Chapter 2

The flames in the old fireplace were flickering angrily and the wood was cracking. Due to the wind outside the flue within the chimney intensified every now and the undeniable sound of the upcoming storm could be heard. Fall was indeed arriving in Genovia and if someone had asked him before he would have said the moment couldn't have been chosen better. The change of seasons was foreshadowing the change of the country. The fall of the old virtues and traditions was symbolized in the weather and of course in the newspapers. The headline said it all:

"Newly wed Queen Clarisse and her loyal Knight."

Written under the picture that showed the Queen and her husband with his new insignia. As if she hadn't provided him with more than enough honours over the years, Clarisse Renaldi had finally taken the last big step to legitimatise him in front of the whole world. A wedding ring hadn't been enough. It needed royal pomp and glory, an order and a big title.

He sighed. Only two days had passed since the Queen of Genovia had married her Head of Security and she had already knighted him. She had announced him as His Royal Highness, Duc de Pyrus. The Duke of Pyrus, a title that was usually reserved for the retired King after the next generation had taken over. It was created for the monarch and not the recently legalized lover of the future Dowager Queen. Even if she would carry that title once Amelia was Queen, she had no right to give this honour to a commoner who had taken the shortcut through her bed to become who he was now.

"My god, Clarisse, what were you thinking?" He rumpled the newspaper in his hands and threw it into the flames. The picture of Clarisse and her husband crumbled quickly in the flames while he stared at it and stood supported by his arms at the mantelpiece. His face was distorted with disgust and when the heat of the fire burnt in his eyes he closed them. Again there was the same name on his mind whose echo had followed him for months now…

"Clarisse, Clarisse, Clarisse… »

***

Thanks to a certain weakness in the Palace security system that Shades couldn't be aware of yet and Joe had no idea of because he was spending his time in a different way since his wedding Pierre could sneak back in again. He was standing at the top of the beautiful double staircase and glared down into the dark room.

In a few days Mia should be crowned in here and his mother would sail for the sunset with her new husband. The mere thought hurt. It didn't feel right to him. The world couldn't change like that. Mia, clumsy Mia of all people, wasn't the right choice for the throne. He knew why his mother had insisted that Mia should take over as the monarch. After all, she was the last apparently available Renaldi left. The only legal heir to the throne…but what if there was a better choice? A possibility no one dared to think of? What if a miracle had happened and the country wouldn't have to suffer from a monarch like Mia who hardly had the ability to rule with an iron fist in case it was needed?
Although being a member of the church he had had never believed in miracles, but what he had experienced some months ago had changed his mind. He wasn't sure that his mother would appreciate the miracle the same way he did. It would shake her world and change her life completely, but on the other hand it could be a new beginning for her as well. It could provide a possibility to change things for the better again.

He sighed and slowly went downstairs. He had always loved this big hall. Many of his happiest childhood memories had their source in here. The parties, the mattress surfing, the ramp… his 21st birthday… his engagement… It had seen so many happy family scenes and yet witnessed a lot of sadness. It was a kaleidoscope of his life.
His brother Philippe had broken his leg when he fell down the stairs; the day he had announced his abdication to the family his mother had intensely argued with him on the stairs and later she had apologized to him right there. Even later, his father's body had been laid in state between the two staircases.

And only weeks before his father had died he had observed something that had caused a major rift in his relationship with his mother although she had never been aware of it. But it had started that very night and had robbed him off of his most precious illusion. The illusion of his parents.

He had come home to Genovia from the French village that had been his parish since he had become a priest. His father had been seriously ill and his mother had told him that the doctors feared he wouldn't have to live much longer. So he had returned and his father had indeed been in a bad state. He had been caught between consciousness and fevered dreams and it had been obvious that his life was ending.

The illness had also put a terrible strain on his mother. She had hardly been herself in those days. She had lost weight, had looked tired and pale to an extend that had alarmed him and his brother. One night after they could finally convince her to get some sleep instead of staying up at their father's side Pierre, much to his surprise, had found her on the stairs. And she hadn't been alone. Joseph, his father's loyal bodyguard, had been with her. Right next to her. The moonlight that had fallen through the big terrace doors into the room had bathed them into a diffuse light. Together they had sat at the bottom of the stairs while he, Pierre, had stood in safe distance to them. Just close enough to listen to their low conversation.

"He's dying, Joseph. He's slowly slipping away from me… and I've got no idea how to take it. What will I do without him?"

Pierre heard his mother's voice breaking and felt his own sadness taking over again. She hadn't spoken to him or his brother like this. In a way she still treated them as children instead of grown men and in front of them she always kept her strong façade. That she was talking to Joseph like this bewildered and even shocked him, because so far he had never observed anything more than some polite exchange of words between them. Seeing them together when the rest of the Palace was sleeping was strange.

"You don't have to "take it"…It's natural that things like that affect and weaken us. He's your husband and you suffer because you see him fading away. Everybody understands you. And you'll survive this because you're strong."

Now he could swear he had heard a low chuckle between two sobs. "Sometimes I really wonder what you see in me… What about the Von Trokens?… They only wait for him to die to take over the throne again! What if I can't fight them like I should? What if I fail?"

"They won't succeed, Ma'am. Concentrate on the King and his needs. I'll take care of the Von Trokens."

"That's very kind of you."

"That's my job."

"You do much more than your job and you know that," she said mildly and silence settled over them. When he spoke again, Joe's voice was huskier than it should probably be. Something in it alarmed Pierre. How could it be that he never realized his mother and Joe were so close?

"Call it sense of duty."

"It's called devotion. You're the most loyal person I've ever met and that amazes me every time I look at you."

"I wasn't aware that you look at me…"

"I do…a lot lately."

The words hung in the air and faded into another tense moment of silence. Pierre held his breath and waited. Then Joe rose from stairs and extended his hand to her.

"Would you dance with me?"

"Now?"

"Now."

After a short hesitation Clarisse took Joseph's hand and let him guide her into the middle of the grand-sized room. Afraid they could see him, Pierre stepped back. While his mother and his father's head of security were dancing down there in the moonlight without any music in the moonlight he couldn't take his eyes from them. He had seen his father and his mother dancing a hundred times – officially and unofficially but he had never seen the same kind of affection between them. His father was a divine dancer but his mother, his much more elegant counterpart, hadn't moved that sensually at his side. And now Joseph skilfully guided her through the room and whether it was intentional or not their bodies touched more often and longer than the dance, a mix between a waltz and a tango, afforded. At one point they moved slowly backwards side by side and Joe's right hand finally rested on his mother's hip while the other held her hand. The light of the moon illuminated his mother's face as the dance finally ended and the two froze in their position. Instinctively, Pierre made a step forward. He wanted to interrupt them, scream at them, disturb them in their closeness, but no words escaped his throat. He only watched them while they were looking into each other's eyes without separating their bodies from each other. Then some endless heartbeats later Joe finally gave her free and left the hall without losing another word.

His mother went away some moments later. She even passed him on her way out, but again he could only stand still. He didn't call her back nor did he ask her what had just happened between her and the Head of the Security. Deep in his mind he knew that although they hadn't even kissed or touched in an improper way his mother and Joseph had started to consume a physical relationship that went far beyond friendship.

***

Clarisse critically looked at her reflection in the mirror. The last few days had been hectic and stressful and her face showed it. Usually, her age didn't bother her much, but right now she didn't feel exactly energetic and agile. The fact that she hardly slept at night since she and Joseph had married didn't help much. They happily abused the gift of being together without having to hide but being up all day to prepare Mia and the coronation and staying up at night making love or making plans for the future was exhausting. Beautiful and exciting but also tiring. And every time her last conversation with Pierre came to her mind her life was also saddening.

She hadn't seen him since her wedding night and she couldn't help to be worried about her son and the bitterness he carried around inside of him. She sighed and tried to push those thoughts away from her at least for tonight. She had to look fresh and ready to face the music for Mia's sake. It was the evening before the coronation and a big ball would take place. It was her last evening, as Queen of Genovia and she wanted to enjoy it and show her newfound happiness off to her country.

She had hoped that Joseph would join her for a nice, long, hot bath before she had to prepare for the ball but maybe it wasn't that bad he wasn't there right now. They would only end up in bed again and be very late as a result…

She smiled by the thought of her adorable husband and turned on the hot water to prepare her bath…

***

Joseph closed the door behind him and loosened his tie. He was already late but Shades had asked him to help with a security matter and he could hardly tell him to do it all by himself. Not after he had quit within seconds because he had to marry the love of his life. And how could he refuse to help when it was the love of his life and her granddaughter who needed protection? He hadn't mentioned it to Clarisse or Mia but he was indeed nervous after what Pierre had said to his mother. Not that he believed the underlying threats Pierre had made but still he sensed that something was going on. Rumours he had heard from several people in the right positions weren't very reassuring either… but there weren't enough hints to know whom to fight or when. As long as nothing happened tonight or tomorrow... He couldn't bear the thought that anything or anyone could sabotage the coronation or worse hurt Mia or Clarisse.

He looked around and his eyes fell onto a beautiful bouquet of roses that stood on the nightstand next to her bed. He raised his eyebrows. Was it another present for their wedding? He saw the small card next to the crystal vase and went there to read it.

"With all my love" No signature. His heart started to pump nervously in his chest. What was this about? Who gave her the flowers?

"Clarisse?"

"Bathroom."

He put the card back on the nightstand and entered the bathroom. The air was steamy and smelled of her favourite bath oils. Clarisse was standing in front of the mirror wrapped in a big white towel brushing her wet hair. Her sight was so bewitching that he was almost forgetting about the card and the roses. He leaned at the doorframe and simply looked at her. Her perfect body in that towel… the curve of her breasts… her hips… her thighs… her long legs. Was there any part of her body that wasn't perfectly shaped and made for him? She had always been the embodiment of his dreams and she could arouse him without even attempting to be sexy. The promise of her naked skin under the thick white fabric was enough and yet, she still wasn't aware of the power she had over him…
And right now she was doing it again. In all innocence. She turned her head and gave him a warm smile: "Everything alright in the security room?"

"Just a small problem with a few cameras… nothing serious," he answered without taking his eyes off of her. Actually, he was already picturing her without the towel around her body…

"Good. Do you feel well? You seem… distracted."

"I'm fine," he said huskily and slowly moved closer to her. He placed himself right behind her and kissed her shoulder that was still covered with small drops of water. "You're beautiful. Why do you have to look and smell like this? It's a sin…," he mumbled against her skin and kissed his way to her neck counting the drops he licked from her delicate, freckled skin. A long low sigh escaped her throat when she felt his lips and teeth tenderly teasing her skin. "Joseph…"

"Yes, my darling?"

She leaned against him and weakly attempted to protest: "We don't have time… the ball, Mia… she wants my advice for…" Her voice trailed off slowly as his hands found the way under the towel and caressed the naked skin of her belly aiming for her breasts. The reason why she had to help Mia was undeniably slipping from her mind and replaced by pure desire. Everywhere Josephs' hands touched her, a fire was running through her veins and made her skin glow. Only he could do this to her and he perfectly knew it. In his arms she always became senseless and weak and gave herself to him; pleasing him and making him moan with the same desire she felt became much more important than Mia or the upcoming ball. He had won the game before it had started and she would make sure to get some payback for that soon.

She turned in his embrace and kissed him fiercely. The towel dropped and seconds later she felt her naked skin connecting with carpet of her bathroom…

Somehow they had made it to the bed to enjoy a second round of lovemaking. At least their backs would be grateful for the luxury of silk sheets and a much softer mattress, but their schedule wasn't. Time was running faster than they wanted and they really had to leave the bed now or they would be too late. Later than even a Queen could afford.

"I told you not to seduce me," she complained lazily and lifted her head to have a look at his face.

He smirked and shook his head. "Me seducing you? You seduced me, my dear!"

"Liar!"

He interrupted the discussion by involving her in a passionate kiss and caressed the naked thigh that was wrapped around his legs with his full hand until he reached her barely covered hip. If she didn't get up this would lead to another session they really shouldn't have right now… but his hands felt too good on her body. God, the man was irresistible and so good!

"You can argue with me about your seduction skills, you can get up and dress or stay here with me now… whatever the Lady wishes."

"We can't stay here… as much as I want to… we can't." She sighed and buried her face in his neck. "I'm sure Priscilla and Olivia already believe that I've developed into a sex addicted old fool! Remember they change the sheets!"

"That makes two of us!" He chuckled and fondled the back of her neck. Much to his dismay the roses caught his attention again. He hated to ruin the atmosphere but part of him simply had to know. And maybe his imagination was just playing a bad trick on him.

"Clarisse… who gave you the roses?"

She looked up and turned her head to the vase. Then she gave him a strange smile and said: "Haven't you brought them with you before you came into the bathroom?"

"No."

"But they weren't there before."

He reached out and took the card from the nightstand. "With all my love," he read aloud and gave her the card, "that's not my handwriting."

She stared at the card and he noticed that her facial expression was suddenly changing. The smile faded and was replaced with confusion and something else he couldn't read or name.

"No, that's not your handwriting," she simply stated and put it away.

"And?" he asked, as she didn't continue to explain.

"Nothing… I don't know who sent them. Maybe, Olivia or Priscilla know more. I'll ask them later." She shrugged and rose from the bed covering her body with the sheet.

She knew or at least had an idea who sent the flowers. He saw it in her eyes and it worried him that she didn't want to share it with him. She left the bed too quickly and her eyes were avoiding him. Something was definitely wrong. He wanted to reach out to her to keep her by his side but she elegantly slipped aside and said quickly: "We should hurry now… can you please call Olivia for me?"

***

While getting dressed Clarisse couldn't get the roses and the strange card out of her mind. There had only been one person who had given her flowers and a card without signature and that special person's name she would never mention to Joseph in bed shortly after making love. He belonged to a part of life which had been over for a long time. It couldn't be him. Not after all this time. It was simply impossible. But the handwriting… almost like… no, she simply had to forbid herself to think about it. It was just an illusion. Nothing more.

Clarisse was sitting at her dressing table and Olivia stood behind her fixing her hair. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice that Olivia had almost finished.

"The tiara, Ma'am."

"Oh…" Clarisse quickly gave her a smile and took the tiara out of Olivia's hands to carefully place it on her head.

"Thank you, Olivia."

The maid continued to adjust some last strands of Clarisse' hair and again someone else caught her attention. Joseph was coming out of the bathroom fixing his cufflinks.

They hadn't talked since she had left the bed and she hated it. Hated the silence that created an unnecessary wall between them. The last time they hadn't spoken to one another she had nearly lost him and she still could slip into an unreasonable panic when she thought about it. But if she told him why she couldn't tell him about her thoughts when she saw the roses, he would be hurt. And the last thing she wanted was hurting him – again.

The ringing of his cell phone disturbed her thoughts.

"Yes?… Ah Jacques. Bon soir… bien. Oh really…? And the other matter we talked about?…. I see… Merci, Jacques. Au'voir." He hung up and looked into empty space for some time. She knew what it meant when he was absent like this. He was trying to estimate the virtue and the consequences of the information he just had gotten. Grateful to have something to talk about she asked: "Who was that?"

"That was Jacques. A friend of mine. He works in the Home Office," he gave her a soft smile. "It seems that Pierre hasn't left Genovia yet. Or at least no one using his passport has left the country."

"Oh… that's good," she said and kept looking at his reflection in the mirror. She sensed something else was on his mind and waited for him to continue.

"He also told me something very interesting. It seems that the Genovian ambassador from London will attend tonight's event in very special company."

"And who is this special company."

"Lady Francesca DeLesseps."

The name echoed in her mind but it took some moments before she really understood the importance of this information.

"Excuse me? You can't be serious!"

"I am serious. She's back."

It shocked her how the mere mention of this woman's name could drive her mad.

"Tell Shades to keep her out. Tonight and for the rest of my life!"

"I won't and you won't either," he calmly said while fastening his tie. Ignoring Olivia and her comb Clarisse turned to Joseph. Staring at him she addressed him rather coldly: "Don't you think it's my decision?"

"I think it's time to forgive and forget. Whatever happened, happened a lifetime ago."

Fearing this conversation would end in a disaster Olivia discreetly rushed out of the room leaving the couple alone. After the door had closed Clarisse shook her head and remarked dryly: "I really forget that you used to like her. Some things just never change! But I'm still the Queen of this country and I don't want her to attend!"

She rose from her chair and paced the room. Deep down inside she knew that she must sound like a stupid, jealous brat but she couldn't help it.

"That's hardly the point. Imagine the gossip if you throw her out… tomorrow should be about the coronation, not old hats!… Look, Clarisse, I just think she deserves a second chance. Times have changed. People have changed. She has changed."

"I didn't know you know her that well. Did you invite her? Anyway… That doesn't mean I have to tolerate the woman who ruined my family in my own house!"

"It wasn't entirely her fault and you know it. It isn't that easy, Clarisse!"

She didn't want to hear his point of view and she certainly didn't want to think about it.

The night, the very last night of her reign, promised to end up as a catastrophe and that wasn't what she had planned for this evening. Not at all. Angry with herself, him and the world, she tore her silk cape from the bed and threw it over her bare shoulders. She had chosen the dress with so much love, because she wanted to look beautiful for him but now she just wished the ball was over. Over and forgotten.

"You know I've always wondered what you see in her! Apparently we have different expectations of what it means to be a responsible person!"

"I think what she did was very responsible and well thought-out," and then he added, "it was human."

That hit her deeply. And she was too stunned to answer immediately. His words and his eyes were hurting her.

"Of course, everyone knows that I'm everything but human. Right. I'm the Ice Queen. I'm sorry, sometimes I simply forget about that!"

"I never said something like that about you."

"But you thought it. After all, that's why you wanted to leave me just one week ago."

"I would have never left you," he said louder than intended and made a step forward. He took her hand which was trembling slightly and squeezed it gently. "Not completely. Never." He bent forward and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. It was only a small touch. Light enough not to ruin her lipstick but the warmth of it took immediate possession of her body. She relaxed and leaned into his tight embrace.

"I love you, Joseph."

"And I love you. Now let's go, Your Majesty… Mia is waiting and so is your country."

***

Downstairs in the kitchen, Olivia sank into a chair. She was only too happy to have escaped from that awkward conversation. Hopefully the Queen and her husband wouldn't argue that often. She had always hated arguments and didn't want to witness them if possible.

She heard a giggle and quick steps coming from the stairs and looked up. It was Priscilla who came in. Excited and like a hen on drugs she jumped around the room and took Olivia's hands in hers.

"Olivia! Olivia! Tell me, did he give her the roses?"

"The roses?"

"On her nightstand… are they from His Highness? He didn't ask me to give them into a vase so it must have been you!"

"Me?" Olivia shook her head. "I don't know a thing about them. They were already there when he called me in to fix Her Majesty's hair."

"But…" Confused Priscilla shook her head. "That can't be… when I helped her undressing in the afternoon there were no roses in her room!"

Olivia shrugged and took her shoes off because her feet hurt. The roses didn't matter much to her right now. "Ask Mrs. Kout or Miss Kutaway. Maybe they've put them there. It certainly wasn't me."