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It had felt like a simple request when she made it, and nothing particularly beyond the capabilities of royal family reigning over a multi-world representative constitutional democracy. "I would like to have dinner with my children and my husband one night soon." Natasi ran a hand down the front of her blouse; her figure was still trim enough that the slight bulge at her abdomen didn't strain her garments if they weren't form-fitting, but the words of her royal physician Sir Gideon warning her that it would no longer be a covert operation sooner than she'd like weighed heavy. She needed to tell George and Reima, and she refused to favor one or the other by telling the first.
"Together?" asked Kenat, looking up from his notebook where he had been taking instruction.
"Together," Natasi confirmed, looking away from the window. "You can make that happen, can't you?"
"I believe I can," Kenat said. "Here, at the Palace?"
"Yes. But nothing formal for just the four of us. We'll have drinks in the Herevan Room and then dinner in the private dining room." Kenat nodded, his pen scraping along as he took down the information. "But -- soon, Kenat. Before the end of the month."
Kenat straightened and swallowed audibly. "I... I'll speak to Miss Wexford-Smythe and Mr. Keswick right away."
"You make it sound like I'm asking you to negotiate a peace treaty," Natasi said, her gaze sharpening. "Reima has been back here for weeks, and George -- well, it was time he had his own establishment, and he's here for breakfast as often as not when he's in New Sterandel. It should not take an engineering or scheduling miracle to get them both here."
Kenat's brow wrinkled a little. "Yes, ma'am."
It was two days before Natasi raised the subject again.
"I've spoken to the other households. His Royal Highness is available Thursday evening."
Natasi nodded. "Very good."
"Unfortunately, Her Royal Highness is not available." Natasi raised her eyes from the memo she was reviewing, one eyebrow lifting. "The Princess Royal has an afternoon visit to the Royal Aerospace Force rehabilitation center and then a reception for the Air Service Benevolent Fund. Mr. Keswick was insistent that she was inclined to move neither, and won't likely return to the Palace before ten."
"What about Friday?"
"His Royal Highness has a dinner with the New Sterandel Chamber of Commerce which Miss Wexford-Smythe indicates has been moved twice already, and says the Prince would appear rude if he asked to move it again."
"Saturday?"
"The Prince of Aegis is engaged, as is His Royal Highness the Duke of Suffolk."
"Of course. I forgot. The Greys & Royals regimental dinner."
"Quite. The next evening the Princess Royal has a private appointment, about which Mr. Keswick was either unable or unwilling to provide details."
Natasi frowned and set the memo down, stood and stretched. Her lower back did ache these days. "Well. We'll have to keep trying. Thank you, Petyr." Her PPS turned to go but Natasi halted him. "Petyr -- did Miss Wexford-Smythe or Mr. Keswick ask if the opposite principal would be there?" He nodded. "Both?" she clarified, and he nodded again.
Three days later, Natasi Fortan had lost her patience. She was being aided into an evening dress by her dresser, Banks, while Dyrn (with his usual punctuality, which Natasi found irritating that evening because it meant he could observe) sat at her dressing table, examining the little bits and bobs that she kept there. Kenat was on the other side of a screen, for the protection of her modesty, and had just disappointed her again.
"Enough of this now," Natasi said flatly. She stepped off the small platform, reached a hand outside the screen. "Call Keswick and Arabella and give me the comlink."
"Ma'am?"
"Now, Petyr."
A moment passed, and then Petyr said, "Good evening. I have Her Majesty the Queen for you. Yes, both of you. One moment." He placed the comlink in Natasi's hand and she lifted it to her ear.
"Miss Wexford-Smythe? Mr. Keswick? Good evening to you both. Yes -- I am well, thank you. I require the Prince of Aegis and the Princess Royal to be at Cerulean Gate Palace for dinner no later than seven-thirty two nights from now. Yes, I understand. Oh, is he busy, Miss Wexford-Smythe?" she asked in a tone of such exaggerated courtesy that Arabella would feel the blade. "I'm afraid you both seem to be misunderstanding, so perhaps I can clarify. This is less an invitation than a summons, and the next time you receive a similar communication from Petyr Kenat, understand that it is coming from this office and attach to it the urgency that demands. So. Two evenings from now, seven thirty. Cocktails in the Herevan Room and dinner with my husband and I. They know we dress for dinner. Be sure their schedules will allow for it. I'm so pleased I could help you both. No, but I will put Mr. Kenat back on to confirm details. Good evening."
A slender hand thrust the comlink back around the screen and Kenat took it. Natasi glanced over at Dyrn as Banks finished the last fastener and she came out and went over to where he was sitting. She picked up a bottle of perfume and dabbed a touch at each wrist and then at her throat. "Don't give me that look," she murmured before dropping a kiss on top of his head. "They gave me no other option."
The stage was set.
Two nights later Natasi had nearly convinced herself to wear the state crown to remind her children that she was, in addition to being their mother, the Sovereign of the nation to whom they were both subjects and the head of the family, but Banks convinced her that the sapphires clashed with the dark green of her evening dress. She opted instead for a lower profile, emerald-drop tiara, with matched earrings and necklace, and walked with Dyrn downstairs to the Herevan Room.
The Herevan Room was a private drawing room in the royal apartments, so called because its decoration was inspired by the drawing room at Herevan Hold: pale green and gold silk wall-covering with wainscotting, pale sofas and chairs, and a very large piano. A large portrait of her parents -- Frejrik standing behind Reima, who was seated and holding a tiny infant, Natasi's brother Mathes -- hung over the fireplace.
"They never had this problem," Natasi murmured to Dyrn as she stopped in front of the mantle to admire the portrait. "Then again my mother had the good sense to die young, so it was never an issue." She released Dyrn's arm and turned him toward the sideboard with all the drinks. "Oh, do have a drink. You mustn't abstain just because I am. Go on." She gave him a slight push before settling into the armchair near the fire, facing toward the door.
"Would you mind pouring me a little ginger tonic while you're there?"
