Chapter 5

Although the Palace had finally found the peace to call it a night, the whole atmosphere was disturbed. The jolly feeling of the last few days after the wedding had turned into fear. Outside the fence some Genovian citizens had decided to camp in front of the Palace. They didn't know, if the strange shooter had been King Rupert, but they were sure that the best way to find out more was waiting right there. At the Palace, the heart of Genovia.

Inside the Palace Clarisse didn't waste her time with waiting and sleeping. In the rooms where no Genovian soul except from some carefully selected people had access to she desperately gave herself to the man who was her husband. The man who owned her heart and the only one she wanted to belong to.

Her legs were wrapped around him and with every new hard thrust inside of her she pressed her thighs closer around him begging him to give her more. She wanted more. She didn't care that he marked her everywhere where his mouth connected with her skin. She didn't mind the loud screams of pleasure and hunger escaping both of their throats which were maybe heard outside in the hallway. It didn't matter that the footmen realized they were having sex right now. She was too absorbed by their lovemaking to care. She wanted to hear him crying out her name and feel that she was the only woman he wanted. She wanted to feel him and she couldn't get enough of him. Her nails were clawing into his skin leaving scratches they would both regret in the morning.

She felt his mouth closing around her hard nipples and arched her back pushing her hips forcefully at his to increase their pleasure.

Feeling how close her own climax was she pulled his head to her and involved him in an ardent kiss. Then her muscles tightened almost painfully around him and the world around her went black and she collapsed in his arms tearing him with her in a world where no one but they existed.

Their bodies were both covered with sweat as she spooned herself against his body and pulled his arms around her so that they came to rest on her belly.

"Please, hold me all night long."

"I will, my dear," he promised tenderly and kissed the back of her neck. He lifted himself up to pick up the blanket that had ended up on the floor but she grabbed his arm not allowing him to move away from her. "You'll get cold."

"No," she kissed the back of his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Be my blanket tonight."

He obliged her wish sensing that the fear she carried inside was even bigger than his own. And it was almost unbearable for him to imagine losing her. Whether the man was Rupert or not wasn't important. He couldn't lose her to any other man.

But how she must feel knowing that someone, a stranger, was out there trying to get involved with her? It was obvious that he didn't just want to be King. He also wanted her. He had sent her the roses and thank god Charlotte had been kind enough to remove the first bouquet Clarisse had received.

"What will happen when I have to see him tomorrow?" she asked in a low voice.

"I don't know… but he won't come near you. I promise you that. I won't allow it and neither will Shades nor the Prime Minister."

"But who can he be? Do you think he's insane?"

"He didn't look insane…" His voice trailed off and he kissed her shoulder tasting her skin. God, if he didn't shut out the memory of this man he would go insane. The thought of losing Clarisse after loving her for the last 25 years was too much. He caressed a blossoming red mark in the crook of her neck with his nose and kissed it gently. She had gone through so much today… she should rest and not think about the lunatic.

"You should sleep," he said gently and rubbed her arm. "No."

"Aren't you tired?" he asked lowly against her skin. "No." She answered and turned in his embrace to face him. For some moments she caressed his face with her thumbs. Then she leaned into him for a soft kiss and wrapped her leg around his thigh. "I don't want to sleep," she whispered and moved herself above him. He didn't complain and caressed her thighs while she positioned herself in his lap.

***

The next morning was wet and cold. The rain that had started over night hadn't stopped yet and she was lucky that she could acquire an umbrella in her hotel. At least the rain was the same as in England, Frankie told herself as she slipped out of the car which had brought her to the Palace. The Prime Minister really did his best to make her stay. To her surprise, Charlotte, the Queen's faithful assistant who was just as pale as in the evening before, welcomed her at the big staircase and one of the footmen was holding a big umbrella to protect both of them from the cold rain.

"Lady DeLesseps. The Prime Minister is already waiting for you!"

"Good morning, Charlotte. How's Her Majesty?"

"Better. I talked to her some minutes ago."

"Good. I hope this won't turn out too unpleasant for her."

"We all hope so."

***

"Prime Minister." Frankie shook Sebastian's hand. "Milady. Take a seat, please."

"Thank you."

They were in a room next to the Parliament hall. According to the noise many of the members of Parliament had already arrived and were lively discussing last night's events.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Sebastian moaned as he sat down behind his desk. "The soldiers I ordered to protect the Royal Mausoleum made a discovery…"

"Didn't I tell you, you had no right to exhume the body before Parliament agrees?" Frankie asked with a certain hint of mischief in her voice. She had known from the very beginning the Prime Minister wouldn't waste precious time.

Sebastian smiled. "Nobody exhumed the King. We just made sure that the contents of the coffin remained untouched." Frankie raised her eyebrows in amusement. She loved policy. One could do anything as long as one knew how to name it.

"I see. Let me guess. The coffin is empty."

"That would have been better. But no. It seems as if the leftovers of King Rupert were switched. Seven years ago, we buried a wax figure."

"Excuse me?"

"You live in London. Ever been at Madame Tussaud's?"

"Oh my god…"

"I don't think God has anything to do with this. But speaking of him, I asked the Archbishop to join us today. I think we could use some moral instance for today's session."

"It's your Parliament. Does the Queen know anything about this yet?"

"I informed her in the morning. She took it with great poise."

"Of course." She couldn't imagine anything else. "I've been a little busy myself before I came here and made some phone calls in the morning. I asked a friend of mine who works in the Hospital where the King died about his hospital records. I want to know what was going on when he died!"

The expression on Sebastian's face had changed. He turned pale. "You did what?"

"You heard me," Frankie answered dryly.

"Those records are top secret. You won't get them." Frankie laughed. "Believe me, I will!"

"I think you didn't understand me. You won't get them. I don't allow you to do this kind of research. You're here to make sure the man won't find a way to sneak himself on the throne and not to play Sherlock Holmes!"

Francesca was stunned and remained silent for a moment. When she opened her mouth again she was visibly angry: "As you wish."

"Good. And now we have to talk about something else. Is your father still a member of the English House of Lords?"

"He is," she answered in puzzlement. What could he want from her father?

"I need to talk to him."

"I'm here to make sure the man won't find a way to get the throne. Giving you telephone numbers isn't included in my job. If you want to talk to Lord Henry DeLesseps you'll have to do some research in the phone book." With that she rose from her chair and left the room.

In the hallway she pulled out her mobile phone and dialled a number: "Stephan? Is that you?… Good… listen, I still need those records… but be careful! Make sure no one notices a thing - just make a copy but don't send them to my hotel. I'll get them myself… thank you!" She hung up and took a deep breath. Somehow she had the feeling that she was opening the Pandora's box.

***

Clarisse sat at her dressing table and readjusted the scarf she had decided to wear around her neck. It was hopeless, no scarf could cover all the hickeys and marks Joseph had left on her neck. Maybe she should wear something else… maybe something with a turtleneck. It was cold enough outside…

"Olivia? Could you please get out the black suit with the white turtleneck sweater? You know the light one?"

Olivia nodded a bit embarrassed and vanished again into Clarisse's dressing room. Under normal circumstances she would have been ashamed, but today she had no time to care about that. In less than one hour a stranger would try to destroy her life. Could she mind a young maid's blushed cheeks?

Suddenly she felt a wet, cold nose bothering her arm. She looked down and smiled. "Hello Maurice…" She caressed the fluffy ears of her dog and in return he cuddled up to her legs. He had been Rupert's last present to her. For Christmas, when he had already been very ill. He had given him to her after their sons had already retired for the night in front of a flickering fire…

"Pompous like a King, don't you think so?" he had asked and laughed as he sat the puppy on her lap and patted its small curly head. "Are you referring to someone special?" she had asked with a wink and he had laughed even more. "As if you didn't know what I'm talking about!" Then he had stopped laughing and turned serious: "I hope he'll remind you of me… in a good way." She had given him a soft smile and bent forward to kiss his forehead. "He will. Always."

"Did you mean this suit, Your Majesty?" Olivia appeared behind her again and showed her a classic black suit. "Yes, Olivia. That's it. Would you help me with the zipper, please?"

***

"Hey Joe," Mia said as she came into her grandmother's suite.

"Good morning, Princess," Joe greeted her back and kissed her cheek.

"How are you? And how's grandma?"

"She's fine… she's getting dressed right now."

"I bet she's nervous," Mia said clenching her fingers, "she is… but as always she's calm."

"I wish I was more like her! I'm a wreck!" Mia admitted nervously and Joe rubbed her upper arms. "It'll be fine. I'm sure we can prove soon that the man is nothing but an impostor! Don't worry!"

"Your word in God's ear!" Her glance fell on the still well-filled breakfast table. Obviously, her grandmother and Joe hadn't been very hungry. "Would you mind if I drink some of your tea? I'm so cold…"

"No, just help yourself… I'll go and look whether your Grandmother is ready."

"Okay."

***

"Thank you, Olivia… you can go."

"Yes, Madam." Olivia curtsied and quietly left the room. Clarisse stood in front of the big mirror and checked her appearance again. She still wasn't happy with her looks. The sleepless night was written all over face no matter how much make up she applied and quite honestly, her body ached in places no one should know about. And yet, what she had experienced with Joseph had been deeper and more honest than everything she could remember. If only the threat of some other man taking her away from him hadn't hung over them.

"Clarisse? Darling?" Joseph peeked in and she turned to him and spread her arms insecurely. "Is this appropriate?"

Why on earth would she ask him? He had never understood women's dress codes and he was very happy to know that his black clothes were good enough for almost every occasion aside from balls, weddings and Parliament sessions where he had to attend as some kind of Prince consort…

"You look wonderful," he said and went to her. They embraced and she closed her eyes.

"I'm scared," she said and clung to him. Her confession surprised him. He couldn't remember a time when she had opened up to him without pressure from his side. "Don't be. I'm with you in there!" He backed off and gave her soft kiss on the lips, then looked into her eyes encouraging her with a smile. She smiled back at him and removed the lipstick she had left on his lips. "I love you, Joseph. Above anything." She rested her forehead against his and sighed.

"I love you too… Mia's outside. Why don't we join her and you eat something before we leave."

"No… I won't add throwing-up-in-Parliament to fainting-in-the-garden. My list of failings is long enough this week!" she attempted to joke but he shook his head. "Some hot tea won't hurt you. Let's go." Entwining their hands they left the bedroom together.

***

Nervous like a schoolgirl Clarisse, now Clarisse Renaldi, wife of the Crown Princess of Genovia, stood in the doorway that led from her dressing room to her bedroom. Her husband stood at the window and looked outside into the garden. Rupert had told her before that she would have her own bedroom while he also had one in the same suite. Everybody needed a room of his own where to sleep and dress without being disturbed by someone who needed peace to do the same. She knew this kind of arrangement from her own parents, but the movies she had seen and the novels she had read so far told her otherwise… but maybe it wasn't the worst thing to have her own rooms… she liked Rupert very much, but she didn't know him very well. Maybe the arrangement also meant that he wouldn't visit her often at night… who knew what this meant at all?

She breathed in. This was her wedding night. Only six short hours since she was the wife of the future King of Genovia and although she didn't know him well she thought she knew him as a kind man. Since he had asked her to be his wife they had been honest with each other. She even had told him her deepest, best-kept secret and he hadn't abandoned her. He had understood her and assured her that it would turn out fine between them. Maybe in these moments she had realized this relationship wouldn't be end of her life. Not the life she had hoped for in her youthfully naïve imagination, but something that could be build to last.

"Rupert?" she asked nervously and played with the sash of her silk robe which was mere decoration for her white silk and lace nightgown. He turned to her and a smile crossed his face.

"Clarisse, my dear." He stretched his hand out and she slowly went to take it. She could feel his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance and she could see in his face that he liked what he saw.

"You look very beautiful," he said admiringly and kissed her hand.

"I did my best… and the maids too," she responded with a nervous chuckle.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure my mother instructed them perfectly."

"The way they tore at my hair to fix it told me it was my mother who instructed them!" she responded and blushed. She shouldn't bother him with the mentioning of her mother.

"I figured she isn't the easiest to get along with." He gave her a compassionate smile, lifted his hand and caressed her cheekbone. "But from now on you're the Mistress of the Manor and when you don't like your maids you'll get new ones. I want you to feel comfortable around here. This will be your home for the rest of your life, Clarisse."

If possible, she blushed even more. The idea scared her. The rest of her life… She bowed her head and whispered: "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

He preferred not to deepen this conversation and instead opened a bottle of champagne that stood next to her bed on the nightstand.

"Champagne? I noticed that you hardly drank or ate at the dinner."

"Half a glass, maybe," she said, because she didn't want to disappoint him. She wasn't fond of champagne or any kind of alcohol. It made her dizzy which was embarrassing, or sick which was uncomfortable.

"Here we go." He gave her half a glass of champagne and they toasted. The bubbles tickled on her tongue but she swallowed the sour liquid without complaint. She had already realized that she had to drink a lot of champagne for the rest of her life…

"Are you scared, Clarisse?" he asked after watching her for some time. "What… nooo…"

He took her glass and placed it together with his on the nightstand. Then he returned to her, cupped her face with the palms of his hands and looked into her eyes.

"I know, this isn't easy for you, but I ask you to trust me… here and tonight and for the rest of our lives nothing will happen that you don't want. Can you believe that?"

She did believe him and nodded. Her fingers closed around his wrists and her thumbs caressed them as sign of trust.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Clarisse Renaldi, and it'll be my pleasure to make you my wife tonight," he said and bent over to kiss her. Her fear melted when his mouth covered hers. It didn't feel unpleasant. Actually not like she had imagined it at all. She closed her eyes and allowed him to slowly deepen the kiss. Her lips opened for him and his tongue slipped into her mouth to start a sensual play with hers. He was a good kisser. Skilful and tender. Her arms wrapped around his body and she let it happen that he pressed her to him so that she could feel his arousal building up in his pants.

"How can you want me?" she asked breathlessly after they had ended the kiss. She still had no idea why he had chosen her – with all her faults and her youth. He shook his head and caressed her collarbone with his fingertips. "I appreciate honest people. And from all the young, attractive and smart women I had to meet you were the only one who always told me the truth straight into my face. I admire that."

She swallowed. She wished she had kept some truths to herself, but it was too late to worry now. Rupert's hands ran over her body and she felt a pleasant warmth arise in her. No, this night wouldn't turn out to be unpleasant. Not at all. He kissed her again and after he had removed the ridiculous silk robe from her shoulders he pulled down the straps of her nightgown to reveal her naked body…

***

The last row with seats was reserved for people who weren't members of Parliament. And there she belonged together with Mia, her mother, her stepfather, Joseph and Pierre. To Mia's surprise Nicholas Deveraux and his uncle were also present. The Archbishop had chosen a seat far away from everyone else and watched everything from afar. He didn't look happy with the developments. A King who had risen from the Dead wasn't something he could appreciate as spiritual head of a country.

Wise enough to know that Joe wouldn't want to sit next to Pierre Frankie had placed herself between both men. But Pierre didn't even acknowledge her presence and stared down to the middle of the room where the man he considered his father stood and told his story. He still wore the same uniform as he had the evening before and looked as self-assured as then. No sign of nervousness or unease could be recognized in his posture or voice.

The Queen herself hadn't spoken yet. She hadn't even looked at the man since he had entered the room. She sat next to Motaz, her spine straighter than ever, her eyes fixed on the wall while she listened to the long story of the man who claimed to be her husband. The Prime Minister looked sick while he listened to the man.

"My Lords, you see that my health only now allowed me to come back to my beloved country. You'll find the truth in the folders with my medical records I already gave to the Prime Minister."

Reluctantly Motaz took the folder and showed it to the politicians.

"Please add to the protocol that the Prime Minister has received the folders." The protocol writer nodded and Sebastian continued: "And now, would you mind some questions from our side?"

"Of course not, Prime Minister."

Sebastian cleared his throat: "We are a bit bewildered about the timing of your return and the way you staged it."

"I've already apologized for my entrance. It wasn't my intention to shock anyone." He made a bow into Clarisse' direction but she didn't react. "But I'm glad that no one was harmed."

"Thanks to you a panic arose in the country. People were camping outside the Palace because of your appearance and we had to call several ambulances because some people collapsed."

"Again, I offer my apology, but after things got out of hand in this country I had to interfere."

"What exactly went out of hand?" Motaz demanded to know.

"As much as I admire and respect my wife and my granddaughter Amelia for the way they have run this country, as much I'm sure that the Princess is too young to become Queen. Her Majesty should have known that. After all she has been responsible for Amelia's education over the last years."

"So you stayed away as long as you felt Genovia is in good hands, but decided to come back when you heard Princess Mia would succeed Her Majesty?"

"That is correct."

The room filled with nervous whispers and Motaz waited a few moments before he ordered everyone to become silent again. He looked at the Queen who nodded in agreement. It was her turn after all. The man had had more than enough time to justify himself.

"What do you expect us to do now?" she asked into the silence. Anticipation rose even higher in the room while everybody waited nervously trying to imagine how the man and the Queen would handle the situation. "Are we supposed to follow an ancient Genovian Law that was used for completely different reasons to reinstall a King who is declared dead? Because that is what my husband is. He is dead."

"I'm not dead."

"I saw him dying. The night he died and all the months before when his illness was slowly defeating him."

"I didn't die and I'm sorry I put you through all this. But it was for the best."

She preferred not to allow him to address her in any private matter.

"You haven't answered my question. What do you expect us to do?" she asked sternly and avoided to make eye contact with him.

In the last row Joseph held his breath. Something in her voice made him shiver. A certain kind of coldness she had learnt to use when she needed to survive. A wall she built up around her which nobody could break down unless one knew her well enough to know how to handle her in situations like this.

"I expect Parliament and you as Head of this state to make the right decision."

"That is to make you King."

"With you at my side. Amelia's position as Crown Princess will remain untouched and she'll become Queen when we're both dead."

Again people raised their voices and it took minutes before the noise settled down. Mia had grabbed Joseph hand and squeezed it almost painfully, but he didn't feel it. He was too concentrated on Clarisse whose face remained without expression.

"The King is dead," she said again and shrugged. "And my granddaughter has proved that she is more than able to rule this country and prepare it for the future."

"How can you say the King is dead when I'm standing right in front of you?"

Now, for the very first time Clarisse finally allowed herself to look into the man's face. She studied every wrinkle and especially his eyes.

"It's in your eyes," she said coldly, "I can see in your eyes that you're not Rupert."

Motaz' voice had a hard time to carry in the loud discussions that awoke in the room again. "Ladies and Gentleman, please… SILENCE!"

The people in the room slowly calmed down and Clarisse turned to the Prime Minister: "Sir, I want to make a motion."

"Your Majesty."

"I move to have a DNA test done. I'm sure, my son as well as my granddaughter will be happy to be of assistance in the matter."

"Who seconds the motion?" The Prime Minister looked around and the first to agree was Lord Palimore. Other hands followed and soon the whole Parliament agreed.

"Alright. Sir, if you agree we'll go through with the test today to ensure the quickest possible result."

"I do agree." The man made another unnecessary bow and Clarisse rose from her chair.

"Prime Minister, my Lords, I prefer to leave now, if you please."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

As quickly as possible everyone in the room got up and bowed. Clarisse left and life came into the last row. Joseph, Mia, Helen, her husband, Frankie and Pierre followed her out of the room.

"The session isn't over." Motaz screamed as the noise threatened to escalate in. "It's settled that the DNA will be performed after the session is over…"

***

"Mother?"

Pierre was the first to address his mother after the door had closed behind them. It was Motaz' job now to deal with the "King" and his fellow members of Parliament. Pierre followed her with big steps barely reigning in his anger. Joseph fastened his pace as well, but Francesca stopped him gently. "That's between them, Joe… you'll only make it worse for her."

"Mother!"

Finally she stopped and turned to her son. "Yes?"

"How could you this? Don't you know what you're doing to him? You've just humiliated him in front of the whole nation!"

Clarisse looked around. Joseph and the others remained in the background. She couldn't believe he was attacking her outside her private quarters in such a manner. "Have you asked yourself what he is doing to me?" she asked desperately trying to keep her voice calm.

"He only wants back what is his!"

"That man is not your father and if you refuse to help me Mia will take over this part!"

"You have no right do to this," Pierre stated. "Without him you wouldn't even be Queen today! You can rule, because he installed the laws to make that possible!"

"I wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't run away after one woman had broken your heart!"

Her last words had hit him like a slap and she immediately regretted them, but he had provoked her too often in the last few days.

"You really know how to repay people, Mother. And no, I won't help you. You'll have to hope for Mia." He said walking backwards and then turned to rush down the hallway. Clarisse followed him with her eyes and repressed her rising tears. She felt Joseph's hand on her back and then his mouth on her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she mumbled. She needed a moment to regain her composure.

"I can't believe the nerve the guy has," Joseph said but she only shrugged.

"He only did what we expected. We'll see how and if he will manage to get out of the DNA-test." She sighed and then her glance fell on Francesca who stood aside at one of the windows. She exchanged a glance with Joseph who nodded at her and then she approached the younger woman in an almost shy voice: "Francesca?"

Clarisse saw her stiffen before she turned to face her.

"Your Majesty?"

"I need to talk to you. Would you be so kind to join me for a minute or two?"