all the love that had remained in her heart, even after she had given the baby, and Ninel, and the twins all that they could take.

The sun was quite high, now. Alexandra went out to cut down another tree. She had to take out her heavy shirt, and then her vest, too. She was so full of energy, she was perspiring profusely, even in the cold. She half wished he would arrive now, and see her, breasts and all. It wasn't that she was attracted to him quite in that way; it was more that she wanted to please him, because his wife was dead. She knew it would please him to see her like this, even while he felt alarmed that he was seeing his Queen half-naked. The tree was down. She looked about: there was nobody.

She went down to the stream, and washed the sweat off her body, and hurried back to the cabin to dry herself. Oh, how homely it was! The sun shone into the cabin through the upper half-door, and the floor was covered with sawdust, and the fire burnt merrily in the fireplace, and there were two beautiful stools, placed on either side of the table! If only there was fish, it would be perfect!

She quickly made up her mind. She would take the stool to him, so that it would be a true gift. She carefully locked up, because it was all so precious, now. She had put out the fire instead of banking it. She was taking no chances. "Come on, girl," she told the mare. She would only walk her, since she had locked up the saddle in the cabin. On the way back, she might ride her bareback.

The stool felt solid and heavy. It was not as good as it would have been if the wood had been seasoned, but it looked attractive, with all the sharp corners smoothed out with sandpaper, except for the four rough sides, which she had brushed down to reveal the texture of the wood. She would wax it for him when she had wax.

The horse gave a little whinny that made her see someone approaching her.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A Disaster

"There you are, Missy!" It was her oldest friend in the village, the man who lived in the nearest house. She noted that he looked unhappy. He had stopped and was waiting for her.

She smiled. "Hello! I was just coming out there! Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," he said, looking at the sky automatically. "There is bad news, though. Old Hugh has taken ill."

She felt instant sorrow. In the country, with their limited resources, the simplest ailment could kill. Fortunately, the people were very healthy, not prone to the simple ailments that seemed to afflict city dwellers.

"Maybe I can help," she said quickly, "my little girl knows herbs, and if she can't help, I could always get city medicines for him."

"Oh, he'll need city medicines, alright." They were up to the road to the village now. It was an unusual layout for a village; usually they tended to spring up on either side of a road, rather than off the road like this one. It was slightly uphill. The man looked at what she had in her hand. "Let me carry that for you, missy," he said, insisting, when she made to keep it in her hand. He smiled, and there seemed an odd something in his smile, a kind of worry. "You made a stool to give Hugh?"

"Yes, he helped us rather a lot," she said. "Anyway, the children liked him!"

"They seemed to be good children."

"Exactly what seems wrong with Hugh?"

"Well ... you'll see, soon enough."

That worried Alexandra at once. If they didn't have a ready diagnosis, it could be bad. "Old Ruth, our healer, says it's because of sadness. Then again, she says it happens to blacksmiths a lot."

"What happens?"

They were halfway through the village, and it was a lot busier than she had ever seen it. There were a few dogs around, and the village store, a tiny place, seemed busy. A few men were seated on benches outside the tavern, and they nodded pleasantly to her, though looking a bit serious. Their remarks, in their thick country accents, were made even less intelligible by their heavy beards.

They were at the blacksmith's little cottage now. The man was seated on an easy chair, looking very grey. He began to get to his feet as soon as he saw who it was, his eyes going round with alarm. Alexandra gently pressed him down, soon seeing the problem. From the way one half of his face hung, she could tell that he had suffered a stroke.

"He came out to the tavern around noon today," reported her friend. "It was a miracle he made it out that far. He can't talk, missy."

The man began to speak, to prove himself able, but the words were completely unintelligible, and the look on the half of his face that had an expression was heartbreaking, as he realized that he could not be understood.

"Oh, what are we to do?" Alexandra said, looking at Hugh, as the two men looked at her, and she wondered whether the look on her face hurt them still more. She quickly calmed herself.

The man, who had introduced himself as Isaac, remembered the stool, and gave it to her, and she offered it to Hugh.

"Look what I brought you!" she said, and a kind of smile glowed briefly on his face, and he said something that sounded like Thank you. "You've very welcome," she said. "I think I'm going to sit on it," she murmured.

"Can you tell what the matter is, missy?" asked Isaac. There was a flurry of sounds from the patient, which was impossible to decipher, but he was clearly agitated.

"I think it is a stroke," she said. "It is a tiny blood-clot inside a capillary in his head, and a small area of the brain will be destroyed. The usual treatment is to quickly thin the blood, but it has to be done within minutes!"

"Thin the blood! I'll tell the widow at once!"

Isaac ran away, leaving the two of them alone.

He said something in a half-whisper that clearly was "Your Majesty!"

"Yes?" she replied, bending close. "You didn't tell anyone, did you, Hugh?"

He gave a long, painful answer which she could not penetrate at all. He tried again, and finally made an impatient gesture with his arms, one of which worked fine, but the other of which seemed to have some impairment. "You had no opportunity?" He nodded, and his eyes filled with tears.

He said more, half-crying, a repeated phrase, an expression of hopelessness. She took his hand, though he tried to pull it away. It seemed all too much for him, his semi-paralysis, his inability to make himself understood, and his embarrassment to be talking to the Queen, and to have his fellow-villagers not know who she was. In fact, it was too much for Alexandra, too; she was wondering where her duty lay. Should she take him out to the city, and have surgeons look at him? Were there people in the village who could nurse him, possibly for a long time?

"I'm not going to leave you alone, don't worry," she told him. He only gave a long, shuddering groan of despair, and the tears poured out of his eyes.

Ruth, the healer, turned up. She smiled at Alexandra, and said quickly, "You think it's the stroke too, do you?"

"It does look like that," Alexandra nodded. "It seems as if the damage is already done, though. But more harm can be prevented by thinning the blood. There are drugs ..."

"I know to thin the blood, girl," she said at once. "Just as long as it's thinning that's needed, and not thickening!"

"I don't know! It all depends on whether there has been a burst vessel. If blood is leaking out, then there isn't much time for him, and thinning will make it worse!"

"Oh, good heavens! This is all beyond me! How will we know?"

"Beyond me, too, you may be sure," Alexandra said, shaking her head. "If I had brought the cart, I would have taken him back to the city, but ..."

Hugh began to talk again, more whimpering than talking, and Alexandra had to calm him down. She told him firmly that if he got too excited, there would be a lot of pain, and he would lose yet more of his body functions.

Ruth shook her head. She said she dared not give him anything, one way or the other, because of what Alexandra had said.

Alexandra decided.

"To save time," she said, "it's best to take him into town with me," she said. "I have friends among the doctors at the university, who will treat him as part of their teaching, you see?"

"On a Sunday?"

"Yes, yes," she insisted. "Is there a cart?"

There was. It was a plain, unsprung cart, just a box on wheels. It was the only working cart in the village.

Not knowing anything about what to do, Alexandra filled the bottom of it with straw and blankets, and propped up the back for Hugh to sit upright against. The next problem was to get Hugh into the cart. With a lot of help, she managed to get the heavy blacksmith seated in the back of the cart.

She climbed on the driver's seat, and headed out to the City.

Halfway back to the city, she was met by Ninel and Baby, evidently coming out to see her, without her permission.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, as they wheeled round to face her.

"Where are you going?" shot back Ninel, not one bit apologetic. "We were coming round to see you, that's all!"

"I didn't tell you to bring anyone out there!" said Alexandra, angrily.

"It's only Baby, Mama!"

Alexandra groaned. She seemed to be rapidly losing control over everything. Baby was flushed, excited by Alexandra's anger, and evidently also just by seeing Alexandra. "Anyway, blacksmith Hugh seems to have suffered a stroke," Alexandra said.

"Who's he?" demanded Baby. At least Ninel didn't tell her everything, Alexandra thought.

"He's a blacksmith, Baby, don't be dense," snapped Ninel. "What's the treatment?"

"It's complicated; they need to see if there's a leakage, I believe."

"He has to be brought to town, then!"

"That's where we're going," Alexandra said, impatiently, getting the horse moving again.

"Oh missy," Ruth had said earlier, to Alexandra privately, as they were ready to set off, "I bless you a thousand times; Hugh is my dead wife's brother, but he and I ... we do not get along, you understand?"

"It's kind of you to help, all the same," Alexandra had said, awkwardly. The widow Ruth had been married to a woman; it was a connection that warmed Alexandra somehow.

"I have, and I will. But he listens to you; it is good you can help at this time, if you take my meaning."

"Think nothing of it," Alexandra said, unable to think of a better reply. "I have a wife too, and I would help more if not for ..."

The woman's expression was sympathetic. "I understand," she had said, touching Alexandra's wrist gently. She seemed old, but Alexandra suspected she was not much older than sixty, or sixty-five.

The trip to town must have been painful and uncomfortable for Blacksmith Hugh. There was a trick to avoiding all the worst ruts on the road, but there was only so much one could really do. Alexandra drove into the courtyard of the College of Physicians, and was greeted by the gatekeeper.

"Your Majesty! Whom shall I send for?"

"I have a patient here, a friend, who appears to have suffered a stroke last night! Can we see any of the doctors?"

It was arranged in no time, as Hugh watched with frightened eyes, unaccustomed to all the attention. It was quickly taken out of Alexandra's hands, as they fired up their equipment, and proceeded to examine him, looking inside his brain without opening his head, using ancient devices that boggled the imagination.

He was given the appropriate drugs, but the news was not good. There would be no benefit from surgery. Years of strain and alcohol had made his blood vessels lose much of their elasticity. More strokes were possible, but could be prevented by taking small doses of simple herbal medicines, or even pills. He would recover a little of his ability to speak, and possibly the full use of his arm and leg. Care would have to be arranged for him.

He was being helped with his toilet; he could not seat himself comfortably for a bowel movement, and clean himself afterwards without help. While the nurses took care of that, and taught him what to do in an emergency, Alexandra and the other two sat waiting in the waiting-room near the entrance.

"How will he manage all by himself?" Ninel asked, concerned and anxious.

"Oh, he'll have family to look after him," Baby said airily.

"His wife died in the war, and he doesn't get along with his sister-in-law," said Alexandra, trying to sound neutral.

"Well, he'll just have to get along with her now!"

Ninel glared at her, but it was the truth. The widow would have to move into the smith's home, or take him into her house.

"Anyway," Alexandra decided, "I'm going to get him some equipment. A bedpan or potty, a wheelchair, like the one he's in, a pair of crutches."

By the time they were ready to go back, Alexandra had gathered all the equipment. She was careful to select simple, sturdy, tough things, rather than more delicate, elegant equipment that would be out of place in the home of a blacksmith. Ninel went with Baby, and returned with their more comfortable horse-cart in which to take the blacksmith back, and it was no surprise to see not only the twins, and the dogs, but also Baby Sonja coming along with Briana. It was going to be a full expedition.

Alexandra sighed. If Briana was going to hang out at the homestead, it was as well to have a little company; and as far as the little princess was concerned, she wanted her baby to see the place anyway. She wondered what the infant would make of it! She inspected them all, to make sure that their appearance would not give her away to the villagers. With great forethought, the twins had dressed in their relatively humble village clothes, as had Ninel and Baby, who wore their typical Skree breeches and heavy jackets. The twins offered to go with Baby Sonja and Baby and Ninel in the box-cart, while Alexandra drove the more comfortably sprung Palace utility cart with Hugh in it.

After they had set off, Alexandra asked whether Hugh would prefer to sit up front with her. The seat was the most comfortable place to sit, and had a back he could lean on. Using the hospital steps as a platform, she had been able to get him seated, and covered with a blanket. He was clearly unhappy, looking around shifty-eyed, wondering whether all this associating with Royalty would have unpleasant repercussions. It didn't help that the hospital staff had gathered on the steps to watch. She slowly pulled out, nodding thanks to the staff. She was popular in the hospital, she knew, since she had served a brief internship there in her younger days.

She drove slowly, enjoying his presence next to her. They sat close, to keep warm; it was a bright, breezy day, and almost half over.

He mumbled something at her, and she strained to hear and understand. "Speak slowly, and softly," she said, "it's easier when you're not trying too hard."

"Is—is that your baby?"

"Yes, it is!" she smiled. "I was going to show you her, but they went ahead before I could!"

"Is—is that your sister?"

"Well, she is the Lady Briana, who may be Queen after me someday, if anything should happen to me, or to Lord Karl Gustafson. She is a cousin, from Skree."

"From Skree. Ah. That is where Queen Beate's people are."

"Indeed. And Lady Ninel's home is close to theirs. Her parents and siblings were all slaughtered by a Bernian force. It was terrible."

He made a soft sound of sadness. "She seems happy," he said.

"A lot of sadness is hidden," replied Alexandra, words that she had not planned to say. She silently took his hand in hers; it made her feel better, and there was no one to see them. For such an important road, it was lightly traveled that day.

"Thank you for the—things," he said after a while, meaning the wheel-chair and crutches. He had paused and stared when he first saw it, but had not made a fuss in public. Indeed, he had hardly said an unnecessary word, being embarrassed by his speech. Taciturn to begin with, he was now almost dumb in public.

"They're nothing; life will be hard for you, my friend ... I blame myself; maybe all that work out at my place may have hastened this thing which has happened to you."

He was agitated at that, and protested mightily. When she finally understood him, he was saying, "It is the blacksmith's lot; it happens to many of us. It would have happened anyway!"

"Well then, tomorrow you can really use my help!"

That resulted in an even worse outburst, and she had to slow the cart down and scold him. She was very firm. "You must keep calm," she insisted. "If you have another stroke, you will be bedridden, and the widow Ruth will have to feed you your food!" He sighed mightily, and sagged. "She is a good woman," she said gently, "it is good for her, too, that in her old age, she will have your company." He was silent for a while, and then pressed her hand. At least he was willing, she thought. He is thoughtful, and not stubborn. She wondered from where the friction between them had arisen. It could have been something as simple as Ruth paying too much attention to his wife. Men did not understand those things.

They arrived at the turnoff to the village, and found the girls waiting for them. "Wait here," she told the twins, who had the baby, thinking that the less the villagers saw of them, the better. She had a vague fear that seeing the baby would tell the villagers who she was. "Baby, I could use help with getting Hugh down from the cart."

"Okay," said Baby at once, pulling herself up next to the blacksmith, giving him a cheerful smile. They were a strange contrast; he pale with dark hair, and she ruddy with the characteristic hair of the Geneva family. "How're you doing?" she asked him, with her characteristic forthrightness.

"Okay," he said, shyly, embarrassed by his unresponsive tongue and lips.

Alexandra took a deep breath and drove on. "I'll bring the baby out later," she told him quietly. He mumbled that it was not necessary. "Ninel, can you lead the cart up?"

"Sure, I can," said Ninel, jumping to it. She had become really good with horses, Alexandra saw. She talked to the horses, and began to lead them up behind Alexandra up the street. Once they were seen, a whole lot of villagers gathered round to see what had happened, help Hugh off the bench, and unload the equipment, and help take the cart and horse away. The dogs were carefully put in Alexandra's cart, out of harm's way.

The whole village was gathered there, and Alexandra looked around; there was scarcely thirty of them, children and all. Of the adults, there was no one under the age of fifty. She realized that their younger members must have all enlisted together, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces and cousins. The tears threatened to choke her. She turned around quick to look at the equipment, as Ruth awkwardly attempted to help seat the heavy blacksmith in his new wheelchair. It was a rugged one with large, fat tires that would do well on unpaved roads. The few children gathered round to watch, less than a dozen of them, all pleasant-faced and smiling, if a little thin. They smiled shyly at Ninel, who was too interested in the wheel-chair to smile back.

There were all sorts of simple adjustments, even in this basic model, and she had discovered them all. Here was a flap for the feet, here a brake, to prevent it from rolling off, here was a pouch for a few belongings, here a little table for a plate, a holder for a mug of water or drink.

Hugh was plainly unhappy, not wanting to be made a spectacle. He wanted to get off the thing and go into his house.

"You can wheel it home," Alexandra told him. "See, hold this ring ..." He grunted gruffly and began to move it towards his home. "Wait, look, you ..."

Ninel jumped forward. "To turn, you tighten this, here, to disconnect the wheels; then to go forward, you turn it back, and it goes with one hand, see?"

Too polite to be impatient with the girl, he let her show him how to operate the wheels. He was getting very red. With natural tact, the villagers backed away. They had known him a long time, and he was clearly well liked. Alexandra stood back, her arms folded, letting Ninel deal with him. She felt a bony hand on her arm.

"We have laid so much on you, my dear," Ruth was saying, "but I was frightened to death, I have to tell you. Tell me everything, so that I can know."

Alexandra quietly told her all that she understood from what the doctors had told her.

"Should we wait here, sister, or take the little girl to the cabin?" asked one twin from the other.

"I don't know, sister; we were asked to wait ..."

"But it is getting cold; if we walk now, they can follow by cart, can't they, a lot faster?"

"Yes, let's go; she will want that. Little Princess, are you cold?"

"Um."

"She says yes! That is how she says yes." The princess gave her a smile, and nodded. "She doesn't feel the cold too much," said the girls to each other. "But we're cold, aren't we?" They started to walk towards north along the road, and a few minutes later heard the cart coming up behind them. They turned to look, and it was only Ninel and Lady Briana, with the dogs, in the Queen's cart. Ninel cheerily invited them to get on.

"So what does she have out here?" asked Baby, frowning, as they slowed at the turn-off. "Oh, there's something back in the woods. What, does she drive this up there?"

"Yes, lady, it can fit through all the way up. There's a couple of tree stumps to avoid, that's all."

"Hmm." Ninel had the reins, and cautiously allowed the horse to pick its way up. Within a few yards, they saw the clearing, and Baby whistled. "Wow. Did she clear this all herself? Or did she have help?"

"She cut down all the trees. The blacksmith helped her saw the biggest one into logs, see there?"

"Oh, yes; heavens, that was a huge tree. Some kind of oak, I think. Looks perfect, no hollows, nothing! She slaughtered a tree, to feed her wood-craving!"

"Baby!"

"Well, she did, look! You don't just cut down such an ancient tree casually!"

"I didn't know you were going to say mean things about her when I agreed to bring you up here!"

"Well, I'll be quiet, but you know I'm not happy."

There was a place in which to leave the cart. They unhitched the horse, and it walked on its own accord to its accustomed place, where the hay was kept. The dogs raced on into the clearing and ran around, reestablishing their ownership of the place, inspecting all the fascinating scents.

"She's made lots of changes!" the twins exclaimed, when they came up to the clearing. "Look, the roof's all complete, and look, the door's complete too!" They walked around the house, comically inspecting it, and showing it to the baby, who stared at it, sucking her thumb. Soon Briana was being shown every little detail of the place that they knew, including the shelter for the horse, that Ninel had helped to make, and the remnants of the bear carcass, hanging from the tree.

"How did she kill that?" Briana asked, eyes round with amazement.

"She found three bears in a cave, and killed them all, like Lady Sophie!"

"My goodness; she must have been starving. How long has she been at this?"

"For less than two weeks."

"Two weeks? All this in two weeks?"

The girls nodded, looking around the place with new eyes. It was rather an achievement for such a short time.

Further up the slope was where all the trees had been cut down, and Baby marveled. Alexandra had cleared out an enormous area all by herself. She had used up most of the timber for the house, but there were still branches lying about that had not been cut up for anything yet.

Presently they heard someone coming, and Alexandra appeared. She looked sober, but smiled to see them, and especially to see her daughter, whom she took with eager arms. The dogs ran up to her and danced around them madly, as if they hadn't seen her for weeks.

Ninel smiled to see Alexandra and the baby together. Of late, she realized, Alexandra had become more like a sister to her. She was seeing Alexandra more as a girl now, still very young to be a mother. She knew Alexandra adored the child, and Ninel was pleased with herself for not being jealous.

Alexandra unlocked the cabin, muttering that she should have given them the key. They trooped inside, and exclaimed to see what she had done.

"A bench and a chair and a table! Cousin, this is amazing! How clever you are!"

"This is what we did out in Bernia, you see," Alexandra explained, looking pleased. "They farmed, but also made furniture. It isn't the best, since the wood is a little green. But there isn't sap in it yet, so I suppose it isn't so bad."

Baby tried out both the bench and the chair, and pronounced them very comfortable. Alexandra grudgingly saw how Briana brightened the place with her presence, as did they all, really. She felt insanely happy.

"What's the plan for today?"

"More chairs, and maybe get started on a bed?"

"Oh, yes, and we'll help!"

"I'll go get some fish!" said Ninel, always eager, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of the hunt.

"What a bloodthirsty child," Baby muttered to herself, as she helped light the fire.

"You should make a crib for the princess first, your Majesty," said the twins.

"No, a playpen. Why would she sleep, when there's so much to see?"

"Well, then, a playpen it is!"

"Why don't we make one? I'm sure we could do it, the two of us?"

"But we must cook the fish, when it arrives."

"We can cook and make a playpen. There are so many of us to help, sister."

"Good grief, girls, what do you need? Tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you. Your arguing gives me a headache."

The twins looked at each other in surprise. "Were we arguing, sister?" "No, we were not!" "Not at all!" "We were discussing, weren't we?" "That's all it ever is, sister!"

"Is he all set, down in the smithy?"

Alexandra shook her head. They were cutting up the smaller branches into dowels for some of the lighter work they had in mind. "He's battling the wheelchair. He wants to walk."

"He's using the crutches, then?"

Alexandra shrugged. "Not very well, but he's trying. He wants to be independent, and he's going to kill poor Ruth, who's trying to take care of him. I think they have a complicated relationship."

"Complicated already, or complicated now?"

Alexandra looked at her cousin in surprise. "Already. She was married to his sister."

"Ouch."

"Well, at least that complicated. I think there's more to it."

"Goodness. And she doesn't look forward to nursing him long-term?"

"Exactly.

"How many of these things will they need?"

They asked the girls, who said they needed exactly forty-eight.

Ninel arrived with more fish than ever, plenty for all of them. Alexandra sighed, wishing Hugh were there, so that he could have some of it.

"Oh dear, forgot milk for the baby."

"We brought some bread, lady, and with a little of the malt, she should be happy."

"Ah, yes."

Once the fish had been fixed they ate, and settled down to make the playpen, which took a lot of careful carving, because they wanted to minimize the use of nails. While they were all at work, Baby Sonja amused herself by walking from one tree to another along a stout rope they had put up for her. It was amusing to watch her walk along, talking to herself softly.

"What is she saying, do you think? Talking about some secret lover?"

"She says Mama and Milk, a lot," said Baby.

"Really? You've heard her?"

"Sure. She says milk, and I think she said Ninel one time."

"Did you say my name, Baby Sonja?"

"Nel-nel!" said the baby clearly, pausing in her exercises to look at Ninel. "Nel-nel?"

"Ninel! Ni-nel!"

"Ninny?"

Ninel laughed. "Take your time, sweetie; there's no hurry, we know who you mean!"

"Ninny!" said the baby, overjoyed at her success.

It made a great difference to have them all in the clearing together. Alexandra suddenly wanted to never leave again. She wanted to make a great big bed, so they could all sleep there. The cabin was only some twelve feet square. The playpen was complete, and now Sophie could stand inside it and throw bits of wood out into the clearing. The twins found lots of things to put into the pen, which the baby patiently threw out for them. What an arm, they remarked, thankful that the tyke didn't try to actually hit them.

Alexandra eagerly began to plan the bed. If she was careful, she could make it out of a large seven-foot-square platform which could be raised out of the way during the daytime. With Baby helping her, she made the basic frame out of large beams, slotted together at the ends, then pinned in place with dowel rods. They next made a latticework of laths for the top of it, interwoven with strong rope.

"Let's lay it down and try it out!" cried Ninel, delighted with the look of it. It looked like an enormous mattress, but of course, it weighed a lot more. The only way it would fit flat inside was to have all the furniture except the table against the farther wall, and move the table outside. Ninel lay down on it, and pronounced it quite satisfactory, but somewhat in need of padding.

The twins ran off to collect pine-branches, knowing where to look, while Alexandra and Baby looked for moss, with which to chink in the cracks in the logs more tightly. "I've slept on this stuff," said Baby, thoughtfully. "We could do a lot worse than a layer of moss for the bed."

"I'd be worried about creatures who might live in the stuff," Alexandra said, doubtfully. "Especially for the baby."

"I'm more worried whether there will be space for all of us," said Baby. "That's not a very big bed."

"What if we lay Sophie in a box, off on the bench, against the wall?"

Baby nodded. "That'll give us a lot more room."

Alexandra looked at her thoughtfully, then looked away, coloring a little.

"I'm not doing this for the reason you might think."

Briana stopped what she was doing and looked at Alexandra, noticeably stung.

"I only want what's good for you, cousin," she said softly, but Alexandra could hear the hurt. "If you want me to—keep my distance, I will. But you know I need—that kind of comfort— too, and — I thought it natural to come to you." She was an emotional girl, and accustomed to getting her own way. But she had had great respect for Alexandra, from the first time they had met. And Alexandra was sure that not even all their familiarity and shared adventures had detracted from that deep respect. And the girl was very intelligent. They both knew the dangers. It was Baby who expressed it first. "Are you afraid that—we may fall in love?" They were some distance from the others, and talking quietly.

Alexandra laughed nervously and looked away, turning to her pile of moss. They could hear the twins and Ninel coming back, shouting to each other. "How could it happen? You may as well be my baby sister!"

"How could it hurt me more than being in love with Sophie?" she asked, more a question to herself than to Alexandra. "It will come to naught. There are a thousand reasons we should not pursue it."

"We must be very careful," said Alexandra, weakly. And Baby felt an exultation inside her that frightened her. A whole night with her favorite cousin! Oh, it would be wonderful, even with Ninel at her back, watching like a hawk, curse her! "Ninel will be watching," said Alexandra, as if she had heard Briana's thoughts.

Baby sighed. "We may as well not sleep at all," she muttered.

"I'd better go find some meat for tonight," Alexandra said. "We've eaten all the fish."

"I'll come with you," said Briana.

Padded with pine branches and blankets, the bed was comfortable. Now they had to rig a way to keep the horse safe during the night, and Alexandra thought she could set the cart on its side to protect the beast while it slept. They only needed to wake in time to defend it, if some cat were to come by. She had not seen cat scat in the part of the camp in which she spent most of the time; higher up, in the hills, though, she knew there were cats. She knew she might have to fight the things before dawn, to protect her baby and the girls, and Briana. They were all precious to her, the most precious things left to her now.

Alexandra set out with her crossbow, with Baby in tow. The girls had been given strict injunctions to stay inside the cabin, and not expose the baby to needless risk.

"If I know those three, that child will be perfectly safe," said Baby.

"I hope so," said Alexandra. "If I could hunt with her on my back, I would." They walked along, with Alexandra watching the ground closely. Finally they found a pair of deer. With a single careful shot, Alexandra brought down the big male. Its mate fled in terror, as she watched sadly. Her own sense of being hunted made her oversensitive to such things. Being out hunting with Baby gave her a sense of safety that she knew to be dangerous. Not physically, but that she recognized herself clinging to anyone who seemed in the least bit kindly towards her. Her need to be in Baby's arms was increasing minute by minute, and she was embarrassed that Baby might be able to sense it.

Glancing at Baby as they squatted together butchering the buck before slinging it on a pole, Alexandra caught Baby glancing at her surreptitiously. It seemed inevitable; they would get closer and closer, until they would have to decide to stay away from each other. It would be the end of the deep friendship towards which they had been moving gradually over the past several months. It was all very unfair, mostly for Baby, who had found herself attracted to a very reasonable partner, Sophie Gutrunsdottir. If there was justice in the world, they would have found love with each other.

"Save the hide," Baby said gruffly, "it'll come in handy."

"I don't know how to tan them."

"I do. Just save it."

They were a good team. Baby wasn't patient and tactful like Sophie; she gave as good as she got. But she was smart, and she had a good instinct for what Alexandra wanted. It was easy for them, because they thought similarly—sometimes too similarly.

Suddenly, they were aware of a distant clamor. They had just slung the buck on a pole, and were ready to go back, with the hide wrapped around the carcass.

"It's from the camp!" shouted Baby, and she was off like a rabbit. Alexandra dropped the carcass and followed her, stopping only to pick up her crossbow and prime it. Later, looking back, she couldn't believe how fast she had run without hurting herself.

When they rounded the corner of the cabin, they heard whimpering, and before them was what seemed like a bloodbath. The horse was screaming in terror, and there on the ground lay the mauled body of a large cat. And Ninel lay fallen near it, holding the weapon she had used against the thing; one of her pointed staves, an enormous one.

"Oh my god, my baby!" gasped Alexandra, but the door opened, and the dogs ran out, followed by the twins with the baby, all safe. It was their whimpering they had heard.

Alexandra fell on her knees near Ninel, who was untouched, except for her arm, which was dripping in blood. "Are you all right, my darling?" Alexandra asked, hardly daring to touch her. Ninel who had been staring at them in shock, suddenly fell into her arms and began to sob.

Gradually, several long minutes later, the story emerged, as they all trekked up the hill together, once the horse had been calmed down, and the cat carcass had been dragged far away where the horse couldn't smell it.

As soon as Alexandra and Baby had left, leaving the children and the twins safe in the cabin, Ninel had ventured out to grab herself a pole, against their orders. The twins had reportedly gone crazy with fear and worry. Ninel had excitedly sharpened the pole, saying that if a bear came by, she'd open the top part of the door and kill it. They had told her she would do no such thing. "You can't kill a bear with a pole," the girls had told her, though they weren't quite sure that maybe Ninel just might manage it.

Ninel had been quite taken with the sharpness of her improvised spear. Now I'm ready, she had said, probably more to terrify the twins than with any actual intention of using the thing.

They had just begun to relax, and become bored with having to sit inside the cabin, when the mare had started screaming in fear, and the dogs had set up a furious barking.

"Lady Ninel opened the top of the door, and we saw the animal come growling down the path, lady! It slowly walked all round the house, and when it saw us, it growled so loud, we thought surely, it smells the little one, and would kill us all!"

"But it wanted the horse," said Ninel, still looking fierce, but too shocked to tell the story except to join in with an occasional phrase here and there.

"So what did you do, did you just open the door and run at it, you stupid child?" Alexandra demanded, feeling teary-eyed. She had hugged and fussed over Ninel, and now it was time to be angry, but she couldn't.

"Not right away, lady! But she did that! She stood by the door, and when it turned for the horse, she ran out, and cast the spear! Oh, it cried something awful, and it was dead already, but didn't know it!"

But Ninel had wrestled the spear out, and as the animal's blood spurted out, she had stabbed at it repeatedly, in a kind of frenzy. "I didn't know, and I thought it would come after me, so I went for its eyes!" she said.

But the first blow had been right into its throat, with tremendous force. Where she had developed that incredible strength Alexandra did not know. But Ninel was a spear warrior, a huntress, and her eye and her arm were fearsome things. It was a wonder that such extremes of violence and tenderness dwelt in the same child. Alexandra didn't know whether to seek some greater healing for the girl, or to rejoice in her hunting prowess.

"I'm glad it turned out well," Alexandra said, as they came up on the deer carcass. "But don't ever do it again, my dearest; sacrifice the horse. I'll build a safe barn for it soon, and then we won't need to worry. I don't want you to feel that now, now that you've done it once, you have to protect the horse with your life every time! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama," she had said, and Alexandra didn't doubt that she did understand. "But I want to keep that spear," she said, with more eagerness than she had shown since the incident. "It's a lucky one; my lucky spear!"

"Which will be never used again. Promise me!"

"I promise!"

They put the deer on a spit and cooked it slowly over coals, since they were not in the mood for a stew. Alexandra had left orders that a guard should ride out if she failed to appear after eight o'clock. Wilfred knew the plan, and one young guard knew the location. Around nine, a rider appeared on the road, and Alexandra ran out to him.

"James! We are safe and well, and have decided to stay here the night! I thank you sincerely for coming out!"

"Are you sure, your Majesty?"

"Yes, yes," said Alexandra impatiently. "The Lady Briana is also here, as you know, and we are able to take care of ourselves. A safe trip back to you, and we will be returning tomorrow, before nightfall."

"I have permission to stay, your Maj—"

"James, go now. It will be problematic if you stay."

"I smell venison!" he said, grinning, and looking over her shoulder, to where the campfire could be seen through the trees.

"All right, come in for a minute. The venison will be ready soon."

"Oh, I don't want any, not really, your ..."

"Well, come on; you have to be able to report that we're safe here! How better than to say you had a meal?"

So James had a slice of venison, and pronounced it the most perfect he could remember. It was wonderful to see how the girls smiled at him, for he was a handsome fellow.

Once he had left, it was decided to take the mare out to the village, and stable it there in comfort, without risking its life in the camp. "This time," Alexandra told the girls, "don't even look outside, no matter what you hear!" They nodded gravely.

Taking the crossbows, Alexandra and Briana headed out to the village, worried to disturb them so late. The village dogs set up a chorus of barking, alerting everyone in the tavern. They came out to see what was the matter, and Alexandra explained what she was hoping for: a place to stable the horse.

"Are you going to stay the night at the homestead, then?" they demanded, trying their best to sound sober, and in full possession of their wits.

"Yes," said Alexandra briefly, smiling. "We'll be fine, but there are large cats about, and the horse wouldn't be safe."

"That's true," they admitted. "There are cats, all right." They led the way to the stable of one of the men, and the mare seemed happy enough. Alexandra was now very much in their debt.

"I'd like to look in on Hugh," she said, almost to herself, as they walked back.

"Oh, he's probably still up," they said. "He never sleeps!"

"He'll be happy to see you."

Hugh was filled with consternation to see her.

"Didn't go home tonight?"

"This is my new home, over there," Alexandra said, with a motion of her head towards the north-west. Baby cleared her throat and went outside. Alexandra sat by his side. "How is it going?"

"All right, your Majesty," he said in a low voice, slurring the words pitifully. "Ruth will be here."

"I'm glad," said Alexandra.

They could think of no more to say to each other. Alexandra tenderly embraced him, and wished him a good night.

"It is not safe!" he said as she was leaving.

"Oh, we'll be fine," said Alexandra. "See you in the morning!"

Hearing them approach, the children opened the doors and ran out to greet them, disregarding all their instructions.

"You're back safely!" cried the twins, racing out to meet them, skidding to a halt inches from Alexandra, just when she thought they would throw themselves into her arms. Baby laughed her girlish laugh.

Alexandra grabbed one of the twins and threw her in the air and caught her. The girl looked at Alexandra, surprised and delighted.

"Oh, now me, now me, lady!" the other one begged, dancing in excitement. "Throw me!" So Alexandra had to set the first one down, and throw the other one. They were as light as feathers, and as soft, in their many-layered clothes. Then it was the dogs, and the baby, and Ninel.

They cleaned up, carefully put out all the fires, walked the perimeter of the camp, and once they were fairly sure that they were safe, they went in the cabin, and bolted the door. "Now we can sleep comfortably, knowing the horse is safe," said Alexandra, pleased with the solution she had found.

Inside, the cabin was very cozy indeed. The lamp had been lit, the bench laid along the wall a little to the side, so that Alexandra could go to it easily, the two stools stood facing the bench, and there was the wide box that they had improvised for the baby. It was filled with straw, and topped with a double layer of fabric. As soon as she fell asleep, little Sophie would be laid in it.

The bed itself was topped with soft pine branches, then two layers of blankets and a heavy sheet. On top there would be only a single layer of blankets, but Alexandra was confident that they would be warm enough. Outside was quite chill, already below freezing, but inside it was quite warm. They would bank the fire, but the coals would keep them warm enough.

Ninel and the twins were to wear socks. Alexandra herself couldn't bear to sleep with socks, and it turned out that Baby couldn't, either. Ninel was sent to the corner, the twins put in the middle, and Alexandra put out the fire and finally the light. Baby was on the inside, next to the twins. The blankets were laid on top of them, one for the three younger girls, one for Alexandra and Baby. Alexandra slipped in, willingly cuddling against Baby.

For a while there was giggling and whispering, as Ninel and the Twins got comfortable, settling in. The baby was still awake, softly singing to herself, as was her habit now. (It was a recognizable tune, which Ninel occasionally mimicked, provoking an annoyed yell from the baby.) She would soon be asleep.

Baby slipped her bent leg under Alexandra's hip, a soft cushion. Alexandra felt her warm hand seek hers, and place it hard against Baby's soft breast. Their mouths came together, and she tasted the sweetness of Baby's tongue.

It was a wonderful, quiet night. They were warm through most of it, and when the cabin got cooler, they only snuggled closer together, and it was sweet, so sweet. Alexandra knew that the twins had put Ninel in the middle, and were kissing her, but she could not be angry. They loved their lady Ninel, and it was so innocent that it was cruelty to interfere.

Baby pressed against her, pleasuring her, and taking pleasure. They fit awkwardly, physically, but at another level, they were like two pieces of the same puzzle, almost destined to fit.

In the morning, Alexandra woke to find Baby gazing at her face. She felt something warm on her feet, and knew that the dogs had jumped onto their feet and fallen asleep there. Outside, there were birds singing softly, and far away, a rooster crowed, and a cow mooed. And Baby kissed her. "Good morning!" she breathed.

Alexandra raised her head to look, and sure enough the twins were wrapped luxuriously around Ninel, their light brown mousy hair like halos around their heads, with Ninel's dark red braid like a bloodstain in between them.

"If I were any happier, I would cry," whispered Alexandra, snuggling closer into Baby's arms. Baby only sighed a long, heavy sigh.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Smithing

Briana was thoughtful the next morning, and noticed that the others were quiet, too. The adventures of the previous day were beginning to hit home. Ninel, especially, seemed subdued. She was a bright kid, and the encounter with the cat had taught her a hard lesson. Briana loved that girl so much, it hurt her to see fear in her eyes. Only the two servant-girls seemed unaffected by the events.

The whole business had scared her to death, though she tried not to show it. Alexandra, on the other hand, seemed to have no hangups about showing her fear. It was hard to believe how brave she was, even when she was almost paralyzed with fear. Baby remembered her walking with her late at night, to leave the horse at the stables. She had to think Alexandra was scared to leave the baby with the girls, especially knowing that Ninel got impatient, and wants to get out and fight. But, even knowing that the mate of the dead cat might be prowling round, Alexandra's feelings for the poor horse forced her to take a chance on the baby. None of them could possibly know how much courage it took. (Alexandra wanted to see that man very much, too. But she could not have brought the baby along, without putting the infant in even worse danger!)

Baby had hardly slept that night. She had been so fixed on Alexandra that long after Alexandra was fast asleep, she had kept watching her and touching her. She had the most amazing eyes. And everything that happened to her only seemed to make her even more beautiful. She was almost in love with her.

When Baby had learned the plans for the morning, she went nuts—as it turned out, unnecessarily. She hadn't understood that she was going to do serious blacksmithing, casting stuff, filing things down, and so forth. It seemed dangerous and tiring. They turned up sharp at eight, and practically the whole town was there. Someone had remembered, apparently, and they had been taking bets as to whether Alexandra would show up. Meanwhile, they hadn't had breakfast, so Baby bought all of them some at the village tavern. Alexandra had eaten heartily. The twins had to take turns keeping the dogs on a rope outside. Those girls were comic, the way they carried on with the dogs.

The smith was totally flabbergasted. Alexandra first brought Baby Sonja to him, and he managed to smile, and Baby Sonja was her usual diplomatic self, crooning to him. It was Alexandra's ploy to give the fellow time to get over the shock of seeing her there.

"Okay," she said, "I'm here! What have you got for me?" Just like that. He insisted that she should wear his leather apron, and she did, very bashfully. And she told him he'd have to tell her what to do if it was something unfamiliar. That was the first inkling Baby had that Alexandra knew some smithing already. She had missed that somehow.

There were all sorts of things the folks wanted, mostly special tools that were different from normal farm tools, like a large crowbar with a kind of flat end, with which you could chip off ice. So Alexandra had to do something completely new. She had to get a long rod, file one end down to a point, and the smith had to tell her how to do the flat end, by heating it first, pounding it with a sledge-hammer, and using a vise.

Alexandra was a lot stronger than she looked. She picked up a surprisingly big hammer, and pounded the heck out of that thing. The customer was in heaven; it was just what he had wanted.

Hinges were a popular item everybody wanted, made from sheet metal. The twins told Baby that they had designed the hinges on the front door themselves, and Alexandra had made them. So, thought Briana, she'd already spent a lot of time in this village. Anyway, the hinges had been easy, and apparently fun.

There was a lot of repairing to do. Chains with links broken, ax-blades that had broken, and so on. Apparently they didn't buy new implements, they repaired the old things and keep using them. It drove the smith distracted to explain things, and he was half crazy that Alexandra would hurt herself. But she managed somehow. He had been talked into using the wheelchair, so that he could be right there near where she worked. He was trying to show her, instead of describing how it was done, and it was frustrating him no end, until Alexandra lectured him on how she wanted to be instructed. The amazing thing was that she could understand him when no one else could.

Baby could tell that Ruth, the witch-doctor, was sweet on Alexandra. She hung around, telling them how the smith had fared the previous night. She said he had been fine, but managed to imply that he had been difficult. Baby knew exactly what the woman wanted: she wanted Alexandra to move into the village. That gal had way too many hormones for someone that old. And Alexandra didn't have a clue.

Ninel and the girls were amazing. With Alexandra working like a dog, they walked around the town having a great old time. They made friends with all the mongrels in the place, and happily accepted food from the townsfolk.

In the end, Baby helped with the bellows, and found that it was very hot work. In the afternoon, Alexandra suddenly remembered the incident with the cat, and told the smith. The fellow nearly fell off the wheelchair. It turned out that the cat had been seen prowling around near the village for a while, but nobody had wanted to attack the creature for fear of its mate. He had been unable to sleep all night, worried about her out in the homestead all by herself with only a bunch of kids to cover her back, and here she was telling him one of the kids had killed the cat.

"I'm not afraid of the cat," Alexandra said. (She'd told him to call her Anna, and he called her 'Miss Anna'; at least that's what it sounded like.) "I just can't be everywhere at the same time, that's all." That pretty much shut him up. And Baby didn't think she was bluffing, either. He must have seen the bear carcass hanging up on the tree. Baby had suggested that they use the carcass to lay a trap for the cat's mate, but the other two had seemed to think it was useless. The man said a cat would never come for carrion, and Alexandra said that the cat's mate had a right to live, as long as it stayed clear of her property.

Alexandra talked tough, but she wasn't arrogant about it. She was very soft-spoken for a girl with such a high voice. There was a lot of control, even when she wielded those big sledge-hammers. Baby had watched her chopping a tree down; she didn't hack at it; they were precise blows, exactly where she wanted to put them. She had become both strong, and skilled. She was losing her royal manner, but she was gaining control over her body. The nation seemed to go along somehow, she didn't pay much attention. But she was helping a blacksmith with his work, and she was doing very well.

All was not well with the old fellow, though. He's older than Alexandra thinks he is, Baby thought; he's older than Ruth. He just looks young, because he's a little simple. Simple folks look young. Witness the twins. They look twelve, though you knew they had to be at least sixteen or seventeen.

While all this was going on, nobody took much notice of Baby; she may as well have been invisible. She had expected that, after the previous night, Alexandra would —well— pay a little more attention to her. She didn't want Alexandra to think she was the center of the universe, or anything, but she had hoped that Alexandra would acknowledge their intimacy somehow. And she wasn't quite ignoring her; it was just that she was really interested in the smithing, she paid a lot of attention to the smith, she had an ear out the whole time for the baby — she always knew exactly where little baby Sophie was, even when Alexandra was busy. She even had half an eye on Ninel.

Baby was rather bemused at how wonderful she had felt a couple of times when Alexandra had talked to her. That's the way it was, Baby thought to herself; Alexandra says a word or two, and you're ready to roll over and ask for a scratch.

And Alexandra was gorgeous to watch; graceful and controlled, just poetry in motion. Baby loved to watch her face when she was concentrating fiercely. She has marvelous eyes, and the most wonderful eyebrows. And the most gorgeous face, altogether; not individual features, like perfect lips, or the nicest nose. But it all worked together, as far as Baby was concerned, and she couldn't take her eyes off her. She was so completely different from Sophie, who was thoughtful, articulate, so full of ideas, so giving, so feminine, so fierce and so impetuous! But Alexandra was a lot of amazing things, and she had one thing that Baby admired: she made you want to give yourself to her. In that way, she was a wonderful Queen. She was the perfect object for whom Genny could inspire loyalty in the hearts of the people. How did Alexandra do it? She was so far above all the petty, mean things that people did! In Alexandra's mind, being out here carving out a cabin in the woods was a selfish, irresponsible thing to do. And yet, she's harming no one, and she's only got two little servant girls, a cart and a horse and a few tools tied up in it.

Alexandra realized that she had really enjoyed herself only when she had to get them all together and head back home. The mixture of skill, intelligence, science and strength involved gave her great pleasure. Everyone seemed genuinely pleased with what she did for them. There was a lot to learn, above and beyond the actual skill of making and repairing the various things that were needed. From getting the smithy opened up and set up in the morning, to closing it all down in the evening, they were all important, and Hugh instructed her faithfully.

She had tactfully asked him whether he'd ever had an apprentice, and he had shaken his head. Obviously he had been frustrated by being unable to pass his art on, and even as he coached her with his words, prevented from actually showing her what to do —unable even to talk properly— she could see his eyes light up with an odd light, and a half-smile play on one side of his mouth. It was more than simply how clever she was at learning it; it was his sheer joy in passing it on. And he was a perfectionist. And because she could usually get things done the way he wanted, it was as if he had done them well himself.

As they slowly drove back, when the sun was almost down, she could feel her arms complaining, and she laughed.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Sharon

When Sherry slipped out of the castle that terrible morning, she was not sure what she wanted to do. Staying with Alexandra had become intolerable. With the Queen's marital status what it was, her Majesty should have been more circumspect in the way she expressed her feelings for Sherry. And it was getting worse all the time.

She had initially just wanted time to think, far from Alexandra. Once she had started, the urge to flee had taken control. She had been able to smuggle herself aboard one of the Belgravian vessels, headed for Athens.

They were all men. The security services employed men and women in equal numbers, but the military was all men. The Norslandish ideal of fighting women was considered strange and eccentric in the rest of the world, and many Norsfolk didn't even know it. Sherry had to literally hide on the ship; even the cooks were all men, and she knew better than to allow herself to be seen by the sailors. The Chaplain was a scholarly fellow who liked to sit up on deck reading his books, and Sherry found a way of sharing his cabin with him without his knowledge. After 24 terrified hours, she was able to breathe a little, realizing he hardly ever came below decks. And there were places in the hold she could hide away. It was really too easy.

It took almost a week to get to Belgravia. They took a long, circuitous path across the ocean, following the currents and winds that took them far to the south and up the coast, but Sherry did not know this. All she knew was that it seemed to take ages. And then came the hardest part, to stay hidden while the ship was unloaded, and essentially all the men went ashore. A hundred times a day she cursed her foolishness for having put herself through this, for having allowed the Queen to know her feelings, and for having betrayed her in the end by coming away, without a word to her. In spite of everything, she imagined herself as having been happy there, and she missed the baby, the beguiling smile she bestowed on Sherry when she fed her, her soft coo as she greeted Sherry in the morning, Alexandra's shy smile when they were alone together, the look of glee on the faces of the twins when they considered the prospect of some new escapade! Over the several months, these people had become her very world. She had watched the little princess being born, in the stark, spartan environment of the settlement, and held her mere minutes afterwards.

What would happen now? While she lay hidden, that first day she had decided she would plan. She had time to think, didn't she? But it turned out she spent most of it regretting having stowed away. In the end, when she finally crept out of the ship, tired and filthy and red-eyed with weeping, and hungry and a little ill, she had gotten no further with a plan. She had managed to eat all along the voyage, except for the last day, when routines had been abandoned. Two days of hunger was enough to make her so weak she could not think.

She staggered onto the wharf, and slipped out of the customs and immigration area without too much trouble; it was a wonder they could keep the place secure. Perhaps they weren't expecting stowaways on a navy ship. Barely a block away from the water was a dive, and she went in the back. Several men and women—cooks, waiters and other hangers-on—stared at her, wide-eyed. She must have looked a sight.

"May I have a bite to eat, please?" she asked, and was shocked at the croak that came out of her mouth.

They pointed out to the front of the establishment. She shook her head and said, "I can't buy a meal; I don't have any money at all, sorry."

They looked at each other, and Sherry wanted to be somewhere else so bad that she nearly ran out. But the smell of food was too strong. She felt the tears coming, but was powerless to stop them. She began to bawl.

"It's all right," said one woman, "there's some food you can have, kid. Wait over here; you're not supposed to be in the back. Come on!" She was taken out to a little hallway that seemed to head to the toilets. In the time she took to figure out what was going on, she found herself with a tin plate full of food. It was simple, good, Belgravian spicy food, and she wolfed it down while she stood, eating it with her bare hands. It had been just a couple of days, and she knew people had been known to starve for weeks, with no ill effect.

She could feel the strength pouring into her instantly. The shocked woman who had given her the plate broke a slight smile. "There, now, you're looking better already! You okay?"

"Could I have a banana for the road?" Sherry heard somebody asking, in her voice.

"A banana?" asked the woman, grinning. "Okay, why not?"

It was really late, and it was the dead of winter. It was not nearly as cold here as it was on Skree, but it was still pretty cold. She had good solid clothes on, Norslandish winter clothes. She was a little angry now, and it was building up. The anger was mostly at herself, but it had the effect of her wanting to punish herself, by doing something foolish. She decided that she would walk home. She would present herself to her parents, and embarrass them. Nothing less would suit her feeling of utter disgust with herself.

Armed with a single banana, she took a deep breath, and set off down the alleys, making her way to the big road that led down the coast to the south, towards her home. She would go that way about a hundred miles, and then strike off inland. She told herself, she had walked more than a hundred miles, in Bernia, from the settlement out to Farmer Karl's house. It had taken a week, or so. But that was with a crowd, and a cart. Moving alone, she could do it in much less time. Wait! She did have money; Norslandish money! She actually had quite a bit; for some reason Alexandra had given her a wad of notes, in case they got separated, and she had to fend for herself. She could exchange it for some Belgravian money, and she would have—let's see—hmm. She looked about; it was crazy to count money in this part of town at eleven o'clock at night. She stuffed it away in her pocket, and settled down to walk.

As it happened, no one wanted her money, and they were pleased to give her a simple meal at a couple of places for free. "A lot of students come through here," said one woman, smiling, "like you, having spent all their money! It's all right; I remember my student days!"

"Oh, I'm not a student! Actually, I was over in Norsland, and ... I felt so homesick, I had to stow away on a ship coming back!"

"Are you serious? Goodness, what a risk! Suppose you had been caught!" The woman had shaken her head, and Sherry got the impression that she couldn't quite make up her mind whether to believe the young stranger.

She ate hungrily. It was just light, about nine in the morning, and she had to sleep.

"Madam, may I sleep for a few hours in—in your barn, or whatever is convenient? I can hardly keep my eyes open!"

"I don't know—" the woman hesitated. For all she knew, Sherry was a liar and a thief.

"I'll leave my pack with you, so you know I'm not going to run away!"

The woman relented. "Oh, I think I can trust you! Go on, sleep in the barn. There's a nice loft, and there are blankets there somewhere. The children sleep up there in the summer!"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you very much!"

Sherry found that people trusted her face. Apparently everyone could see that she meant them no harm. The woman even offered her a warm bath, which she accepted gratefully, feeling very guilty. Finally, when she was about to leave, she offered the woman a little of her money, which the woman politely refused. A little later, she was off again, now hungry for lunch.

As she walked along, she felt a little less oppressed by the desperation of her situation. She knew how far she could walk, and she was careful not to set out to go too far. She began to notice more of her surroundings. It was odd to see only men doing hard physical labor. The women worked hard, all right, but they stayed with tasks that Sherry recognized as being considered suitable for women in her own culture, while they patiently watched their menfolk working, just as Alena had done back in Bernia. A year traveling with Norsfolk had given Sherry an odd perspective on what was appropriate work for her.

Sherry had gotten accustomed to having helped with everything from chopping down trees to building homes, right beside Alexandra. After the initial shock of seeing the young queen offer to help with building, she had thrown herself right into it, and the approval in Alexandra's eyes had been worth it! Yes, she, a twenty-year-old woman, had been happy at the approval of a seventeen-year-old girl, but what a girl she was! Tough, and fearless, and kind; an amazing blend of virtues that were, in Sherry's own culture, some considered masculine, and some feminine. Even among the Bernians, Alexandra had been a puzzle; at first only Sergei had liked and trusted her at all; the other men had always kept her at a distance. They had gradually begun to admire and respect her as a person, and after some more time still, to admire her even as a woman. They had admired her a little too much, causing much jealousy in Sherry's heart, which was all the harder to bear since she was not allowed to show it.

As Sherry walked along one day, she saw an old man trying to do some repairs to his house.

"Hello, sir!" Sherry called out. "Would you like a little help with what you're doing?"

It took the man a while to turn his creaky body round to see what was talking to him, and a little longer to ask her what she wanted. "What's that you say?" he asked with a smile that must have been charming at one time.

Sherry came closer and repeated her offer. "I was wondering whether you would consider letting me help with your repairs in exchange for a meal!"

This was all too much for the old fellow, and Sherry was sure she would have to start yelling, but fortunately his wife came out to see what was the matter, and gave Sherry a brilliant smile. She explained it all to the old man, and Sherry's offer was eagerly accepted. In fact, they insisted on feeding her first.

"Oh, it's terrible," the old lady said, "we just can't get any of the younger folk to do any work, not for what we can afford, anyway. And then they don't really know how to do it!"

"Well, I know a little bit here and there, but I'm certainly no expert," Sherry said honestly. The old couple were confident that there would be no problem. They had taken a liking to Sherry, and nothing she could say would make them believe she was anything but a miracle worker.

As it happened, between the old gentleman's know-how and Sherry's limited experience, the job was done to his complete satisfaction. It was a matter of repairing a shutter on a window that was letting cold air in. They found a dozen more things for her to do, and sent her off with a great deal more money than she had expected.

It was only the first of many odd-jobs that she managed to do along the way. Most of them paid a lot less, but she was gradually saving up a lot of money. She was seen taking money by a youthful group of fellows, who followed her and tried to ambush her. Fortunately they were rank amateurs, and Sherry took out on the luckless youths all her frustration for the past several weeks, leaving them all unconscious on the roadside.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

An Unexpected Stroke of Good Fortune

Once she turned inland, the going was harder, the houses fewer, the shelter harder to find. And then, one day, as she was resting on a low parapet wall, utterly exhausted by the cold and the walking, and the steady wind, she heard, back the way she had come, a horse pulling a light buckboard, the preferred means of transportation for those who did not care to ride on horseback, or who might have luggage to carry. She ran to the road, and signaled for the cart driver to stop.

It was a beautiful young thing, about sixteen, with lovely medium brown hair nicely pulled back in a comely but simple style.

"Do you need a ride?" she asked. "I'm going quite a distance, and you're welcome to join me!" she said in a soft, musical, but slightly breathless voice.

"How far?" asked Sherry, as the cart came up to her and stopped.

"Oh! Miles and miles," the girl said, her eyes shining.

Sherry grinned, and climbed up onto the seat, and the girl made room for her.

"I'm going back home from school," she said. "Where're you going?"

"Oh, I've been traveling a bit," said Sherry, "and I'm heading homewards, too. I don't know; I'm not sure I really want to go home, though."

The girl looked at her wide-eyed. Sherry felt the old feelings coming over her again. She really had the most amazing pretty eyes. They were just the perfect shade of blue, and clear as crystal. And she seemed very interested—about as much interest as a Belgravian girl would let herself show, or perhaps just a little less. Everything about this girl said class. She was beautifully spoken, a softer speech than even Sherry's, which was pretty soft to begin with. From time to time she looked at Sherry sideways, and smiled. It was a smile of genuine pleasure; as if she was relieved and excited to have a fellow-traveler.

"But really, how far are you going?" asked Sherry.

She took a deep breath and frowned prettily. "Well—how far do you want to go?"

"Now listen, this is silly! It's almost as if you don't want me to know your destination!"

She laughed, a light, silvery thing, expressing genuine amusement, as well as a little embarrassment. "Well, you're right! I'm—I'm really being silly. I was going to look for—someone, but I've sort of given up on that idea. But I don't want to go back, so ... I'm just going—that way!"

She was now very embarrassed, and blushed. "You must think I'm some kind of an idiot."

Sherry barked out a bitter laugh. It didn't seem much more idiotic than what Sherry herself had done. "It's your life, girl; go for it. What's your name, anyway?"

"Amy! What's yours?"

"I'm Sherry. Sherry Williams. Thanks for picking me up!"

She laughed, a little breathlessly. "Sherry," she said, trying the name out, and smiled at Sherry with that wonderfully appealing sideways look.

They went along in silence for a while, and then she said, "Tell me a little about yourself! So where have you been traveling?"

Sherry took a deep breath and started, a rather censored version of her story. But it was quite exciting enough for Amy, who was wide-eyed even at some of the more tame incidents that Sherry reported. Sherry carefully left out most of the mayhem, thinking it would be far too much for Amy's blood.

They stopped for the night in a large city, where they looked for an inexpensive hotel, and checked into a room. The horse was duly stabled, and the cart put away carefully, and the girls put their things away, and went out to look for supper. Sherry's first estimate of her companion turned out to be right; the girl had beautiful habits, and ate daintily. She was obviously upper-middle-class, and every little thing about her spoke of breeding, from the cut of her softly waving hair, neatly and un-fussily caught in a comb at the nape of her neck, to the simple, good-quality, beautifully understated clothes. They were the kinds of clothes Sherry had worn, until she had gone to college, and learned to wear the ridiculous fashions she adored so much. She was now down to a single pair of pants and a few shirts and a change of underwear. Much of her clothes had been left behind, and she wondered what Alexandra would do with them.

All through supper, something began to build up between them. Amy lost the simple charm that had characterized her behavior thus far, and began to show a tension that was uncomfortably sexual. She replied in monosyllables, and blushed whenever Sherry caught her eye.

This was a little difficult for Sherry to handle. On one hand, she felt protective towards the girl, who was evidently developing a serious crush on her, but on the other hand, Sherry had been nursing a serious case of frustrated lust. What was she to do? She was going crazy with desire for the sweet young thing, who seemed on the brink of throwing herself at Sherry.

As they left the restaurant, the girl made her move.

"Sherry," she said, in her sweetly expressive voice, "do you have a—a boyfriend?"

"No, can't say I do! Why do you ask?"

"Why, I thought, with all the sailing you've done, with all those—sailors, you must have, you know," Sherry could almost hear her blushing, "had some—experience?"

"No; I guess I just wasn't too interested."

"Then you're like me," she said, as if reassuring herself, "you probably don't like men at all."

Sherry simply kept quiet here, letting her bury herself.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. Her voice was subtly different, and it throbbed with emotion that was actually quite controlled. Sherry stopped, and she stopped. Sherry turned to her, and she waited for Sherry's scrutiny, head bowed.

"Amy, I—I guess I should have told you before. I—"

"No, don't tell me," she said suddenly, almost in a whisper. She had her hands tightly clasped together, and was obviously aching to touch Sherry, and god knew Sherry was aching to touch her—a lot more than just touch her, to be sure. "It'll be more exciting!"

That night Sherry found out what had lain inside her, waiting to come out. She had never dreamed she could be so aggressive, so forceful. But the girl had been willing; she had begged for more. They were back on the road now, the next morning, and Sherry had the reins. Amy sat next to her, sort of glowing with happiness and excitement, her eyes shining. Gone was her quietly assured, genteel appearance; she looked drop-dead lovely, desirable. Her hair was now pulled tightly back and braided, showing her ears; but the red woolen coat covered her up to her neck, and on her head she wore a knitted cap that kept her snug and warm.

It was snowing steadily. It was Christmas Eve, and Amy didn't seem to care, she was still high on the drug that was sex, and freedom, and Sherry. But Sherry was anxious to spend the holiday somewhere. It didn't seem right to be traveling on Christmas. At one time, traveling had seemed wonderful: to see new places, be with someone you liked, you created your own excitement, your own reality. But now she seemed to need something different, a change from all that. She didn't quite think of it as something she wanted for Amy, but it was true that the girl was there, and it seemed as if Sherry had to give her something. The kid had run away from home, but the sight of so many folks getting ready to celebrate the holiday made Sherry want to do something for her.

The horse patiently clopped along, through the snow, and Sherry was telling Amy a completely fictitious story. Amy hugged Sherry's arm to her breast, from time to time brushing snow off Sherry's face. It wasn't cold; the snow was the slow, thick, heavy kind that you could make snowballs with. Sure enough, they came upon a bunch of kids at a playground, who were busy building two snow forts. "Come on!" Sherry said, and Amy's eyes lit up. "Really?" "Why not?"

It was early afternoon, and quite light. They got off the wagon, and settled the horse under the shelter of a few trees, with some hay, with its feet dry. The kids grinned and said sure, they could join in. Amy was taken by one side, and Sherry by the other.

Amy was instantly their queen, with her beautiful looks and magnificent coat. Sherry was dressed more boyishly, and they treated her accordingly. The fight began on the count of three. Sherry grinned and let the fight begin slowly. After about fifteen balls, they began to turn on the heat. Amy's side had another two girls, and three boys, while Sherry's side had just four boys and herself. She made the balls for the young fellows to throw, and the battle raged fast and furious, until the girls got tired of it, and surrendered. Then the victors insisted on their right, which was to kiss all the girls on the losing side, which, of course, included Amy. Sherry watched with a grin as Amy endured the kisses of Sherry's teammates, four very good-looking young fellows.

They got back on the cart soon afterwards, waving goodbye to the snow-warriors, and headed out west again. "Oh, that was so fun," said Amy, wistfully, her face still wreathed in a smile. She had fought well, throwing hard, in the manner of girls. It was strange to expect less of women once again, back in Belgravia, after having lived with Norsfolk for months, where women were expected to do most things as well as men, and many things better. They went through the town in whose outskirts the little playground had been. It was a large town, well lit and decorated for the holidays, with folks rushing around with the usual pre-holiday Belgravian frenzy. There were long lines at the groceries and other stores, with folks buying last-minutes gifts. Just as Sherry wondered whether she should give Amy something to remember their Christmas together, the girl squeezed her arm. "No," she said, "I'd like to spend one Christmas not thinking about gifts." Sherry was pleased with her. Soon the town was left behind, and it began to grow darker.

On and on they went, and Sherry began to despair of finding anything suitable, any place in which to spend Christmas Night. Without warning they turned around a bend in the road, and there was a brightly-lit establishment. There was a large stables on the side, and rows of carts. Through the windows they could see hundreds of people, young and old, walking around with mugs of something in their hands, dressed in bright, sexy holiday clothes, and loud music blared through the wide-open doors.

It took hardly any time to get the horse comfortable, and to go inside. They left their outerwear with a woman who gave them a token, and soon they were in a sea of people, all determined to have a good time. Amy was a sensation, more provocatively dressed than anyone they could see. There was dancing going on, and Amy pulled Sherry in to dance with her. She danced like an angel, and Sherry danced along with her, until they were perspiring profusely. The sight of people ogling Amy was like wine to her, especially the women. She realized what a big lie it was that homosexuality was uncommon in Belgravia. In more than one feminine glance she saw desire. And Amy was wonderful; her skin shone with a soft sheen, and the lights caressed her every luscious muscle, and it was all for her, Sherry, alone.

They returned to their booth to eat. It would cost them a large proportion of Sherry's savings, but she was determined to spend her own money. This was her treat to Amy. Amy studied the menu with eager eyes, and asked whether she could have one of her favorite dishes. It was not a holiday favorite, but rather a silly food that children liked. Sherry grinned and said, yes, she could. The time to be an adult would come all too soon, she knew, and Amy would regret never having enjoyed these youthful delights. They ate, though Sherry found herself a little too nervous to eat much.

All around them, couples were making out. This was a traditional pastime, where younger couples made love more or less discreetly while out in public. There was a certain amount of privacy, but not a lot, and you were not strictly supposed to look at anybody else going at it with his or her partner, but in actual fact, there was a good deal of looking going on. Unfortunately, they were the only female-female couple, but so far Sherry had not noticed any hostility.

Amy had been drinking, and was looking all flushed and excited. She had her legs crossed tight, and was rocking back and forth, observing what was happening to the other flushed girls in their vicinity. Sherry casually glanced at her, and saw her look back out of the corner of her eye, a coy glance that sent her blood pressure up sharply. Amy's look needed no translation. "Okay, come on," Sherry said, and patted her lap. Amy moved over, as smooth and as graceful as a cat. She was wearing very little, and most of that was sheer fabric, anyway. They began to make love, and soon had an attentive audience of both sexes, watching their every move.

They had some good competition. Many girls were dancing on the laps of their companions, while others were up on tables, dancing frenziedly to the music. In some parts of the room, younger couples were actually having sex, unable to contain themselves any more, while on the center floor, half the couples were still determinedly dancing.

After much kissing, and cleaning up, and paying of bills, they retrieved their outer coats, and the cart and the horse, and headed out into the darkness.

"Oh, I'll never, never forget that; it was the best, the very best!" Amy breathed. "You were the best!"

"It takes two," said Sherry, smiling. She didn't want to push the point, but they were sexually very compatible, and certainly Sherry liked the young teenager in other ways too. It would be a wrench when they had to split up.

They had had to light up the gas lanterns of the cart, which gave a good white light around them, the snow hissing off the top of the lanterns. Beyond the circles of light of the lanterns it was dark, except for the night sky which glowed almost white behind them, and was a deep, starlit black ahead.

A couple of hours later, they were very cold indeed. It was too late to turn and head back, and in any case, Sherry was determined not to go back. Amy found a way to half-open her coat, to let Sherry share in her warmth. Oh, it felt wonderful, to feel the warmth of Amy's soft breast against her, and to feel her soft body against her side. But she knew, as much as she was feeling warmer, Amy was probably feeling a little colder. The open coat let in a lot of cold air. If they didn't remember anything else, they would never forget this cold, Sherry thought.

Sherry was the first to see a dark bulk against the sky. Through the tops of the trees on one side of the road, she could see the tall outline of something that looked like a school, or a factory. As they came closer, it was seen to be a church. There were lights in the windows. Sherry's hopes rose, just as Amy said, "It's a convent."

"A convent? How can you tell?"

"I don't know; it looks like one," said Amy. "See, tall walls, a chapel..." Soon they came upon a signpost, which confirmed the guess. 'Convent of St Amy', it said. There were now so many new saints that it was hard to keep track of them all. And only the saints who were specifically associated with the kind of renunciation that the monastic life entailed were patron saints of monastic orders.

"Well, your patron saint, no doubt," Sherry said.

"We should get shelter here; it's too cold to keep going."

"You're right," said Sherry. "Here, put on your coat properly. If they see us like this, they'll never take us in ..."

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Amy said. "It is Christmas, after all." They turned the horse up the road to the convent, and the horse perked up and picked its way forward. There was a bell-rope to pull, and a nun in a traditional black habit and carrying a lantern came out to see what they wanted.

"Hello! Can we help you?"

"We're heading west on the highway, and it's getting a bit cold; could we stay the night, please?"

"Oh ... let me see you ..." she held out the lantern she was holding, and took a good look at them. "I'm sure we can find you a room; it's a cold night to be traveling!"

"Yes; we just keep going, a few miles every day ..."

"The horse needs to be under a roof, anyway. You can't keep her on the road all night!"

"Yes," said Amy, quickly. "Do you have stables?"

They had, and they were glad to take the animal in. Several sisters came out, and horse was taken away, the cart was put in a garage, and they were bustled into the convent proper.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes, at the restaurant up the road."

"Ah, yes. Of course, you couldn't sleep there, I suppose!"

"No, it didn't seem a restful place!"

The sister in charge of them giggled, and they realized that she was quite young. She was a mousy little thing, soft-spoken and serious.

"So you'll go straight to bed, then? Or will you come down for mass? It's almost time!"

"Oh, bed, I suppose," Sherry said doubtfully.

"Oh please, Sherry," said Amy, "let's go to their celebration, shall we? I want to go with you!"

The nun turned around and smiled at them. She must have thought that Amy was cute. Sherry shrugged and grinned at her.

"Perhaps we should clean up a little," Sherry said.

"I'll wait outside," said the sister. "There isn't time for a shower, but there is a sink over there," she said, pointing, "and you can wash up quickly."

"Thanks, we'll be right out," said Sherry. The nun went out and shut the door. She turned to Amy and told her to go ahead.

Amy took off the heavy outer coat, and stood revealed in her skimpy little costume. She stretched and yawned, giggling a little, before she headed over to the sink and opened the tap. The water was cold, and she squeaked as she tested it. Sherry sighed; this could take too long. She undressed, selected one of the towels and wore it around her waist, and came to the sink. "I'll go first," she said, "you get some clothes out."

"I want to wash with you!"

"All right, wash, then!"

"It's too cold!"

Sherry groaned. "Get out of those, quick. We're making the sister late with our antics."

Amy's eyes widened with alarm, and began to undress. Sherry quickly began to wash in the ice-cold water. There was liquid soap in a dispenser, and after a while the water began to warm up. "I'm getting warmer water now," said Sherry, as she carefully splashed her face with it, and then her upper-body, and finally wet a wash-cloth and washed as much of herself as there was time for. Amy came up, and declared it wasn't too bad. They wiped themselves off, smiling at each other. Amy found everything a reason to smile; she simply loved Sherry's company.

While Amy put on demure clothes suitable for the occasion, Sherry put on a skirt and a blouse. It was a lot better than what she had worn thus far, and Amy's eyes lit up with approval. She only had her rough boots to wear on her feet, but they would have to do; she had left her shoes with Alexandra.

The sister was waiting for them patiently. The three of them hurried along the halls, and finally approached the large chapel. They slipped in the back, sat down and the celebration began.

As it unfolded, Sherry found her eyes brimming with tears. She couldn't help remembering similar occasions in her childhood, before all this turmoil had torn her from her loving, peaceful family. Then, last Christmas had been a simple celebration with the very pregnant Alexandra, and Ninel, and Sophie, as well as their close friends among the Free Farmers. This was different, among strangers, with only Amy at her side, sweetly holding her hand. Was Amy some angel, sent to protect her and comfort her? Sherry was deeply distrustful of the feeling of warmth Amy kindled in her. They would have to part, the sooner the better, or the parting would be difficult.

Amy sang happily, while Sherry couldn't find it in her to sing at all. She could imagine learning to forget Alexandra, and seeing her life revolving around Amy, soft, gentle, loving Amy. The thought of Alexandra immediately brought an image of her, strong, tall and quiet. She could almost smell Alexandra's warm, horsey smell, almost see her intense grey eyes, and almost feel her large hands on her body. How she had changed when she was pregnant! She had become so soft and feminine; and they had taken such pleasure in spoiling her! But Alexandra was far from a spoiled princess. There was a little self-centeredness there, certainly. But she was kind and giving; together, the two of them had been the best they could be.

The service finally came to an end. Sherry had enjoyed it without noticing any details. It had been a soft, dreamlike experience during which she had been mostly elsewhere, occasionally dropping back when Amy's grip became a little more insistent, or when she let go to open a book.

They were outside now, and everyone was wishing everyone else a Merry Christmas. The sisters were all types, tall, short, thin and fat, merry-faced and sober-faced, about fifty of them.

"Welcome to St Amy's!" said one particularly garrulous one, "Where are you headed, in this cold weather?"

"Oh, Sister Mary Elizabeth, leave them alone; it's none of our business!" said their friend, the sister who had been assigned to them. They still didn't know her name.

"Will they stay long, or will they leave in the morning?" insisted Mary Elizabeth.

"They'll probably stay until the snow lets up, I suppose!" said their friend, looking at them.

"Yes," said Sherry and Amy together, nodding, and then Sherry continued, "it's hard on the horse."

"Oh, of course it is," agreed Mary Elizabeth. "Well, there's plenty of time tomorrow to meet everybody! It won't stop snowing anytime soon."

"We never learned your name!" said Sherry with a smile, as their sister brought them safely back to their room.

"Oh, I'm Sister Agnes," she said, and her smile made her almost pretty.

"I'm Sherry, and this is Amy," said Sherry, holding out her hand.

"Oh!" said Agnes, smiling at Amy. "I hope you like animals, like our patron saint!"

"Oh, yes, I do!" said Amy, smiling. They stood there for a minute, smiling at each other, after which Agnes wished them goodnight, and they went into their room.

"She's nice," said Amy thoughtfully.

Sherry didn't answer; instead, she headed to the little window over the sink. There was a gas light on a post below and across from them, and snowflakes were drifting past it at a slight angle, and as little wind gusts disturbed the even flow of the air, they swirled about, and settled down to fall steadily once more. There was now almost a foot of snow on the ground, as she could see from the walkway up to the entrance, which a sister was shoveling as they watched. Did they keep it up all night? Sherry wondered.

"Sherry?"

"Yes, baby."

"Come to bed!"

Amy's eyes shone in the dim light through the window. Sherry knew she would be naked under the sheets. She carefully undressed and slipped in beside the younger girl. Without a word, they made love, in the odd style that Amy preferred. Sherry had very little experience to compare it to; all she knew was that the way she made love with Alexandra was different. Perhaps all women were different, Sherry thought, as she opened up to Amy's insistent little hand.

The soft scrape of metal on concrete woke them up; someone was shoveling snow already. It was barely light. Sherry quickly slipped out of bed, and put on her warmest clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought I'll help shovel the snow!"

"Oh!" Amy rubbed her eyes sleepily. "They probably have it all organized, Sherry. Come to bed!"

Sherry smiled and tweaked Amy's nose. She hated that, but Sherry was above all reproach, she knew. She headed out of the room, and downstairs, and found the big outside door with some difficulty. It was really a maze.
The sister doing the shoveling was surprised to see her.

"Hi!" she said cheerily. "What're you doing out here?"

"I came to help," said Sherry with a smile. "Shall I do a little?"

"Oh! Okay, here." She held out the shovel.

Despite living in Norsland for so long, and in Bernia, Sherry had done little actual snow shoveling. But she bent to it willingly, and soon had one side done. The nun took the shovel from her, and they began to talk as they worked, taking turns frequently. It was all done in half an hour.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Come on!"

It was a happy place, and Amy loved every minute of their stay, while Sherry longed to be off. Three days later it stopped snowing, and the nuns bade them farewell. Many of them had taken a liking to Amy, who had been more outgoing, and more involved in their activities. Sherry had stayed aloof from the life of the convent.

The horse had been well cared-for. They set out over the snow-white road which had been ploughed earlier that morning, the horse making a soft clopping noise on the thin layer of snow. Amy snuggled against Sherry, and began to murmur soft loving words at her.

"Oh Amy, stop that," said Sherry, impatiently.

"Why?" asked she, sounding hurt.

"You know sooner or later we'll have to go our separate ways; why get all mushy and sentimental, and make it harder for ourselves?"

"But I thought ... I thought ..." Amy seemed to choke. Oh god, Sherry thought, why did I have to start this now? "Sherry ... I could come with you, wherever you're going!"

"I don't know where I'm going! I might go home, I might ... just drift ... I don't know!"

"Well, let's talk about this! You don't know where you want to go, I don't know where I want to go, only I like you, and you l-like me—you used to like me!"

"I do, Amy; you're cute, and you're good-hearted and a lot of fun."

"But?"

"I'm kind of just—I don't know."

"You've just broken up with another girl."

"Yes."

"Well, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing! Nothing, Amy; you're wonderful."

"No, I'm not. I'm weak, and helpless, and I can't do a thing for myself. And you've had enough of protecting people."

"Well, something like that."

They rode in silence for a long time, until Sherry began to worry, thinking that she had hurt Amy too badly to repair their relationship. She turned to glance at her companion. Amy had her chin out, looking determined. There was a glint in her eye as she glanced sideways at Sherry.

"I'm sorry; I should have been more tactful," mumbled Sherry. She had shocked herself with what she had done.

"No, I appreciate your honesty."

"Well, I guess I can't continue to accompany you. I'll get off when you tell me to."

Amy made an impatient gesture. "I was the one who said I was going as far as you wanted. We can take separate rooms, if you like."

Sherry felt sick with guilt. Amy was letting her have exactly what she deserved. And it wasn't deliberate, either. It was pure instinctive decency. Amy was everything Sherry had fancied herself: a real lady.

Sherry had expected things to be difficult from then on, but Amy showed just the right degree of warmth to make things easy for Sherry. Her smile was friendly, but not intimate. She did not touch her unnecessarily, and when the cart lurched, as happened sometimes, it was a cool touch on her arm. When she left the convent, she had dressed rather sedately in a calf-length skirt and jacket and warm boots, and a knitted cap, and when they arrived at a rather large town, one that Sherry remembered from her younger days, Amy offered to buy Sherry a change of clothes. Sherry wondered whether her foreign-looking clothing bothered the younger girl.

"Do I look awkward in these?"

"Oh no, not at all; I just got the feeling that you hadn't brought all your clothes, and I thought you'd like to have a change, perhaps?"

Sherry had rediscovered a sense of independence in herself. She had always been independent; this was why she had refused to accept her parents' offer of finding work for her near home, and gone to the capital to apply to the Palace security. Now, it hurt her to accept charity from Amy, however well-meant. She decided to change into clothes more acceptable to Amy at the first opportunity. After all, two could play this game of accommodation.

They ate a simple meal at a restaurant, and while Amy had a little dessert and read the newspaper, Sherry changed. She walked back to their table, feeling a little excited. It was impossible to ignore that Amy's approval was still important to her. To her surprise, Amy's face showed great agitation.

"What's the matter?"

Amy handed the newspaper over. There was a photograph of Amy, evidently taken a few years back, under the caption 'Have you seen this girl?' The rest of the article stated that young Amy Banks of Springfield had either run away from home, or had been abducted. Any information would be appreciated.

"What are you going to do?" asked Sherry calmly. Amy had gotten herself under control by then.

She shrugged. "I'd better call home, I suppose."

"What will you say?"

"I'll say that I'm doing something, and I'll be back in two weeks, and they're to call off this—this manhunt!"

"If you're going back, why not go back now? I'll find my way home alone."

"No. I refuse to be bullied like this."

"Amy, you should have told them you wanted some time to yourself. They may have let you go without a fuss." Amy hung her head. "It's the uncertainty, not bullying."

"How can you know?"

Sherry thought. Having spent a few days with Amy, she had a pretty good idea of what her parents would be like, and they were very unlikely to be unreasonable people. But she didn't want to explain all this. She simply shrugged.

They found a telephone office, paid the money, and were assigned to a kiosk.

Many long minutes later, Amy emerged triumphant, with permission to accompany Sherry home, after which she was to take a train back, leaving the cart and horse to be collected later. Trains were the preferred form of long-distance travel. To work this miracle, Sherry had had to speak to Amy's mother, and promise to look after their daughter.

"Miss Williams, Amy's father and I must depend on you to look after her; we don't have any alternative, short of having her taken in by the police!"

"I understand."

Now they were back on the cart, heading west. Sherry's plans to simply travel around aimlessly were now no use; she had to go home, and she was strangely thankful to be forced to do that. She was also eager to show Amy her home; she was proud of her parents, and of her friend Amy, and she was actually looking forward to this. She wondered whether to stop and call ahead the next chance she got.

"What are you thinking?"

"I was wondering whether to call home and tell them I'm bringing a visitor."

She turned to look at Amy's face. It was always a mistake to do that; her face spoke such volumes! (Sherry was unaware that her own face was no less expressive.)

Right then, Amy was thinking, weighing the inconvenience to Sherry's parents of suddenly having two young women arriving without notice, against the mess for Sherry of arguing with parents she had obviously not spoken to in a long while.

"Well, are they particular about people dropping in?"

"Not really."

"Then let's get there as early in the day as we can," she said earnestly. "That'll give them more time to get things ready!"

"There's nothing to get ready; I'm the one who usually does that."

Amy smiled. "I can imagine you must be!" She turned away, remembering that they weren't as close as they had been. "Is it far?"

"It's Hamilton; we'll get there this afternoon if we hurry."

"Oh! Are they with the University, then?"

"Yes; they're both professors."

"Really?" That was one of the nice things about her parents. People always had such a positive reaction to hearing what they were. "No wonder you're so smart!"

"Me?" Sherry felt anything but smart. She had made a mess of her life thus far. She shook her head.

She urged the horse along faster. It was a good fifty miles more.

In the end, it was almost dark when they approached the large university. The familiar sight brought tears to Sherry's eyes; it had been a bare two years since she'd seen those tall buildings. She had lived here almost her entire life, and it was home. But then, the image of a tall grey-eyed girl with a golden braid came to her mind's eye, with a sweet, laughing blue-eyed baby in her arms. Yes, and that was another kind of home.

"Oh, it's so lovely! You're so lucky to live here!"

"We live round the back in a little alley." They didn't, but Sherry was feeling annoyed, for some reason. She drove the cart round the small streets around the campus, until she arrived at the Williams home. There was a short circular drive, and she drove the cart in, and a dog hurtled round the side of the house, barking furiously. Amy gasped, wide-eyed.

Sherry got down and knelt down well away from the nervous horse, and the dog was all over her, licking her face and whining. Sherry calmed the animal down, talking to it. The front door opened and a lovely woman came out, to stare at the scene open-mouthed.

"Sharon? Is that you?"

Sherry stood and walked over to kiss the woman, who was a little shorter than her. "Mother, I've brought a guest for a couple of days; I hope that's all right?"

"Where have you been all this time?"

"Where's father? I may as well tell you all at once," Sherry sighed.

The woman pushed Sherry's hands impatiently away, and came towards the cart. She had a lovely smile. "Come on down, dear, you must be freezing!"

Sherry simply couldn't resist the temptation of lifting Amy down off the cart as she always did.

"Mother, this is Amy. Amy, this is my mother, Bethany Williams."

"Pleased to meet you, Amy! Do you have another name, than just Amy?"

"Mother! How rude!"

Sherry's mother looked unruffled, as she lifted Amy's baggage from the cart. "I thought you had just forgotten, dear. Where are your things?"

"I've already got them!" she said impatiently. This wasn't going at all like she had imagined. Only Amy seemed happy to be here, despite her mother's unbelievable rudeness. "You don't have to tell her your name if you don't want to, Amy."

"It's Amy Banks, Ma'am," she said, smiling.

"Come on, let's go inside, out of this cold. Oh dear; I'll have to tell Jonathan to get the horse later."

"I'll see to him," said Sherry, at once, as her mother looked at her in surprise. She unhitched the horse and let it round to their little stable, and rubbed him down, and set water for him, and a good supply of hay. There were two other horses, both of whom she recognized, and who gave her soft sounds of greeting. Her father could come by and put the cart away. She headed into the house round the back, and found Amy seated comfortably, and her mother just calling her father from his study.

"It's Sharon, she just showed up with a girl!"

"Our Sharon?"

"Yes, who else, Jonathan?" demanded the usually soft-spoken woman impatiently.

Sherry grinned at Amy, who was smiling at her sympathetically. She went over to the study and poked her head in the door. "Hi dad!"

The handsome dark-haired man got to his feet, staring at her in shock. He came slowly out to her, and pulled her into his arms impulsively, as her mother watched with an odd expression on her face.

"Come on out, Jon, there's a visitor."

It took a minute or two to get everybody seated out in the living room.

"I may as well tell you the whole thing," Sherry said, when it got to the point when all her little evasions were confusing everyone more than she could stand anymore.

"I agree," said her mother, exchanging a look with Amy.

"Well, I worked for a while in Palace security for King Philip," she began.

"In Athens? Now why couldn't you tell us that in the first place?"

"Oh Jon, she did, she wrote, remember?"

"Yes, Dad, Mother will know! Anyway, I was there, when Queen Alexandra of Norsland came to visit. And—and I took Norslandish citizenship, and returned with her!"

"You did what?" exclaimed Professor Williams, aghast. Amy was full of sympathy for Sherry. The man obviously loved his daughter very much, but was a little stifling.

"I signed on as the Queen's personal bodyguard. Then there were all sorts of adventures; we found ourselves behind enemy lines, in Bernia proper, and remained there for the duration of the war, returning only just in time to accept their surrender. Then — things began to get complicated, so I came back."

"What do you mean, complicated?" demanded her mother, this time.

"Oh mother!" Sherry felt like a little girl, with all this questioning. She blushed deep red, and looked pleadingly at her mother.

Suddenly the lovely woman relented, and sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm glad you're back! So how did you meet young Amy here?"

"Oh, Mrs Williams, I was driving along the road, when I saw Sherry walking along. I asked whether I could give her a ride, and here we are. I was running away from home, sort of, but I've decided to go back."

"Goodness! Run away from home? Whyever for, dear? Were they being mean to you, or what?"

"Oh, it's too complicated to explain!"

Bethany Williams laughed merrily, and Amy decided that she liked the woman. She was outspoken and quite different from Sherry, though there were lots of similarities between the mother and the daughter. Sherry was by far the more restrained, but they had the same merry laugh, and the same laughing eyes. All three of them had the same proud smile, somehow.

Did they suspect about their daughter? Did they imagine that Amy was their daughter's lover? It was hard to guess. At any rate, the old couple seemed pleased to have their daughter back, even in the company of a strange girl.

Mrs Williams seemed very happy to have the two girls in her kitchen, helping with supper. Amy was particularly happy to stand near Sherry, slicing carrots for a salad, enjoying these moments as much as she could, before she had to leave Sherry forever.

Though Amy tried to avoid thinking of it, meeting Sherry had turned her world upside-down. It had been love at first sight for Amy, despite the strange manner of their meeting, and Sherry's unbelievable history. Still, Amy trusted her implicitly, and just knew in her heart that in Sherry she had found a good friend. After being almost insanely happy for a few days, Sherry's announcement that they would have to part had shattered her. Amy wondered whether Sherry was aware of what was happening to her. In her preoccupation with her own problems, she was probably not concerned with Amy. It would be a difficult night.

Sherry took over some of the dishes, surprising her mother.

"Where did you learn to cook, child? Don't tell me young Queen Alexandra taught you cooking, too!"

"Well, she did; I don't know why you're so surprised!"

"I'd have imagined she had lots of cooks in that Palace of hers! I still can't believe that you ran off to join the Queen of Norsland! Oh Sherry, I don't know whose daughter you are, sometimes."

"Oh, anyone can see she's your daughter, Mrs Williams!"

She laughed her wonderful laugh again, and her daughter joined in. They were more like sisters than mother and daughter.

"Now there's one thing I'm not likely to do: run off with visiting royalty! So what's she like, Sherry?"

"She's younger, about eighteen. She's tall, and streaky blonde, grey eyes. Very serious."

"She's the niece of Philip, isn't she?"

"Yes. She has a lot of his good looks."

"Oh my. She must be gorgeous!"

"Yes, you could say that."

Her mother gave Sherry a funny look, and Amy cringed.

"Sherry—you know you can tell me anything, darling. We're not savages, you know," she said quietly.

Sherry's face grew red. "Let's pretend I told you, then, since you've guessed."

"No. That's not right. Be honest, please."

"All right. I'm a lesbian."

Her mother drew in her breath in an almost gasp. Her eyes opened wide, the same shade of green as Sherry's lovely eyes, as she looked at Amy. Amy looked back at her steadily; after all, she had asked the question, she should have expected the answer.

To Amy's great relief, Sherry's mother gently hugged her daughter. "I admire you for being so honest," she said quietly. "Is this the—complication—you spoke of?"

"Partly. The rest—I have to tell you privately. Things that I'd rather Amy didn't have to worry about."

"Fair enough." She smiled reassuringly at Amy. "I was going to give you the third degree too, but I think I've learned my lesson for the day!" She sighed. "I used to be a lot more tactful, Amy, but something has happened to me of late."

"It was me, I suppose," said Sherry glumly.

"No, it wasn't." The woman sighed. "God knows I've blamed you for all sorts of things for more than a year. I suppose it's being a professor. You get used to being never wrong, you know."

They talked for a while, and then Sherry's father came and stood at the door, listening, smiling when Amy caught his eye. The girls poked fun at him, and he went away to do whatever he was doing, and Amy got the impression that it was often the two women against the man, a kind of friendly ongoing rivalry. It gave Amy a wonderful feeling of belonging, to be included in their banter. Amy had never really spent much time with another family, and she lapped it up hungrily.

"Amy, would you like to come supervise me putting the cart away?" asked Professor Williams, coming back.

"Oh, I trust you, sir!"

"Hear that? She trusts me!"

"Oh, you'd better go," said Bethany at once. "It looks like a nice cart!"

He threw his arms out and shrugged. Amy went with him, just to give him some company. She got introduced to all the horses and the dogs, of which there were two. "When she was younger, Sherry always came out to supervise," he confided. "Mostly she liked to talk to the horses," he added. "Did she talk to you, fellows? She did? Hmm."

"Are they talking to you?" asked Amy laughing, and he laughed with her. Oh, he was handsome! She couldn't figure whether Sherry was like her father or her mother. The gentle man looked a little younger than the lady. But both of them looked youthful and vivacious.

"Well? Tell me the complications!" said Sherry's mother when they were alone.

"Alexandra's marriage is falling apart."

"Oh god. I'm not surprised; they had the child marry when she was hardly more than a little girl!"

"She was seventeen, mother."

"That's too young!"

"Anyway, the Princess Consort has moved out of her bedroom. And I ..."

"Oh Sherry, don't tell me you got involved?"

"I was in love with her before I left here, Mother."

Sherry's mother sat down heavily. She put her head in her hands.

"My baby ..."

Sherry unconsciously began to stroke her mother's arm, as she would have done for Alexandra, when she suddenly realized who it was, and clumsily withdrew her hands. Oh god, she thought, it's better to die than to be ashamed to touch my own mother!

"Mom?" she asked, gently, pouring great feeling into the word.

The door banged open, and her father and Amy marched in, grinning. Seeing Bethany's expression, their faces all became concerned.

"What's it now? What did you tell her?"

"It's nothing you need worry about, Jonathan," she said, getting to her feet, "here, sit if you're going to be here while we cook. Come on Amy, let's put this together."

Sherry's father looked at her suspiciously. "What's up?" he asked softly.

"G-girl talk, dad," she said.

Despite the awkwardness of a few minutes before, supper was a pleasant meal. Everyone had washed and changed, and the pleasant dining-room was at its best with pretty decorations and artwork on the walls, beautiful lamps lit, and the places set with festive linen.

"Oh, if only you had come a couple of days earlier, for the holidays!" Sherry's mother said, eyes shining wistfully. "We had a very dull Christmas!"

"Where were you, a couple of nights ago?"

"We were holed up at St Amy's Convent. It's a really nice place up route 324."

"Really? Why, that's a hundred miles from here! You must have driven hard!"

"Luckily, it's all flat. The road climbs to that point from where Amy picked me up."

They ate in silence for a while. Sherry kept trying not to watch Amy eating, and Amy tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid staring at the Williamses, parents and daughter. Something drew her to them, and Amy felt a deep desire to take Sherry home to her family and show her off.

"You're hair's getting a bit ragged, Sharon," her mother observed. Sherry ran her fingers through it and nodded.

"Done any dancing since you left?" asked her father. That had been his passion: watching his daughter dance. He had invested a great deal of money to give her lessons far beyond what most girls received.

Sherry shook her head. "It was war, Dad; dancing is a peacetime occupation."

Her father shook his head. "I can hardly believe you actually saw fighting!"

Sherry shuddered. "By a miracle, I wound up not killing anyone. But it was by a hair; a dozen times I was close to doing it."

"I'm glad," said he. "It can't be easy to live with actual lives on your hands." Sherry shook her head. If not for Sophie, she would have shot a dozen enemy soldiers that one night.

Amy watched them studying each other. She wondered what was going on in their minds. At any rate, they were being extremely thoughtful, and despite the preoccupation of the older folks with having Sherry back after so long, they kept her, Amy, included in their conversation. All these things were carefully noted by Amy. Why am I concerned with this? she wondered to herself. Suddenly it all fell apart.

She realized that she was beginning to think of this family as hers, her future family. But this was not the beginning of a new relationship, as the Williams elders thought, it was the end of one. Amy felt her eyes brim with tears, and she sniffed softly. One sniff was followed by another, and soon she had to excuse herself and hurry to the toilet near the entrance.

"You'd better go see what's upsetting her," said her mother to Sherry in a low tone. But she realized that Sherry was suddenly not looking so good either.

She shook her head. "Let her be," Sherry said.

"What's going to happen to her? Are you two involved at all?"

"Involved?" asked Dad, confused. The women exchanged glances, and Sherry's mother motioned to her husband to ignore what he had seen.

Sherry got to her feet, letting her breath out in a tight sigh. "If you leave the table as it is, I'll help you clear it in the morning, Mother." Her mother simply motioned her away. Sherry went to the bathroom and met Amy coming out.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your room," she said softly. Head bowed, Amy allowed Sherry to lead her upstairs, to the room she had been assigned, a simple room, painted in soft shades of blue and green, with white linen on the little twin bed. These were simple people, who lived very simply. There was no pretension at all. Her box was placed on a stool near the bed.

"This is goodbye, you know," Amy said quietly.

"I'll wait outside 'til you change," Sherry said, awkwardly.

"No need; you've seen everything ..." Amy undressed quickly, pulling on a pretty pink nightie. All her lingerie was feminine and sexy. She slipped under the sheets. Sherry sat on the edge of the bed.

"We have to talk," Sherry said.

"There's nothing to talk about," Amy said. "It's over, the adventure is over!" The despair in her voice filled Sherry with sorrow.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Marja on the Hunt

Marja arrived in Athens a week into the New Year, and a few days later gave her credentials to King Philip at an informal reception at the Palace. She was received with their customary cordiality, after which she was free to pursue her private investigation under the protection of diplomatic immunity. The Ambassador knew the story, and she reluctantly gave Marja her blessing, on the proviso that she should not draw attention to herself or to Norslandish Crown under any circumstances. In other words, she was not to invoke diplomatic immunity, even though she had it.

She had a great start. The Ambassador herself had interviewed Sherry for citizenship, and Sherry's home address was in the file. Before long, Marja had hired a Belgravian assistant, and they were on their way towards Hamilton. They first headed south along the coastal highway, and then headed west on the same Route 324 on which Sherry and Amy had traveled not long before.

Back in Norsland, things were settling down. The Council had started meeting, and things began to move rapidly once they got the hang of things. Alexandra was inspired by the efficiency of the machine that Sonja and Judge Ilsa had put together, with Sophie's help. They met every day for a week, after which the councilors took three weeks off, some to look after matters in their home villages and towns, others to investigate what else needed to be done around the country.

Construction of the highway south of the fault which had proceeded rapidly for several months, had been halted for the winter. It would resume as soon as the weather warmed up again. Scientists had decided that the fault was stable, after the enormous cataclysm. As soon as spring was here, work would resume. Meanwhile, the villages on the route were being serviced well enough to keep them going through the winter.

In Berne, as the new republic was called, reconstruction was proceeding apace. The former General Katherine Pfizer had turned out to be a wonderful, charismatic, enthusiastic leader, and Lord Gustafson and she together were able to accomplish wonders.

Princess Genevieve was in the thick of things in Norsland, with Lady Sophie at her side. Gradually, she seemed to lose the hunted look that had clung to her soon after the war, and looked youthful and happy. Lady Briana, a cousin of the Queen's, began to spend a lot of time with her. The baby princess, Sophie, spent equal time with each parent. Finally, in late January, Princess Genevieve finally found time to visit her parents in New Hope, with her royal Highness, her daughter, Princess Sophie. And with the baby went twin maids, Mena and Brinna.

The cabin in the woods was now made as comfortable as such a cabin could be. The inside was walled up with boards, the bed was now equipped with a comfortable mattress and pillows, all of which could be raised for more room. The inside of the chimney had been sealed, with some difficulty. There was even an iron stove, that heated the cabin far more efficiently, on which a kettle of water could be boiled.

One day, Alexandra had wheeled the blacksmith to the cabin. He had protested, but she had insisted, and he had no choice in the matter. The look on his face had made it all worthwhile. He was so excited, he wanted to explore the place on his crutches, and she helped him. He had helped make the stove for her, and now he said how pleased he was at how it had been set up.

"I brought a little food with me," she said, and sighed. "I wish Ninel were here; she's really good at getting fish!" He made a noise that passed for a laugh with him. "Anyway, I'm going to start getting rid of some of these stumps. I found out how. And I brought some books for you, if you like to read!"

"Where's the baby?" he asked.

"With the Princess," replied Alexandra. She smiled, and he understood that there was no ill-feeling about that. She settled him with a few books in his wheelchair, and went off a little distance to begin attacking one of the stumps.

He watched her for a time, and saw that she really knew what she was doing. It was a combination of digging them up, chopping them down, and burning them. He began to look through the generously illustrated books—after all, she had no idea whether he could read—and settled down to wait.

As always, Alexandra felt the pleasure of sheer physical effort. She had started with one of the smaller stumps, and once she had chopped it down to where it could be burned, she built a fire on it, blowing the hot air down into the stump through a metal pipe, until the thing was truly alight. It was really too cold to do much digging around the roots, and that part of the operation would have to wait for warmer weather. The important thing was to carefully douse the fire after it had passed the stage of usefulness. That was hard, because it burned along the roots, and there were pockets of fire deep in the Earth.

She worked with intense concentration, and was only vaguely aware that the blacksmith was agitated. She looked up to see him trying to move the wheel chair somewhere very urgently. Quickly dropping what she was doing, she ran up to where he was, and asked him what he needed, knowing already what it probably was.

She had him up off the chair quickly, and had him partially undressed and seated on the toilet seat she had made for him behind the cabin. Her feelings of affection and sympathy for him flooded her with the energy she needed. Months of looking after her baby had made her adept at these minor crises, and gently she tended him, washed him off and dressed him.

He had been upset the whole time, his arm trembling, his face twisted in embarrassment and disgust. She now took him inside the cabin, and seated him on the bench they had made together. She sat next to him, and took his hand silently.

"You shouldn't, you shouldn't," he kept repeating, in his agitation sounding so unintelligible that she could only understand it because she could guess.

"It makes me happy," she said simply. "You're the only man I have really known, Hugh. So if I do something wrong, you have to forgive me!"

But his agitation remained high. Seated close by him, Alexandra patiently stroked his back until gradually he settled down. All sorts of feelings warred inside her, as she considered and discarded a score of ideas.

Her feelings for Briana took a great deal of energy to control, but she was determined not to toy with the girl's affections. If the two of them got into an unrestrained affair that was discovered—and the problem was made worse by the fact that neither she nor Baby would lie about it if asked point-blank—they would endanger the credibility of a girl who possibly would be Queen someday.

All this only made Alexandra even more sensitive to her own feelings and the feelings of the poor blacksmith. Somehow she kept herself calm, and soothed him. "Come," she said, "and if you need to go again, don't be afraid, Hugh. I'm here, all right? I'm here. This is my place, and you can do what you like here." He only groaned in frustration. "I've set it up so that it's easy to manage."

She settled him down with his books again. It took only a little work to bury Hugh's movement in ashes and earth, and leave the latrine ready. She filled the pail with water from the stream, and set it to warm in the kitchen, and resumed her work.

Lunch was a nice big meal of beef and bread, which she made into sandwiches and cut small so that he could eat without too much difficulty. It felt wonderful to make a meal for someone who was her very own; she regarded him now—in the secret places of her heart—as belonging to her alone. She was not really in love with him, but there was a kind of hero-worship there, or the kind of admiration she would have kept for an older brother, or even a father, if she had had one. The closest thing to a father she had possessed was her mother Beate, who had been everything a father should be. But she had also been a mother, in her own clumsy way, and the wonderful contrast of types that many children of two-gender marriages had as parents had been missing from Alexandra's childhood.

The smith had to go again, and this time he fought her less, and she rewarded him with a kiss. Aware that it was demeaning to him to be babied that way, she showed him how he could manage some of it on his own. He began to relax, and she realized that in the village, he had expended a great deal of energy holding it in, to be less of a burden on Ruth.

At the end of the day, she had little to show for the time she had put in: only one large and one small stump, partially done. It would take a long, long time. Meanwhile, there was the threat that the spring rains would wash off the dirt that the roots of the trees had held thus far. She talked all this over with the blacksmith, who knew a lot less about such things than the villagers who actually grew crops. They ate a simple supper together, and she washed up while he watched.

"I should go back," he said. "I can manage by myself."

"I'm going to stay the night," she said, her heart beating wildly, "and I'd like you to stay with me."

"No, no! No," he said insistently. She sat patiently, until he was finished protesting. She told him softly that she would very much like him to stay the night with her. It was an impulsive decision, and it may be the wrong thing, but she had decided that she was ready for it. He kept insisting that he had to go back.

"All right," she said, and got his chair ready. She untethered the horse, and the three of them set out slowly, back to the village. "The horse will be safer with you," she said. He only grunted agreement.

It seemed a long way, in the dim moonlight; she had not brought a light with her. She would borrow a taper for the way back. Once he had been made comfortable in his house, and Alexandra had spoken to Ruth, she borrowed a taper, and headed back, after one last touch and a kind word for the horse.

The camp seemed dismal, without the smith's company. Alexandra shut things down, checked the perimeter, checked that the fires she had laid on the stumps were all really out. With a sigh she stripped to her waist and washed herself down, when she heard a horse galloping up. It was the guardsman who was assigned to check on her every evening.

"Hello," she said, grabbing a towel to cover herself like a shawl. "I'm staying tonight." This time it was a woman. She dismounted and bowed. Her eyes seemed wide in the light of the camp gas lantern.

"Are you sure you're all right, Your Majesty?"

"Positive. I'm sorry to have you ride up every night, but if you didn't you folks would worry."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, Your Majesty. Glad to do it!"

"Can I offer you something to eat, something to drink?"

"I've eaten, but a drink would be welcome, Your Majesty!"

Alexandra smiled. She offered the girl what she had, and she drank it thirstily. Then she bowed, and looked around admiringly. "I wish I could have seen it in the daylight! It looks quite something!"

"Maybe I'll invite you sometime! Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Your Majesty!" she said, and climbed on her horse, and rode off. Alexandra was pleased; she seemed a bright, observant girl.

Alexandra picked out a nightshirt and socks, and lowered the bed. It was much too large for a single person, but Ninel often stayed the night, and Baby did, too, not to mention Baby Sonja and the twins. She had just put on the nightshirt, when she heard a sound outside. Freezing, she listened, her eyes closed. It was the creak of wheels coming up the path. Joy was like a song in her heart.

"You came! All by yourself!" She could only see his teeth, as he grinned. "How did you miss the guard?" He said that he had hidden both times. "Come on," she said, "let's get you comfortable!"

In spite of his half-hearted protests, she got him inside the cabin into the warmth, and completely stripped him, and seating him on the bench, washed him thoroughly. For the first time, she realized that Ruth had done only a cursory job of cleaning him. Weeks of grime was on him, around his neck, around his waist, and on his feet. It took many pails of water, but she had him nice and clean at last. He had his face covered in embarrassment. She laughingly told him that an occasional warm water bath was good for everybody.

She even had a shirt for him, a large, loose one she had found in the Palace. Carefully, she moved him onto the bed, and turned down the lights.

Before she could lose her courage, she turned to him, and began to make love to him. She ignored all his protests, and covered his mouth with kisses. At first, it was all exploration. She knew enough that his stiff erection was not a surprise. She stroked the silky skin of it with wonder, imagining it inside her. He tried to move her hand away, but she didn't let him. The male body had a completely different feel to it, a different smell, and of course, he was very different from any other person she had known, male or female. And she was also reacting to his reaction to her.

She couldn't allow penetration; she was fertile today, and would be for a while. She had to improvise ways of satisfying him without risking pregnancy. Meanwhile, he was going wild with pleasure, touching her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, the usual things that a girl would do. But his need rose faster, and he whimpered in his need. She had made him forget who she was too successfully; now he wanted to mate, and he was crazy with wanting it. Rigid with fear, Alexandra forced herself to relax. He had her on her back, and she let him suck at her breasts, clumsy though he was. Then, ever so gently, he slipped his erect penis between her legs, so that only her thighs held it fast. She understood; her thighs would stand in lieu of her vagina. Oh, she had to be careful! One careless move, and it would slip inside her.

Before she could worry, his penis slipped out and onto her belly, and a pool of semen was ejaculated between them, warm and sticky, like blood. It was the most wonderful, erotic sensation. Alexandra wept that it was not inside her, but wasted on her skin. Even then, it was incredibly sensuous. She held him close, trembling with desire and excitement. He lay still in her arms, spent, and she marveled at all that she was learning about the ways of men.

"It feels wonderful!" she breathed, kissing him. "Just lie still, and let me enjoy it!"

"It's a mess!" he whispered, quite clearly.

"Lie still!" she commanded softly. "It's my first time with a man!"

He was clearly uncomfortable. She reached for her underpants that were folded on the bed, and tried to clean it up. It was awkward stuff, and she was both fascinated with it, and disgusted by the mess. Best of all was its peculiar odor, which seemed to upset him greatly. She carefully bundled up the scrap of garment and laid it aside to dispose of later; she wasn't going to budge an inch from where she was; she could think of nothing but going back to him.

Alexandra turned back to the man, a pale mass next to her, and her hands explored him again. In a corner of her mind, she knew she had abducted him, stolen him for her own purposes, as if her were a doll, a mere toy, which she had been taught was demeaning. What was unthinkable to do to a woman, she had done to a man. But she didn't stop; she reveled in the difference in his anatomy; if she didn't do this now, she could never do it again. She could not imagine ever lying with a man again, except maybe the blacksmith, if he would let her. If he were to ask her, she knew she would say yes; he had become more than a mere friend; or rather, he had become a friend for whom she would do much.

"Does this feel good?" she whispered. She wanted to know whether he wanted her to stop her invasion of his person, but she couldn't quite think of how to ask. "Tell me what you want!" she asked. She kept her voice soft and warm, and it came out warmer and softer than she remembered ever doing it for anyone else. It was not that she hadn't loved the other women. It was that she had the power of life and death over the blacksmith in several different ways, and the knowledge made her feel infinitely tender.

"Don't stop," he begged. It was then that she knew that he wanted her, that in a way, he had forgotten what she was, and she was a real person to him, and not some abstraction.

His hands were gentle on her, he used his good hand—or rather, his better hand, which was his right—on her, reacquainting himself with what a woman felt like, and he kissed her body, but not her lips. That much was her prerogative, apparently. He loved the feel of her hair, or perhaps the sight of it, and he ran his fingers through it, sighing with pleasure. After a while, he rolled on his back, and Alexandra could hear his heart beating as if it would burst.

Alexandra's feelings for him burned inside her, hot as an ember. It was as if she could hold him just the right way, she could make him well again; so strong was the feeling. A voice kept telling her: withdraw, withdraw, you will only hurt yourself. It was frightening. How could she lose him? Would he leave her for another woman? Would he die? Was she doomed to lose everyone? These thoughts made her fearful and anxious.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it something about—about me?"

"No, nothing's wrong!" Had he felt even her fear? "I want to give you something to—remember tonight! Ask me anything!"

"Oh, my Queen!"

"No, no, no ... Anna, call me Anna; as the Queen I am—I am nothing. As Queen ... what am I? Only a symbol, a statue. As a girl, I am so much! I have a cabin, I have a baby, I have you!"

"You're a woman, not a girl!"

"I'm only nineteen, Hugh; I know less than most girls of that age. You are the first man who ..."

"Only nineteen!" he said, awkwardly.

"Yes. A child."

He was thoughtful. "What is it like ... with a woman?"

"Completely different. A different world, a world of sisters, of friendship, of need, and satisfying. And love! Oh, it is so different! With you, it is so—frightening!"

"Why?"

How could she tell him that ... it was like mating with an animal? The word animal had so many bad connotations! But that sense of alien-ness was undescribable to anyone who was different, as he was different from her. Yet the relationship between them was growing in a different way from all her other relationships. She was beginning to realize that the only thing that made this possible was that he was semi-paralyzed, and in her power. She could not imagine giving a man power over her. It was simply not part of the person she was.

"That's the way I am, Hugh; I love women. With you, it's only a deep, deep friendship. I don't know; perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about. Perhaps it's not possible to love a person more than how I feel for you, my friend!"

"She's trying as hard as she can," said Sophie to Genevieve. Sophie had just made love to her, and they were now talking quietly, as was their habit. Little Sophie, the baby princess was singing to herself in her little crib, about to fall asleep. The tyke was quite comfortable with them now, and she was a wonder. She was seldom startled, and hardly ever alarmed. She sometimes looked deep into Genny's eyes, and asked, "Where's Mama?" But these occasions were rare. Genny always answered truthfully, saying that Mama was back in Norsland, in the Palace, probably. They knew by now that Alexandra was working on something somewhere, but had learned too little about it to make them curious enough to want to know more. They had gotten to talking about Alexandra. Lately their conversations about her were becoming more fond, much to Sophie's relief.

Sophie had always spoken of Alexandra with fondness, and Genny knew that Sophie loved her. But Sophie never let Genny become jealous. Gradually, in her own way, Genny was feeling more affectionate towards the young queen. Much of it was that Alexandra had lost Sherry, but that she resolutely refused to be harsh with Genny, or even impatient. Genny had initially resented the saintliness of Alexandra's conduct, but now they knew that Alexandra did harbor a great deal of anger and frustration, but held it tightly reigned in.

Ninel was a good barometer of Alexandra's mood. And watching Ninel —and the Twins— they were learning that Alexandra was not spreading hate. The young lady was a wonderful diplomat, just by her simple existence, and now, far away in New Hope, in Ninel's absence, Genevieve was feeling kindly towards the Queen she had so recklessly abandoned.

"At least she encourages what we do, and doesn't get in the way," Sophie replied. "She isn't one for initiative."

"But think; with all the emotional problems that the war has given her, and I haven't helped, either; it's not easy to take the initiative with all that going on."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I hate the way I've treated her, Sophie."

Sophie looked up into Genny's face. Genny was lying full on her body, as she liked to do. She was, like Alexandra, a physical girl, and she needed to feel Sophie's body, every inch of it. Sophie didn't dare make any snide remarks about Alexandra's and Genevieve's relationship. "Please don't make me feel guilty, Sophie!"

"You wouldn't have done what you did if you didn't have a good reason," said Sophie, loyal out of habit.

Genny stared thoughtfully at Sophie. "I—I think I had good reasons."

"I'm satisfied, Genevieve."

Genny looked right into her eyes. "Do you really believe that I had good reasons?"

"Yes."

"You're not making excuses for me?"

"Let it go, love; I know the reasons. I understand. Don't tie me up in logical knots about it!"

Genny sighed and looked away. She rolled off Sophie's body, but kept possession of her by laying a leg over her thigh. They could almost read each other's minds, after so long, and Sophie knew what she was thinking, and she loved her for it. She reached up a hand and softly caressed Genny's face.

When Sherry's father heard that she had told her mother she was a lesbian, he reacted with shock. He loved his daughter very much, and though personally he didn't care, one way or the other, what her preference was, he was acutely conscious of the difficulties that would face his daughter. He dismissed immediately from consideration that some 'blame' might be laid at his feet for her 'perversion'. That was irrelevant.

He faced his daughter privately, and they discussed the matter until he felt comfortable with the facts. Then, ever concerned for her happiness, he was eager to help her.

"Is young Amy a—what shall I call it—a—a—"

"No, Dad, she isn't! What a busybody you are!"

"But darling, I just want you to be happy; I see the child, and you two don't look happy, and all I can think of is: why? What can we do?"

"She has a crush on me, that's all. She'll get over it."

"Poor thing! Who is she, anyway? Who are her folks?"

"I don't know! Her name is Banks, and they live in Springfield."

"Banks," her father said to himself thoughtfully, shaking his head. "I don't know any Bankses."

"Oh Dad, you don't know as many people as you think you do."

"You forget, your mother and I have taught thousands of people over the years, Sherry."

"Well, what are the chances these Bankses are lawyers?"

"Or businessmen, or people in the criminal investigation business, or security ..."

Sherry frowned. "What do you have to do with security?"

Her father gave her a sardonic look, at which she realized something new about her parents' line of work.

"Banks?" asked her mother, frowning. Sherry rolled her eyes. "Hmm. It isn't as common a name as you would think," she said. She got up and walked right over to where Amy was watching TV in the addition to the house at the back. She had been persuaded to stay another few days, and she had been alternating between hopefully approaching Sherry, and sulking in front of the TV. Before they could stop her, Bethany Williams was quizzing Amy about her parents.

Sherry looked indignantly at her father, who smiled indulgently back at her. He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I don't want you both getting too fond of her, because I don't want to encourage her!" she hissed.

The conversation in the TV room had gotten animated. From the glee in her mother's expression, Sherry knew the impossible had happened. Sure enough, Bethany emerged triumphantly hauling a bemused Amy behind her. Polite Amy would never protest at being dragged around by an excited Dr Bethany Williams.

"Jonathan, this is the daughter of Rebecca Foster! You remember Rebecca?"

The expression on Dad's face was one of pleasure. "Of course I do!"

"You should! Anyway, she married, er, ..."

"Isidore," supplied Amy.

"... Isidore Banks, and Amy is their daughter! I haven't talked to Rebecca for ages!"

"Goodness! Amy, my dear, we know your parents very well! Do they know that you're here?"

"Well, I called them to say I'm staying with Sherry's parents ..."

"Please, call them again, and I'd like to talk to them, if I may!"

Before long, the Bankses had been called, and the long-overdue connection reestablished, and the Bankses had decided to visit. Since the Williams home was really too small for that many guests, the Bankses checked into a hotel, but spent much of the time in the Williams house. Amy's mother, the fabled Rebecca, was a stunning woman, curvaceous and gracious, with naturally glowing wavy brown hair, which Amy had inherited. Amy's father was a tall, lanky man, who seemed to hit it off well with Jonathan Williams. They did not know each other, but Bethany knew both the Bankses. They were not students of hers, but in fact had known each other in college.

When Marja and her assistant arrived in Hamilton, she found the Williams household in turmoil. The man had made inquiries, and apparently Sherry Williams had arrived a little after Christmas with a friend, and that had been the first her parents had seen her for more than two years. Then recently, the family of the friend had arrived in town, and taken residence in a hotel, a large, expensive hotel in the more toney part of town.

The friend was a young girl, and Marja hesitated to go talk to the family. Was the young girl simply an acquaintance, or was Sherry emotionally involved with her? Having watched the place cautiously for a few days, it was learned that the young women left the place usually around ten. Marja managed to be in the neighborhood when they left the house, and having watched the two of them together for a while, learned that indeed there was something between the two of them. It seemed mostly on the part of the other young lady. Sherry just looked hunted, and haunted.

To Sherry's distress, the two girls had been virtually cross-examined by the four adults, until both Amy's and Sherry's sexual preferences were revealed. Sherry had been white hot with fury, but had not wanted to be rude in front of Amy's parents (who really were sweet people, despite their nosiness) especially on behalf of Amy. Amy, though, was the least upset. She had actually been pleased to tell her parents all about it. Fortunately, she did not reveal that she and Sherry had shared something together, but then, Rebecca had guessed it anyway.

To the bemusement of the two girls, the parents were overjoyed by the prospect that their daughters—troublesome though their latest revelations had been—might find each other romantically. Once the idea got started, the four adults simply could not leave it alone.

"Amy," said her mother, her eyes glowing, "I would love to have a little something, just a small, informal, late-afternoon, or maybe evening thing, with some of our most trusted, closest friends, and some of your friends, and Sherry's friends, and we could rent ..."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean by thing?"

"Darling, if you were to get married, you know, your father would have ..."

"Oh my goodness! Mama, you're bonkers! Sherry and I are not even friends anymore!" She was on the brink of tears. "And even if we were, she'd probably not even want anyone to know!"

She had guessed absolutely right. Sherry nearly exploded when her mother brought up the idea of a celebration. She could understand such things in Norsland, for other people. But for herself, it was a little too new. And, in any case, she still remembered Alexandra, and the wound was still raw enough that all this talk made her nervous and angry.

Since the Banks family had arrived in town, and the Williamses took such delight in their company, Sherry had taken to visiting the University library every morning, just for something to do away from her parents. Once Amy's mother started this new tack, Amy begged to come with her, and Sherry was quite willing to aid her escape. The two girls were more united by the need to resist the pressure to come together than anything else. Amy had been, surprisingly, quite rude to her parents, and hated herself for it. But it was incredibly difficult to be civil to the four of them, who simply were not listening to the two girls talk. In their minds, the two kids were as good as mated and settled, and they wanted a celebration.

Amy discovered that there was a ballet program in the University that interested her. There were students even over the break, working on projects, and she was allowed to watch. Daily she disappeared into the Ballet School at eight in the morning, while Sherry hung around the Library.

Sherry had never attended College seriously, and now she learned all sorts of things. She knew she could take classes for free. But she was discovering that there were classes that were close to her interests, in political science, security, social work, and even law, though she swore she would never take a course from either of her parents, with whom she was furious.

Sherry decided to take an apartment in the university. Such things were available for older students, and her parents gave her their blessing. Marja was watching one day as Sherry walked back to her new home, and she learned the location of the apartment. The campus was still closed, and it was pretty obvious, when a light came on in a certain window. A few days later, Marja headed back to Athens. There was nothing she could do. A few discreet inquiries, and they could learn whether Sharon Williams had registered to study at the University; it certainly looked a lot like it.

Poor Amy was all alone at the house, now, and quite unintentionally, the four adults concentrated on her. It was too much for the polite young woman; if she had been a temperamental girl, accustomed to letting off steam, she could have borne it more easily. But she wasn't and within a few days, she could no longer stand it.

She found Sherry in the library, and begged to be allowed to stay in her room, and kindhearted Sherry could not refuse. Soon she had talked Amy into registering for classes, and Amy had transferred out of her East Coast academy into the University of Hamilton, as a Ballet student. She would be given regular dormitory accommodation, but until the term began, she stayed with Sherry.

They shared a bed, and inevitably, things happened. After some initial awkwardness, Sherry simply let go. They had sex all night long for several nights, after which they settled down to a peaceful, happy existence. Amy was a wonderful room-mate: considerate, polite, and tidy, and of course Sherry had always liked her. She began to think sadly of the beginning of term, when Amy would be gone.

Gradually, Sherry allowed herself to think about the subject of Alexandra, something she had shut away deep inside a locked recess of her mind. She knew Alexandra well enough to guess the frustration and hurt she would feel at first, which would certainly be followed by sorrow. Sherry's own sorrow was bone-deep, an ache. If she hadn't been distracted with Amy, she knew, she would have spiraled into numb depression. Amy had saved her from much pain, by her miraculous arrival.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Amy

Their New Hope visit concluded, Sherry and the Princesses—mother and daughter—and their entourage all headed home. The twins, having gone all around New Hope with Lady Sophie and her Highness, considered themselves seasoned travelers. When they met with Lady Ninel, back in Stefansberg, they were just bursting with excitement. They were dying to hug her ladyship, but it wouldn't do to do it in public, would it? The minute they were in the Palace, little Sophie was set on the floor, and they hugged Lady Ninel until she was breathless.

"Whoo!" she said, once they had let her loose, "I missed you, too!"

"Where's her Majesty?" the twins asked in a whisper.

"Oh, the usual. She hasn't taken me in a while. School has begun, and you're supposed to go, remember?"

"Oh, we want to go, Lady Ninel! It will be fun with you and Lady Briana!"

"Lady Bri is going to the academy, where we go afterwards. We're just going to school, girls!"

"Where is Lady Briana?"

"She's fooling with something—a suit of armor that she wants. Oh, she gets off on these little things and goes off the deep end, sometimes."

The girls giggled. Little princess Sophie chuckled, patting the wall. She never spent a moment on the floor if she could be standing, and was already trying to walk by herself. She wasn't a tall infant, and Ninel and the twins kept worrying that she would be stepped on.

Once all the baggage was brought in, and the twins felt they had discharged as much of their responsibilities as anyone had a right to expect, they hunted Baby down, and were soon off in the cart with the two little dogs, who were almost insane with happiness to see the twins back, since her Majesty took only minimal care of them. (A Palace servant fed them and cleaned after them, but they needed to be talked to and petted, and Alexandra did very little of that.)

When they arrived at Alexandra's farm, they noticed that a few stumps had disappeared, and they heard furious chopping from behind the cabin. To their surprise, the blacksmith was there, with the queen, watching from his wheelchair.

"Hello! Oh, hello, sweetheart!" Alexandra cried, seeing her baby. (The two dogs had already hurled themselves at her, and gotten as much of a petting as they were going to get.) After Alexandra had greeted her daughter with all the proper decorum, she turned to hug the twins, once they had gotten their curtseys out of the way.

Baby was pleased with all the improvements. She quickly suggested that the bare earth spots be covered with straw immediately, to prevent it washing away with the rains. A little later there was fish to eat, after which the visitors took their leave, and went back to the City.

Alexandra had kept the blacksmith with her for several days. He had not been unwilling, but then the time came when he told her she should put in a day at the village. The suggestion was made with the utmost tact; after all, she was Queen, and smithing was not something he could ask her to do. So he had to address it indirectly: he wondered whether there was any more work that he should be doing at the smithy, but of course he couldn't.

She was perfectly willing to do it. The villagers were more comfortable about coming forward to ask her for things this time, and had both the requests and the money ready. There was a steady trickle of customers, and Alexandra pounded, sawed, and filed away, with the puppy running about the yard. It now considered itself the owner of the yard, and all the local mongrels found that they needed to come to terms with the new occupant.

Alexandra also gradually became expert in shoeing horses. It took a lot of help from Hugh, who sat close by, with the owner of the horse looking on, and gave her specific instructions. (Alexandra had already had a lesson of sorts with her own farrier, who had been puzzled as to why she wanted to do it. She had explained about the emergency the time when the horse had lost its shoe far from the Palace.) Fortunately, Alexandra liked and understood horses, and apparently that was a large part of the secret to being a good farrier. To Hugh's consternation, she offered to service all the horses in the village for free, whether they needed it or not, something that made her —and Hugh— very popular. In addition, all the customers wanted to give the puppy little treats, and Alexandra had to insist that only she Anna, its owner, was allowed to give it treats. So all treats were brought to her, and she gave them to the puppy, until she considered that it had had enough. She was very firm about when to stop.

In the evening, when the work had come to a halt, she looked after the blacksmith, and made sure he was comfortable. She then packed the few things she wanted to take back to the Palace, gave the blacksmith a private hug and kiss, and set off.

One of the first important state dinners were that night, and Alexandra washed, with the twins fussing over her, and changed, with more fussing, and went down with Ninel and the baby to the large banquet hall. Sophie and the Princess were waiting there, and they went together to the large foyer outside, where they greeted the guests one by one. There were many foreign visitors, diplomats, trade representatives and the like —many of them from Belgravia— and other foreign specialists, engineers, artists, musicians, actors and so forth.

Genevieve stood beside her, and was more charming and sweet than she had been in a long time. It was as though she had outgrown the prickliness that had earlier characterized her dealings with Alexandra. And Alexandra, in turn, tried harder to show Genevieve a similarly pleasant face. Many dignitaries remarked that they made a lovely couple, and that they had a lovely child, and the two of them were able to accept the praise without embarrassment for the first time in months.

Alexandra had decreed that the meal should be somewhat short of lavishly catered. They were still recovering from a war, and it was unseemly to dip into public coffers for entertainment on too opulent a scale, when many ordinary citizens were suffering a hard winter.

Indeed, food was scarce throughout the country. Only fish was plentiful, but even there, many of the fishermen and women who supplied the nation had seen battle at sea, and the casualties had been high. Produce, especially, was dear, and much of it was gifted from Belgravia and New Hope. At the dinner table, Alexandra, having been toasted by a number of guests, toasted her representatives from those countries, to make the point that the meal was largely courtesy of them.

The tables were set out with a large head table on a raised section of the room, and a number of smaller tables everywhere in the room for the other guests. The twins waited on Alexandra and Baby Sonja, and those nearest them. There were live musicians playing in a balcony, though there had been some thought of using electrical music. Still, musicians were as badly off as everyone else, and the Governing Council had decided that the only way to stave off starvation and poverty was to focus on employment on one hand, and food relief on the other.

The next few days were busy ones for Alexandra, with all sorts of special projects that Genevieve and Sophie had dreamed up together. Among them was an old idea of a soup kitchen, which was a charitable institution in many villages and towns that received donations of food from both the government and private individuals, and prepared this food, and served it out to whoever came. In this way, the poorest of the poor could be certain of at least one good meal a day, regardless of whether their family breadwinner was able to earn a living wage. Already Ninel and Baby had gone with Genny and Sophie to actually participate in serving meals at such places in three locations near the Palace. They had both told Alexandra that they had been touched by how much the people who came for these meals enjoyed being served by young relatives of the queen, and that it had been quite enjoyable. Alexandra was determined to go; she had shared in meals in the early tour, but this was a little different.

Alexandra took an early morning ride out to the farm, still dressed simply, her hair tied back with leather as always, but somehow she remained unrecognized as the queen by the folks in the village. They had come to know her as a neighbor, and there did not seem to be any mystery about who she was: she was simply a woman who was unhappy with her city life, and had decided to buy a plot of land and farm it. Baby was a problem; if anyone recognized Lady Briana, it would only take a second to conclude who Alexandra was. Luckily Baby still had the rough manners of the folks of Skree. If she became too much of a lady, she would quickly look anything but ordinary. But Alexandra was as ordinary as it was possible to look. By dint of wearing her hair in unfamiliar ways, she was able to avoid being recognized as the once-popular young queen. Luckily too, through the war, it was Genevieve whose face had been seen on TV. If Genny were to visit, that could be the end of Alexandra's anonymity.

There was not much that could be done in the little farm, though. The last couple of days, it had snowed heavily. One day Alexandra had taken some of the poorer-quality lumber to reinforce the little shelter she had made for the horse, and make it into a proper stable. Keeping the horse near the cabin was still a risky thing to do, and she wanted to know that the stable was strong enough to keep a cat out. As far as she knew, the mate of the cat she had killed was still around, though she had not seen signs of it anywhere near the camp. But now, at least the sides of the enclosure were solidly reinforced with wooden logs. It was not merely a windbreak any more. But it still needed a strong roof.

At the Palace, though, there was plenty of work to be done every day. A special committee had been appointed to oversee matters of technology and industry. As Belgravian expertise poured in, the Council insisted that it should be overseen carefully. Now great numbers of people were employed to build the communication towers that were springing up everywhere to replace the modest things that relayed the TV signals throughout the country.

And in the upper reaches of the great Muddy River, a damn was being built in order that water-powered turbines could be used to generate electricity. More of these power plants were needed throughout the country, before the country would be lit by electric lights from one end to the other.

It was late January when Alexandra received a long letter from Marja. It was mid-morning, and Alexandra had decided to stay at the Palace. There had been a heavy snowfall, and she did not want to subject the poor horse to another long trek. The road she usually took—the only road to the farm—was now hard-packed with snow several inches deep. A cart went along it sprinkling it with sand after every snowfall, but it was still icy, and hard for horses. The rains would come shortly, but until then, traveling on the mountain roads was hazardous.

Marja had sent a brief note sometime back, with the ship that had taken her out, to let them know in Stefansberg that she had arrived safely in Belgravia. This longer letter was a report. It was in her own writing, an untidy, large curly hand. After the usual preamble, she got down to business:

I headed out to her last known home address. It turns out that Sherry's parents are both law professors at the University of Hamilton, one of their largest and oldest universities. Many of our own young people study there.

Well, Sherry had just recently arrived, and was living with her parents while I was there. I didn't contact her, but my Belgravian assistant and I tried to find out as much as we could without actually talking to her. She looks in good health, but that was as much as we could tell from where we saw her. It appears that she has signed up for courses at the University, and has taken a small apartment in the university itself, in one of the apartment buildings given to older students. So it looks as if she isn't going anywhere.

Now the bad news. She seems to have made friends with a young lady. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but I thought you should know. As far as we can tell, the two families have known each other for a while, but it's my guess that the girls were surprised to learn of this. The girl is young, I would guess around seventeen or a bit younger, and she has also registered as a student.

So what's our next move? On one hand, they aren't going anywhere, so there's no urgency. But on the other hand, the presence of this new girl means that things could be developing, though we know they're going to stay put.

Regards,

Marja.

Alexandra read the letter over and over. It was clear enough, but it confused her because she hadn't thought of Sherry for a while. As she read the words, the feelings that flooded through her told her very clearly that she was far from out of love with the woman. Her every muscle ached to hold her, her eyes burned to see her, her ears longed to hear her voice. But she had managed to forget the young woman for more than two months. With whom could she talk about these things? That was the aching problem: she simply had no one to confide in. What was she to do? What was she to tell Marja? What did she really feel for Sherry?

Baby. She was the only one to whom she could talk. She could talk to the twins, but they could only offer their own peculiar wisdom, which was confined to matters within their limited experience, and this was definitely not. Baby, on the other hand, had the imagination to deal with it, and Alexandra could talk to her, even if she gave no help. She usually spent all morning at the academy. Ninel and the twins had started school, and would only be back around two.

Alexandra paced, walking all over the Palace. She was accosted by several different people about minor Palace things that did, after all, come down to her preference. The important policy decisions were now organized so that Alexandra didn't have to deal with them casually, in the hallways, as it were. There was always some competent authority to deal with them. She still held hearings on various disputes, which had been put to judges in the usual due process, and only sent up to her when absolutely necessary.

It was past two when Alexandra saw Baby walk in. Baby had decided to go everywhere on foot, because she was putting on weight and needed more exercise. She had done her hair up in two little braids for comfort, and wore a knitted cap, and had her books in a handsome leather satchel she wore over one shoulder. She wore the academy uniform, which was a plaid woolen skirt and black hose, or black breeches, and a white shirt, and of course any heavy coat for the weather. Baby only wore a heavy sweater, stubbornly defiant of the cold. Far behind, and from the opposite direction came Ninel and the twins, looking tiny in comparison. They both approached the small postern gate off the back entrance to the Palace.

Alexandra looked down at what she was wearing; she had to talk to Baby as a cousin, not as queen, and she was a little too seriously dressed. She hurried upstairs and changed into a plain skirt and simple leather sandals and hurried back. She would let Baby order dinner into her room. (Thankfully Sophie and Genny were in their office, getting ready to leave for Bernia within the week.)

"Alexandra! Were you waiting for me? What's up? You look upset!"

"Can you give me a few minutes, Baby? I need somebody to talk to!"

"I'm famished! Come eat with me."

"Let's have lunch brought up to my room!"

Baby looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You are upset."

Alexandra turned to lead the way up to the dining room, the little puppy running in front of her, as if it knew where she wanted to go. She was larger now, compact and sturdy, almost as large as its mother. (Its mother waited at the door for the twins and Ninel.) Baby watched as Alexandra quickly gave orders to send lunch up for both of them to her room. Her face was solemn, and her eyes large; Baby knew enough about Alexandra to know that something was up. Her usual regal style was gone, and she looked utterly vulnerable.

The older girl led the way to the servants' stairs, a spiral stairway that coiled up to the third floor. She bent to pick up the puppy (who could have made it up with some difficulty), and started up the stairs so slowly that Baby pressed the small of her back, as if to help her up. Alexandra turned and gave her a smile that was very sad. Baby felt the old feeling of helpless fury building up inside her. She hated anything bad to happen to her cousin, and she was positive something was up.

"Where's Baby Sonja?"

"Genny has her," said Alexandra, in a tone that told Baby that little Sophie was not the problem.

They got to the top, just as they heard Genny and Sophie's voices below, probably coming in for a late lunch. Alexandra let the puppy down, and she scampered ahead to Alexandra's room door. She turned to relieve Baby of her satchel, and Baby, too tired to fight her, allowed it.

When they got inside the room, Alexandra poured her cousin a glass of wine and made her sit. Just as Baby asked what was up, she handed Baby the letter from Marja.

Baby read fast.

"Who is this from? Is this Lady Lena's Marja? Is she gone to Belgravia, or something?" Alexandra nodded gravely. "You have her looking for Sherry?" Alexandra nodded. She had the hem of her skirt in her hands, and was twisting it this way and that. Suddenly her eyes began to shine. "No, don't start crying, Alexandra. Oh, come on, I hate it when you cry!"

Alexandra was simply sitting there, tears dripping from her eyes, while she dabbed at them with the hem of her skirt. Baby heaved herself to her feet, and found a handkerchief for her.

There was a soft knock at the door, and the girl arrived with a tray of lunch for them. Seeing the queen in tears, she exchanged a sad glance with Baby.

With instinctive wisdom, Baby allowed Alexandra to weep herself out. Alexandra had closed the door carefully, so she obviously wanted them to be uninterrupted. Baby got up to lock the door. Once the twins had finished lunch, they would head up, bringing the baby to Alexandra. She sighed. Alexandra looked far too young and defenseless today to be the mother of an active little baby. She wanted to put her arms around Alexandra and comfort her, but she felt that more than comfort, Alexandra wanted to talk.

"Anyhow, I know where she is," Alexandra said, finally, her voice muffled with tears.

"That's something; at least she went straight home."

"She's found someone else, Baby. I'm history!"

"Alexandra, you don't know that. It looks like she's found someone to, you know, keep company, like you have, well, the blacksmith, and me, I guess ..."

Alexandra nodded and dropped her eyes to her hands, which were toying with the handkerchief. "How could I have done that to her?"

"Done what?"

"Betrayed her, with—with Hugh!"

"Be practical, sweetheart! It's probably just as hard for you to live completely isolated, as it was for her to be all alone! If both of you feel so incredibly guilty—I'm not saying she is, but she might be—then we aren't going to get anywhere."

"Start eating, Baby."

"Come, you haven't eaten either!"

Alexandra only shook her head.

Sherry threw herself into her schoolwork. For several weeks she was able to keep from thinking about Alexandra, and all that she had left behind.

"My mother insists I should go visit your parents," Amy told Sherry one Saturday, after they had gone to one of the nightclubs, and Amy had slept over.

"So why don't you?"

"Will you come with me?"

"Oh, Amy!"

"At least my folks aren't there, so it won't be so bad!"

"Amy ...they want to marry us off! It's insane!"

Amy came close and cupped Sherry's breast with her hand. It felt utterly erotic. She really has the touch, Sherry thought to herself. She wished she was in love with the kid.

"Any time you say the word, Sherry, I could be all yours!"

Sherry smiled sadly. "What more do you want? What we have together is plenty for me!" Sherry knew better, but she didn't have the energy to talk about it.

Amy looked into her eyes. Her gaze was suddenly intense. "There has to be more, Sherry," she whispered. Her touch on Sherry's breast actually lightened to a feather-touch, but it burned her with the intensity of her desire.

Sherry gently held her hand and pushed it away. To Sherry's relief, it kept them from boiling over.

Sherry agreed to accompany Amy home. They were received joyfully, and fussed over like a new bride and groom, but Sherry made it clear to her mother that they were only friends. "Be careful, Mother," she said quietly, "Amy wants more, but I'm not—ready for her."

"You're in love with Queen Alexandra."

"I didn't say that, Mother."

"Oh Sherry! Nothing is going to come of it! I don't want my poor child pining for a lover she can never have, darling! It's so sad!"

She made it sound really pathetic, and Sherry felt annoyed. But there was enough truth in what her mother said to make her think.

The warm weather and rains brought minor floods to the area around Alexandra's farm. The stream rose very high, overflowing its banks, but fortunately it didn't do anything really damaging. The straw that Baby had insisted on laying on the bald spots successfully kept the soil from washing off. Instead of becoming a sea of mud, it became a sea of mud soaked in straw. The rain only lasted two days, after which the sun came out, and miraculously, grass began to grow everywhere.

Alexandra now brought the family out on weekends, and worked furiously, attacking the stumps, and sowing grass seeds, keeping the birds out of the sown areas, keeping Baby Sonja from eating mud, keeping Briana occupied. The twins, Ninel, and Hugh the blacksmith were never a problem. But Baby Sonja and Cousin Briana tended to get into trouble. But to give her her due, Briana was getting a lot better. She had made friends with Hugh, and while Alexandra was out doing something, Briana ferried Hugh's ideas and suggestions out to her. The twins, too, were wonderful about farming, having seen a great deal of it in their village.

Alexandra was stunned, when she returned home, to find in addition to Valentine's Greetings from Ninel and Briana, one from Genevieve, and one from Sophie. Genevieve's greeting was a tactfully phrased one that said, essentially, Happy St Valentine's Day to a wonderful friend. Sophie's card was more ambiguous, and it said that Sophie loved her, in her own way. It was nothing she did not know already, but the cards were unexpected, and confused her.

Later in the evening, the twins brought her a Valentine's Day gift of two embroidered handkerchiefs. "It is because you cry so many tears, your Majesty," they said solemnly. Alexandra had to smile. She hugged them, and was touched because they derived an immense amount of pleasure from even the tiniest little favors she bestowed on them. A simple hug, for instance, sent them into an overdose of joy. They really were her willing slaves.

Since Genny and Sophie were in Bernia, supper was a much less tense business these days. In addition to Alexandra and the baby, there were Lady Briana, Lady Ninel, and Lady Sonja from Skree. It was some time since these meals had been really tense, but Alexandra let the servants eat while the family ate, with one of them keeping an ear open. There was a bell that Alexandra could ring to get their attention, since they ate in an adjacent room. The topic of conversation was always, what would they plant on the farm? Every time something they liked was for supper, the twins immediately wanted to plant that, and ran in to say so. There were requests for an amazing variety of crops.

"There's nothing to prevent you from planting a few boxes right here in the Palace," Alexandra said to them. She told them about the boxes in which Farmer Karl grew his winter vegetables, and gave them permission to try it in one of the balconies of the Palace that got a great deal of sun. If they managed to get something growing, she said, she'd consider giving them more space. That was when she began to think of putting a greenhouse in on the farm. It could lengthen the growing season by several months.

After dinner—supper, really—they all came up to Alexandra's room, and sat around and talked, while the two dogs went around to be petted by everyone. Baby, Ninel and the twins were all there. Sonja was walking now, and her hair had grown to the point where it could be tied into little pigtails. Soon they would be able to braid it. She had thick, substantial hair, inherited from both parents.

"Couldn't we take a little holiday?" Baby asked.

"You mean, go to Skree?"

"No; what's the use? It's probably cold as heck out there!"

"Oo, that's true, I forgot."

"We could go to the Lodge," suggested Alexandra.

"What is this Lodge, your Majesty? We have heard tell of it, but we have never seen it!"

"Is it nearby?"

"No, no, it's in Westholm," Baby said. "It's a pretty place. It's Lady Alexandra's real farm, with cows and sheep and horses and everything."

"Oh, is it true? Oh, your Majesty, it is the best plan, to go there!"

"And you know what else? I'm going to show Ninel how to use the crossbow. Maybe you'll be a little more appreciative than the lastperson I helped." Baby looked grim.

"Oh come on, Baby, don't start that!" laughed Alexandra. Baby only shrugged. Alexandra wondered how deep that hurt really went. It was easy to dismiss the love Baby had for Sophie as a childish crush, but the more Alexandra got to know Baby, the more she realized that the girl was a mixture of childlike innocence and adult sophistication.

"Will there be things for the baby princess to enjoy, Lady Alexandra?" asked one of the twins.

"Well, there are spring lambs, and all kinds of infant animals; lots of lovely paths to walk along, puppies and such," Alexandra said. "There's a little girl, about eight or nine, called Beate, probably after my mother," she added.

"Oo, we could take Katie along!" suggested Ninel, who had made friends with young Kate late in the fall, but hadn't thought of visiting with her since.

St Valentine's Day, Stefansberg

Dear Sherry.

After much thought, I decided that I should write. Due to the kind assistance of my friend Marja Helgasdottir, I learned where you were staying. Please forgive me for making inquiries about you, but I do not wish to invade your privacy to the extent of interfering with your work and your life. I only wanted to know where you were, just to know that you are well.

After you left, I was very miserable for a few weeks. I decided to find a place where I could go to be on my own. It was hard having Genny and Sophie right next door, as you can imagine, and I wanted to escape, or at least have a place to escape to. So I obtained a piece of forest about twenty miles from the Palace, and I have started to clear it, with a view to farming it. Cutting down the trees was a wonderful way of working off the feelings of anger and frustration I felt.

Soon, though, the twins and Ninel insisted on coming with me, and now it is hardly a secret. Sophie and Genny do not quite know what is going on, but for the moment they let me mind my own business. So on some days, there's me and the twins, and Ninel and Baby (Lady Briana of Skree, my cousin, you will remember), my own baby Sonja, and the two little dogs, from the twins' village.

I have also made friends with the people from the village just a few miles from the farm, especially the blacksmith. He was a sweet, quiet man, who came to admire me, not knowing who I really was. (You can imagine that I was incognito; it's almost a habit, now.) By a cruel twist of fate, soon after I got to know him, the poor man suffered a 'stroke', which paralyzed his left side, making it hard for him to do anything. This strange accident has changed things for both of us. I have now become the village blacksmith, can you believe this? I have learned to shoe horses and everything. Once a week, or sometimes once in a couple of weeks, I go into the village and do all the smithing they need. If they need to have a horse shoed in an emergency, they look for me in the farm.

For some reason, I have come to think that it was I who caused the stroke. I take as much care of the man as I can, the rest of the time he is looked after by his sister-in-law, the village medicine woman. His love for me eases some of the loneliness I feel. I have Baby Sonja, and the twins, and Ninel, but there are some things I cannot talk about with them, you understand.

Sherry, as you can read, I have long since forgiven you for the sorrow you could not help causing me by running away. My execrable behavior drove you away, I know, but I still hurt. I hope it is not a cruelty to write to you and remind you of me and your life here. We have shared too much to throw it completely away. When I think of what is left of my life, I think of you being in it, and you not being in it, and—I don't know how to finish this sentence! To never hear from you again would be an unbearable existence. No, that's not true, after all, I was living without a word from you, and I have borne it. But I hope you find it in your heart to only reply. Perhaps writing back and forth will be less painful to you than going around with me, and suffering the insults of my tactless subjects, and the embarrassment of my childish behavior.

I was told that you have a girl friend. I only wish you both the greatest happiness; I cannot aspire to compete for your love. Faced with choosing between a woman who can acknowledge you in public, and a woman whom you can only enjoy in secret, the choice is clear. But I know your heart is big enough to spare something for your friend Alexandra.

The twins and Ninel were here less than an hour ago, and if they had known I was writing to you, they would have certainly sent you their regards. Little Sonja is walking about now, and speaking a few words, very clearly. I wonder whether she would remember you! Convey my love and regards to your parents and to your lady friend. I wish you all the best in your studies. Hoping to hear from you, at least a few words,

your remorseful friend,

Alexandra.

The letter arrived almost two weeks later. It was waiting for her with her other mail, in the pigeonhole labeled Sharon Williams. Sherry read it hungrily, reading the more convoluted sentences over and over. Then she got out some wine and drank it down, and read it again. It was the only letter Alexandra had ever written to her; she had seen very little of Alexandra's writing; Sherry and Sophie had done most of the writing for her. All through the letter, it was as though she could see Alexandra's eyes watching her with that sad intentness that came into them on occasion. The news was vaguely interesting; Sherry got a vivid impression of Alexandra trying desperately to distract herself from the agony that she must have felt, as much as Sherry had. Sherry had desired Alexandra for longer, and with greater intensity. In the end, Alexandra had needed her more than she had needed Alexandra. But the longing in the letter was almost palpable.

In a fit of impatience, Sherry read the letter one last time, and it seemed to her that there were a million things wrong with the letter. Sherry found several grammatical mistakes, several errors in continuity of thought, several poor choices of words. She took the letter to the stove, and set fire to it, letting it burn on the stove top. Then she began her homework. But that night, when she went to bed, she cursed her stupidity, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

Meanwhile, Amy had found out who her secret admirer was. She had received an anonymous Valentine's greeting, and puzzled over who it could be for more than a week. One day she was showering after a couple of hours of exhausting practice, and found herself with a classmate, a girl called Susanna. They stared at each other, each under her own shower. Gradually Amy simply got a feeling that Susanna was the one.

"Yes!" whispered Susanna, her whole body turning red. They stared at each other for a long while, hardly breathing. Amy found it hard to breathe, but she could see that Susanna was not breathing at all!

Susanna looked carefully around the entire bathroom, and came across to where Amy stood, and leaned close, and kissed her chastely on the lips, holding her arms with her fingertips.

She had enormous brown eyes, widely spaced, a perky little nose with a sprinkle of freckles on it, full rosy lips, large ears that stuck out, and red-brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. She was very young, younger than even Amy, and she was barely inches away, so close that Amy could feel the heat of her body.

Something snapped inside Amy, and she pulled the girl in for a kiss. She felt like warm, wet rubber. As Amy kissed her, she moaned softly, closing her eyes.

She lifted her hand, and it was trembling. She reverently touched Amy's breast. Amy closed her eyes and leaned into her touch.

"God, you're beautiful! I want to touch you!" she stammered, in a whisper. She was shivering.

"Someone will see us," whispered back Amy.

"Please! Oh please!" begged the girl. She slipped her hand lower and lower, and Amy closed her eyes and waited, aching, for the hand to go low enough. But she stopped at Amy's belly, and went no farther.

They heard sounds, and voices at the door. Susanna sprang back so hard that she slipped and fell to her knees, and began to bleed from a little scrape.

"Oh, your poor knee!" exclaimed Amy, bending over her, her protective instinct thoroughly aroused.

Susannah's face was twisted in a grimace of pain. "Oh, what shall I do?" she wailed.

"I'll take care of it. Here, finish your hair, I'll help you!"

They ignored the other two girls, who ignored them. It was heaven. Amy wiped the other girl's hair tenderly, and patting the scrape dry with a paper towel, took out a dressing from her own locker, and covered the scrape lightly, so that it could still breathe. Then, having seated Susanna carefully, she dressed, and then took Susanna over to her locker on the far side, and helped her dress.

Susanna had the most lovely feminine clothes. She was thinner than Amy, and tended to wear pleated skirts in which she looked utterly charming. She folded the towel and laid it on the bench, and pulled out a simple white bra and began to put it on. Amy pulled her hands away, and fastened it on her, smoothing her little breasts into the soft padded cups. Unlike Amy's lacy, sophisticated underthings, Susanna wore simple, polyester underwear that still looked incredibly sexy on her. Then came a lawn shirt with a little collar, and her heavy pleated wraparound plaid skirt with razor-sharp pleats. A pair of ankle socks and smart brown shoes completed the ensemble, except for a navy overcoat.

"Can you manage?"

They looked at each other, the little scrape forgotten for the moment.

"Do you want to come with me to my room?" asked Susanna, in a barely audible voice. Her ears were bright red. Amy could only nod.

Susanna had a room all to herself. Once they were inside, she put her things on a chair, and, her hands trembling, she locked the door with great determination, and looked at Amy beseechingly.

"I'm not really a bad girl!" she whispered, "I only have these—crazy feelings, and I just can't help myself!"

"It's okay," said Amy softly.

It was almost an hour later that they convinced each other that they should attend at least one more class for the day. They had explored each other thoroughly with their hands and eyes and mouths, and now it was time to get back to the real world. Susanna questioned Amy closely about her classes, making mental notes of every detail. Amy laughed merrily at how seriously she did it, and Susanna frowned at her. "Please don't make fun of this, I'm very serious!" she said plaintively.

When Amy finished her sociology class, there was Susanna, waiting patiently for her across the hall.

"Are you finished for the day?"

"Well, yes, I am, actually," Amy said. "What about you?"

"I'm done, too. Want to come home with me?"

"I have a room, you know! And I have a friend I do homework with!"

"Oh, please come do homework with me!"

"Susanna, you're so silly!"

The girl grew red. They both knew that this meant more to Susanna than to Amy.

Susanna lowered her voice. "Just for a day or two, until I'm okay again, that's all!"

"All right. Do you want to go get something to eat first, and then ..."

"Oh, yes! I'll stand you supper tonight!"

"Susanna, you don't have to!"

"I want to!"

It felt strange, to have the tables turned on her. Susanna's adoration was both welcome and slightly embarrassing. Amy wondered whether this was how it felt for Sherry. She could not remember being quite so earnestly worshipful. But Susanna had her own wonderful charm. She was simple, graceful, elegant. Her beauty was that of an angel, chaste and pure, and it was twice as erotic to be the object of her lust because it was so unexpected, such a contrast to the way she carried herself.

It was funny to see Susanna afterwards counting out the money for the meal, and then worrying about the tip. Amy quickly figured it out and told her, and was rewarded with a grateful smile. They hurried to Susanna's room, and once again locked the door from inside.

"No touching for an hour!" Susanna said religiously. "Okay, I have math to do."

She liked to do her homework seated cross-legged on the rug. She wrote with the book in her lap, something that Amy knew was possible in theory, but uncommon in practice. She sat at Susanna's lovely table, and read.

Ironically, despite the distraction of Susanna being in the room, she read quickly and efficiently, absorbing everything. Then she started reading her composition text, and doing the exercises. She was absorbed in something, when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Susanna had crept up close to her, and was trying to get her attention.

"Do you know any math?"

"Well, school math. Why?"

"Can you explain this one to me?" she asked politely.

Amy studied it for a second, and said she could try. Susanna came round to sit by her. She listened, her eyes wandering about the room, but after a few seconds she shook her head and said her mind had been wandering. Amy started again, and the same thing happened. After it happened a third time, Susanna got up with an exclamation, and did a little dance of frustration, hopping on one foot.

"Let's take a short break," suggested Amy, laughing.

"Oh, you're so sweet, you didn't even get angry!" Susanna exclaimed, smiling.

Amy hopped into Susanna's bed. Susanna laughed, and followed suit.

Afterwards, Amy explained the problem once more, and Susanna got it on the first try.

That was the plan they followed for the entire set of seven questions. They would have a bout of sex play, and then do a problem. Another bout, another problem. By the time she was done, it was almost eleven.

While Susanna wrote up her problems and the solutions, Amy read and wrote. They sat at the table, now, side by side, bodies touching. They were the same height, Amy was slightly chubbier, and had slightly fuller breasts. Her hair was wavy and shorter, where Susanna's red-brown hair was almost waist-length. Somehow there was a similarity in their appearance, despite the difference in coloring. It was as if they were the same black-and-white picture, colored differently. And while Amy's customary expression was one of polite, cheerful interest, Susanna's expression was one of grave attention.

Thereafter, it was inevitable that the two girls spent a lot of time together. Amy's roommate asked about it, and she cheerfully told her that she had made a new friend, and they were hanging out together a lot. She told her confidentially that it would probably fade out pretty soon, but at the moment they were having fun.

Sherry, meanwhile, though she missed Amy's company, was getting extremely high marks on her tests. She was a natural student with an analytical mind, and a gift for language. She wrote well, and attracted the attention of all her professors. But when it came to writing a reply to Alexandra, she felt utterly inadequate.

Dear Alexandra:

I was initially shocked to get your wonderful, long letter. I want to tell you first how courageous, how admirable it was for you to write to me, not knowing how your letter would be received. I suppose it wasn't a hard guess that I still have feelings for you, feelings that may never be fulfilled, feelings that I can't imagine ever going away.

Yes, I happened to meet a girl, and we seemed to instantly click. She is young and innocent, and I was her first, and she has an impossibly high opinion of me. But lately she seems to have found a younger friend, and I think I have been left high and dry. But school is interesting, and I'm learning a lot, and doing very well. It looks as though I might end up becoming an academic.

It was wonderful to hear about all you've been doing. I wish I had the courage to come visit you and see everything you describe. How far have you taken things? Have you made yourself at least a hut? Now that the weather is warmer, have you been able to accomplish more?

One person I miss greatly is the baby. I can almost see her, when I read your words. (I have to confess that, in a fit of anger I burned the letter, but afterwards I was full of remorse.)

Give my regards to the twins and to anyone who remembers me. Alexandra, things are happening to me that are not so wonderful. While my intellectual horizons get wider, other horizons are widening as well, and these are horizons best left alone. Perhaps I should write about all that another time. For the present, I want to thank you for your lovely letter, and assure you that it was welcome, and that I hope it was the first of many.

With love,

Sherry

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The Lodge Again

The children, including the twins, waited eagerly for warmer weather; the whole point of the farm, they reasoned, was to grow something. But Alexandra simply loved to be there, doing strenuous work when she felt like it —when she was angry and frustrated, or just full of energy— and pottering around, not doing much of anything at other times. It was a refuge, and at times Alexandra thought she would go mad if she didn't have it. She no longer reacted strongly to the sight of Sophie, or to the thought of her; Genny was doing a good job of staying out of her way.

She missed the kids when she was away from them, and she delighted in that first moment when she was reunited with baby Sophie, who was quite a young lady now. She missed the dogs when she was away from them for any length of time. She missed Ninel, too, but sometimes she felt she had to get away from that young lady's too intelligent questions. But when they were all in her room, she still missed—something. For months she had assumed she was missing Sherry, but she wondered whether it was true; Sherry... was it the sex? It was hard to go without, after having had sex several times a day for more than a year.

But Alexandra was unaccustomed to analyzing herself; all she knew was that it was hard to keep up the appearance of normalcy, and from time to time she slipped into a kind of ugly sullenness that people began to notice, especially when she had been kept at the Palace for more than a day, away from her little farm, about which most of the Palace seemed to know, except Genevieve and Sophie.

Since the war, meanwhile, Television service had been developed significantly. Genny continued to give intermittent addresses, especially at the urging of John Gustafson, when relations between the Norsfolk and the Bernians needed adjusting. But there was a steady stream of requests for Alexandra herself to appear on TV.

"You need to go on a circuit again, to the district courts, Your Majesty," said Ann herself one day. Word was coming in from the other judges that it had been too long since the Queen had held court in the outlying areas.

"I have to stay here. There's something I'm looking after; I have to stay here, you don't understand!"

"It's still too cold; you do not have to stay here, Your Majesty. If we must, we can ... take care of whatever it is." They seemed to know what she wanted to stay at the capital for. They were right; there was not much more to be done at the farm for several weeks.

Most of all, the thought of going on circuit by herself, without Sophie, without Genevieve ... perhaps it was that that made it seem so hard. Still, it would be amusing to see what the twins made of the Lodge. The Spring Equinox was celebrated with a week off from school, so that the Twins and Ninel could accompany her, as well as young Katie, with whom Alexandra had spent hardly any time.

From the moment the decision to go was made, the Twins and Ninel gave Alexandra no peace. They wanted to take a million toys with them —not even real toys, just odds and ends that formed parts of their fooling around; bits of costumes, toy 'weapons', pretended Belgravian costumes, etc. There was also the big decision: should they take little Sonja with them, or leave her with the Princess? On the one hand, Alexandra would miss her, but on the other, Genny would miss her, too. On top of everything, Frederick and Anne, the King and Queen of New Hope announced that they would visit for Easter, while Alexandra was still away. That settled it; the baby would remain behind, to greet her grandparents once again.

One fine day, Alexandra set out, with a small company of Palace Guard, all young people Alexandra did not know too well, Bernard and Katie, Ninel, the Twins, and the two dogs. Princess Genevieve had been present to see them off; relations were now to the point where they merely embraced briefly, not bothering to kiss. Sophie had gravely followed suit, but Briana, who had also been there, had tenderly kissed Alexandra and smiled encouragingly. She was tall now, as regal as Alexandra, and more beautiful.

In spite of the increased size of her entourage, Alexandra keenly felt the absence of someone with Sophie's intelligence and skill. Young though she had been—sixteen years old on the last circuit— Sophie had been the difference between possible great embarrassment on one hand, and the actual triumph on the other. Well, Sophie, and also Genny, Alexandra had to admit.

"But, your Majesty, this is the way to ..."

"Now, sister, this is the way to Skree, we knew that, didn't we?"

"... of course, to Skree ... thank you, sister, I ... I had forgotten!"

"A narrow escape from a bad error," muttered one of them, probably Mena.

"It doesn't matter," said Ninel quietly to them, "the Palace Guard knows, by now."

"Knows what, Lady Ninel?" whispered Katie, who was riding her own sturdy little pony this time, as were all the children.

"We'll show you," whispered Ninel to her.

Nobody took much notice of the children whispering among themselves, since Alexandra was talking to the Captain of the little company, a young man who seemed to be bright and pleasant, so that Alexandra was distracted from her determination to be unsociable. To the Palace Guard, Alexandra was a hero, having heard of her exploits from Miriam herself, who had been elevated to Major.

They stopped again at a wayside rest, this time for the sake of the ponies. They looked happy enough, but Alexandra was determined to make sure that the experiment of taking the young folks with them on pony back was a success; the alternative was going without them, or bringing them along in a coach, neither of which she wanted.

The dogs had been on their best behavior, as they rode with Alexandra and the twins, respectively. Now they were only too delighted to race about, sniffing at everything, no doubt excited to get a noseful at close range. Even the staid old mother dog wagged her tail with sheer exuberance. The tents were pitched with great gusto, with lots of help from the children, and while the guards set about briskly getting themselves and their horses cleaned up, the young Queen found herself in charge of the civilian contingent, all of whom were of tender age except for Bernard, and the older dog, of course.

"All right," she said with a suppressed sigh, "the twins and I will unpack; Katie and Ninel, you two go get washed."

"How do we do that, Mama?"

"Look there; the guards have rigged a pail there, can you see? You can either just wash yourselves with a cloth, or simply take off everything and pour water on each other."

"Oh, I remember! Come Lady Ninel, I will show you!"

"Just 'Ninel' is fine, Katie," said that young lady with a scowl.

"Oh, I thought, just before the Queen ..."

Ninel nodded understanding.

"Will you use a washcloth, or ..."

"If you don't mind, I will put my clothes on that bush over there, and if you would be so kind ..."

With much giggling, the two girls washed up using two very small buckets of water, while one of the female guards watched from a distance with a smile. Ninel, though close to fifteen, was still slim enough to be considered a child, while Katie was just about ten, once again the youngest of the group.

Getting the twins washed was not hard; they made sure the guards were not watching, and cheerfully stripped and washed each other. Then they insisted on bathing Alexandra, to which she submitted with only slight impatience. For weeks she had repulsed their appeals to let them wash her morning and evening, but this evening she was in too good a mood. Her determination to be unpleasant struggled against her inbred desire to put everyone at ease.

Supper was awkward for Alexandra and Bernard. Both remembered the young consort insisting on cooking the previous time. But this time, the twins took over the cooking, and everyone had to agree that in camp cooking, they were brilliant.

For Alexandra's sake, Ninel shared a small tent with her, while Katie shared a tent with the twins, and Bernard slept with some of the guards. The twins had looked at Alexandra in consternation, and the Queen had only then realized how constrained the siblings would be by the presence of Katie. But it was too late to change things around. Just for tonight, Alexandra had whispered, and they had nodded unhappily.

"Are you happy, Ninel?"

"You mean, today? Yes, it's been nice with the twins and Katie!"

"What about ... what about generally, in the Palace?"

Ninel was quiet a long time, and Alexandra's heart began to sink.

"I'm happy when you're happy," she said.

Ninel was an honest child. She had always been honest, and if she could not be honest and kind, she would be silent. Sometimes she would be silent, and tears would fill her eyes, but she would say nothing rather than lie. Still, Alexandra knew she would lie to make her adopted mother happy, but only if she was forced to do it.

"I'm not happy very much, am I? ..."

There was a loud sniff from Ninel. Alexandra reached out to rest her hand on Ninel's arm, and the girl put her hand to cover it. No more words were spoken. But Alexandra felt a deep satisfaction at Ninel's words and her feelings. It was good to know that the girl did not hate her life to the point of wanting to go back to Scree, away from Alexandra.

The morning held no surprises; the horses and ponies greeted them with eagerness, breakfast smelled wonderful, and they were soon off, climbing steadily, until late in the evening they came into the Lodge in Westholm. There was a telephone now, and Lena greeted them as they came into the Lodge, with Elly smiling from the kitchen.

The sight of them opened the wounds in Alexandra's heart, the memory of the days in the farming commune, and with Farmer Karl and Josephine in Bernia, when Alexandra had felt herself surrounded by those who loved her and cared for her, and who needed her, and who depended on her for things that she was able to give them. She was not just a figurehead then!

"Lady Ninel, how tall you are!" said Elly in Bernian, as a joke. Lena's eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Greetings to you too, Zora!" retorted Ninel awkwardly with a grin. She hurried over to hug Elly, and then hug Lena, after which the couple embraced Alexandra, after Elly had first given her a graceful curtsey.

"You look very lovely," Alexandra said quietly to her, eyes shining. She contrasted the obvious happiness of the couple with her own misery in her mind, but could not find it in her heart to express her own sense of being cheated.

Supper was all ready, cooked by Elly. The twins, as always, had a great deal to say about every single dish, but fortunately it was all complimentary.

"Tomorrow, you must allow us to cook and serve, Mistress Elly," said one, having delicately finished eating a morsel.

"We could take it in turns," said the other one. "Otherwise there would not be anything to do for us, and we would feel useless!"

"Indeed we would," agreed her sister, leaning over to nod vigorously at Elly, her eyes wide.

Privately, Elly asked Alexandra about the twins, evidently greatly amused by their peculiar speech habit. Alexandra had to smile and remark that they were not quite as hysterical as they had been a few months ago.

Tired though they all were, they managed to stay up quite late, talking with Lena and her mate, both of whom were intelligent and articulate. The guards, once they learned that the two had been involved in espionage, couldn't get enough of their stories.

"Early tomorrow, we must raise the pennant, if Your Majesty pleases," said Lena, "unless it is a secret visit..."

"Not at all," said Alexandra. "Is there a ceremony?"

"No," said Lena, "it is done in the traditional way. There are rules about the folding of it and the unfolding, and so on, as Your Majesty must know well, but nothing apart from them."

"Then we may raise it now; why wait?"

Lena looked uncertain.

"The pennant is not usually raised after sunset, Your Majesty."

"Ah," said Alexandra. That was certainly true.

It was decided that the civilians would sleep in the Lodge itself, while the guard would sleep out in the carriage-house. The cottage in which they had stayed before was for extra privacy, when the Queen was visiting with her spouse. There were many rooms in the Lodge, and Alexandra was let to the royal bedroom, a modest room with a broad bed and an attached bath.

"Would your Majesty like a massage?" asked the twins, privately, when Lena was out of earshot.

Alexandra shrugged. "It is getting late," she said, without enthusiasm. Ninel and Kate were next door, arguing; Ninel wanted Kate to sleep in her room, while Kate was saying her father would miss her. Alexandra knew Ninel would have her way, and she suspected the twins would, too. "You may sleep in here, if that's what you want."

In the last several weeks, Alexandra had had moments in which the antics of the two girls had been less than amusing. Once they had gotten completely familiar with the Palace and its environs, their constant comments to each other, back and forth, were now about Alexandra herself. "The Queen is unhappy, my sister," one would say, very softly, and the other would reply, "She has had a hard day, my sister. Be quiet!" "What shall we do?" "What is to be done?" They were never trying to be funny; they were merely saying out loud what was clear to their eyes, each one hoping the other would have an answer. Alexandra loved them dearly, by now, but that did not prevent her from frequently wishing that they would disappear. At the moment they were distracted, all their attention on the fabulous Lodge, about which they had heard so much, and how to make Alexandra comfortable in it. The Lodge was almost Alexandra's definition of comfort, but that did not prevent the twins from seeing a score of things that could be improved.

Alexandra let them bathe her and wash her hair, while Ninel and Katie were similarly occupied. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would allow herself the luxury of tending to Ninel. The twins —and before them, Genevieve– had shown her what a tender thing it was to see to the bath of a loved one, with a hundred opportunities for gentleness, for showing love and affection. Ninel survived with the caring of the twins, but Alexandra wanted to be more of a mother to the girl.

Being far from Genevieve and Sophie was both a relief and a source of distress. Clearly Lena and Elly had been expecting them all, but had tactfully remained silent when they did not see the other two women. On the morrow, Alexandra must go down to West haven, to the county court, but this time she would be on her own. She wondered whether there was any point in taking the twins and Ninel. At least, they would talk to her about the issues; the guards would never venture opinions about settling disputes.

That night, the twins wound up on Alexandra's bed. They knew better than to have wild sex; that would have soured the young Queen's mood quicker than anything else. Instead they settled on either side of her, like human blankets, and after wishing her a lengthy good night and sweet dreams, they sighed softly, and went to sleep, followed shortly by Alexandra herself.

When Alexandra awoke, her lungs were full of the delicate, soapy smell of the twins, who were just waking up on either side of her. There was a moment when each realized that her arm were flung around the body of the Queen rather than her twin.

"You awake with a smile this morning, your Majesty!" said one, shyly withdrawing her arm. "Were you comfortable in the night?" "Did you sleep well, our Queen?"

"Very well, thanks. I thought you were going to fix breakfast, and watch the pennant go up?"

"Yes, yes, we have not forgotten, have we, sister?"

"Indeed not! It is still early, your Majesty! Oh, it is so wonderful to see you happy, your Majesty! Could we stay in bed just a bit longer?"

Alexandra's eyes shone, hearing their teasing adoration. They knew very well just how far they could go, and it pleased her that they were not afraid of her, because they loved her so much. Soon they slipped out of bed, still dressed in the soft nightgowns they had sewn for themselves, patterned after Alexandra's own nightclothes. They proceeded to warm the water for her morning ablutions, and disappeared into the servants quarters to wash up themselves.

It was significantly colder in the Lodge this time than it had been on their previous trip, in the late fall. The fireplaces were blazing, but they still had to dress warmly. Looking in on Ninel, she found her cuddled up with young Katie, just as she had predicted. She gently woke them.

"Listen to the rooster!" she said to the girls, who rubbed their eyes sleepily.

"Oh...yes, I can hear him," Katie said, sitting up. She still was half asleep despite her eagerness to be up and doing.

"Oh yeah," said Ninel in her somewhat higher voice. "Reminds me of the farm!" She meant Farmer Karl's farm.

"It is a farm, right next door," said Alexandra. "You remember little Beate?" she asked Katie. Katie's eyes flew wide open. "She lives in the farm, Katie!"

Katie stumbled out of bed. "Come and get ready," she said, tugging at Ninel's hand, "we must go to visit Beate! She has puppies and sheep and things!"

That was all they needed. In spite of all the reasons why Alexandra should be miserable, the excitement of the children and the twins was infectious. She hummed happily to herself as she washed up and dressed, hoping one of the twins would be by to help comb out her hair, which had grown to a decent length now.

"Oh, your Majesty, you look splendid!" exclaimed whichever twin it was who showed up for hairdressing duty. They had a way of braiding Alexandra's hair that was perfectly neat, but did not pull the hairs out at the roots. She looked at herself in the mirror, and was surprised at how well she looked. Her eyes were clear and fine this morning, and there was a smile on her lips, instead of the hard, tight expression she had been accustomed to seeing.

The pennant was sent up the pole, and waved brightly in the morning breeze. Breakfast smelled wonderful, and before Ninel and Katie could head over to the farm next door, Beate was hurrying to the Lodge to meet them. After some initial awkwardness, the three girls ran off to the farm to explore, promising to be back in a few minutes to have breakfast.

"Ninel, you're coming with me to Westhaven!" Alexandra called, frowning slightly. Ninel looked back, pausing in her stride, then nodded before she hurried to catch up with the younger girls.

Presently, Alexandra and Ninel were headed southwest on the Westhaven road, with a company of four guards. Ninel rode a horse, so that they could go faster. The guards were three men and one woman, a tall girl with dark, tightly curling hair in a square, handsome face. While the men talked merrily among themselves and with Alexandra, the girl only smiled when she caught Alexandra's eye.

Thinking of what lay ahead, Alexandra sighed to herself. She missed Sophie at times like this. She missed Sherry, too; it hurt just to think of her. Sherry did not have the knowledge of politics that Sophie did, but she was intelligent and interested, a good observer, and ... there was an open wound in Alexandra's heart that bled when she thought of Sherry. Sometimes Alexandra's whole body ached for Sherry, at other times she was so numb that she didn't care.

She slowed down her horse, to ride beside the other girl.

"I forget your name, guardswoman," Alexandra said politely, with a smile.

"Elaine, Your Majesty," she replied, "Elaine Capet, at your service."

Elaine was a rather grave girl, solidly built, with a plain face. As they talked, Alexandra discovered that she had been educated, a science teacher for some years in the mountains. But her village had been mostly destroyed in the earthquakes, and she had joined the army. After fighting on the Verne front, she had joined the Palace Guard after the war.

"Your family—was it all destroyed, too?"

"In the war, not the earthquake," she replied. "My mother is alive; she works in the capital."

Alexandra was pleased to find someone who knew some science. She herself had a better than basic science background, and she recalled what she knew of chemistry, which Elaine was quite willing to talk about. Ninel joined in, since science was her latest love. Everything fascinated her, from biology to astronomy; she knew all about the stars in the local cluster. And so the hour and a half passed pleasantly as they descended the narrow road to the harbor town.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Westhaven

The mountain road met the shore road at the main intersection of the town, and there, a few yards to the Northwest, stood the Town Hall, where Alexandra would hold court. It was a modest, two-story stone building, and from a mast flew the Northlandish flag, and over the front entrance a banner hung saying, Welcome Queen Alexandra!

They were received with pleasure by the townsfolk and their leaders, the latter who, after introductions and a few polite inquiries after the Queen, her consort and her baby, led them inside, while the townsfolk remained on the street, smiling and nodding to the small company. Once again Alexandra was burdened with the deep love the people had for her. Two years ago, they had gathered round, curious, admiring, to see their young queen and her new mate. But now there was something deeper, a warmth, a loyalty.

Inside, in the large foyer, opposite the entrance was a large portrait of Alexandra, beautifully executed in oils, with baby Ninel in her arms, and Genevieve on her right. She stared at it a while, since she had not sat for any portraits of late. It was Ninel who softly remarked that it was taken from a television broadcast, with the microphone skillfully removed.

"I'm grateful for the warm welcome," Alexandra said, awkwardly to the gentleman who seemed to be in charge of local judicial affairs, the Justice of the Peace.

"Your Majesty, the War was hard on us ... but none of your subjects are more loyal than these, in our town!"

Alexandra shook her head. "It doesn't make sense; hardship should harden them against the government, if what the scholars say is true!"

"No, no, not true. This hardship was none of your doing; it was not taxes, not living beyond your means! It was from outside! You may be sure that the people know the difference. It is always a mistake to underestimate the people."

Alexandra nodded. They arrived at the office room which Alexandra had used the last time she had visited, and which her mother, she was informed, had used before her. The heavy, plain desk was bare, but the man, who had been introduced as George Walter, had a tidy but heavy sheaf of papers in a folder, which he placed on the desk in front of Alexandra. Ninel looked around the room, reading the titles of the books on the shelves, and studying the portraits on the walls. Through the window curtains, a small group of citizens, older men, women of all ages and children stood watching the building anxiously.

"How shall we proceed?" Alexandra asked, sitting at the desk, as Walter sat across from her. She dreaded the moment when Ninel would get bored and ask to explore around the town. The guards were camped out in the back, near the stables. She was not even a fraction as confident as she had been two years ago, with Horvald shepherding her through the caseload.

Walter looked at her uncertainly, and edged forward in his seat, pulling the folder towards him thoughtfully.

Ninel hurried to the desk, and looked from Alexandra to Walters.

"Are these all the cases you have to decide ... Your Majesty?"

Alexandra smiled at Ninel and gave Walter a shy smile. "This is Ninel, my adopted daughter, Judge Walter. You may call her Lady Ninel."

Walter smiled warmly at the young girl, and Alexandra was relieved. There was very little pretentiousness in this judge. "Yes, these are the cases, indeed, but," he turned back to Alexandra, "it's too much to expect that you can settle them all, Your Majesty."

Alexandra heaved a small sigh of relief, as Ninel's eyes smiled merrily. "Can you sort them in order of importance, perhaps, and we can settle as many of the most urgent ones as we can?"

Walter nodded, and they proceeded to watch him sort the cases into piles, as he remarked on the general facts of each one. There were some two dozen major cases, sorted into three piles, and then another dozen minor disputes that had been appealed from Walter's ruling.

At Ninel's suggestion, Alexandra went through the minor disputes, and based on what there was in the folders, agreed with all but two of Walter's decisions. "I think I will hear them briefly and settle them, which will enable most of the folks outside to go home," Alexandra agreed. "What do you think about looking at the larger cases right after lunch?"

"It's a good plan," agreed Walter. He was not an indecisive man; rather he was anxious not to step on Alexandra's toes.

As before, there was a brief ceremonial portion of the morning's meeting, as a small choir of children sang an anthem, and the Mayor welcomed the Queen officially, with the Guard standing behind her at attention. Then the guard left, and the Mayor took his seat, and Alexandra invited Justice Walter to conduct the proceedings, introducing the first defendant. He briefly explained the problem, and summarized his findings. The defendant was then invited to explain his appeal.

Alexandra then gravely gave her decision, which was to uphold Justice Walter's ruling. Then it was on to the second case. The onlookers studied the Queen with interest, listened to her speak in her deliberate way, noting her attire–tunic and tights, with a short maroon mantle on her shoulders.

In some of the cases, the Queen changed the sentence; sometimes lessening its severity, sometimes making a more creative disposition, occasionally exchanging a meaningful glance with a young girl who sat by her side, and announcing that sentencing would take place the following day. In two instances, the Queen let the defendant off with a commuted sentence; in other words, if the individual was convicted of a second crime, then he or she would have to serve both sentences.

That was twelve cases, with a brief break for refreshments in the middle. After that set, the Judge adjourned for lunch. There was a small but beautiful dining-room at which Alexandra and Ninel were served lunch–a simple meal of bread, cheese and kippered fish.

"What do you think of the morning's events?" asked Alexandra, seeing how Ninel was clearly dying to remark on the subject.

"What do you think?" asked Ninel, surprising Alexandra.

"Well ... I do my best, dear, what is there to be said? I simply wondered whether –I don't know– you had an opinion on any of the cases, that's all!"

Ninel did not answer right away, but Alexandra could see the brain busily working, as the girl's expressive eyes wandered around the room.

"I think you did good," she said, finally.

Alexandra smiled. "Are you being tactful?"

Ninel grinned. "Uh huh," she said, nibbling at a whole carrot that happened to have been set out especially for her. She loved carrots. "Why can't you be, you know, creative about all their punishments?"

"Sentences, or penalties, or fines?"

"You know what I mean!"

Alexandra sighed. "You like the creative punishments, you're saying?"

"Yeah!"

That began a dialogue, and Alexandra was simply amazed at Ninel's ideas. The vast majority of them were useful, though she tended to be ultra-resentful regarding crimes against children, as was natural. Her two years among the Bernian farmers had evidently been influential. The commune children grew up happy and gregarious but helpful and essentially obedient. Alexandra had to explain that an extreme penalty against an offending adult could create resentment against the victim, which could backfire on everyone. "The point is to make a firm disapproval, but not to unnecessarily humiliate the man involved," Alexandra explained.

"It's always a man, isn't it?"

The young Queen sighed. "Women are capable of a lot of meanness too, I suppose; perhaps not spectacular enough to come to the notice of the townspeople, that's all."

"No, it's just men who are vicious," said Ninel firmly.

"I did you wrong by bringing you to the Palace," said Alexandra, her face expressionless. Her staff was dominated by the female sex, and Ninel knew hardly any men except those in the farming commune, and that community was a matriarchal one.

"Why do you say that?" demanded Ninel, looking deeply upset.

"Because you've seen men committing atrocities, and you're too ready to think of atrocities as something that involves only men. You need more decent men in your life, and there are only a few at the Palace, Ninel."

There was a long silence, and then Ninel quietly agreed with Alexandra. It was something she herself would have done, and she was amazed at how much of herself she saw in Ninel.

"Why did you change your mind?"

Ninel blushed and dropped her eyes, as she awkwardly made herself a sandwich. "I had forgotten ... Bernard, and Farmer Karl, and ... Lady Sophie's father, I forget his name ..."

"John Gustafson!"

"Yeah, him." She took a bite and chewed a while. "Kind of, older men."

They ate silently for a while, and then began to discuss some of the more complex cases. Many of them were such that the Judge's ruling was fair, but likely to perpetuate the conflict. They were many of them very sad cases, where Ninel felt sympathy for all parties involved.

"Do you want to go and check on the guards?"

"Why?"

"I think that Elaine is nice," said Ninel, grinning.

"What do you mean?"

Ninel sobered up and shrugged. "Maybe she has some good ideas. She was a teacher, after all."

"Isn't that interesting? She might volunteer to help you with your homework," Alexandra mused.

"I thought you were going to help me!"

"I certainly will, dear, but ... Elaine might enjoy it, don't you think?"

Ninel nodded thoughtfully. They finished eating, and Ninel jumped up, and tugged at Alexandra's hand. It was her way of urging Alexandra out to the stables. It wouldn't do to be too accommodating, Alexandra decided, so she first fussed around with her hair, and then did a visit to the toilet before she allowed herself to dragged out to the back.

The guards were not quite finished with their meal. Seeing the Queen, they hurriedly tried to stand, but Alexandra waved them back to their food. Feeling a little awkward, she simply smiled at them; the serving girl saw the Queen's eye on her, and backed her way into the kitchen.

"There, you've scared off the little thing, Your Majesty," said Rolf, one of the more forward of the guards. "We were just making friends with her!"

"You be nice to her!" instructed Ninel firmly, wagging her finger at him.

"Oh, I had every intention of being nice!" he retorted with a charming smile. Ninel looked at him very doubtfully.

The other men looked at each other and chuckled, clearly a little embarrassed. Elaine gave Ninel a neutral smile. Her face was such that you couldn't say whether she was really smiling, or whether it was simply in repose. She ate slowly, taking little bites of her food, breaking things into little morsels.

Ninel quietly walked over to her and the girl made room for her on her bench.

"Did you enjoy your meal?" she asked Ninel.

Ninel nodded and smiled. "I like the spinach pies. We ate them in the farmer's camp."

"In Bernia?"

Ninel nodded.

Alexandra, still talking with the men, could not hear Ninel and Elaine's conversation. The men had heard of one of the most difficult cases, one of a man who had committed bigamy during the war, having left his wife in Westhaven and secretly married a woman in his unit. She had a child by him now, and the man was in prison.

"He should divorce the second woman; that's all there is to it," said Rolf.

"She should divorce him!" said one of the other men. "He should support both the kids!"

"Three kids, not two," pointed out the third guard.

"How's he going to support them from in prison?"

"What happens if we let the man out? Everybody will want two wives!"

Elaine finished eating at last, and Alexandra was able to drift over to Ninel and the guardswoman without too much embarrassment. This time Elaine smiled genuinely, her eyes crinkling up, while her mouth stayed twisted with quiet good humor.

"They have very definite ideas about what to do," said Alexandra, sharing a rueful smile with her.

"Very easy answers for difficult situations," Elaine said, smiling. She spoke softly enough to keep the men from hearing her. They were all of the same age, in their mid twenties, but Alexandra got the feeling that Elaine regarded the immaturity of her male colleagues with well-concealed disapproval.

"What do you think?" demanded Ninel. The three girls walked towards a shady corner of the rear courtyard to talk by themselves.

"That one is hard, I have to confess," Elaine said, looking gravely at her companions. She shrugged.

Ninel was soon telling her about all the cases. It was amazing how much the kid remembered, and how much she seemed to care. Elaine listened quietly, looking impassively at them, and then venturing thoughtful opinions. More than her opinions, which usually made sense, Alexandra was impressed with the number of cases in which Elaine had no answer to give. It was a good lesson to the young Queen: she had to give opinions sometimes with limited information, but here was someone who recognized that the information was indeed incomplete.

Ninel was pressing Elaine for an opinion, and the girl was smiling quietly as she always did.

"What if you were a judge, and you had to decide?"

"Judges get to question the witnesses, Ninel."

"He did! They said ...."

But Elaine shook her head with a smile. She had to have been there, she insisted. Alexandra was becoming convinced that it would be very useful indeed to have Elaine in the courtroom. After Ninel was done pestering the patient girl, Alexandra looked over to the male guards, and invited them over with a look to join them.

"We thought you ladies were talking about us," Rolf said, smiling charmingly at Ninel, who laughed at him.

"Would the four of you sit in the back of the room and listen?" Alexandra asked them seriously. "When I call a recess, I would like it if you came round here, to give me your opinions."

Elaine looked doubtful, but as always, her face betrayed only a tiny vestige of what she was feeling. By now Alexandra could read her just a little.

"You seem unhappy about my request," she asked gently.

"Your Majesty is not supposed to be influenced by anyone; you alone must bear the responsibility. Otherwise you are in danger of attempts to influence you. Every sentence you give will be studied carefully, to see whose influence is present there. It is not good. Or else, the entire court should see who advises you..."

"Like a jury."

"Yes. Your Majesty can see the difficulty?"

"Yes ... yes, I suppose I can."

"A judge is respected only if he or she is free from influence. And above all, you must be a fair judge."

So, in the end, despite her hope that Elaine would be a second 'head' for her, Alexandra conducted the afternoon's cases without the help of the guards, who nevertheless graced the proceedings with their presence. Ninel sat with them, silently but animatedly arguing with the men, occasionally restrained with a touch from Elaine.

Somehow, Alexandra fancied she could tell when Elaine approved of a decision, and when she did not. And most of the time, she seemed to agree with Alexandra.

They had barely time to pick up a few knickknacks for Katie and Beate before the shops closed. Luckily, shopkeepers were pleased to stay open on the Queen's behalf, and had to be forced to accept payments for the goods. Elaine unbent enough to participate in the shopping spree, and Alexandra could see that she was fond of the two little girls back in camp.

"Did you never marry, Elaine?" Alexandra asked, as they rode back. Ninel was arguing with the boys, leaving the two women to ride ahead, conversing without fear of being overheard.

"Never, Your Majesty," she said quietly, and then turned to Alexandra with an amused smile. "Perhaps someday!"

"I see you like children!"

"For the most part," she admitted. "The Lady Ninel is an interesting young person."

"I meant Beate and Katie, actually."

"They too, yes. I'm a little less comfortable with children that age, but I enjoy them from a distance!"

"But, you said you had been a teacher?"

"Oh. Yes, for the oldest age group; students of the last three years, only."

"I see." These were students between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, prior to attending Academy. Alexandra had gone to the Academy early, as a special privilege, as had Sophie. In most villages, students were seventeen when they were sent to the Academy in Stefansberg or Bethlehem. "How large was your class, when you taught?"

"Six students; I taught them everything," she said quietly, the smile fading from her face. When she looked at Alexandra, her blue eyes had a flintiness in them that told the young Queen how little the woman wished to discuss that period in her life.

At least, thought Alexandra, it was a natural disaster that must have killed her students, and not the war. She fervently hoped that was true.

The sun was setting when a small group of villagers climbed up the hill to the Lodge. Lena found benches for them at Alexandra's request. The twins were admonished to keep silent, and refrain from commenting on the villagers' appearance, their words, or indeed on anything to do with them.

Alexandra thanked the villagers for visiting, and said that the Lodge was her favorite place in the entire country.

"Your Majesty, I would like to thank the villagefolk for the help they gave my father when he was ill."

"I thank you for your help towards Warden Lena," said Alexandra.

"If Your Majesty visits the village, it would be an honor," said one elder with a smile. "We have an inn, a school, a store, a church!"

"Aye, we would like to be able to boast that you have visited us, Your Majesty! The late Queen came once, and never again!"

There were chuckles at that, but Alexandra could see that the hurt was real. The guards seemed willing to go, since there were several pretty girls hiding at the back with their mothers.

"Certainly, I will try to visit," said Alexandra. "At the beginning of a visit there always seems plenty of time, but when we leave, it is usually in a hurry..."

There were many nods, most of all from Lena and Elly.

The twins whispered to Ninel, who hurried up to Alexandra and whispered in her ear.

With an embarrassed smile, the young Queen promised to attend Sunday service, if she was still in residence at the Lodge.

"Is there a priest in the village?"

No, they said, one visited from Westhaven.

When the villagers left, Ninel was sure that Alexandra had succeeded in gaining their loyalty and affection. It seemed unfair that she should be able to do this with such ease. It was so strange and wonderful that this amazing girl, barely a handful of years older than Ninel, had come to be her adopted mother. They were more like sisters, sometimes; but at other times, they were indeed mother and daughter. But most of the time Alexandra was Queen, and Ninel was her faithful subject.

"Tonight, you must sleep in your own bed," Alexandra told the twins after supper.

"Why, your Majesty?"

"Are you upset with us?"

Alexandra looked at them sternly. "You realize I can't always explain the reason for every decision I make, girls?"

"Oh yes, we beg your pardon, your Majesty."

Gradually, the sounds of the Lodge died down. The horses were quiet, the twins stopped talking to each other, as did Ninel and Katie, and Beate, who was staying the night. The door had a crack under it, and Alexandra could hear the little dog still grooming itself, probably licking its paws, after which it whuffed quietly to itself and settled down with a sigh. Her fire was banked, and the room was gradually cooling down.

Alexandra tried not to feel sorry for herself; there were many women of her age who slept alone at night, surely? Still, her thoughts went to Sharon, the beautiful, sweet-voiced, gentle-eyed Belgravian woman who had captured her heart. She had made love with four women: First Genevieve, lovely, impatient Genevieve. Then, gentle, giving, loving, thoughtful Sophie, selfless, withdrawing, wise, but ultimately weak. Then had come Sherry, utterly patient, beautiful, quietly intense, sensuous. It was with Sherry that Alexandra had shared her body most eagerly. With Sophie, their sex had been more comfort; they had been lovers, but more companions; when Genevieve had taken Sophie from her, there had been more a feeling of loss than betrayal. Oh, what a mess that had been ... guilt, loss, shock, and eventually a kind of numbness that Sherry had healed. Finally, there had been Briana, baby, whom Alexandra had come to love in a way she loved no one else. But always, Alexandra's thoughts slipped back to Sherry.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Nightmares

The thought of Sherry always brought tears to Alexandra's eyes. She had been so certain that with Sherry at her side she could survive anything that the world could throw at her. She could laugh at Genevieve and Sophie. Indeed, with Sherry at her side, she finally was able to feel kindly towards the lovers, even feel sorrow when they had their inevitable little fights.

What a team they had been! So alike in their attitudes towards so many things! But Sherry had hated the thought that Alexandra suffered when Sherry was not recognized as her lover. It was Alexandra's own love that had driven Sherry off. It was a great realization, a realization so enormous that Alexandra's stomach began to burn. Love had driven Sherry away, love, and nothing but love. If Alexandra had only the strength to treat Sherry like a mere bodyguard in public, and a lover only in private, all would have been well. The moment she had been raised to Lady in Waiting, things had begun to unravel. What a fool she had been!

Tears came, tears of anger at herself. Alexandra buried her face in her pillow, and cried in silence. Once her tears began to flow, they grew into a flood, and Alexandra began to shake with her sobs. If the girls heard, they would come to investigate, and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to be left alone. But she could not keep from pounding her head in fury at herself.

The dog began to whine softly, and Alexandra froze, and cursed silently. Her face was a mess of tears, and she needed to blow her nose badly. She tiptoed out to the door and let the puppy in, and shut the door again. It licked her toes softly, comforting her.

"Stop that!" she hissed, unwilling to be comforted. In the near dark, she saw the pup slink away, a picture of dejection. She threw herself on her bed and wept harder than ever.

Presently, Sherry's face took its place with those of Genny and Sophie. Then there was Baby, so intense, self-absorbed, but kind-hearted, and oh so physical. She remembered the weight of the girl's body on her own. Already Briana weighed easily 180 pounds, all solid muscle. And what a furnace she was! In the freezing winter, Baby's body was almost too warm to bear. But the knowledge of her innocent love for Alexandra had sustained the young Queen on so many dark nights. Despite the carnal nature of their relationship, Briana's innocence shone through her eyes, even when her hands were on Alexandra's body. But long ago Alexandra had reasoned out why if she loved Briana, it had to remain a private thing. Somehow, what happened to her and Sophie must not happen to her and Briana. So they could be occasional bedmates, but to fall in love was a disaster. She wished she had brought Briana with her. Her body longed for a human touch. And Alexandra made love to herself, slowly, thoroughly. She lay cursing afterwards, that she had felt sorry for the pup; what would it think? Her nightgown was soggy with her vaginal secretions, and she felt her face flame with embarrassment. The last thing she needed was a pointed comment from one of the twins in the morning. She got out of bed, and headed to the bath, followed by the puppy. She pulled out her nightgown, and rinsed it out as quietly as she could. Shivering in the cold, she slipped back under the sheets.

She thought about the guardswoman, Elaine. She smiled, thinking of how plain her face was, the few expressions her face showed. Now there was someone whose weight might compare with that of Baby and even Lena. Elaine was the same height as Alexandra, but her legs were big and powerful, like those of Lena, her shoulders were big and strong, her neck was long but powerful, to match her shoulders. Her hair, barely long enough to braid, was a tightly curling mahogany, and her eyebrows were level and thick and the same color. She had a strong, broad chin, with a little cleft in it, and there was a hint of a dimple in her cheek.

She was surprised at how well she remembered Elaine's features. Her uncompromising good sense was not a point in her favor. Alexandra preferred people with emotions. God, that was why she loved Sherry so much, and Baby.

She felt the little dog jumping into bed, and settling herself at Alexandra's feet. She could feel her going round several times before she settled down with a sigh. Despite her impatience with the animal, she forgave it. As far as the little terrier was concerned, she could do no wrong. And she needed all the warmth she could get in the steadily cooling night.

Several more times that night, dreams of Sherry woke her up, and tears came again. She dreamed that she spoke to Sherry in her home, and forgave her everything. She declared her undying love to her, promising to wait forever. And Sherry cried, too, and that made Alexandra cry all the more.

"Ours was a perfect love!" Alexandra wept. "It was I who destroyed it! Isn't it true?"

"Don't blame yourself, love!" said Sherry, finally, in her sweet voice.

"Will you come back?"

Yes, said Sherry, she would come back. But when Alexandra awoke, she knew it was only a wish.

The morning was freezing cold. Alexandra was awakened by the dog licking her face. There was a knocking at the door. The twins could not get in, and the room was cold, and the fire was out. The stone floor was almost too cold to put her foot down on. "Wait, I'm coming!" she cried, looking around for her robe. Finally she found something in the closet. She ran to the door and scowled at the twins, who stood there with an armful of firewood.

They stood as if paralyzed, staring at Alexandra's face.

"You have been crying," whispered one of them. "Your eyes are so red!" exclaimed the other, softly, raising a gentle hand to Alexandra's cheek. Alarmed, she felt her face, and the dried tears on her cheeks. And there, behind the twins were Katie and Beate, looking at her with concern.

Alexandra smiled at them, let the twins in, and shut the door gently.

"What happened?" demanded the twins quietly, concerned.

"Nothing! What are you talking about?"

"But why have you been crying?"

"I ... I dreamed of Lady Sherry ... at any rate, it's none of your business, you girls! Keep your observations to yourself, in future! I do not want the little girls speculating about ... anything! Do you hear?"

"What is speculating, your Majesty?"

"Whatever it is, they're too young to do it, you may be sure, sister."

"Oh god, you drive me mad!"

"Lay the fire, quick, sister!"

"Yes ... don't talk, now."

They looked fearfully –and worse, pityingly– at their mistress, their eyes filled with tears. Alexandra lay on the bed once more, covering her head with her pillow. She was furious at the pity in their faces, and at her own weakness for giving way to her misery. In any case, she could not wash herself until they had warmed the water; the cold here was more intense even than that out on the farm during winter. At almost a thousand feet, the sun was bright but the air was thin, and the nights were very cold.

Alexandra heard the girls go about doing their work, silently for a change. Their very silence was a reproach to her. She could hear quiet sniffs; they were not rejoicing in her embarrassment, rather they hurt with her. And that made it all the harder to bear. Presently she heard the door close almost silently.

Many long minutes later –the little dog had been taken with them– she felt the roaring fire warm the air a little. Alexandra ventured out to the bathroom. A large kettle had been placed on the iron stove, and water had been drawn, and the little cistern filled, leaving just enough space for the water warming in the kettle. Alexandra's heart melted at the thoughtfulness of the girls. It appeared that nothing she said could turn their hearts from being loyal to their Queen.

Her nightgown was badly stained; perhaps she had hurt herself last night; she stood before the fire and checked herself for scrapes–no, she looked fine. How embarrassing! She hoped the girls would wash the garment presently. At least they knew how lusty she was. It was the crying that had upset them.

They came back with warm milk for her, and offered to bring her breakfast.

"No, I'll come down in a bit," she said.

"Let me comb out your hair, your Majesty," mumbled one of the girls, almost too afraid to speak.

"Oh, come on, I won't bite, stupid girl!"

"I know you won't!" she said, bursting into tears. She stopped, wide-eyed, holding her breath, as Alexandra glared at her. Alexandra thrust the comb at her, her own eyes threatening to leak again. The twin forced herself to smile, and Alexandra could only keep herself under control by turning away. She began to hate herself. It was the scene returning from Skree without Sherry, all over again. She felt the gentle tug of the comb through her hair, soothing her.

Alexandra took a deep, deep breath, and let it slowly out.

"She's gone ... there's no use wishing her back," she whispered, more to herself than to them.

"But why did she go?" asked the other twin. She was fearful, but the question burned inside her, and the girls could never keep silent if they had a question.

"Because I loved her so much, I wanted everyone to know."

She felt the comb stop, as the other twin pondered what she had said. Impatiently Alexandra held out her hand for the comb, but they soothed her, and resumed combing her hair.

"She thought it would be an embarrassment, then, sister!"

"Indeed it would ... she could not abide that; she respected your honor too much, your Majesty!"

"Oh, that she did. She worshiped her Majesty. You could see it in her eyes!"

"How can she live, away from your Majesty? It must be hard!"

"What is the use in thinking such things?" Alexandra snapped, impatiently. "Be sure not to gossip about this to anyone!"

"But the children saw you this morning, your Majesty!"

"Oh, they were so upset, your Majesty! The little girl from the farm, Beate, she began to cry, and then our Katie cried too!"

"We said not a word! You must believe us! We tried to comfort them!"

"And how did you do that? What did you say about me?"

"Nothing! We only said such things as, do not cry, and suchlike!"

"She tells the truth, your Majesty! We heard what you said to us, and we knew it would have been wrong to talk about it any further!"

Alexandra knew when they were telling the truth. Most of the time, it seemed they could not distinguish between thinking something, and talking to each other. But if Alexandra's well-being was involved, they were remarkably intelligent about what they did. She repeatedly saw instances of this strange change of mode at critical moments. When it was just them and Alexandra and Ninel, this never happened; they tended to babble almost as if Alexandra could not hear them (unless she specifically wanted them to be quiet, as this morning).

Somehow, Alexandra's hair was braided beautifully; her hair looked glossy and tidy as always. Her clothes were neat: a long slit skirt for riding, a shirt and jacket in which she looked actually beautiful. The jacket disguised her muscular arms and shoulders, and the long skirt played down her muscular legs, which after so many weeks cutting trees and sawing lumber on the farm, were beginning become very well developed indeed.

The conversation at the breakfast table drew to a stop as the guardsmen tried not to stare at the red eyes of the Queen. With iron will, Alexandra smiled at them all, and seated herself. Ninel looked at her with barely concealed concern. Katie and Beate were serving table, and they too had been crying. All this just because her eyes had been red.

"I hurt my eyes in bed last night," she said, laughing.

"Oh!" exclaimed the little ones, so utterly relieved that Alexandra was deeply moved.

"Both eyes?" asked Ninel, looking incredulous.

"Yes," said Alexandra, bending over her plate, feeling suddenly hungry. "Who cooked?"

"It was Elly, this morning," said Ninel, the little know-it-all.

Alexandra fell to her breakfast. After she had slaked the major pangs of her early-morning hunger, her eyes wandered over to where Elaine quietly ate, her calm eyes on her own plate. Alexandra was amused; what a gift it was to never be upset by anything!

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The Hero of Geneva

They decided to turn towards the village that morning before they headed out to Westhaven. It lay in a little road that led nowhere but to some homesteads; both major roads, the road out to Skree as well as the road down to Westhaven avoided the little cluster of buildings that formed the Village of Westholm. Handing her mare to Elaine, Alexandra led the way towards the first of the buildings, which was the village Inn. They were spotted very quickly, and the street filled with children and sundry adults. The innkeeper was one of those who had come up the previous night, a talkative and good-natured man of late middle age. Alexandra promised to visit the inn of an evening, and try their ale. "At the moment," said the innkeeper, "the place is hardly worth seeing!" Alexandra smiled and murmured that she looked forward to seeing the place at its best.

Next was the town store, which sold everything the village folks could possibly need, and Ninel eagerly examined their wares. Beate quickly led the way to her favorite things in the window, with Lena warning her not to be a nuisance. Alexandra turned to reproach her, but saw her smile. This morning, little Lara was in her arms, smiling all around her. She had already greeted Alexandra which had sounded very much like Good Morning, Your Majesty, but then she had extended the same greeting to Ninel, much to Elly's dismay and embarrassment. But Alexandra had only laughed.

The little school had only two teachers, a man and a woman. There were more than a dozen students of different levels, including four boys of about fifteen who stood at the back, shyly watching the royal party, with more than incidental interest in young Ninel. For the first time, Alexandra realized how fleeting could be the time she could spend with the beloved little redhead. It was almost too much, to be reminded that almost the last human being she had to herself was not really her own, and growing fast.

She turned, to see Elaine watching her with her accustomed impassivity. On impulse, Alexandra smiled at the woman, who smiled back her tiny, tiny smile, crinkling her eyes.

"Guardswoman Elaine has been a teacher," she said, again on impulse. The man acknowledged the former teacher with a smile and a nod. Alexandra spoke a few words to the teachers, learning that the two of them were not a couple, but father and daughter. The woman was a sweet-faced, sweet-voiced girl of around her mid twenties, all blushes and dimples. What is she doing here? Alexandra wondered. She should be a wife and a mother to some lucky man somewhere. But then she remembered all the strong women she knew: her family in Skree, Sophie and Baby, and even the infuriating Princess. The image of the passionate Nevenka, the consort of the Prime Minister of Bernia sprang to her mind's eye. Alexandra sighed. The girl was so feminine; that was what had got her mind going in that direction.

Ninel was answering a shy question from the teacher.

"Next year, madam," Ninel said, respectfully. "I'm studying astronomy presently ... I'm thirteen," she said, a note of defiance creeping into her quiet voice.

"I studied economics and history," confessed the sweet teacher lady, smiling. "They are not as easy as they sound," she insisted, blushing. Seeing a movement, Alexandra looked round, to see Elaine nodding quiet agreement to the teacher's remark. The older man introduced the guardswoman to his daughter with pride. One of the younger students tugged at the teacher's sleeve, and she bent to listen to her whisper, after which she nodded.

"We would like to recite for Your Majesty, if you have a few minutes," she said anxiously. Alexandra was prepared to postpone the recitation for later, but the looks on all the faces of her companions begged her to stay. The twins, especially, were eager to be edified by the recitation.

"Won't it be too disruptive? I'm sure you have lessons and things?"

"Oh no, Your Majesty, it is Holy Week, there are no classes! The students are here to meet you only!"

Alexandra was red-faced. Of course; or little Beate would be in school.

Alexandra was quickly given a seat of honor, and the others found places to sit. Two little girls and the five older boys arranged themselves in the space in front. At a signal from the teachers, the launched into a surprising recitation. It was a kind of catechism: Who is the leader of our nation, asked the two young girls, and the boys replied in chorus, it is the Queen, Alexandra the Second, beautiful and courageous. Who was the conscience, and the voice of the people of Northland? It was her Royal Highness, Genevieve of New Hope, the Princess Consort, beloved of the Queen, the eloquent, the passionate! Who was the war leader of the Norsefolk in time of adversity? It was the General Bertha Hanasdottir, the persistent, the patient! Who was the hero of Geneva? It was the Lady Ninel, the brave, our ambassador to the children of Bernia! Who was the proud defender of the Queen? It was the Lady Sophia Gutrunsdottir, the quick, the fearless. Who was ...

On it went for a minute longer, as Ninel's eyes grew round, and she looked at Alexandra, confused and proud. It was just a litany of war slogans, but it gave Alexandra a hint of what must have transpired in schools across the country. Somehow, Ninel had become a war hero. The sentiments expressed filled her with a quiet pride, that Ninel's personal warmth towards her Bernian friends had become known, and taught to the children. There was not one word of condemnation of the Bernian people.

When it was all over, one of the little girls, a grave-faced little thing, came forward with a beautifully hand-printed copy of the recitation. Every initial was beautifully decorated and colored in ink. It must have taken weeks, with all their schoolwork. Alexandra received the precious piece of work, and thanked the child, and the two teachers, and all the students with her eyes. With a curtsey, the young woman teacher smiled an invitation to the Queen to speak.

Alexandra stood, and looked over the assembled village folk and their children.

"In this very village are two more heroes," she said, looking up to meet Lena's eye, and the round, pleasant face of Elly. "Our own Warden Lena and her mate Elly, as you must know, risked their lives repeatedly for my sake!" It was clear from the smiles the children turned on Lena that her role was no secret. Lena held up a hand, smiling, a gentle plea to Alexandra to desist. She bowed to the townsfolk shyly, and drew Elly forward, to stand shyly covering her face with her hand. She had once more become the retiring warden's wife.

"And, not least," said Alexandra, acutely aware of distress she was probably causing the gentle Elly, "is the brave Nevenka Ludowici, a Bernian lady who persuaded General Katherine Pfizer to surrender." This was new to them, despite Alexandra's public thanks to Nevenka on National Television. "And so is General Pfizer a hero of a kind, for the courage to surrender." The children nodded, not entirely sure what was expected of them. There had not been time to deprogram the children, to no longer consider the dreaded General Pfizer as the devil herself.

"How many of you would like to meet the hero of Geneva?" Alexandra asked with a grin. The school children looked at her wide-eyed. Beate, who sat with her classmates, looked as stunned as any of them. Alexandra raised her head and nodded to Ninel. Ninel blushed and shook her head in refusal. "Come!" urged Alexandra, and the twins pushed her from behind. Beate turned round, a huge grin on her freckled face.

Despite the efforts of the twins, Ninel's gorgeous red hair was already beginning to escape the pins that held them down. The hero crept to Alexandra unwillingly, all arms and legs and glowing freckles.

Soon it was time to leave the admiring children. The twins, Katie and Beate headed up the hill with Lena and Elly, and the guards who were staying behind, while Alexandra, Ninel and the rest of them set off at a brisk trot, to make up for the half-hour they had lost.

"What was that all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"All that hero this and that?" asked Ninel, blushing furiously. "I never got to shoot anybody, or anything!"

Alexandra sighed. At least the litany had not emphasized the purely military aspects of the war. "You ... made friends with the Bernian children; weren't you listening?"

"But they were the good ones, Mama; I never knew the realBernian kids at all!"

"They're probably like the ones you knew," said Alexandra firmly. "The important thing was that the younger children recognized that... there were young Bernians entangled in the war, too. It's so easy to think of the entire country as monsters, Ninel."

Suddenly Ninel's face became stony, and she stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes. Alexandra knew she was seeing and smelling things that no little girl should see and smell: the sight of her parents being slaughtered in cold blood, and the smell of their death. Alexandra's stricken eyes sought Elaine. And she looked back, her eyes expressing something that Alexandra could not quite interpret, her mouth set firmly in that almost-smile. Elaine reached out a hand to touch Ninel's arm, and Ninel snapped out of her trance. She hung her head, and Alexandra knew her eyes were full of tears of loneliness and loss.

"Ninel," she called, her heart breaking. Ninel only shook her head, and rode on. Choking on her unshed tears, Alexandra looked ahead down the road.

Somehow, the dozen cases they settled the second day were easier. At lunch, Ninel was recovered enough to approve the creativity of her sentencing.

"How are you feeling?" Alexandra asked, unable to help herself.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me." Ninel was angry at Alexandra.

"I can't help it!" Alexandra said. "I'm only a human being! If I care for you, what should I do? Watch you suffer in silence?"

"What do you expect me to do when you say monster? Were they monsters, or was it some accident?" Alexandra simply looked at her, her heart frozen on the brink of breaking again. "How can I forget?" demanded Ninel, quieting herself with an effort. "All that b-blood?"

Alexandra put her arms around the girl, despite the child's attempts to get free.

"I have no answers!" she cried softly.

They could not eat any more; Ninel managed a smile. "Let's go talk to the guards, and Elaine!" she said.

Alexandra smiled, wiping her eyes. "You seem to like guardswoman Elaine," she said.

"I do!" she replied. "I wish you could like her!"

"Why?"

"I figured you could use ... kind of a friend, that's all."

"I have you ... and Baby, and the twins ..."

Ninel shook her head. "Baby is too emotional. And I'm no good for adult stuff. And the twins are too easily frightened."

Alexandra was shocked at how easily the reasoning had come to the child. Even Alexandra herself had not been able to put things so simply, even if the liabilities of each of them was an oversimplification. The twins, she knew, were less afraid of her than they had been at first. Still, it was an intellectual equal that Alexandra lacked. Ninel was the only one to whom she could talk 'adult stuff,' despite her self-deprecation.

Seeing them, Elaine walked unhurriedly over, smiling her almost-not smile. She greeted Ninel with a silent touch and a little more of a smile than she normally wore.

"Had lunch?" Alexandra asked.

"Yes, thanks," Elaine said, in her light contralto.

"Don't you ever smile?" asked Ninel.

"I'm smiling right now!" she answered with a chuckle. And Alexandraander saw a true smile on the girl's face. It lit up her face.

Most of the cases were disposed of that afternoon, though Alexandra could tell that it was not her best work. She had Walter record the details of the most complicated remaining cases, and took them with her, saying that she would think on them, and give a ruling within a few weeks. She knew that this was not unusual, though it was unusual for so many to be undecided; her mother had only taken a couple of cases to the Palace with her, to confer with her advisors, principally John Gustafson.

"Do you have a story for us, your Majesty?" asked Katie shyly, after Alexandra and Ninel had washed up and joined the others to watch the lowering of the flag.

"It's your turn," Alexandra said, with a mischievous smile. "You haven't told us the story of how brave Megan and Sara saved Queen Alexandra!"

"Oh!" Katie's eyes glowed, as she tried to decide whether she knew the story well enough. "May I tell it, then?"

Amazingly, she knew the story well, and told it with restraint and accuracy, as her father blushed.

"I didn't know all that, Mama!" said Ninel, snuggling into Alexandra's arms.

"You know it now; they were unpleasant people, and I don't like to remind myself of them."

"They were miserable folk," Katie said gravely. "I could not stand how they treated my father. You were so brave!" she said, hugging her father's arm."

After supper, they were in the mood for more stories, but when Alexandra looked at Lena, that lady's face paled, and she shook her head gravely. Elly, too, looked as if those memories haunted her at night.

"I know a story!" squeaked Beate.

"Tell it, then!" they all cried.

She did. She told it with flair, and with good rhythm. It was a children's tale of old Earth, of a wandering hermit who had removed a thorn from the paw of a suffering lion. It was new to all of them, though Alexandra knew something of the background of the story, set in Roman times, when the followers of Christ were thrown to lions in the arena.

Storytelling was a deep-rooted part of Norsfolk's culture, and not only did every child learn to tell a story skillfully from childhood, everyone Northman had an appreciation for a well-told tale.

"I know a story," said Ninel at last. "You have to listen to this one!" She was red-faced, and her smile looked rather forced.

"Yes, yes, Ninel's turn!" cried the younger children, though Alexandra's soul quailed.

"There was once a little girl, who lived happily with her parents," she began, and Alexandra's smile froze on her face. "Then, one day, she had to go to the bathroom in the night," she continued.

"And when she came out ... everyone in the whole village had been killed ... including ... including her family, and ... and her dog."

There was a pin-drop silence, while Ninel kept her lips pressed tight, looking at her hands. Her face was like stone, but her voice was expressive, almost too expressive. She looked up at the circle of faces around her, flashed them a parody of a smile, and continued.

"Then she hid in the shed in the yard, and presently, along came a long line of women, still in their nightclothes, all tied with rope, with about forty men carrying guns. They walked down the road to the beach. Once they had gone out of sight, two women crept down the road, one carrying a gun, and the other a crossbow, following the others. The little girl called to them in a whisper, and they couldn't see her in the total dark. All around there was blood, from pet dogs who had also been killed.

"The little girl came out, and asked them to take her with them. My parents have been killed, she said. She had only a nightie on. They asked her, can you take us down to the beach by a shortcut? She said yes. They hid and watched as the men put the roped women onto a ship they had captured.

"What were they to do? They went up the cliff, and one of the women began to shoot the men on the boat, one by one, until they were too afraid to stay on the deck, and went inside. Then the two women and the little girl ran down the cliff, and there was a little dinghy tethered to the big boat, all forgotten by the sailors. The three of them got into the water, and swam to the dinghy. They pushed the girl into the dinghy, and climbed on. It was cold, and the little girl could hardly bear to stay in her wet clothes. The women were a little better off, because their trousers and shirt kept them just a little warmer."

Ninel took a break, silently reliving the misery of those moments.

"Luckily for the girl, one of the women prisoners had seen them from inside the boat, through the porthole. And she pulled off her own nightgown ... and sent it down, because she could see that the little girl was freezing cold.

"Well, presently, a big Belgravian warship came up, and set fire to the sails of the ship with the prisoners. There was a big explosion, and everybody was thrown into the water. All the women prisoners were rescued by the Belgravians, except the woman who had given her clothes to the little girl, and the three people in the little dinghy.

"The little girl thought she was going to drown; once again she was in the freezing water, this time they were far from land, and the boat they had been on was burning in bits and pieces all around them. Then, who should come by but the woman who had sent down her clothing. She pulled all of them to shore, and she fell down exhausted. She made the half-drowned little girl empty herself of all the sea-water in her stomach and lungs. She tried her best to do the same for one of the other women, the woman with the crossbow, but she was too weak. The little girl watched, helplessly. What could she do?"

Ninel sniffed. Never having considered events from Ninel's point of view, Alexandra appreciated for the first her sense of utter powerlessness. She kept her hands tightly clasped, fearing how Ninel would react if Alexandra were to show her feelings.

"The woman who had rescued them fell on the sand, and fainted. She had only her underclothes on; one of the women was still unconscious, the other woman, the one with the gun, was still lost, looking for them. The little girl had to do something.

"She dragged one of the women on top of the other one, and then covered them with sand, to keep them warm. Then she sat and waited until they woke up. She watched them breathe with difficulty. She thought they would stop breathing, and she would be on her own. So many times! Most of all, she did not want the women to die before she had thanked them.

"Then, like a miracle, the second woman who had been in the dinghy with them swam up onto the beach. She saw the little girl, and ran up to her. Then she saw the pile of sand, and said, Oh thank god, you're alive! And she called the woman without clothes, Alexandra. The little girl had been given a nightdress to wear by ... the Queen herself. And the four of them stayed together, and they were the little girl's family, because she had nobody."

Ninel, by this time, had regained control. It was an act of courage, but more, an act of love. This was something she was doing for Alexandra. She was spelling out her feelings for her adopted mother, and the fact that it was public was clearly not by design. But how else could she have done it?

"Then they found themselves among Bernians. And the little girl ... had to forget that it was Bernians who had killed her family ... and her dog. She made friends with Bernian children, and learned to talk Bernian. And the Queen never told them who she was. Then Belgravian soldiers came along, and asked the Bernians to leave. The soldiers made the Queen angry, and she decided to go with the Bernians to their country, and the little girl went with them. And it was one of the best times of the little girl's life. And the rest is another story. And that's it!"

"And the little girl is the hero of Geneva," said Lena, quietly.

"It is no great thing to ... to love a bunch of kids, if they're nice to you," said Ninel. Alexandra couldn't help smiling; it was exactly what she herself would have said.

"But the little girl used her brains, to protect the Queen during the cold night!" said Katie. "That was a good idea, to use sand, and put them one on top of the other. Wasn't it, Father?"

"Indeed it was," said Bernard, his voice rough.

"That was an admirable thing to do, to share what is in your heart with everyone," said Alexandra to Ninel, afterwards, in private. "I could never meet a girl like you, one I could love, and who loves me so much, if I traveled the world for a thousand years, looking!"

Ninel looked right into Alexandra's eyes. "You have to know how I feel, because ... I sometimes get angry at you, and if you knew how I felt about you, it would hurt less. And this morning, when you were crying because I was upset, I knew that you didn't know everything I felt for you in my heart. And it all came out ... I didn't plan it!" She squeezed Alexandra painfully tight. "It hurts me, too, when I hurt you!"

"We're so lucky to have found each other!"

Ninel laid her cheek against Alexandra's shoulder. Soon, the older girl knew, Ninel would grow taller than her. Still, Alexandra was proud to be Ninel's mother, even if for just a while.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Skree Again

That night, again, Alexandra slept alone, because she had a feeling that she would have a rough night. She could not remember much of it in the morning, but she was wrung out, and her body ached with unfulfilled lust; if she had any lusty dreams, she had certainly been cheated of the memory of them.

At breakfast, everyone was quiet. It was Holy Thursday, after all, but Alexandra suspected it had more to do with her red eyes; they were red again, when she looked in the mirror. The twins had not drawn attention to them this morning, only kept their voices low, and been more gentle with her than usual. While it bothered her to be handled with kid gloves this way, she had really come to take pleasure in whatever the silly girls did, and mornings on the road were usually a pleasure because of them, and the two little dogs, for all of whom she was eternally grateful to Lord Sorensen.

"Poked my eyes again!" she joked with the others, but this time Katie was not persuaded. Her great eyes regarded Alexandra thoughtfully–worriedly, even. And this morning Ninel, too, had red eyes. She, though, was in a good mood, trading jokes with the guards, though they were sober, looking at Alexandra without staring, but clearly worried. Elly and Elaine had smiles for her, for which she was grateful. Bernard fussed over her unnecessarily, and the twins made things worse by trying too hard to show nothing was amiss.

The Pennant was taken down, and carefully put away. With all their gear packed, dressed in travel clothes, Alexandra took a look around the environs of the Lodge, feeling an almost physical reluctance to leave. Lena and Elly were smiling; it was as if they could read her mind. Those two, of all the friends she had made since she had ascended the throne, knew her the best. Elly came forward and curtseyed briefly, waiting for Alexandra to embrace her. One of these days, Alexandra hoped, she would be brave enough to take the initiative; in Bernia, many had been the times when Elly had held her to her breast and soothed her anger or her tears. Lena was behind Elly, as ever shy to show her feelings to the Queen. Alexandra recalled being taken round Farmer Karl's farm by Lena, being tactfully asked to help with this and that piece of carpentry. She had not given a thought to the woman –disguised as she had been as a young man– for so many months. For the hundredth time, she wished they were with her at the Palace; she could use friends like them.

Here were Farmer Lars and his wife Frida, smiling at her, wondering whether her red eyes meant anything seriously amiss. Alexandra greeted them warmly, thanking them especially for allowing their daughter Beate to visit. Beate herself looked glum, to have her old friend Katie and her new friend Ninel leave, not to mention the little dogs and the twins.

The next stop was Skree, and they set off at a brisk pace, to get to the way stop before nightfall.

The waystop was the Inn at the village at which Lady Sophie had begun to learn to fight, with Kirsten and Baby. The old crossbowman was still there, drinking his ale, when the Royal party came in to ask permission to camp out in the meadow across the road. The crossbowman stared at Alexandra, and she wondered whether he recognized her. Clearly, there had not been a royal presence in the inn for many years!

"Your Majesty need not ask permission! By all means, it is an honor!"

"We will be careful," she assured him with a smile. Unable to resist, she turned to the crossbowman at the back of the room and smiled. "Master crossbowman! I greet you on behalf of Lady Sophie! Were you well paid for your work, sir?"

The man came slowly forward and peered at her, a slow smile spreading over his rough face. Only a few more grey hairs marked the months that had passed since she last saw him.

"Indeed I was, just as I was promised, Your Majesty!" He seemed to have more to stay, and Alexandra patiently waited. The guards left, to put up the tents, and the little terriers studied the large black Inn cat with interest. "Was it you that afternoon?"

"Yes," laughed Alexandra. "It was not much of a disguise!"

"I beg pardon if I gave any offense," he said, "I was only standing by the quality of my work!"

"I was on your side, crossbowman! There are stories to hear, if you have time this evening. Perhaps the innkeeper will let us have our supper in here?"

Both parties were eager to be generous, and ultimately it was decided that they would share supplies –since the supplies the royal party brought with them had certain luxuries– and that any who ventured into the inn would be allowed to eat on the house, compliments of the inn and the Queen. The twins were exhorted to not get in the way, and be guided by the innkeeper's wife and cook. They solemnly promised, and while Alexandra and Ninel looked after their own toilet at the inn, the tents were set up, and presently everyone gathered at the dining room of the inn, a small place that could barely seat twenty people, where Alexandra was given the seat of honor.

Supper was served, a hearty meal of game and mutton stew, and wine from the Queen's supplies, as well as ale from the inn. The village folk began to gather round, and Alexandra recounted the tale of Lady Sophie's adventures with the crossbow, bought from the very man who sat there before the Queen, who had given his name as Luther. There was a rousing cheer when Sophie shot the gunmen. "Six shots, and all of them found their mark," Alexandra said, smiling. She described how she had been protected by a clothes drying net, and there was laughter mixed with shock. "I owe my life to many," said Alexandra gravely, "and master Luther, you are one more."

Luther regarded her, eyes shining, and with a smile and a rough voice said, "I thank you for honoring me with your words, Your Majesty! But you ... and the Princess, you are the true heroes, for bringing us through the war."

Alexandra sighed. "I never believed in heroes, myself, until I saw Lady Sophie that afternoon, with my own eyes. She was just a child, really, not much older than Lady Ninel, here; and by temperament and training she was a philosopher, a scholar, not a fighter. But for love of me she learned to fight, and within a few hours, she proved how well she had learned it. I have studied the crossbow since I was a child, and I could not have done better!"

"She had a good eye, I remember," said crossbowman Luther.

"That she did," agreed Alexandra.

Around late afternoon of the following day, they arrived at the castle in the Fort in Skree. Alexandra was aware of the sad associations the place had for them all: certainly for Ninel, but also for the twins and herself, who had lost Sherry in this very place.

Helga was there, all covered up in a sweater. She had been ill with a cough, and now they were expecting bad weather out of the west. Indeed there were dark clouds racing towards them as they watched, intermittently covering the deep red of the setting sun.

Without a word, Helga pulled Alexandra into a tight embrace, her eyes full.

"When will we meet in happy times, my child? I can't forgive myself that maybe, just maybe my thoughtless words sent that young lady back home!"

"They were my thoughtless words, Cousin Helga ..." Alexandra smiled at her sadly, holding her at arm's length. "My own fear was that we two would be too hurt to be able to talk again!"

"Never that, god willing," said Helga. Alexandra was grateful that her cousins were a hardy, persistent lot. All the more surprising that her mother did not get along with them. But then, there was her mother, Princess Atlanta. It was hardly worth rehashing all that.

"And here is Ninel! How tall you have grown, and how bright-eyed and cheerful!"

"Greetings, Lady Helga," said Ninel, giving her a curtsey and a shy smile. Accustomed though she was to being the Queen's adopted child, to her Lady Helga was still the exalted administrator of the Big Castle, of whom the kids of Geneva were in great awe. The child was young enough not to think immediately of the fact that only she was alive, of all those kids. The Geneva Massacre was the most grave confirmed atrocity of the war.

"And here are the incomparable two young ladies whose names I don't know ..." Helga regarded the twins with mixed feelings.

"Minna and Brinna, your Ladyship," they chorused, with practiced perfection.

"Minna and Brinna. You look well, you two; you've put on just a little weight, and you look a little more your age. What are you now, eighteen?"

"Nineteen, your ladyship!" "And a half, sister." "Well, if it comes to that, it is closer to ..." "Twenty, yes, indeed."

"I'm sorry I asked," said Helga, keeping a straight face with difficulty. Ninel began to giggle. Helga's reaction to the twins was just too funny.

Judge Ilsa had everything carefully organized. Hearings began the following morning, and were all concluded by the evening. Cousin Helga took the children around the Fort as she had the last time, and Katie and Bernard noticed the small differences that the War had brought. Most establishments had a portrait of Alexandra in uniform, holding a crossbow. It had been done several years ago, when she had been training with the guards, but it was everywhere in the Fort, sometimes enlarged by a local artist.

Trade with Belgravia had stepped up since the war, and there were many things available in the shops, though they were expensive. There were also inexpensive mass-produced equipment that had been manufactured for the troops, and were being sold in stores as surplus now, compasses, pencils, sunglasses, scarves and so forth.

"You need not come to Geneva if you prefer not to."

Ninel looked off into the distance, her little lips pressed hard together. Alexandra and she were talking together after supper, but Helga stood not too far off, concerned.

"Is it still as it was, with blood everywhere?"

"No, no, dear; it's all been cleaned. Not everything has been repaired, but–the bodies have been buried, and the streets have been cleaned." Helga's voice had a rough note in it. Ninel was surprised that the old lady showed such concern. "This is a good time to visit, dear. Soon people will move in, strangers, and it won't be the same. The property is valuable, and your parents' home now belongs to you, Ninel."

Ninel nodded slowly. She looked up into Alexandra's eyes, seeking guidance.

"Elaine will be with us, and ... at any time, if you wish, she can bring you back to the Fort."

"All right, then," Ninel said, "I think I'll come."

Elaine had been carefully briefed about the situation. It was hardly necessary, since she had heard Ninel's own description of the massacre. As always, there was a small smile and a nod, yet Alexandra had felt confident that Elaine would deal with Ninel kindly and effectively.

The horses and ponies climbed the steep cobbled road carefully as it wound back and forth, until the first few homes of the village were visible around the curve of the lake, and the trees surrounding it. Ninel drew in her breath next to Alexandra. She herself was frowning, not certain what to expect. She had never seen Ninel that night until she was already on board the ship. In the bright morning light, the streets were drying out after the rainstorm of the night, and though there was no sign of bloodstains or mangled flesh, the utter silence of the deserted street was itself hard to bear. Taking the left fork, they went up to Alexandra's family home, and found the women all waiting for her, smiling, standing on their front porch. The warmth of their welcome drew Ninel in, and included the little terriers and Katie as well. There were new dogs in the house now, replacing the ones who had been killed that night. Old Sonja was in the capital, holding things down, and Briana was also at the Palace, but the others made the party welcome. Ninel, especially, was thoroughly fussed over, until she squirmed.

"Would you like us to come with you, to see your house?" asked Kirsten softly. Alexandra held her breath, until Ninel nodded. Should she be alone in the house? Was it better to have an audience? At any rate, they left the guards behind with Elke, except for Elaine, and headed down the street, and into the village. Ninel's humble home was at the further edge of the town. It had been repaired and painted by someone, and there, just inside the front door, which was unlocked, was a portrait of Ninel. Her face an expressionless mask, Ninel went from room to room. They had all been scrubbed clean, and fresh linen had been put on the beds. But there were stains on two rugs, just enough to give a note of reality to the unreal scene.

The others quietly left Ninel alone in the house, with Elaine waiting at the door. Then Ninel slowly sat on her favorite chair, her head in her hands, and bent her head and wept silently for a few seconds. No more tears would come, though her body ached to cry her heart out. It was when she turned and saw Elaine's face that her tears sprang out, unstoppable. In her stolid way, Elaine came in and took the girl in her arms and held her while she sobbed quietly, her body shaking with the power of her grief. "Where's the blood? I want to see the b-blood!" she wept, but quietly, so only Elaine could hear.

Presently she quietened down.

"Did you see the bloodstains?" Ninel asked Elaine.

Elaine shook her head, no. Only a slight brightness in the big girl's eyes hinted at any strong emotion. Ninel drew her by the hand to the rug in her mother's room. "See? They left that bit there." There were other little signs of violence here and there, but by and large the attack had been silent. Ninel came out, and the others were careful to be looking elsewhere when she did. "They must have come to check out the place by daylight before they came at night," she told Elaine, who nodded. "They knew where everything was. Where everybody slept. All just to get Lady Alexandra."

Elaine kept silent, not knowing how to respond—or knowing that a good response was not possible. Ninel looked up into her face, curiously. "Your folks died in the war too, didn't they?"

"Oh, not like this, Ninel ... they died fighting, my father died from a shell off the ships. To kill in cold blood ..." she shook her head. "God have mercy on their souls."

"Do you believe in God, Elaine?"

"Only as a judge, dear ... only as a judge."

Alexandra watched the pair from a distance, glad that Ninel had found comfort somewhere. What a joy it was to give comfort! But it was a privilege Ninel had chosen to give Elaine this time.

It was Good Friday, and the islanders, Catholic on the coastal areas, but Protestants in the central hilly sheep-farming country, were all devout Christians, except for the Queen's own family who were determinedly non-religious. For Alexandra's sake they attended Church, a sober business on this gravest of Christian holy days. Somehow, despite their adventures together, the cousins treated Alexandra with more reserve and greater respect. Somehow the war had brought home to them that Alexandra was not simply play-acting, but truly their monarch, with a monarch's problems. And without a word being spoken, they knew what it meant that Genevieve and Sophie were not with her. The increased gravity of cousin Alexandra was carefully noted, the slowness of her step, all the signs of a bone-deep sadness kept at bay only by an effort of the will.

The guards were invited, as always, to join the family for lunch, and later for supper. For a time Alexandra was preoccupied with memories of her earlier visits here, both happy and sad. When she finally noticed her surroundings, she realized how miserable the guards were.

The twins were studying the Queen's cousins, bemused by both their number and their rough, unpretentious manners. It was a far cry from the polish of Lord Sorensen's country estate.

The following day, two guardsmen took permission to head back to the Palace to deal with administrative matters, while the remaining eight of them headed out to the Fort, to take ship out to Northhaven.

It was a rough voyage, around the island and along the North shore. Winter still had a firm hold here, despite it being a day before Easter. From the sea, the whole mainland appeared covered in snow, and it was snowing when they landed in the dark of early evening. The sun never rose very high here, and at this time of year it hardly rose at all, though the sky would be light for almost a full twelve hours. Two of the volcanoes still belched smoke, and the smoke headed East in a thick plume. The last time Alexandra had been here, it had been a happy time, in the company of Sherry. This time she had Ninel with her, and of course the twins, but her heart was heavy. Still, there was work to do.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Northhaven

They were some 100 miles in a straight line from Westhaven, and more than twice that distance from the capital. There was a district court here, and once Alexandra was settled in the Government Residence, a kind of inn for government officials and other functionaries, the very place they had stayed in on their last trip, Alexandra sent for the district judge, with apologies. After all, it was a holiday.

The Judge arrived, accompanied by his daughter Barbara, a pretty young woman of Alexandra's age. They sat down together, and Alexandra talked to the Judge. What was there to do? How could they efficiently do it; could she have the notes to study? Could they take Easter off, and start the hearings on Monday? The judge was a tired old man, and there were far more cases than at either of the other locations. It was to be expected, since the young Queen had never held court here.

More than an hour later, she had won the man around. She wasn't particularly trying to charm him, but her grave, thoughtful manner won the approval of both him and his daughter. The twins were cooking furiously, and the dogs sat at the back door, watching the snow come down.

"Delightful weather, isn't it?" the Judge's daughter smiled, when they had finished talking.

"Very dramatic," Alexandra admitted, looking outside. "I can't remember seeing snow like this in my life!"

"It's a little dirty; the ash from the volcanoes are mixed in with it."

Alexandra sighed. She had to travel along the ridge eventually, some day. She turned to her visitors. "Our meal will be simple, but will you join us?"

The Judge seemed reluctant, but his daughter Barbara's face clearly expressed that she would be pleased to do so. In the end they stayed, and helped to keep the mood up. The twins and Bernard served the meal, and the guards ate separately, since Alexandra was not sure how liberal the old judge was.

"Your tastes are as simple as those of your late mother," the Judge said, with apparent approval at the end of the meal. He smiled for the first time that evening. "But the food has been excellently prepared, I must say," he added, and nodded when the twins blushed and dropped a polite curtsey in acknowledgment.

"I wouldn't part with these friends of mine for the world," Alexandra said, from her heart, and the pretty young visitor, too, rewarded the proud cooks with a smile.

Everyone noticed the looks of veiled admiration the Judge's daughter gave the young Queen, except the Queen herself. Alexandra had dressed simply, in a long skirt and a heavy sweater, but she still looked handsome, with her striking grey eyes and strong mouth, even if its lines were currently somber.

"We met the Princess late last Fall," the girl ventured. "Is she well?"

Alexandra realized she had been out of touch with home for almost a week. "She was well when we left," she said, a trifle embarrassed.

"There is a telephone here now," said the Judge, "I believe in the guards station."

"Is there, really? I was not told," said Alexandra, without enthusiasm, while Barbara watched her eyes. By this time Katie, Bernard and the Twins were all clustered around the door, listening to the conversation, and Ninel sat near Alexandra, studying the visitors, looking from one to the others, occasionally blushing as she noticed Barbara smiling at her.

"Shall I go look?" asked Ninel, jumping to her feet. Alexandra nodded to her, and she and the other girls hurried off, evincing an amused giggle from the pretty visitor.

"Ninel is my adopted daughter," Alexandra explained briefly.

"What youthful energy!" Barbara remarked.

"The phone is still a novelty for us, since we use it so little," Alexandra said, smiling.

"Yes, My Lady, there is one! There's a kind of room just for the phone, a brand new phone, too!"

"Would Your Majesty like to call Skree?"

"More like, she should call Westholm, and tell them we arrived safely, sister."

The Judge cleared his throat. "It is most important to call her Highness in Stefansberg, and check on her health, ladies, is it not?"

The Twins and Ninel looked alarmed, their eyes wide. Accustomed to the practically non-existent communication between Alexandra and her spouse, they had forgotten that it was not common knowledge.

"Indeed it is true," murmured the twins, nodding and looking shamefaced. Ninel joined in belatedly with a nod of her own, throwing a glance at Miss Barbara, who had a thoughtful expression on her face.

Somehow, Alexandra found herself headed towards the communications room, followed by the girls, including the inquisitive Miss Barbara. With a little trial and error, they learned how to call the Capital, and presently Alexandra was speaking to Sophie.

"This is Alexandra," she said, awkwardly. "Is ... Genny available?"

Where are you? Sophie asked, clearly pleased to hear Alexandra's voice.

"We've reached Northhaven, and there is a phone right here in our Lodgings, which the Judge was kind to remind me of ... How are you, Sophie? It is good to hear your voice."

I'm fine, said Sophie; I'll get Genny right away.

Alexandra waited, looking around at her audience, smiling with mild embarrassment. The fact that she did not ask for privacy did not go unnoticed.

Hello, said Genny, as she came on. This is a surprise!

"There was a phone here, to my surprise," said Alexandra, "and I–I thought I'd call!"

Kind of you, I'm sure. Did you know my parents had arrived?

"No, but they were expected, were they not?"

They're asking for you, that's the point.

Alexandra was taken aback. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she thought of some innocuous remark to make.

"Is the baby well?"

She's fine! Alexandra, is somebody listening?

"Yes."

Oh god... when are you coming? Tell me!"

"Well, I'd rather complete the circuit, unless you feel uncomfortable managing alone ... Perhaps I can come home briefly, and resume after I've spent some time with them?"

They haven't met you since the funeral! They're becoming suspicious! Anyway, they're in my room, nosing around, and I'd better go. I don't know what to do!

"I'll hang up, then ... I'll call you in the morning."

Good night!

"Good night ... and god bless."

All right.

Alexandra hung up the phone, and looked up at the girls who were standing around. She wore a worried smile, and looked rather dazed.

"My in-laws have arrived, and ... her Highness seems at a loss to handle her parents!" She shrugged. "I cannot answer her summons until the work here is done," she said unhappily.

"Parents can be difficult, sometimes," ventured Barbara, kindly.

"Oh, no; Queen Anne is the kindest, sweetest woman in the whole world!" insisted the twins. "But her Highness tends to argue with her mother, sister, sometimes." "That she does, but only sometimes, yes. But her father, the King, is a jolly man." "She argues even worse with his Majesty, though." "Oh sister, we've said quite enough!" "There we go, wagging our tongues again!" The twins looked straight at Barbara, horrified.

Alexandra looked at Barbara, smothering a smile, but laughed with Barbara, seeing that she was not too shocked. She offered Barbara her arm, and the group walked back to the reception-room.

"Your Majesty gives your staff great freedom to speak! I admire that," said Barbara.

"As long as my guests are not embarrassed; that is the main thing," said Alexandra, calmly.

"But you must miss your baby!"

"I do," said Alexandra, nodding. "Very much, indeed ... I had been resigned to leaving it to Genevieve to bear the child, but I would not have given it up for the world if I had known what a pleasure it was to be!"

"How did that happen, if I may ask?"

"Oh," said Alexandra, shaking her head, as they arrived at the reception-room, "it was a complication that I barely understand myself! Still, there's no doubt that it is our child; one need only look at her to see that she is Genevieve's child. She is as beautiful as her mother the princess."

"And has your calm nature, my Lady," said Ninel, looking at Alexandra defiantly.

The young Queen studied Ninel for a few long seconds before she nodded acknowledgment of her oblique compliment.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Miss Barbara

"The royal couple have not spoken since the Queen left the Palace," said Barbara to her father, once they were on their way.

"How can you tell?"

"They were barely civil. Alexandra was patient and polite, but the Princess was arrogant and demanding. They are barely on speaking terms!"

"It is none of our business, child."

"Father! Couldn't you see how unhappy she was? Her eyes were red with crying, there were rings under her eyes! I remember her from last fall, when she was so much more animated, smiling, glowing, almost! And even then, they toured separately! The marriage is falling apart!"

The Judge groaned. "Nothing can be done. They must deal with it themselves. Royal marriages are often unhappy, Barbara, you know it."

"My soul longs to comfort her, Papa. I felt her unhappiness the whole evening. And yet she is battling on ..."

"You can tell your soul to forget her! You will not involve yourself in this tragedy, in this embarrassment!"

"She's probably surrounded by people who feel exactly like you."

"As well they should!"

Easter morning dawned bright and sunny, even if sunrise was almost at nine. The little group from the south made inquiries, and dressed in their Sunday best, picked their way through the thick layer of snow to the local church, a large, beautiful one with a great organ. The priest was delighted and surprised at this unexpected visit by the Queen, and the party was escorted up to a pew reserved for visiting dignitaries. The Queen was bareheaded as always, though young Ninel and Katie wore little bonnets which they had brought. The twins wore their prettiest things, which were heavy velvet pinafores and woolen shirts made of the fabric the Queen had given them for Christmas. This morning they had put their long brown hair up in pins, and looked somewhat grown-up. Ninel wore a pretty spring dress the girls had sewn, and a heavy coat over it, and Katie wore her good dress and a coat which the Skree cousins had gifted her. Bernard looked handsome in his formal wear, and sat at the aisle, while the Queen sat in the middle of the pew, with Ninel at the end.

Alexandra kept dabbing at her eyes, because holy days always reminded her of how lonely she was. Her inability to disguise her feelings exasperated her, and she felt a failure. On the one hand, at the real matters of governing her people, seeing to their welfare, keeping order, settling disputes, inspiring them to adopt a broader outlook, she felt herself a fair success. At being a symbol, a figurehead, a focus of their admiration, an object of national pride, at those things she felt a bigger failure every day, every hour. Soon it would be common knowledge that the Princess and she slept in separate beds. Soon there would be speculation about her sexual adventures, real or imagined. Soon, she imagined, morality would suffer, because the Queen's own morals would be under suspicion. Queen Alexandra II's reign will go down in history as a period of moral uncertainty.

Her eyes wandered around to where Ninel sat, fidgeting on her right, and their eyes connected.

What's wrong? Ninel mouthed at her silently.

Nothing! she replied, frowning.

Of course, nothing would do but that Ninel had to scramble over Elaine and one of the Twins to sit next to Alexandra.

"You're all upset!" she whispered, softly.

Alexandra sighed, but smiled and squeezed her hand.

"Why?"

"Because," said Alexandra.

The twin elbowed Ninel, and looked a question at her. Comic though she looked, doing it, Ninel was accustomed to their ways, and just scowled at her, which meant I'll tell you later.

"Everybody can see you miserable!" whispered Ninel.

Alexandra took a deep breath and schooled her face into blandness. She gave Ninel a sidelong rueful smile and a wink.

"This glad Easter tide, we welcome to our City and to our church, one of the most precious gifts god has given our Nation, our beloved Queen Alexandra, and members of her family! Queen Alexandra, welcome, and may God bless your reign, and may he give you wisdom and courage!"

Alexandra nodded as graciously as she knew how, from her seat, her heart full. Ninel and one of the Twins were whispering together, but quietly. On her left, Katie was seated close, and they exchanged a secret, proud smile at the priest's recognition of them.

A hymn in honor of the Queen was sung, to Alexandra's vague embarrassment. The glorious music distracted Alexandra, but ever and again, her thoughts wandered away from what was going on around her. Could he not have asked happinessfor her? Was wisdom and courage all she was entitled to?

As they left the church, with everyone giving way to the Royal family, and nodding and smiling, and the older folks calling out blessings on her, on the Church steps, they met young Barbara and her family. Alexandra shook hands with the Judge and his wife, but Barbara reached up to place a kiss on Alexandra's cheek.

"A Happy Easter to you, Your Majesty!" she said, warmly, and she proceeded to greet Ninel, the twins, Bernard and Katie as well.

Of the guards, only Elaine had joined them, in a dove grey suit and a more warm-colored shirt. She looked handsome in her own unique way, her dark red hair carefully braided and tamed with pins. She had brought no purse, but wore a heavy belt which had a pouch with all that she needed, presumably. Even here, she was on guard, calmly studying the crowd, and on the lapel of her jacket there was a pin in the shape of a castle, the symbol of the Palace guard. She had not brought a coat, evidently she was accustomed to more severe cold.

It was a while before they could escape to their lodgings. Everyone wanted to greet the Queen, to smile and encourage her, and to tell her that they had known her mother. Alexandra patiently responded to them, though not as actively as she had done on previous occasions, at Christmas, and on her first tour. She did not see Barbara insisting on watching her while her parents impatiently tried to persuade her to leave with them.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Elly

When they finally arrived at the lodgings, there was a surprise waiting for them. There was a small relief contingent of guards, three women and three men, and, most unexpectedly, Elly, from Westholm, all smiles.

"How? What... When?..."

Alexandra hardly knew what to ask. Elly laughed and having first curtseyed as always, gave the Queen a quick embrace and stepped away. There was a certain something in her eye that Alexandra could not quite understand.

Leading the relief contingent was a guard Alexandra had known from their youth, Hans Johansen, who said that the rotation would happen the following day. Tonight they would all find someplace to stay.

"There's plenty of room here, isn't there?" asked Alexandra, and everyone firmly replied that there certainly was. "There's even a telephone room you may sleep in," she said, earning herself a laugh. "But Elly! In this horrible weather, too!"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging, and smiling mischievously, "they turned up, and made me come with them!"

"What will Lena say?"

"Oh, she was happy to be rid of me for a while, Lady!"

"What's going on?" asked Alexandra, softly, and by the expression on the faces of the guards, she simply knew that something was afoot. But they denied there was anything underhand going on.

But they had brought, of all things, a small keg of ale. Alexandra found this out much later that evening; it was a kind of ale that a few of her close friends knew she had liked very much. They had also brought games to play, in which all could participate, even in the poor weather.

Accordingly, after the twins had cooked up another fabulous supper, they started with the games. Alexandra had never known such fascinating games. Ostensibly for the children, which meant Ninel, Katie and the twins, it was as much fun for the onlookers as for the four people playing. Then, one of the guards, one of the new girls, despite being exhausted by having ridden all night through heavy snow, taught the children yet another game, a boisterous one that had them running around, with the excited dogs getting between their legs. The guards, too, joined in the fun, until it was clear that they could hardly keep their eyes open.

"To bed, now," Alexandra insisted. Elly came with her to see the little ones to bed, as well as the twins. "I will clean up, I promise," said Elly, and the girls were too sleepy to argue. Being allowed to sleep in Alexandra's room was enough to send them to sleep in mere minutes. The guards were deciding where each one should sleep. They posted watches, and the rest of them paired up, since there were an equal number of women and men. Even Elaine shared her bedroll with one of the newcomers, a girl, though she loudly proclaimed she was not interested in women.

After most of them were asleep, there were still a few playing cards in the kitchen. They broached the keg of ale, and mugs were passed round, and Alexandra accepted one. She soon drank it down, and looked longingly at the keg.

"Do you have hearings in the morning?" asked Elly, softly.

"Yes, I do," said Alexandra, mournfully.

Elly giggled, and took her mug from her. "Well, that's it for you, then!"

"Elly ... can I talk to you?"

Elly nodded, wide-eyed. The card game proceeded, and everyone ignored the Queen. They walked over to a quiet corner.

"What is going on? Why have you come?"

Elly dropped her eyes, and her face grew serious.

"Many reasons, my Lady ... the guards thought you could use some adult company; not just the guards themselves, but someone you knew well." She looked up into Alexandra's face, and the Queen nodded thoughtfully, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Then, too, I haven't been out of town for months and months, and I begged to be allowed to come. If you don't mind, my Lady, I'd like to come with you on your trip, until you go home. My mother will look after my little girl, and Lena is there, too."

"Do you trust Lena all by herself, for so long?" Alexandra asked with a smile.

Elly held Alexandra's gaze for a few long moments. She smiled. "I have forgiven her a great deal, my Lady, what's a little more?"

Alexandra was suddenly sleepy. Elly helped her into bed, and out of her clothes, and they giggled at the twins sleeping on their bedding, cuddled together like a pair of octopuses. Having tucked Alexandra in, Elly left her with a kiss on her forehead, and Alexandra was filled with a gentle warmth. Denied love of one kind, she was being given love of another kind. Evidently someone out there was anxious to keep her sane.

True to Elly's word, the kitchen was spotless when the twins headed out to cook breakfast. The machine that Alexandra had put together worked smoothly, with Elly helping. They were all dressed and ready when the coach came to pick up the Queen and her little entourage promptly at eight, as promised. She had taken a few hours on Sunday to study the cases, and knew at least a half dozen that could be settled quickly. Ninel was with her, though Katie elected to stay once again with the dogs and the twins and her father. Elly, too, came along, for the novelty of seeing a court in session.

The good judge—now functioning as Alexandra's assistant, of course— placed the easiest cases first, as she had asked, and she dealt with them efficiently, but with concern that the principals should understand her reasoning, something that she had decided to do very early in her reign. Elaine, Elly and Ninel sat in the courtroom at the back, listening and watching everything.

"Oh, my Lady, I am so amazed! How efficiently you do it all!" said Elly, sincerely impressed.

"His Honor has done most of the work," said Alexandra, acknowledging the judge. He did not look too happy to have common folk commenting on the efficiency of his courtroom.

"I'm sure that makes it much easier for you, indeed," murmured Elly, tactfully. Dressed in a long skirt and jacket, she looked quite respectable, and not so much the humble cook, the role she usually liked to play. Alexandra was proud to acknowledge Elly's friendship, no matter how humble her origins may have been.

After the brief break at 10, they resumed hearings, until by lunchtime a considerable number of cases had been heard. Alexandra and Ninel had lunch with the Judge and his irrepressible daughter, while Elly and Elaine went into the town, looking for a tavern. This was a far larger town than either Westhaven or Skree, and there were taverns everywhere.

"She does nothing half-heartedly," admitted Elaine, as they ate.

"Oh, you have not seen her at her best," said Elly, shaking her head. "Before the war, when she came to the Lodge, oh she was such a sight! She fought Lena with the quarterstaff, she competed with the longbow, oh the things she did!" Elly paused to bite into a roll. "She does what she has to, now, but her heart is not in it at all."

"I don't know her well, at all," said Elaine, continuing to eat.

"Well, she never gives up. I would have given up long ago. If Lena left me... it was hard to carry on even when I just imagined that I was alone."

"This was during the war?"

"Yes ... and I wasn't far wrong. Then, again, it was my Lady who kept me from falling apart." She looked into Elaine's eyes. "Truly, she is a Queen; even when things are hopeless, she can make me keep going." She dropped her eyes. "She looks worse than she did at the Lodge."

"There was a telephone call."

"The Judge's daughter is said to have set her sights on her."

"She was at church last morning, and greeted the Queen with great enthusiasm. She is having lunch with her Majesty, even now."

Elly gave her a sour smile. "What does she hope to do?"

The guard shrugged. "She may be bored. Then again, perhaps it is just admiration of a–a strong woman?"

When they got back, they saw the Queen deep in conversation with the vivacious Barbara, and decided not to disturb her. The court was back in session in a few minutes, and the Queen heard case after case, dispensing judgement with steady precision. In the vast majority of cases that were appeals, having heard the principal witnesses for herself, she upheld the judge's decision. "The Judge's reasons are on record, and I give my own reasons in addition, for the sake of your satisfaction. Remember that, despite the fact that I am in a position of authority over his honor because of the nature of our society, his honor is better versed in the law than I can ever hope to be! Still, it is helpful for me to hear these cases, because if laws are unfair, they can be changed. But so far today I have seen laws that are excellent just as they are on the books."

"Why can't I invite her to a meal? Do we have to be nobility to do that?"

"It is not whether you can, child, but whether you should. What do you hope to gain by bringing her here?"

"Oh, my husband, what harm could there be? They are the same age, the future belongs to them, they are both important parts of the future of the country! Isn't it natural that they should get to know each other better?"

"She's got a crush on the girl, Estelle; it isn't heathy. I don't want to encourage it."

"Don't talk to each other as if I wasn't here! Either let me invite her here, or let me take her to a meal in a tavern! Which do you prefer?"

"A tavern?" Barbara's mother was horrified.

"Why not? She doesn't stand on foolish ideas of privilege and class! She is a modern woman, a woman of the people! I understand her better than anyone does!"

"I don't think she's quite as modern as you would like her to be, daughter. She is still mindful of the honor of Her Highness. You will never get her into your bed, rest assured!"

"Father!" Barbara was furious, and now tears sprang from her eyes. "That was a cruel blow! You know that to get her in bed is not all I want!" Her mother had already retired, too upset to continue the argument. "You say all these grand, progressive things, but when the Queen is battling against personal tragedy, you insist that it has to be resolved in the most conservative possible way!"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, child! To ease her situation would be to undermine her authority! Is that what you want?"

Barbara was all in tears. "All I want is to have her to my home, and give her a meal! I give up on everything else!"

The guards asked Alexandra whether the ale had made things bad for her that day in court. "Did your Majesty find herself saying inappropriate things?"

"As a matter of fact no," said Alexandra, having forgotten all about the ale.

"We're planning on a little party tonight, too, and we hope your Majesty will join us!"

"Her Majesty has a whole packet of cases to read," reminded Elaine.

"Well, read them first, by all means," said Rolf, the biggest instigator.

There was no doubt that the improved morale among the guards was helping Alexandra focus better on her work. But the nights were still bad; the previous night she had woken up sweating, from an erotic dream that she could not quite remember. The twins were fast asleep, for which she was thankful. Putting a pillow between her teeth, to prevent herself from crying out, she had brought herself to an orgasm in a short space of time. When she was done, the tears had come once more. On Monday, she had gone to court with red eyes once again; but nobody noticed, since her eyes were always red, now.

Tuesday was warm, and there was a feeling of optimism in the air. She was certain that she could finish hearing sufficiently many cases to leave the rest for another occasion. She had to get back to the Palace, and meet her in-laws. She dreaded this meeting, because if Queen Anne and King Frederick saw her and Genny together, the game would be up. And they would take Alexandra's side; that's the kind of people they were. And despite everything, as Sherry had warned her, it was Genny she was most concerned about.

"The snow outside is melting, but it has to be cold up in the hills," Elly said, looking out the window. "There's a kind of line forming, see?"

"Yeah, a snow line!"

Alexandra had dutifully gone through the cases, and was ready to go. The coach arrived for her and Ninel, and Elly and Elaine said they would walk to the courts. Inside the coach, Barbara waited with her father. And her eyes, too, seemed to be red.

It was easy to read the girl. Alexandra could see the sympathy in her eyes, and the admiration. The girl was falling in love with her. Somehow Alexandra managed to ignore the messages the eyes were sending her, and concentrate on the words she was speaking with her lips.

"Will you and Lady Ninel grant us the pleasure of your company at lunch today?"

"Like yesterday, at the courthouse, Miss Barbara?"

"No, my mother is preparing lunch at our home close by!"

"Oh! Certainly, Barbara! Will you come, Ninel?"

"May I be excused, Miss Barbara? I would like to have lunch with Elaine and Elly instead?"

"Certainly, Lady Ninel; I imagine you would enjoy that better! It's settled then; I'll send the coachman home with the news."

With innate skill, Alexandra managed not to give the impression of hurrying through the cases. Nevertheless, almost as many cases were decided that morning as the previous morning. And these were more difficult cases. And the Judge and his daughter marveled not only at the wisdom of their young Queen, but the clarity with which she explained that the ruling could not be any different without serious inconsistencies.

They mounted the coach, and Barbara squirmed under the puzzled gaze of the young queen. Try as she might, her traitor eyes betrayed her. All she could honestly show was that she admired the young queen, and would do anything for her, anything. But she had promised her parents that she would not make any move at all. The meal was simply so that Barbara could express to Alexandra the pleasure she took in the young queen's company.

"I'm so glad it's turning warm, aren't you, your Majesty?"

"Just call me Lady Alexandra, or even Alexandra is fine," said she, smiling. "Yes, if we can leave tomorrow, the warm weather would be appreciated very much!"

"So long as it doesn't make the roads all slushy, I suppose!"

"True," admitted Alexandra, looking worriedly out the window.

They approached a grand old house, and Alexandra looked out of the coach to look. She smiled at the young woman seated across from her, and said how much she admired it. Barbara deplored the feudal society in which they lived, which prevented such as the Queen from accepting hospitality from such as Barbara and her parents. Today, ironically, she was more inclined to accept her father's position that equality was all very well, if it did not destabilize the society.

The meal was beautifully planned and laid out, and Alexandra could not resist tucking in heartily. Her hosts watched her with pleasure; nothing was worse than a guest who refused to eat! And Alexandra had an unaffected charm that made them forget the fact that the girl had a rather plain face. It was the person inside that was so attractive. It was just as clear that young Barbara was utterly in love with the young Queen. It took hardly any pleading from Barbara's eyes to persuade the old couple to leave them alone for a few minutes.

True to her promise, Barbara did not importune the young queen in any way. She simply answered all her questions, until Alexandra ran out of things to say. They smiled at each other awkwardly, and then Alexandra asked whether Barbara would do her the honor of speaking to her in the garden. The two young women walked out onto the gravel path, already dry from the little heat wave.

"Forgive me if I have misunderstood, Barbara, but I can't help feeling that you want something from me ... something I can't give you!" The words were dragged out with the greatest difficulty, the queen's voice tight and strained, her hands awkwardly picking at her clothes.

Barbara considered all the things she could say, in turn, and discarded them, and started round again.

"I just ... I just saw how unhappy you were ... and I wanted to tell you that ... tell you that ... I just wanted you here, in my own home, to ... I don't know!"

"I have a wife, and a baby ... all I can give you, Barbara, is gratitude, for your kind thoughts! Not many are willing to forgive a Queen who makes a mistake."

Barbara shook her head vigorously.

"No, no, I was not suggesting anything wrong, Alexandra; at least not any more! But I must say, until my parents made me promise, I had planned to offer ... anything!"

"They made you promise?"

"Yes! And I'm glad they did. Oh Alexandra, my heart is flying, just to have told you, just to have stood here, talking like this! Oh forgive me if I have made your sorrow worse!"

Alexandra only shook her head, her eyes filled with tears, her lips pressed tightly together. They stood silent a long time, until the Judge came out to look for them. The grief in their eyes as they regarded him told him more than he wanted to know. Ah, foolish youth, he thought. "Let's get back," he said kindly.

In a few minutes, Alexandra had pulled herself together. But there was something rather mechanical and dull about the manner in which she conducted the remainder of the day's cases. It was clear to all that the hearings should be postponed for a later date. Many were disappointed, but in any case, it was rare that so many cases should be decided in so short a time. The Queen gave her closing remarks, and the Judge thanked her on behalf of the City and the district.

The Queen took leave of the sorrowful Barbara with a formal bow, thanked the Judge once again, and the father and daughter drove away.

"What did you say, despite all your promises?"

"She asked me what I wanted!"

"She asked you?"

"Yes! I tried my best, but it came out all wrong!"

The Judge swore silently.

"And what did she say?"

"She said ... she said you were right. Oh, father!"

Alexandra simply could not hide the stricken look on her face.

"What happened?"

"Nothing!"

It was like a funeral house for the rest of the evening. Even the meal was a dull one; the twins were distracted by the Queen's misery, which she did not care to hide even from the guards.

She sat at the window, staring out into the night, while the guards stood near her, awkwardly asking her what happened.

"Did the cases go badly?"

"Yes, actually, they were rather a mess!"

"No, they weren't, Mama!"

"Yes, dear; you just didn't notice."

"Would you like some ale, my Lady?"

"Yes, please!"

The young Queen drank several mugs, but then stopped drinking and went to bed. The guards talked late into the night, while Elly sat on a stool, not much caring what they said. Ninel was miserable, and so was Katie, and the twins had their hands full keeping them calm.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Back to Stefansberg

In the morning, the guards faced Alexandra.

"Would your Majesty like to send the children and Bernard home by ship, and come with us over the mountains?"

Alexandra had recovered enough to smile.

"I don't care one way or the other," she said politely. "Won't the mountain road take longer?"

"Well, they've repaired the ridge road, so if we go right across to meet it at the closest point, it is a fast road until we get to the great North Road, and then we can ride fast straight down to Stefansberg!"

"If your Majesty hasn't seen the ridge road, this is a good opportunity!"

"Once they get you in the Palace, you know you won't be let out very soon!"

"And we'll keep the keg of ale with us!"

Alexandra laughed, and everyone felt relief as if from physical pain. She was well accustomed to the mischief of the Palace guard, and it was a pleasure to find herself hearing it again.

"If the boat beats me to the capital, I'll never hear the end of it."

"It will never happen," promised her friend, Hans Johansen. "They have to go all the way around Skree, tacking into the wind the whole time. We will be there much sooner."

"In that case, I face the prospect of meeting my in-laws without the support of Ninel and ... the twins!"

"I will come with you, my Lady," said Elly, at her elbow.

That decided Alexandra. Accordingly, all their things were packed, and the twins and Ninel told that they had to go on the boat with Bernard and Katie, while the Queen and Elly would come over the mountains with the guards.

"All alone, without any guards?" asked Ninel, sounding forlorn. Elaine saved the day by offering to escort them home.

It all went a little too smoothly. Alexandra found herself fitting into the company of guards very easily indeed. Her black mood was rapidly giving way to a more cheerful outlook. They made a fuss about the fact that she outranked even Hans, and said they would call her Sergeant Alexandra. She rose to the bait, and called out formation commands which were impossible to implement on the narrow mountain road which was the quickest way up the mountain to the ridge road.

Difficult though the road was, the well-trained mountain horses took the eleven of them up without difficulty. The road had been cleared for them, and the road crews stood by and waved them on with smiles.

"Especially for me?"

"Well ..."

"Yes, Sergeant; but they seemed pleased to do it!"

"You were quite a hit with the people, actually!"

"Stop your silly flattering!"

"No; Elaine and I listened while we were having lunch, and that's all anyone talked about," said Elly.

They came to a turn of the road, and from the pullout they could see all the way down for twenty miles out, and a quarter of a mile down, to the sea. It was a breathtaking view, and all the guards were looking out, stunned, before Alexandra turned and saw it.

"How beautiful," she whispered, and was answered by ten murmurs of agreement.

In the next hour, they climbed another thousand feet, which gradually brought them closer to the foot of the subsidence caused by the earthquakes.

"I had forgotten about this," said Alexandra, looking anxiously at the basalt cliff that towered over them for almost 500 feet.

"They have made trails up there," smiled Hans. "It is difficult going, but it can be done!" He led the way, and the guards followed eagerly. They assured Alexandra that it was easier going up than coming down.

It was several miles of narrow switchback trails carved out of the basalt cliff face. It angled east, just a couple of yards wide in some places, protected by a fragile wooden rail on concrete posts. Elly could not bear to keep her eyes open, and she became Alexandra's responsibility. She kept apologizing to Alexandra, on the brink of tears. But Alexandra blindfolded her, and led both their horses, murmuring to Elly that it would be all right, it was just a few feet more.

When they finally arrived at the top of the escarpment, it was a shock for Alexandra. The land continued, level as anything, right through a deserted village, half of which was crushed under the rocks 500 feet below. Far to the southeast, she could actually see the capital and the sea; they were on top of the world. The wind howled around them, freezing cold, but they were just a few hundred miles from home, almost all downhill.

"Are we there?" asked Elly, impatiently, not daring to take off her blindfold.

"Yes, yes!" said Alexandra, reaching up to untie it. Elly slipped off the horse, into Alexandra's arms, and she could feel the heart of the older girl beating fast.

"I'm so hopeless ... my Lady, I thank you ... it is shameful for a mountain girl, such as myself ... I must fight this fear ..."

"I was glad to help, Elly; you were no burden!"

Elly didn't trust herself to speak any more. She embraced Alexandra one last time, and turned to look back the way they had come. It was a dizzying height, half again as high as the point at which they had looked back before.

It was late, and they were tired, and the horses were even more tired. They had to hunker down for the night somewhere; the wind was fierce up here. Hans led the way south to where the ridge road lay, and they could see it miles before they arrived. It was the widest, smoothest road in the land, as wide as or wider than, the road Alexandra had seen, far away in Bernia, a road made for the magical vehicles of the ancients. The Belgravians had made such a road, saying that such magical vehicles would travel over the roads once again.

"Just a little further," said Hans. They were walking the horses, which would help to cool them down. The straight, wide road was a pleasure to walk on. And just as darkness was falling, they saw a little wayside shelter with stables protected from the wind, deserted at the moment. There was water and firewood, and more deadwood all around the shelter. The snow here was about a foot deep, and rock hard, but tonight the wind was calm, and they took the opportunity to rub down the horses, check their hooves, and settle them in the stables, out of the wind.

"Oh ... we've lost a shoe, girl, haven't we?"

Alexandra perked up her ears.

"Lost a shoe?"

"I'm afraid so ... I wonder whether the Guards carry spare horseshoes with them?"

"No, but guess what; I do!"

Elly laughed. "What's the use? Can you put them on, your Majesty?"

"You might not believe it, but yes! I'm sort of a blacksmith, as it happens!"

"What? What have you been up to?"

"I thought Ninel would have told you by now!"

"You can shoe horses?"

It was good for both girls to have something to talk about. "At any rate," said Alexandra, "I'd prefer not to risk shoeing her in bad light; it'll have to be in the morning. But I brought a few things with me, and I think I can manage. I even have the nails; I have to look."

"It'll be worth everything, just to see you do it!"

Alexandra turned to look quizzically at Elly's mischievous smile. Elly face showed a little alarm at her look, and Alexandra smiled to make her relax. She could feel something building up between Elly and herself, something surprisingly like what Barbara had offered, but in this case two of her friends were involved, Lena and Elly. And the expression on Elly's face did not say: No, you're making a mistake. But there was concern in Elly's face; she clearly did not take it lightly. Alexandra's feelings were in turmoil.

"I think they're comfortable," said Elly quietly. "Come, let's get washed and join the others. There's five men and four girls, and one of them is a little young..."

There was warm water made ready for them in a washing room, out of the wind. Accustomed though she was to being helped to wash, it was awkward with Elly. It felt better when she offered to scrub Elly's back, and the girl agreed. Though Elly, like Lena, was some half dozen years older, she had a youthfulness that made it easy to relate to her (though not so extreme as it was in the case of the twins, who were twenty, but acted fifteen). She was not very tall; 'just a nice size,' is how she would have been described. She had coiled her long braid out of the way and stood still, silently appreciating Alexandra's touch in the near dark.

When they made it back to the others, a roaring fire was going, and the keg had been pulled out, and mugs were already being passed round for the second time.

"What kept you so late?"

"Thrown a shoe. But her Majesty says she can shoe the mare," said Elly, sitting on the floor. The youngest guard, a girl of about seventeen, brought her a mug of ale, and Elly thanked her.

"Oh, we know all about that. She was getting Charles to show her around Christmas."

"How did you know?" demanded Alexandra.

"Word gets around!"

"I came to check on your Majesty one night, remember? You gave me a venison steak?"

"Oh!" Alexandra recognized him now. She took her mug of ale, and took a sip.

The guards were a lively bunch. She did not realize it at that time, but every member of the Palace guard had to swear a life-oath of loyalty to the person of the Queen —above and beyond their loyalty to the Queen as the Head of State, which all soldiers had to take. Still, Alexandra had sworn that oath to her mother, and it was ironic that they accepted her as one of them because they had all sworn the same oath.

Among themselves, their conversation was never dull, and tonight, especially, it was full of fun. Nothing was sacred, they made fun of everything from the twins to Lady Sophie. They told jokes that were millennia old, about prostitutes and bishops, and about dogs who sat at tables in taverns and demanded ale. And they drank steadily.

Presently, two of the boys slipped away, and the youngest girl guard blushed as she took leave of the queen to follow them to bed.

"With two boys?" asked Alexandra, eyes wide.

"Only tonight, your Majesty," she whispered, red-faced. It was only legal because both the boys were under eighteen also, or at least so it seemed to Alexandra.

They kept drinking and talking, more quietly now, until another couple left. That left six of them.

Hans raised an eyebrow at Alexandra. One beautiful summer night several years ago, after a wonderful dance, Alexandra had allowed Hans to take her out into the night, and kiss her. He had the right to at least ask his friend to his bed. Alexandra shook her head a fraction of a degree. Hans lowered his head in disappointment, until one of the girls stood behind him and ruffled his hair in an unmistakable invitation. Alexandra held out her mug for another refill, which Elly got for her. When she took a sip and looked around, they were alone. Elly filled her own mug and sipped away. By this time Alexandra had drunk four full mugs of ale, but felt clear-headed.

"Alexandra!" said Elly, softly, making a caress out of it. She had got comfortable on the floor, and stretched out in front of the fire. "You said I might call you that, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I did," said Alexandra, with an embarrassed smile.

They looked at each other, gradually their pretenses curling up and falling away like onion skins.

"What do you want, Elly?"

"Is it true? Has her Highness ... gone away with Lady Sophie?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come closer! I don't want to shout!"

Alexandra pulled herself close to where Elly lay near the fire.

"I asked whether ... Lady Genevieve has left you for Lady Sophie."

"Yes."

There was a long silence.

"When was that, Alexandra?"

"Soon after we came back. The night she saw the baby."

"Oh my poor child ..."

Alexandra found Elly's sympathy easier to bear than sympathy from another source.

"Have you had a woman in your bed?" she asked softly, gently reaching out for Alexandra's hand.

"Yes." Alexandra was beyond petty games; she had to tell someone she respected and trusted, and if she couldn't unburden herself to Elly, she could not hope to do so to anyone else. "There was a Belgravian woman—of course; you knew Sherry!" Elly nodded, her eyes dark with love for her young friend. "... She was my personal bodyguard ... we fell in love ... but she went home ... I thought my heart died, Elly."

Elly slowly shook her head. "I cannot understand that ... she did not seem like someone who would be careless with your feelings!" Alexandra shrugged, but then slowly shook her head. "What about–your cousin, the pretty one, from Skree?"

"Baby?"

"I suppose so: tall, big girl, beautiful eyes?"

"Yes, that's Briana. What about her?"

"I heard on the grapevine that ... she is very fond of you. Do you care for her?"

"She's in love with Lady Sophie. If not for that ... I ... I might let her comfort me, Elly. There are so many problems ..."

Elly clawed at her eyes in frustration, making a small groan of sympathy.

Sometime later, the fire had died down, and Elly brought out her bedroll, and without a word, Alexandra slipped in beside her. Elly undid the fastenings of Alexandra's blouse, and began to caress her, stroking her skin, her dark grey eyes studying Alexandra shining with love, her lips parted. Gently she kissed Alexandra, and they began to make love.

Alexandra had almost forgotten what it felt like to be all alone in the night with a woman, a woman who would let her do anything to her, who took pleasure in everything Alexandra did to her. After one particularly energetic bout of lovemaking, Elly lay gasping under Alexandra's weight. "Oh my ..." she gasped, "you're so strong, love!"

"Are you hurt?" asked Alexandra, alarmed and concerned.

"No, just a little winded!" She gently pulled Alexandra's head down, and kissed her. It seemed to Alexandra that she had been starving for love forever. She felt like crying, but she couldn't stop making love to the sweet Elly.

Gradually, Alexandra began to lose her fear of hurting Elly, and they both began to fully realize the burden of need that Alexandra had been holding inside her. And, for her part, Elly was no less lusty. If less energetic, she was more persistent. She did not simply endure Alexandra's lovemaking; she welcomed it, and returned it fully. Between bouts, Elly sweetly tended the younger girl, talking to her softly, giving her all the love Alexandra longed to receive from a lover, but also the sweet tenderness of a sister.

Later, they talked some more.

"Can't you find some noble girl who will ... be your lover?"

"But what will she do if Genny decides she wants me back?"

"Would you take her Highness back? Do you love her?"

"No. ... I don't think so. No; I think I'm over her."

"When was the last time you ... had sex?"

Alexandra told her. Elly finally accepted that there seemed to be no one with whom Alexandra could safely satisfy her need for intimacy. She told Elly of Miss Barbara's sweet offer of her body, and how Alexandra had turned away from it; it could not have worked.

"Did it work tonight?" she asked, in a soft whisper.

"Yes, a thousand times yes!" whispered Alexandra, looking at Elly with sad eyes. She took Elly's hand, and kissed it.

"But here it is: neither I nor Lena are hurt tonight; we talked it over, and she said yes."

"You asked her?"

"Yes ... forgive me!"

Alexandra thought that over.

"Will she let you come to me again?" she asked, presently.

"Yes!"

"Why, Elly?"

"Because we love you, my princess! Oh, we have both loved you since you were six! Don't you remember Lena and Elly, your playmates? We had to amuse you for hours and hours, while your mother went hunting!" Both women had asked Alexandra this very question many times, and Alexandra hated to disappoint them.

"No, I can't remember! I'm sorry!"

"You were mean to everyone else, I remember, but you were good to Lena and me!" Elly smiled, amused by the memory. "And now, look at you! What a wondrous Queen you have become!" Elly stroked Alexandra's face, and her expression grew stern. "It is hard to keep from despising her Highness ... I have given up. But Lena loves her; I don't understand it. I don't understand why she did what she did ... but then, I don't understand Lena, either! I'm just not good at understanding people!"

It made Alexandra smile, to see the expression on Elly's face. Be that as it may, Elly seemed to have a particular knack for understanding the heart of her young Queen. Alexandra tried to imagine the future, and saw there something that both warmed her, and worried her.

"I could fall in love with you, Elly."

For a moment Elly's hand stilled. Then she resumed the tender stroking. "I will not leave Lena, my Lady. You'll have to live with loving someone else's wife!" She sighed. "People have dealt with it before." Alexandra's heart sank. "At least you'll know I love you in some sense." That at least was true. The love in Elly's eyes could not possibly be pretended.

"Worst of all, what if Genny lets into you, calls you a whore, and that kind of thing?"

Elly's eyes narrowed at once.

"I will stand up for myself, don't you worry about that!" Elly hissed. "I will be polite, but I know plenty of good words that will put her in her place! I have spoken to Lena about it often. What Genevieve has done is immature and irresponsible, and the rest of the world must try to cover for her! That is the height of childishness, and I know just how to tell it to her without raising my voice. In my eyes, your Majesty, until she begs your forgiveness she is no longer worthy of being called Royalty. I despise myself for admiring her at one time! Ohh! What fools she has made of us all!"

"She works tirelessly for the people, Elly; I cannot hate her. God give her wisdom to help herself and me ... and our child, and Sophie! And poor Briana! And my Sherry!" Alexandra's voice was rough with the sorrow and hopelessness she had briefly managed to forget in Elly's caresses.

"Tell me about Sherry," whispered Elly, drawing herself close against Alexandra.

That night, Alexandra fell in love with the humble Elly. The mountain girl was the intellectual equal of anyone. But Elly's mind was focused on people, the ones she loved, and Alexandra learned that she, Alexandra herself, constituted a large part of Elly's concerns. Though that concern stopped short of being obsessive, it embraced all parts of Alexandra's life: Barbara, the Judge's daughter, little Baby Sonja, Alexandra's feelings for Ninel, everything. And it was leavened with a love that spread through it all, and included them all.

Elly told Alexandra that she and Lena would not have a child until Alexandra was happy. She was hard put to explain why, but it was clear that it was her way of saying that Alexandra's happiness mattered to them. The couple had taken on Alexandra's happiness as their project. It made Alexandra both humble, and proud to inspire such loyalty.

Elly was attractive in her own way. Heavy-chested, with the stout build that was traditionally associated with the peasant women, Elly had perfect little hands and sensitive fingers, and a firm stomach. When they slipped out early in the morning to warm the frigid spring water, before washing in it, Alexandra noted that Elly was as beautiful in her skin as she was clothed, thick-waisted and wide-hipped though she was. Her softly rounded belly was smoothly layered with fat. Her hair was long, up to her thighs. Her round, merry face and dark grey eyes and middle-blond hair were harmonious together, as were her full, sensuous lips. Alexandra racked her memory trying to imagine Elly as a young girl of twelve. She must have been a beautiful child.

Alexandra was amused at Elly's fascination in her ability to shoe her mare. With practiced ease, Alexandra allowed the mare to scent her, and talking soothingly, she picked up the foot in the way she had been taught, and carefully trimmed it. Then she laid the proper-sized shoe against the hoof, adjusted it, and tapped the nails in.

"At last, you have truly amazed me, your Majesty!" Alexandra only laughed. "But I've seen blacksmiths who aren't as good as you are!"

Alexandra smiled into her eyes. Their audience had gone off to breakfast, and they were alone.

Alexandra's smile faded.

"I'm falling in love with you," she said, in a low voice.

Elly's eyes glistened with tears.

"You're lonely, your heart is full of love that has nowhere to go, and I was kind to you. And I always will be, Alexandra ... keep a sense of perspective!" Alexandra's face began to twist up in misery, at the knowledge of what lay ahead of her, and her eyes filled with tears of self-pity.

"Be strong!" Elly said, her face stern, shocking Alexandra out of the threatened bout of tears. "I'm coming with you. I'm on your side, my Queen!"

Elly could almost see the difference in the Queen. She stood up straight, her chin was up higher, her eyes were brighter. Elly's heart leaped at the sight. Things might not get better until someone was hurt, but it was wrong that Alexandra should be the one.

While Alexandra was preparing to ride towards the capital, and Genevieve was arguing with her parents, Lady Briana quietly celebrated her seventeenth birthday. She was now an adult, and her crimes would be judged according to a different code. For once, she had carefully planned her assault on her objective.

When she had approached Sophie the previous evening, she had chosen a time at which Sophie was most inclined to acquiesce to her suggestion.

"Sophie, I want to ride out to Oslo, and take ship to Bernia, and meet with your father."

"Goodness! Why?"

"I want to volunteer to work there. Things might go a bit better if he had some help from, you know, the younger generation. Don't you think? We're all still on this side of the water; it's almost as if we've palmed off the Bernians on the older generation."

"That's true," said Sophie, nodding thoughtfully.

"Would you travel out with me?"

"Well ... sure, why not?"

As simply as that, without a word to Genny, Sophie set out with Baby, telling only Lady Sonja about where she was going. It would be a long time before Genny knew she was gone. And Sophie was elated, because Genny's dissembling to her parents had been impossible to endure. All is well, she had told them, Alexandra will be along soon, and then you will see. Isn't it so, Sophie? And Sophie had no choice but to perjure herself.

But Genny was thriving in one way: the baby and she were bonding, and every day Genny grew to love the child more and more. And despite her superficial resemblance to Genny, it was Alexandra's gentle eyes that looked out at her. And the baby's smile grew more like the queen's every day.

Queen Anne was as taken with her granddaughter as anyone. The best way for Genny to distract her from talking about Alexandra was to bring the baby with her. They sewed for the baby, they took her for walks, they deplored the fact that Alexandra had taken all their personal servants with her. There were nursery maids in the Palace, but Queen Anne –and Baby Sonja– preferred those idiot twins to them all, and even Genny missed them.

King Frederick shook his head. "This is not good. She's been gone how long?"

"A little less than a week, father; it's traditional! Instead of people coming to the capital to have disputes appealed, she holds court in the regional centers! It's a simple idea!"

"But she must have a presence, at least on the television. How does it look, for you to be on television all the time, and the Queen is off riding around the country?"

"I don't see the problem with it!"

When Baby and Sophie finally boarded the ferry, Baby turned to Sophie and held her hands in her own. Something in her eyes made Sophie stare at her wide-eyed.

"I love you. I've loved you since I first saw you. I have dreamed of you for three years!"

Sophie was shocked. The earnest words of Baby more than a year ago had faded from her memory; it was hard to realize that this poised, assertive woman –young though she was– was the naked teenager who had made love to her a lifetime ago in Skree. What Sophie had taken to be a childish crush seemed to have been far more serious than she had imagined.

"What do you want, Briana?"

"Marry me!"

Sophie looked up into Baby's eyes, and it was as if she was seeing her for the first time. For all her philosophical attitudes, Sophie was as much a slave to beauty as the next girl. Briana was tall and beautifully proportioned. She was intense and passionate, it was true, but she was far less self-involved than Genny.

It was becoming clear to Sophie that it was not for love of Sophie that Genevieve had left Alexandra. Yes, she had loved Sophie, and for a long time, but that love had become an abstract thing. Now she lived for that principle, her love for Sophie, sometimes forgetting to love Sophie, the woman. No, it had not been for love of Sophie; it had been pique. The thought that Alexandra had enjoyed Sophie's company and her body while she, Genevieve, had suffered alone had made her furious. Her rejection of Alexandra had been a gesture she had regretted almost immediately, but her pride had made it impossible to relent. She was living a lie, and she had forced Sophie to live it with her.

But Briana's love for Sophie had been a simple thing. At first, it had been one of physical attraction compounded with admiration. Then, the girl had studied Sophie, and satisfied herself that they would make a good team. Surprisingly, they had a lot in common, including a healthy love of the outdoors, a love of sports and competition, and now, newly-discovered, a sense of responsibility for the economic and social regeneration of the Bernese people. There were other, less exalted considerations, and one practical one: Sophie and Briana could have children. She knew Briana would make a wonderful mother, and Sophie loved children. But most of all, Briana was beautiful. It is so hard to refuse a beautiful woman who loves you.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Briana, simply. No gloating, no fancy speeches.

"What about Genny?"

"We'll face her together!"

"What if ... what if ... she kills herself?"

Briana's eyes grew wide. She looked out to sea, thinking, massaging Sophie's hands. It gave Sophie time to get used to the idea, to think of the two of them as a couple. So what if Briana did not have all the answers?

The girl turned back, looking into Sophie's eyes. "How can you live like that, in fear of Genny doing something irresponsible? She has the baby, now; I can't imagine a mother killing herself, Sophie. If she does, I will look after the baby myself! Alexandra will. I love that child."

"Who will look after Genny, Briana?" It was a question not for Briana, but for herself.

"You mean, who will love her?"

"It's the same thing!"

Briana shook her head.

"Your logic is wrong. Each person has to find someone to love. After that you can worry about loving others, and we will. It's time we encouraged Genny to stop holding all of us hostage. If you really love her more than I love you ... then I will accept that."

"You're beautiful, Briana."

Briana's eyes softened, and she smiled. And she was not a kid any more, Sophie could see. A child would have been flattered. Briana was only relieved, and a little amused.

"Yes!" said Sophie.

Wordlessly, Briana took Sophie in her arms, and kissed the top of her head, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because ... you're the first one I ever asked, and you said yes!"

The guards, Alexandra and Elly raced over the 100-odd miles of brand new highway in a few hours, taking only a couple of breaks, to allow the horses to rest from the shock of the hard surface. There remained about another 100 miles of winding old highway south, which took the rest of the day, and much of the night. It was a little past midnight when they arrived. From the mountains they had seen, far out at sea, one of the small coastal craft that shuttled between Skree and the capital, and Elly was convinced that the children were on board.

The guards offered to keep Elly with them in the guardhouse, but Alexandra thought she might be happier in Sophie's home. But then, it was possible that Genny's parents were staying there. Another possibility was Bernard's home. Finally, they settled on the latter choice.

Bernard's mother answered the knocks with alarm.

"Miss Lily, it's Alexandra!" she said softly.

"Oh my goodness, how you scared me, your Majesty! What are you doing here at ... it's past midnight! Come in, come in ... come in, both of you!"

It took a while to light a lamp, and Alexandra and her friend must sit down, and what has happened to Bernard and little Kate? And she had to brew tea for them.

"Will it be at all possible to give my friend Elly here a place to sleep?"

"Here? Of course! We have comfortable beds, but no one ever comes! Katie's mother's room is here; come, why don't you put your things there, so you don't have to move when Bernard and the little one get here! How long will you be staying?"

"Just a couple of days, Miss Lily. I want to find her a room at the Palace, but Princess Genevieve's parents are visiting, and I don't want to stir up a hornet's nest by bringing in friends in the middle of the night."

"Oh, yes, there now, I can see that that could be trouble. Yes. No, you have to stay here until that's straightened out. Have you eaten?"

Elly was delighted with Katie's grandmother. The old girl was so very glad of the company, the late hour notwithstanding. And, like everyone Elly knew, she doted on the young Queen. Meanwhile, Elly was getting so fond of Lily, she was showing a dimple that Alexandra had never seen before.

After a steady social diet of Ninel, the twins and Hugh the paraplegic blacksmith for several months, it was almost impossible to relax and enjoy the warmth and affection which Elly and Lily lavished on her love-starved self without bursting into tears. It was not that the twins and Ninel loved her any less, but that she had stopped seeing that love as something real. Furthermore, Alexandra had got into the habit of restraining herself in how she returned the love of the girls. But with Lily and Elly, no restraint was needed.

"How are you, child?" Lily asked presently, and Alexandra covered her eyes and wept silently. "There, now, there's no reason to cry, is there?"

"Yes there is, Miss Lily! All alone, with only the children for company! What kind of a life is that?" asked Elly, softly.

"I know, dear ... I've wondered the same thing for months! And Bernard comes home and tells me everything! And she, so patient, suffering in silence, and she, so misguided, such an ignorant child! It breaks my heart that she's so blind!" She was upset, and Alexandra sighed and stopped crying. Somehow, Alexandra's tears seemed redundant, now that Lily had expressed the stupidity of the situation. Elly sat close to Alexandra, holding her hand.

"And tell me again, child, who are you?"

"It is me and my mate who run the Lodge up in Westholm, you know?"

"The Lodge?"

"Remember, where they took Katie, and we gave her the little lamb?"

"Oh yes, yes, that Lodge!"

"That's the one!"

"Lena!"

"That's my mate; I'm Elly!"

"Oh, the ones who went out to Bernia during the war, and looked after Lady Alexandra, here! Were you the ones, or have I got it wrong?"

"No, we were the ones, ma'am!"

"Oh, I heard all about you from her Ladyship, everything you did for her, with the radios, and everything. And we helped her make those little presents, with the crossbow arrow things?"

Alexandra nodded confirmation, and Elly raised her eyebrows and also nodded, expressing her appreciation.

"You've been riding all day and all evening? You must be tired; Lady Alexandra, would you like to stay the night? It will be such a surprise for Bernard and Katie when they get here!"

Alexandra wanted nothing better. She had already rubbed down the horses and made them comfortable in the back yard. There was no stable, but there was a shelter, and Alexandra knew where there was hay. She brought the saddles inside. Elly and she ate a few slices of bread for supper, washed up at the well, whose brackish water Alexandra was quite familiar with, and went to sleep in the room Lily had shown them. Having spent one night in Elly's arms, she could not resist spending another. They made love quietly, and made sure to fall asleep dressed respectably in nightclothes. But it was pure heaven anyway, to feel Elly's arms around her waist.

Lily woke them up with coffee, and Alexandra took her cup with a blessing on her lips. All morning, she steeled herself to face what awaited her at the Palace, wondering whether to take Elly in with her, or to face Genny and her parents alone. In the end, she reluctantly decided on the latter course.

Just as she was setting out, the rest of the contingent arrived from the pier, escorted by Elaine.

"Mama!" cried Ninel, who could recognize her anywhere. "My Lady!" "Elly!" "Gramma!"

After hugs all round, Alexandra, Ninel, the twins and Elaine set out for the Palace with the little dogs, leaving Elly to the care of Bernard and his family. The long-suffering Elly had smiled and said she would be fine.

They parted from Elaine at the guard's barracks, and having left their horses and ponies at the stables, picked up all their baggage, and climbed the stairs. Alexandra, uncharacteristically afraid of what she might have to face, was hoping with all her might that she could slip into her room without being noticed, hoping that if she could last one day without being seen, she could pretend that she had not been away.

Next to her, Ninel and the twins were also tense. They could feel the tension in Alexandra, and the anxiety was infectious. As they came into the hallway that led to their rooms, there was Genevieve, squinting down the hallway at them. All of them froze, including the little dogs.

Acting furtive, Genevieve beckoned to them. It was not clear whether she beckoned to a particular one of them, or to the entire group. Losing some of her anxiety, Alexandra began to feel her usual annoyance bubbling up. She embraced the annoyance as something familiar and dependable.

The week had made quite a change in Genevieve. She was dressed conservatively, her hair was tidily put up, and she seemed healthy.

"What do you need? Can I put my things away and come back? ...." Genevieve gesticulated for her to be quiet. "... What's the matter?"

Genevieve grew red in the face. She opened the door to the royal bedroom, and said urgently, "Why don't you leave your things here ... for the moment?"

Alexandra looked her in the eye.

"Since you've given me a room..."

"Will you please keep quiet?" Genevieve seemed very nervous indeed.

"Why? Who's out there?"

Genny looked thoroughly exasperated. "My father! You know he's here!"

"Is he asleep?" asked Alexandra, puzzled, but keeping her voice low.

"No, he's taken Sonja on a little walk, and he's on his way back!"

A quick peek over the balustrade verified that grandfather and granddaughter were indeed on their way up the stairs. He was telling her that her 'missing parent was back.'

"You've put me in trouble with them!"

"No, I didn't! He took a strong dislike to the idea of you going on circuit! I took your side! Now Mama has other concerns, about which we can talk later ... she's not up yet!"

Alexandra sighed and looked at Ninel and the twins, who stared back, thoroughly off-balance. "I think you can safely go and unpack, and take baths, all three of you."

"Will you be okay, Mama?"

"Of course I'll be okay! What could happen?"

Ninel led the twins back to her room, with the dogs following, throwing one last parting look of warning at Genny. Genny tugged at Alexandra's hand awkwardly, drawing her into the enormous royal bedroom, from which Alexandra had been banished for months.

"Could you please, please, I'm begging, give an impression of domestic harmony, until my parents are gone?"

And her pleading eyes turned Alexandra's world upside-down. In an instant it was as if all the intervening viciousness had never been, and she was back in that blessed moment when she had led Genevieve into this very room, to make love to her for the first time. She had forgotten how those eyes could speak, she had forgotten the feel of Genny's hands on her skin, what it felt like to be needed by her.

She could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Genny took her hands away, startled by those hardened muscles Alexandra had put on in the last month, while she forged little necessities for her friends in the little village near her little farm. She could hear Genevieve think: this is not the woman whom I scorned, nor the woman I married. Alexandra saw the very moment that Genevieve felt a sudden attraction for this new Alexandra. It made her feel sorry for her. What a pathetic creature was she! Alexandra resisted what Genny's fragrance was making her feel. She felt herself going crazy with desire for Genny, but she rejected it. It disgusted her that each of them was reacting to the other at an animal level in this time of crisis.

"Where's Sophie?"

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know? She lives with you!"

"Keep your voice down! Anyway, she's gone!"

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I don't know, for the last time!"

Genny was furious and frustrated. Her face was red, and this masquerade was drawing on reflexes Alexandra had forgotten for years. Being separated from Genny meant that she could deal with facts rather than illusions. Life with Genny involved juggling a host of illusions.

"Here we are. Oh, look who's here!" It was Frederick of New Hope, with her Royal Highness, Sophie Ninel Alexandrasdottir.

"Mama! Mama?"

Genny's hands on her arm were a prayer, a plea, a shy promise.

"Hello sweetheart! Greetings, King Frederick!"

Baby Sonja flew into Alexandra's arms, as Frederick grinned from ear to ear.

"Come in and sit down! Please ignore the luggage; I just got in."

King Frederick devoured Alexandra with his eyes. "Alexandra, you look so handsome! You've put on muscle and bone! Give me a hug, I've missed you!" The King hugged Alexandra and the baby together, squeezing her arms and exclaiming with admiration. Alexandra laughed, and gave him a daughter's kiss. She had forgotten how much she loved this man. Little Sonja was delirious with happiness to see Alexandra.

Eventually, Genny got her father seated comfortably.

"Alexandra, what's all this about going about all over the country, holding court?"

"Exactly that, sir! You should try it!"

"But what is the point of it? What do you do?"

"Well," said Alexandra with a sigh, "There are judges, and certain categories of cases are permitted appeals. Rather than have them all coming to the capital, I visit the regional capitals once every so often. Sometimes the judges just leave interesting cases until I come around! It's about two days in every city."

"And does it work?"

"I think so; it's refreshing to go out and meet people, after staying cooped up in here!"

The King harrumphed. "I thought maybe if you had a weekly television message, that would give you more visibility!"

Alexandra shrugged and smiled. "That's probably not a bad idea. I'll think about it! Where's your lady wife?"

"I think I hear her on the stairs," said Genny. She had seated herself close, but not too close, to Alexandra. She went out to the hallway, just in time to usher in her mother.

At sight of Alexandra, the Queen was all smiles. Alexandra had forgotten how fond the Queen was of her. She could have capitalized on that affection a year ago, attempted to force Genny to her senses. But it appeared as if things were sorting themselves out without her interference. And Sophie's mysterious absence certainly helped.

"I thought you'd never get here!" said Queen Anne, smiling reproachfully at Alexandra.

"She's been asking for you for four whole days, now," said Genny. Alexandra caught herself luxuriating in the sensuous beauty of Genny's voice. Gone was the strident tone, the harshness, the whining. Instead, there was a thrum of some new feeling in it.

Alexandra was the long awaited hero. Genny's parents seem to dote on her, and for a while she wondered whether fate was simply waiting until Genny and she were alone again to set off some ultimate cataclysm. So far it was a love-fest, with the older couple admiring Alexandra's biceps until she thought she would have to invent an important engagement. The warm atmosphere of the family reunion was in strange contrast to the alienation Alexandra still felt inside.

Mercifully, Ninel and the twins peeked in shyly, just where Queen Anne could see them.

"Why, this must be Ninel! Come in, dear, and let me have a look at you!" Ninel slid in, all neatly attired, the very image of slim, self-deprecating grace. The twins followed, smiling at Anne. Retrieving her biceps, Alexandra stepped back with the baby, giving the girls room to interview Queen Anne. "Oh Frederick, she looks very much like Trudy's folks, all red hair and freckles! Do you know, girl, that Lady Sophie's mother's people were from Skree?"

"No, your Majesty!"

"Tell me, what was your mother's name?"

"Marga, if you please, Your Majesty!"

It was very likely, Alexandra thought, that the Queen just might know Ninel's ancestry. But no genealogy could explain the fierce loyalty and determined generosity of spirit of that wonderful child. Alexandra turned to look at the quiet infant in her arms, who looked back at her and grinned. She wondered if the baby would turn out as beautifully as had her namesake, despite her sullen, unsympathetic father?

"You do remember me, don't you?" Alexandra asked her in an undertone.

"Uh huh!" said the little girl, chuckling. Alexandra felt eyes on her, and looked up to see Genny glaring at her helplessly. She mimed a question at her, and Genny only rolled her eyes.

Too soon, Frederick and Anne left with Ninel and the twins on some wild expedition. Alexandra, Genny and the baby were alone. Genny covered her flaming cheeks with her hands. Her big, beautiful eyes were full, as she stood before Alexandra.

"Thank you for obliging me, Alexandra!" She appeared to have trouble catching her breath. "You've changed a lot, you know."

Alexandra shrugged, looking away. It was one of those pointless remarks that often meant that someone was feeling unsure of themselves.

"You look happier, more confident!"

Alexandra took a deep breath and turned to Genny.

"What do you want to do?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know!" She gazed at Alexandra, and there seemed a deliberate attempt to rip out all her self-deception from her own mind.

"Who looked after the baby all this time?" asked Alexandra.

"I did, myself; she's a patient and obliging child ... you've done a wonderful job with her."

"With Lena and Elly and Sophie ..and Sherry helping, yes, it was not difficult ..."

"Neither of us can manage without Sophie, can we?"

"Neither of us can manage alone, that much is certain. I had lots of support, especially after ..."

"Please, Alexandra. Please."

"Please what?"

"Don't ... don't rub my face in it. I'm not proud of myself." She took a deep breath. "Please forgive me!"

The soft words echoed in Alexandra's head. So long had she longed to hear them, and put their enmity behind her, that her feelings for Genevieve, the distrust and suspicion, the defensiveness that had become such a habit made it impossible to accept the words at face value. Genevieve gazed into her eyes, searching for some sign of the forgiveness she had asked for. Even that searching look, curse her, seemed to be only a trick Genevieve used to seduce her.

"I know, it is hard," she said softly. "To watch us, Sophie and me, all these months, when I know you loved her, and must still love her!"

"What about Sherry, what about ... ?"

"Well ... you know, Sherry—it hurt us both, Alexandra; perhaps not in equal measure, but ..." Oh, it was so hard to gaze into those eyes! "... But when you took her to your bed, I was both hurt and relieved! And when she left, I was hurt, too!"

"Your thoughtlessness may have destroyed a life, Princess."

"Sherry's life?"

"Yes!"

Genevieve bit her lip, frowning. Alexandra could see plainly that, while it may have taken an immense effort to accept the blame for the year and a half of estrangement, Genevieve was not inclined to analyze the myriad ways in which she had wronged everyone. One apology would have to suffice. In addition, it was becoming clear that the apology was long in the coming; the words had been on her lips for a long, long time. It had been guilt that had caused her deterioration over the last so many months, her ill health, her loss of temper, the fights with Sophie. But Alexandra could not part with her anger.

"As you can imagine, Sherry was not the only one," she said. She bit back the words: and I cannot be held to blame.

"There were others?"

"Well ... I have needs too, Genny; since the experiment with Sherry did not work, I—I had to find comfort where I could, you understand?"

Genny's eyes glazed over, thinking about this. With the anger with which she had protected herself gone, every new idea demanded more thought. She was clearly appalled by the idea of Alexandra going through the land, sleeping with all and sundry. And more than jealousy, Genny was thinking of the embarrassment. "No, not hundreds; just a handful of people... friends..."

"Like Briana?"

Alexandra shrugged. Her legs ached from standing. She would have hurt even more, except that the baby's fingers in her hair were soothing. She did not want to sit, thinking that it indicated a willingness to negotiate, to compromise. She clung to the thought that it was all Genevieve's fault, all of it.

Genny came closer, and took Alexandra's hand. "I am more sorry than you could possibly believe," she said in a low voice. "I wanted you to suffer, but I went too far; we all suffered, for too long! I must take all the blame ... I only hoped that you would share the burden of blame, to save a little of my p-pride, that's all. The children have been so wonderful ... everyone has been so patient ... I'm sick of being the enemy!" Her tears began to flow. "If only Sophie were here, so that I could beg her forgiveness, too! Why has she abandoned me? I must stop this, before everyone begins to hate me! If you knew how much I loved your dear country, you would take me back, and let me be Princess again ... unburdened with my meaningless, meaningless hate!"

"Mama?"

"Yes, darling ... no, I'm not upset with you, little girl!"

"No?"

"No, not at all! Come here! Oh Alexandra ... you're an angel for not turning the children against me! But Ninel looks at me in such a way ..."

Alexandra handed the child over, and remarked the gentleness with which Genny took her into her arms, and buried her wet face in that of the infant. Alexandra's strong protective instinct fought her determination to keep the fire of her indignation burning. With a touch of her hand, she could ease Genny's misery, and leave the resolution of blame for another time.

No sooner had she thought it, than it was done. She put her arms round Genny, and the sobbing woman came into her arms, still awkward, but beginning to melt with relief. She sobbed a long time.

She seemed to have grown more fragile, her bones felt more delicate; her head seemed larger in proportion to her slim, fragile-looking body, her eyes seemed enormous compared with the rest of her. But Alexandra's body remembered her, the ways she liked to be held. "Everything is going to be fine," wept Genevieve, over and over again, in a whisper, in a kind of prayer, between sobs. "Oh Alexandra, what I did to you!"

"It's all over now," said Alexandra, awkwardly.

"It's all over now, yes ... the suffering, the endless suffering ... Oh God, why did you do this to us?"

Alexandra felt impatient with Genevieve's self-pity.

"What have we suffered, compared to what others have had to bear?"

"It's true, I know ... but I just wasn't used to it, Alexandra!"

Indeed they were not. Royalty is seldom accustomed to suffering; nothing of what they had gone through would be understood by any of their royal cousins. They could see it happening, but never understand it.

As they mumbled disjointed phrases, expressing their frustration and their relief, Alexandra realized how much of an act it had been for Genny to be the vicious, jealous woman she had been so long. She had become the personification of bitterness, a persona she had created to punish Alexandra for appearing to have waited out the war in relatively happy surroundings, while Genny was chained to the television cameras. But it had taken its toll on both of them, and Genny had simply waited in desperation for an opportunity to surrender. And now she had surrendered, and laid all her problems in Alexandra's lap. And all the love for her that Alexandra had buried deep inside her melted its way out, until she finally expressed her acceptance and forgiveness with a kiss.

Genny noticed it at once. She stiffened momentarily, and raised her face to Alexandra. The baby looked up too, with expressions similar enough to make Alexandra want to smile. "Thank you for that!" said Genny, and her humility finally won Alexandra over.

Weak-kneed, she sat on the couch, taking the baby back. Genny gracefully sat on her left, arranging her skirt in a habitual, unconscious motion, close enough for full body contact. Alexandra, starved for all of this for so long, noticed every little detail, every movement, the overwhelming totality of Genny's incredible femininity. It was seduction, yes, but not calculated seduction. That was not Genny's style. When she set out to charm, she charmed with words, with smiles; this was different. Having completely abandoned her misadventure, her mind had shut off, and instinct was taking over. She was a loving woman, and she was simply being herself.

But what of Alexandra? It was hard to have the wind suddenly taken out of her sails. All the plotting with Elly, the desperate night of sex, all the hurt she had allowed Elly to leech out of her, all the misery during the circuit, the red eyes every night? Even to open her heart to Elly, to let the girl past the defenses Alexandra had built around her heart, even that had cost Alexandra something. Alexandra felt Genny's hand on her thigh, touching her shyly, and she put out a hand to stop her.

"I'm not ready for ... more, just yet," Alexandra said.

Genevieve looked up, a little hurt, but understanding.

"If we make love, it will be all better, won't it, Alexandra?"

"Eventually, perhaps ... I just need a little time, that's all."

"Your eyes are all red." Alexandra nodded. "Have you been crying?" Yes, nodded Alexandra. "After me?" Alexandra shook her head. "Who, then? Sherry?" Alexandra nodded, her mouth twisting in bitterness. "Will you never forgive me, Alexandra?"

"I just need time, Genny; don't push at me like a hundred horses!"

Her face twisted up in misery. "I want you so much!"

"I'm tired, I want to sleep, I want to think! It's all too much!"

"Will you sleep here, please?"

"I want to be alone for a bit."

"You must sleep here; I'll take the bed in the alcove!"

Of course Alexandra could not relax with Genevieve in the room. The baby cooed in her crib, and Alexandra could tell she was concerned, and trying to soothe her parents. How much harm had all this done to the fragile psyche of the child? Would she become a flighty, anxious adult, constantly afraid of giving the slightest offence?

Alexandra washed up in the bathroom, and strode out before Genny could react. She hurried downstairs. She had to talk to Elly. Baby was nowhere in the Palace, and Sophie was gone too, according to Genny. It would be a scandal if she was seen around the city, talking to Elly. What was she to do? She saddled a horse, and rode out to Bernard's home.

Inside there was relative calm; Katie was slicing an onion, while Elly and Lily were talking. Bernard was away.

"What has happened?" asked Elly, as they all turned to look at the Queen, who looked tired and nervous.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Certainly!"

"Miss Lily, may Elly and I talk out in the back yard?"

"Of course! There's a bench out there, Lady Alexandra! Will you stay to lunch?"

"No, I had better not ...Thank you for asking!"

Alexandra told Elly all that had happened. Elly looked amused and pleased.

"Well! I think this is the real thing. I truly can believe that she hated the whole thing from the outset. She was angry; angry at the whole lot of us out there in Bernia. She felt we hadn't suffered enough."

"I just can't bring myself to go back to bed with her ... I just can't do it, after all the embarrassment she made me suffer! Only last night ... only last night, we, you and me ..."

"Oh Lady Alexandra ... I'm not your Lady Sherry, and I will never be! We were nothing but a little more than good friends, and when you were hurting, I comforted you! I knew, sooner or later, her Highness would come to her senses, and our nights together would be just another happy memory. Mind you, I haven't slept with lots of people, and I know you haven't, either. And I knew there would be ... something between us." It filled Alexandra's heart with joy to hear those words! Elly continued: "But not enough to hurt you or the princess, my Lady! Not enough for that, surely?" Her voice was soft and persuasive, as if she were talking to a child.

"You speak as though making love was just ... a hug and a kiss!"

"To me it was, Alexandra." Her eyes were absolutely honest. She sat, so demurely, her knees pressed tight together, but her eyes were warm, and her whole manner told Alexandra that she was not ashamed of what she had done, and would do it again. It was not done heedlessly; she had done it whole-heartedly. But it seemed that sex with a mate was different from sex to comfort a friend. And Alexandra had learned this with difficulty, with the blacksmith. With Sherry, Alexandra had made love with all her soul; it had been at the point where it had seemed that Genny was dead to her, and her soul cried out for love, for someone to call her own, and Sherry had answered that cry. But Elly had only extended caring to a friend, as Alexandra had extended it to the blacksmith. Elly's serenity calmed Alexandra. She could have felt affronted that Elly took their lovemaking so lightly. But somehow, she did not. It had changed them both, Alexandra imagined; they were more than friends, now. But somehow not lovers in the full sense in which she had understood the word.

"I feel better already," said Alexandra, confused.

Elly smiled. There was just a hint of the indulgent older sister in Elly's fond smile. But then, another note crept into her voice. "I would like to come and speak with the Princess," said Elly, hesitantly.

"Why? Won't it be a risk? It's asking for trouble, isn't it?"

"Better now than later," Elly said, gravely. "I know it is playing with fire, your Majesty, but you have suffered too much, to be thrown back into her Highness's arms, if she's only likely to go off the rails in a day or two. If it happens while I'm there, at least I can defend myself, and you, too."

Alexandra was persuaded. She watched while Elly ate, slowly and calmly, and accepted a snack for herself. Then they mounted up, and headed to the Palace. They were both ignored by the people on the street, since Alexandra had dressed casually. Glancing across at Elly, she noted once again how well she carried herself. What great fortune, to be surrounded by such exceptional women!

She led the way upstairs, leaving the horses to the stable staff. Ninel and her in-laws seemed to be away. She found Genny chasing behind little Sonja up and down the hallway of the Royal Suite.

Genevieve did not recognize Elly immediately. "Where did you run off to?" Genevieve demanded, exasperated. "One moment you were washing up, and the next you were gone!"

"You remember Elly, from the Lodge?"

"Elly! Yes, Lena's Elly? Of course I remember you! Please, come in and sit down!"

Elly went into the Royal Suite, pleased to be recognized. "You've moved things around," she said, looking over it. "I visited you here, shortly after Lady Sophie's mother died, you remember, your Highness!"

"Yes, I do remember. Please sit down! May I send for a cup of tea?"

"I just ate lunch, your Highness," Elly said, politely. "You have lost weight, I see ... just a little too much, I think."

Genevieve dismissed the remark with an impatient wave of her hand, and came to join them, leaving little Sonja to watch the group from a little distance away.

"I thank you for standing by Her Majesty these last months, while I – while I was on the rampage. She may have told you ... I ... I asked her forgiveness, Elly ... I know that you know all, because you and Lena have always been close to her."

"That we have, your Highness." Elly looked her straight in the eye. There was neither accusation nor acceptance in her eyes, just determination. "We all prayed that ... it would come to an end. And it seems our prayers have been answered!"

Genny took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at the baby, who smiled at her. She turned back to Elly. "I think of that person as another Genevieve, not me. Else I would have to apologize for the rest of my life."

Elly seemed to dismiss it with a shrug and a smile.

"We heard that Lady Sophie has disappeared herself!"

Genevieve nodded, glancing at Alexandra.

"It wasn't Sophie who made me do what I did, and it was not her disappearance that made me stop, Alexandra, Elly. Sophie was a convenient prop, a crutch for me ... Anyway, I have always loved her, and I will still love her when she comes back!" It was as if they could see with their eyes the kaleidoscope of emotions that Elly was struggling with in her heart, and her battle to be honest with them. "Love is a strange thing, Elly; a few hours ago, I would not have dared to say this to her Majesty, but I ... I can never love anyone the way I love Lady Sophie." She heaved a great sigh. "So, there are many kinds of love, and no matter how one may wish to give up all of them but one, it is not possible! Yet ... Sophie must live her life to the fullest. While I kept her captive, we were both unhappy. Most of all, she was miserable to be placed between my parents and myself."

"Oh!" exclaimed Elly, softly. "Perhaps that explains a little of her disappearance!"

"Perhaps it explains it all!" Alexandra said, with a faint smile.

Genevieve sighed. Then she smiled brightly at Elly.

"So! Have you forgiven me enough that I will be welcome at the Lodge? If I can persuade Her Majesty to take us out there again, can you persuade Lena to be gracious to me?"

"Lena has always supported your Highness," said Elly, showing her amusement. "She steadily maintained that your Highness had her reasons for the things she did. We argued all the time!"

"And you were on Her Majesty's side, then?"

"If you will forgive me, yes, your Highness!"

Alexandra cleared her throat. "Lena just didn't take sides, that's all. She made excuses for you, but she was always kind and understanding to me, my Lady. I think Elly was more indignant about ... things that were happening at that time, but, as she said, deep down she believed that things would turn out right."

Elly grinned. "Your Majesty is most tactful, but that sums up things very well."

Genevieve had the grace to blush. But there were other things on her mind.

"Elly, you've traveled about enough to answer this: has all this hurt the people's support for the Crown?"

"No, your Highness."

Genny looked at Alexandra, her face red, a picture of relief. "God is merciful," she said softly. "At least, to the extent that Elly's observation is reliable!"

"Oh, it is, your Highness. If sentiments in Northhaven are any indication, Her Majesty's popularity is higher now than it has ever been. There was widespread disappointment in your Highness —begging your pardon— and we must work hard to persuade the people that you are once again loyal to her Majesty. It will be a matter of pride that things are back the way they should be. People still remember your face from the War, and all the ... troubles here caused understandable unhappiness and confusion."

Genevieve flinched every time Elly alluded to her foolishness, but she took the words in the spirit in which they had been offered, namely that the Royal reconciliation must be made public.

Alexandra was dreading the moment when Genny would ask whether Elly and Lena had accommodated the Queen's sexual appetite at the Lodge. It seemed the natural question to ask, but it never came. Sooner or later, Genny's inquisitive mind would come round to that question, and Alexandra would answer it honestly. Still, Alexandra felt a deep and fierce loyalty towards Elly and her mate, and the very thought that Genny might take a dislike to them, or develop a resentment towards them for imagined or real services rendered made her very unhappy. Alexandra's mind was still confused about her relationship with Elly, and she knew that she would be half in love with the sweet woman for many, many years. Alexandra feared that her feelings could be easily read on her face.

The conversation went on around Alexandra for a while, and then there was an awkward silence. Genevieve squirmed in her seat.

"How can I persuade you that ... that I am sincere, that I have come back to her Majesty for good?" Genny's eyes flicked to Alexandra, she blushed and looked back at Elly.

"Why should your Highness persuade me? I am nothing, nobody, after all! The whole country will see the difference, if it is real, just as the whole country knows the secret of your ... ill feelings towards each other now."

"It does?"

Elly nodded. "Just in the last several weeks. And we knew as soon as we saw her Majesty that it was true."

Genevieve looked very puzzled, as little Sonja struggled up onto her lap.

"I assumed that Her Majesty was a regular guest at the Lodge!"

"Indeed no, this was her only visit."

"I don't understand!" said Genny, in confusion.

Elly and Alexandra looked at her, puzzled in their turn. What was going on in Genny's devious and creative mind?

"I assumed that it was at the Lodge that—that Alexandra had her—assignations, that's all!"

Elly shook her head, turning red, and Alexandra slowly shook hers also. "I may tell you some day, my Lady, but you will regret it if you conduct a witch-hunt to persecute the people who have loved and supported me."

"No! Why do you see evil, when it is merely curiosity?"

Elly looked a warning at Alexandra, then turned back to Genevieve.

"Do you expect Her Majesty to punish Lady Sophie for being your Highness's companion?"

"Of course not!"

Elly turned to Alexandra. "Then why should her Highness be suspected of hunting down any lovers you might have had, my Lady? You are only human, with all the ... all the vigor of your youth, and surely the Lady, who has been forgiven much, will forgive you for the same?"

When they parted, Genevieve embraced Elly with no reserve. Elly, having rationalized what she had done to her own satisfaction was able to return the embrace with the warmth it deserved. Genny looked on as they walked down the Hall, calling out to Alexandra to not be long coming back. Nobody waylaid them as they made their way to the stables. They saddled up, and headed out towards the road to Westholm. Alexandra did not know where she was going, but it was as if she could not let Elly go. Elly only smiled in quiet tolerance. Alexandra could not tell whether Elly had an inkling of the storm raging in her heart, but her patient presence was a balm for the young Queen's turmoil.

"Looking in her eyes, I can tell, my Lady," said Elly softly, "she is falling in love with you all over again. The jealousy, the curiosity about you and your loves, it is all part of it. If she is sure of you, it will remain idle curiosity; if she mistrusts you, it will turn into jealousy. Or maybe it won't. She may be content to suffer quietly, but that is not healthy."

"How are you so wise, Elly?"

She laughed merrily.

"The War taught me a lot, my Lady; I learned by watching you, by watching Lady Sophie ... I am not much older than you are, and I have not often left the village, as you know."

"Come, let me show you a thing ..." Alexandra turned off into her little plot of land. "Look! What do you think?" Before them lay the tiny cottage, the clearing, the shelter for the horses, and the big camp table.

CHAPTER SIXTY

The Little House Gives Back

Elly's eyes grew wide, as she looked around.

"Did you do this all yourself?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"No, not all; the children helped me, and Lady Briana, and the Blacksmith from over yonder, in the little village!"

"Oh my Queen!" Elly stared at her, understanding dawning on her face. She had never stopped wondering how Alexandra had survived the year, and now she realized some of what had gone into it. The sheer work had enabled Alexandra to burn off some of her frustration. Elly dismounted, and having made her mare comfortable, wandered about the clearing, taking in everything, as Alexandra's heart threatened to burst with pride. What was developing between them was something she already cherished greatly, and Elly's approval meant a great deal.

Alexandra unlatched the cottage door, letting in the morning light, and Elly peeked in, and her feet followed her round head, as she appraised the fireplace and chimney, and the ingenuity that had gone into the things set out in the tiny home.

"You must bring her here!" said Elly, softly, urgently. "She can never understand you if she does not see this place!"

Alexandra looked at her doubtfully. It was her private place; the very thought of bringing Genny here, to this place which had been a refuge from her hostility seemed almost sacrilegious.

"Some day, perhaps," murmured Alexandra.

"No. Soon. It must be soon! Oh my Lady, I can see a precious love waiting to burst forth between you both, and you must not wait!"

Alexandra turned to her, her heart in her mouth. "I was hoping you would let me hold you one last time here ... Elly, now that I have found you, how can I let you go?"

"Do not speak of finding and letting go, my Queen! We have been friends for so long, despite that you cannot remember! What was there to find? I was always here! I comforted you when you hurt, but now, you have a wife and a lover! Have you forgotten what it felt like to be in love? Two people in love is so different from one comforting another! Can't you see how much awaits you with her Highness?"

"But this place is my secret, my refuge, my ..."

"Oh Alexandra, give it up! Give it to her! Forgive her! Bring her here, and make her yours! Maybe Lena was right, maybe there is more to her than we have seen so far!" Elly came close, to grip her arms. "All this grief came from her nursing her feelings of being ill-used. Do you want to crown it all with your own feelings of being ill-used? Where will it end?"

"I cannot stop loving you!"

"Oh, you are such a child!" Her voice softened. "Love me, then, as I love you too, Alexandra; perhaps it is not in your heart to put any love away. But your heart is big enough to give her Highness all she needs! And she needs far, far greater love than I need from you, my Queen. She is hungry for love, and as you give her, so will she give back!"

In the end, Alexandra needed all Elly's powers of persuasion. With a last embrace, Elly set off for Westhaven on her mare, refusing all offers of an escort. She said she would be perfectly safe, she had been born in these hills, and she knew them well. Alexandra saw her off, and raced back to the Palace, determined to send a contingent of guards for Elly's protection.

Having first sent a small company of four guards racing after Elly, Alexandra hurried up to Genny's room, before her courage and determination failed her. Genny was alone with little Sonja, as before, watching the hallway. It was as if she was a prisoner, waiting to be brought food and news from her jailers.

"Where did you go?" she demanded.

Elly had been absolutely right. Alexandra stared at the woman, and felt herself being overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of her emotional force. She was a true beauty, beauty that she was born with; the beauty of her manner, which came from her upbringing and the immaculate model of her mother; and the beauty she had learned from watching Sophie; and last but not least, the beauty that came from the force of her desire for Alexandra, her total surrender, her capitulation to the Queen.

"I think I'd like to show you something! Have you eaten?"

"Well, yes, not very much ..."

"Come on, dress warmly; it's cold out.... A light coat ..."

"Why? Where are you taking me?" she asked, curious now. Still, she was soft and pliable in Alexandra's hands. All thoughts of Elly forgotten, Alexandra could barely contain her lust. Alexandra was all travel-stained, having put her trail clothes back on. She was dressed as a Palace guard on field service, brown green and beige, with calf boots, and gloves tucked into her utility belt. There was no time to get into something more romantic or comfortable. Genny looked lovely in a long skirt and a thin blouse, and they paused just long enough to pick up a pair of soft boots for her and a heavy shawl. Her honey-gold hair was tied at the neck, and would be a nuisance once they hit the road. At least it was clean and healthy, not the wiry, brittle mess it had been a few months ago. What, Alexandra wondered, had caused the change?

They went down the steps silently; Genny could be quiet when she had to be. They arrived at the stables, Alexandra excited, Genny flushed and flustered. Alexandra's big gelding stood waiting expectantly. He reached over to sniff at Genny, who let him scent her hand. Alexandra picked her up by the hips, and set her on the horse, and jumped up behind her. They were out of the gates and racing up the road in seconds.

"Slow down! What's the hurry?"

Alexandra slowed down. Genny sat sideways in front of her, excited but still outwardly collected. She took out her hair fastening and calmly re-braided her hair. Alexandra let the horse have its head, and watched the woman hungrily. When she was done, she turned to look up into Alexandra's face, with a smile mixed with a puzzled frown. She looked out on either side, and her long lashes were more than flesh and blood could bear. People they passed on the road could not recognize them, simply dressed as they were. Alexandra could have been anyone, but Genevieve was a noble, regardless of what she wore; that was clear to anyone.

Without any urging, the big gelding turned into the path by long habit. Genny sat up straight, curious and interested. As soon as they stopped, she sprang down, light as a feather, and stood looking all around her. Alexandra, her heart beating, led the horse out of the stiff breeze, watered it, and gave it some hay. It made a friendly noise, and proceeded to eat, as Alexandra rubbed it down. It was early afternoon, and the sun angled right into the clearing, making everything appear in sharp contrast of light and shade.

Cautiously, Genny climbed up higher into the upper clearing, placing every foot carefully. It was not acceptable for a Royal Princess to trip or stumble on uneven ground. If she hadn't been much of a princess when she had first come to Northland, she was every inch a princess now.

Turning back, she came to walk about the little cabin, inspecting everything. Of course, she had no idea what every little achievement had entailed; she was only interested in what there was, not the implications of how it had come to be. Like a child, she bent to study the tiniest things, her hands firmly entwined in her shawl. It was not too cold after all, but it was as well she had worn the shawl. She turned all round where she stood, taking it in from her new perspective, and turned to Alexandra with a quizzical smile.

"What is this! Do you know?" asked Alexandra, with a bemused smile.

"It must be where you've been coming every day?"

"You know what it is?"

"Well, it is a little clearing in the woods, ... with a little cabin, which you have put together, I see ... a lot of work ... Alexandra, it has been a lot of very, very hard work, I see ... did you cut down all the trees?"

A look of wonder came over her face, as she turned once more towards the score of tree-stumps.

"Where is all the wood?"

Alexandra indicated the cottage, and the enormous woodpile, with neatly-sawn planks, as well as unsawed logs. Genevieve's confusion, frustrating as it was, still charmed Alexandra. She found herself remembering the peculiarities of communicating with the Southern princess who had come to be her mate, the myriad little misunderstandings that had spiced up their first few weeks together.

"May I see inside the little house?"

Alexandra's heart threatened to destroy itself. She unlatched the doors, and showed her the inside.

"Oh, how darling! Oh Alexandra ... how did you manage all this? Look at the little stools and everything! Oh, how clever! And the dear little fireplace!"

Alexandra rolled her eyes.

"It is not a dear little fireplace, it is completely functional!"

"What do you mean, functional?"

"I mean, the chimney draws well, and the cabin will not burn down because the fire is lit."

"Oh."

This was something Genny understood: a playhouse. When they had been children together, of nine or ten, they had shared Genny's playhouse in New Hope, and Genny had delighted in all things domestic back then. Her eyes had shone when Alexandra had consented to come into it, up in an enormous tree in the Palace grounds, and their childish love affair had begun. Now, just as then, her eyes shone.

She wanted to make tea. Alexandra was sent for water, and the chest was opened and the tea brought out, and the kettle, and the teapot, and the mugs, and Genevieve exclaimed over each item. And Alexandra went to spear a fish. If only she knew how Ninel did it! Somehow she succeeded, and she started a fire, and together they made it the right shape and temperature, and she boiled the water. Alexandra presented the one fish she had managed to catch, and Genny looked at it doubtfully. It has been some time since Genevieve had cooked.

With a sigh, Alexandra gutted and cleaned it, and showed how it was cooked without more elaborate kitchen equipment. As they shared the broiled fish, and poured the tea, and sipped from their mugs, something began to build up. Genny watched Alexandra with solemn eyes. The delight of the place, its magic, its romance developed into something else. Alexandra was dreading the possibility that Genny would not understand her need to show the cabin to her. But she need not have worried.

"I thank you for bringing me here ... it was thoughtful, and generous of you."

Genevieve's voice had a new note of sincerity in it. Alexandra's heart was beating hard, and she felt light-headed.

"Elly told me I should do it."

Genny raised her eyebrows. "She is wise. You must have brought her here?" Alexandra nodded, her heart in her mouth. Genny nodded in her turn. Her color was high. "Did you ... did you want to ... perhaps make love on your bed there?" she asked, her voice soft. Alexandra nodded slowly. Everything finally settled into place. Her heart slowed down, and her aching muscles relaxed. "Have you changed your mind?" asked Genevieve, more softly still. Alexandra shook her head in negation. Genny's soft voice reminded her of the young girl in her playhouse. Just so had she spoken to the awkward Northlander: would you like to sit and talk? Would you like me to comb and braid your pretty hair, princess? May I read your fortune, Alexandra? Give me your hand, then! For a long time, they stood, with Alexandra's hands in Genevieve's. The Princess seemed suspended somewhere between laughter and tears. Her hands were trembling.

Genny made love slowly and tenderly, as if she was revealing the wonders of Alexandra one by one, as if Alexandra was the first woman she had ever seen. The fear of their wedding night was no more. They were discovering each other anew. They were very different people now, thanks to circumstances, but Genny made it into a miracle. Outside the brisk breeze hissed through the trees in which the leaves were just budding, and Genny's little fingers picked apart the tender folds of Alexandra's skin, marveling at each detail, worshiping each part, her desire building up slowly and inexorably. She sat back on her heels and regarded Alexandra's body, which had lost its youthful slim sleekness and developed into that of a strong woman, a woodsman and a blacksmith. In Skree, that fateful night, Genny had not dared look at her mate too closely; if she had, she would have seen differences already, from childbearing, and farm-work, and walking miles and miles. Now Alexandra was a grown woman. Only the look on her face was the same, and Genny looked into her eyes, seeking something familiar. As she climbed up on Alexandra's body, as she allowed her body to touch Alexandra once again, something happened, and Alexandra saw something, a vibration race through her body. She closed her eyes, and gave herself to what she was feeling.

"I have learned some things," she breathed, hardly able to talk. She was painfully beautiful, and together, they knew they were a greater beauty, which there was no one else to see. They held hands, as she danced on the body of the mate she had scorned for so long, and to whose body she had now returned. But soon, too soon, she melted in her own release, before she could bring Alexandra to the fullness of her passion.

No longer able to control herself, Alexandra rolled the Princess under her. Genevieve closed her eyes, and let Alexandra have her way. But a little later, she opened them again, reluctant to miss a moment of the sight of her lover and Queen looming over her, raising desire in her again.

It was the first of many times that afternoon. They made love without talking, only moans and cries of pleasure and need punctuated their lovemaking. But at last Genevieve lay in Alexandra's arms, both bruised and sated, but only for the moment.

"Have you brought other women here?" she asked softly. Being inside the circle of Alexandra's strong arms was like being in steel plate armor.

Alexandra shrugged. "You mean Elly?"

"Well ... did she sleep with you here?"

"No," said Alexandra after a while.

"Who else?"

"Why?"

"Because ... the thought makes me angry!"

A look of triumph glowed on Alexandra's face. Genny pretended a scowl and slapped her. It was like the blow of a child.

"We're a married couple ... and we have a child," Alexandra said softly.

Genevieve gazed into her eyes in wonder, caressing her cheek. "It feels as if it was the first time, ... as if I had never touched you before ... You drive me mad with desire!" Genny floundered, trying to put her feelings into words. "Even now my desire is white hot .... Only my body is sated ... my heart wants to devour you, to consume you!"

"You frighten me sometimes, my Lady; too much desire can turn into hate."

"Yes," she said, and wept quietly in Alexandra's arms, as her passion cooled to a bearable level.

While Alexandra agonized over their relationship, Genevieve gave herself to her mate completely. She worried about whether Alexandra would truly forgive her, if not now, then someday; she worried whether what she had done to Sophie could be undone; whether the people would forgive her, now that she was reliably informed that the people knew of their estrangement, and who was responsible. Her adventure in emotional self-deception had ended in near-disaster; she realized that only Alexandra's generosity of spirit had enabled them to be reconciled. She mourned for their lost innocence, their lost youth—young though they still were. The experienced had robbed them of that first bloom of youthful innocent love that they should have enjoyed for so much longer.

They walked the horse down to the village, and Alexandra introduced Genevieve simply as "my mate," without giving a name. They already suspected that Alexandra was a noble, but seeing Genevieve their suspicions were confirmed. Miraculously, none of them recognized the Princess Consort, possibly because the village lacked a television set.

Hugh had died in Alexandra's absence. He had been sixty-eight.

Alexandra promised to be back. They asked whether she wanted the smithy. Genevieve listened in puzzlement when Alexandra said she would help, but did not want to own the shop. It was an acute disappointment for them, because they figured that if she didn't accept the shop, she would eventually not return. Still, they all studied the mate of their Anna, quietly satisfied that at least the young couple seemed to have mended their differences. For her part, Genevieve was charmed by the smiles of the few children of the village, and distressed by their thinness.

Alexandra delighted in the confusion on Genevieve's face. She was now at the point where Genevieve's every reaction was amusing and delightful. Still, perhaps it was as well as that she was discovering a certain objectivity, too.

"What about the smithy?" asked Genevieve, later.

"I've been their blacksmith for a while; the smith had a stroke, and could not work."

"You? A blacksmith?"

"It wasn't hard; I shoed horses ... it has to be done, after all. All their young folks were killed in the War."

"Oh god; a whole village!"

"They all joined up together, and were wiped out together, probably in the same action. There was a terrible loss in Oslo, that Lena actually witnessed."

"Will you really go back to smith for them?"

"I want to," said Alexandra, knowing that she didn't get to do everything she wanted to do.

"You should, as long as you can. I like them; the little children were so sweet!"

"I'll try," said Alexandra.

She had been shown Hugh's grave in the village's little cemetery. Her heart was heavy now, but she wondered whether, with the best will in the world, there was enough to bring her back out here, smithing. On the other hand, Genny had fallen in love with the little farm, and Alexandra was sure that Ninel and the twins would never allow the little homestead to be abandoned.

Once the Palace saw them together, there was a quiet rejoicing. The twins were deliriously happy, gazing at Genevieve as at an angel. They had taken a little while to forgive the Consort, but once forgiveness had been given, it was complete. Ninel was quietly satisfied, though for the moment she kept her own counsel about how far she would trust Genevieve. Still, she was scrupulously polite, even warm towards Genevieve, after a few days of caution.

Genevieve stayed in her room, too embarrassed to come out, except for a few invitations out to supper with nobles who had also invited her parents. In the evenings, the four of them got together with the children, Ninel and the twins, and often there were private music recitals and other entertainments for them, arranged apparently by Sophie, even in her absence. (Eventually Alexandra learned from Lady Sonja that Sophie had gone with Briana to Bernia.)

Once Frederick and Anne departed for home, things returned a little more to normal. The dynamics of family life had to be established anew, with Genny finding a place for herself in the circle that consisted of Alexandra and herself, the baby, the twins Minna and Brinna, the two little dogs, and, of course, Ninel. She soon learned to laugh with them, at the quaint antics of the various members of the party, and gradually Ninel learned to be relaxed in her presence. To Ninel, this was a new Princess Genevieve, fun loving, self-deprecating, and utterly in love with the Queen.

"Do you really love the Queen, Lady Genevieve?" Ninel asked her boldly, on one of the rare occasions in which they found themselves alone. Her heart was in her mouth, because Ninel was uncertain whether Genevieve could do her harm. Still, Ninel had suffered too much not to face down this fear. If Genevieve was to turn against her, she was rather it happened sooner than later.

The answer took Ninel unawares.

"I have always loved her," said the Princess. The tone of her voice made it very hard to disbelieve her, and Ninel had come to think she knew the Princess very well. "I thought, perhaps, Alexandra had told you!"

"No ... I am confused, your Highness!"

Genevieve, much embarrassed, attempted to explain why she had behaved the way she did. She need not have done so, and Ninel was well aware of the high privilege the Consort had granted her, to reveal this intimate and painful information. "I will never speak of this again," Genevieve said, bright red. "But I wanted you to know. You deserve to know, Ninel." Then her eyes seemed to turn inwards. "But I don't think I could bear to recite it all to Sophie ..."

"Though she deserves to know it more than I do!"

"Truly! But I can't ... I can't bring myself to do it!"

"When you see her, maybe you will find the courage," said Ninel, surprising herself.

Since Sophie was away, Genevieve got Alexandra to help with her various projects. Despite the lie based on which their private lives had suffered the last year or two, the projects Genevieve had undertaken were all real. Genny was a strange woman; at certain times she focused completely on her physical and emotional relationship with Alexandra. At other times, she was focused utterly on what she and her small staff were doing, which incidentally was largely concerned with Bernian development. When the children needed her, other things were set aside, and she was completely focused on them. Alexandra worked hard on encouraging her not to drop these several threads of her life and pick them up in rotation, but to hold them constantly all together.

Ninel was eventually completely won over by her, and so were the twins. They enjoyed baiting her, just as much as she enjoyed laughing at their antics. Little Sophie Ninel did not seem much affected by the reconciliation of her parents, but Alexandra was convinced that they were just in time to avoid permanent harm to the little girl's development.

Genevieve was persuaded to go on circuit with Alexandra, and the entire little family contingent.

Their first stop, of course, was Northhaven, where the daughter of the Judge, Miss Barbara, was both pleased and chagrined to see the reconciled couple. Alexandra met with her privately and they agreed that it had been as well that they had taken no steps that would have confused the issues.

As they worked their way East, word came that Baby and Sophie had pledged to marry. Already they had made great progress in mobilizing Bernian youth for development, with Briana working on setting up social and cultural programs in every town and city, while Sophie encouraged the renewal of the education system.

They had little actual work to do, but to lend their personal glamour to local efforts that needed a little extra recognition. Still, because Sophie was a highly educated young woman, she had real contributions to make, just as Briana was able to inspire the athletes and sportsmen, as well as girls who aspired to pursuits and sports that had thus far been exclusively male provinces.

Genevieve took a long time to take in the fact of Sophie's decision to pledge to Briana. Alexandra described in detail how the relationship had begun and evolved, all without Genny's knowledge. "It is no surprise," said Alexandra, amused at her mate's confusion, but understanding it too.

"I have been so blind!" said Genny. Ninel grinned, seeing which, Genny blushed. She was learning to laugh at herself, a welcome improvement.

Dearest Sherry:

I hardly know how to proceed; so much has happened to me in so short a time that events have left me quite bewildered! My life has been turned upside down, not for the first time, and I feel impelled to write to you, so that you hear of these events from my own hand.

Firstly, the Princess and I have been reconciled. It was she who did what I did not have the courage to do, and ask for forgiveness. When I saw her earnestness, I looked into my heart, and I could only ask for forgiveness in return. I was filled with such happiness that for several weeks I went about in a state of something that bordered on euphoria! But now I am calmer, and able to see things with greater objectivity, and perhaps this is all to the good. Self-deception has served neither of us well, after all.

It is only now that we realize what a pall of gloom hung over the palace, when the Princess and I were estranged, when we see the relief and pleasure in the faces of the palace servitors. I can only imagine the strain under which they continued to work, giving her Highness and myself the space we needed to come to our own realization that to restore our marriage was the best of all possible choices for both of us, and certainly for the baby, and not least, for our subjects.

I think that perhaps it was the realization that Sophie and Briana were in love that made her Highness realize that it was her responsibility to smooth the path of those two to marriage.

Well! I realize that there are many I have to thank, for their patience in dealing with us, including Ninel and the baby princess, Minna and Brinna, the twin servants, Sophie and Briana, but most of all you. Sherry, I have discussed this with her Highness, and she agrees that the debt we both owe you cannot be measured. You are truly one of a very few individuals for whom I would lay down my life, and more than that I should not say in a letter, for reasons that will be evident to you.

Neither her Highness nor I are the people we were when we first pledged to each other. Her Highness's love for Lady Sophie burns as brightly as ever, though not so bright as to hurt the happiness of Sophie and Briana, and I must learn to live with that fact. In her turn, her Highness must be aware that there were others whom I loved as deeply as I love her now, or will ever love her.

Let us turn to other matters; or I will talk about love interminably!

Ninel is grown tall and beautiful, and gives of her love to all unstintingly. We are truly blessed that that child chose us to be her family; Baby Sophie could never find an older sister more devoted than her. She speaks of you frequently, and I convey her love to you.

Genevieve grows ever more beautiful each day. She takes pleasure in the company of Ninel and the Twins, and the change in her temperament fills us with joy!

Baby Sophie is now become quite a little lady. She walks about everywhere now, with great determination, and gives much exercise to anyone who is detailed to watch her. Sometimes she leans against a wall, with a thoughtful expression on her face, which is followed by rather a pungent odor. And then she chuckles! I do not know where she has learned this chuckle; as far as I know, none of us around her are in the habit of chuckling! I wish you could see these things, though I suppose you could do without the odor.

The twins, Minna and Brinna, are as ever a joy. They have come to love the Princess, and take great delight in teasing her, as they tease Ninel and myself! Sherry, they have become far closer to us all than one can ever expect from servants, and I love them dearly. If I ever give them cause for sorrow, I will truly be the most ungrateful wretch that ever lived. They, too, speak of you often, and I know for a fact that they miss you very much indeed.

Sophie and Briana are to be married in the summer. I know you have been invited to the event. I am sure that there is no one who would be more welcome at that celebration.

Give my regards to your parents, if you have told them about me, and express my sincere gratitude to them for bringing into the world so wonderful a child as yourself. No one can compare to your generosity of spirit, and the patience you showed to all of us, particularly to me. I wish you all the best, and all happiness with your special lady friend, and I hope matters proceed satisfactorily for you as they have for us. Still, I hope you find time to write to me, and I hope my letters to you remain welcome. Let me know if that is not the case, since I do not wish our correspondence to be a burden.

With love,

Alexandra

Ninel's words came true. When Sophie and Briana arrived at the capital, unannounced, by design, they first sought out Genevieve, who happened to have gone down to the Little Farm, as they all called it, with only the little princess and a page.

"What a surprise!" she exclaimed, as they rode up, still looking rather travel-worn, but happy to have succeeded in catching her unprepared. Immediately, the implications of the encounter struck Genevieve, and she could see in their eyes that the young couple was also aware of how matters stood.

"I hear that things have been mended, between your Highness and the Queen," Sophie said softly, a twinkle in her eye.

"Why so formal, Sophie? But yes ..."

"You need not say anything, dear," said Sophie, even more softly, her smile softening.

Genevieve took a deep breath, and glanced at Briana, who stood –not quite smiling, but with no condemnation in her expression, except perhaps for some slight amusement. "I am sorry for what I put you through, Sophie." Her expression took on a slightly defensive note, and her chin rose up just a little. "Whatever things I said to you, about my feelings ..."

"I know," said Sophie, quickly, softly.

"I mean to say that ... they were true, and are still true!"

"I know that, too," said Sophie, her eyes shining.

Genevieve looked defiantly at Briana, having been forced to say things before her that she would have preferred not to say. But, miraculously, Briana did not appear to want her to back down.

"Aren't you afraid that I will come between you both?" Genevieve asked Briana, playfully, on the surface, but with an edge that they recognized as a challenge.

"I think our love is strong enough, Genevieve, not to feel threatened by your deep affection for Sophie. Or your love, if you want to call it that. I know you will not hurt Sophie again!"

"No," said Genevieve, almost in a whisper. The words seemed almost an accusation, but Briana opened up her arms, and the three of them embraced together, as the young page and the little princess watched, puzzled, from a distance. "Have you met her Majesty already?"

"No," said Sophie, "I had to see you first."

"I thank you," said Genevieve, much humbled by the honor they had given her.

Then, in the height of Summer, Briana and Sophie were married in Stefansberg. The Queen and her Princess Consort sat in chairs of state, and Alexandra had a minor part in the ceremony, which was essentially a religious one. They were both witnesses, of course, and the first to greet the radiant couple. Briana had worn a guard's dress uniform, a calf-length black skirt and boots, and scarlet jacket, having been accepted into the Palace guard the previous year, and Sophie wore a simple white gown and no veil. Ninel was the ring-bearer, and the folk from Skree, the folks from Westholm, and the folk from Bernia were united in the congregation. There were many tears, and many smiles, until the deliriously happy couple were conducted to the Westholm Lodge for their honeymoon by an excited Lady Ninel and a small company of guards. The folks from the Free Farmers and Farmer Karl's town, as well as President Katya Pfizer and her lovely companion, Nevenka Ludovici, all stayed in the city for an unforgettable week.

Three special guests at the wedding had been Katie, Megan, and Sara, who had been introduced especially to Lady Briana by Lady Sophie and the Queen. After the snacks had all been eaten, Alexandra and Genevieve stood together with the three youngsters, and surveyed the Palace grounds.

"We were watching that morning when you first got here, your Highness; me and Sara!"

"Were you, indeed!"

"Oh, yes! And you were so beautiful! And you too, Your Majesty! Of course, you were younger then, and not so tall!"

Alexandra smiled at them, suppressing a desire to break out in laughter. Over the years, the plain-talking girls had impressed her with their unique personalities.

"Oh, to be young and beautiful," sighed Genevieve, her eyes twinkling.

"Don't misunderstand me, your Highness, you're still an attractive woman!"

"I thank you," said Genevieve, "you had me worried there, for a minute."

"Aren't you happy you came here, your Highness?" asked little Katie, now a grand old lady of eleven, her face lit with a brilliant smile. "Is it as much fun to live in New Hope?"

"More fun," said Megan, firmly. "I've been there. People dress up all the time!"

"But they don't have our Queen, do they?" remarked Sara, with a smile for Alexandra.

They certainly don't, thought Genevieve, squeezing Alexandra's arm.

The End.

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