Hello again! Sorry for the slight delay in posting, but, real life can be so intrusive sometimes.

I did want to take a sec to specifically thank Petriebird18 and Dragoneye for your suggestion and offer, respectively. Petriebird, thanks for the reminding me of the suit of armor…I'm not sure I would have remembered that, and yes, I think I can see a way to get that in here somewhere. Dragoneye, you wouldn't believe how much I need an editor sometimes, so I may take you up on your offer as a pre-reader.

As for the rest of you reading my story, thanks for taking the time to both read write back. Rest assured, even the smallest of suggestions are being tossed around in my head (even if it takes me weeks to get around to thanking you for them; just ask Petriebird and Dragoneye!)

Anyhoo, as you know, only the storyline is mine. Hope to enjoy!

9

BANG!

Clarisse jumped, the glasses that had been poised to be placed on her nose suddenly flying, as a pile of books came unceremoniously crashing down onto the table she was sitting at in the student union. A familiar somebody crashed into the chair beside her a second later.

"You sneak!" Natalie hissed, looking outraged at her long time friend.

Clarisse stared, wide-eyed, her heart pounding from Natalie's very dramatic entrance. "What? Why…?"

Natalie whispered severely, "Why didn't you tell me your parents met with The Royals?"

Clarisse immediately felt, and probably looked, caught. She had told no one; not even Natalie, her closest friend since she was eight. She had felt terribly guilty, but assuaged herself by vowing to tell Nat the minute there was something to tell, one way or the other. Somehow, though not surprisingly now that Clarisse thought about it, Natalie found out from other sources. The volume on palace related chatter had been cranked up considerably in the last few weeks and she should have known someone would find out about her parents' invitation and spill the beans. Clarisse attempted to explain, "Oh…Natal…"

Natalie shushed her impatiently, waving her hand in Clarisse's face, "Pfff…not now, I'll ream you over that in a second. More importantly. I have news." She paused dramatically, eyebrows raised. "News that concerns you, sweetie."

Clarisse stared at her wary but curious. She said cautiously, "What news?"

Natalie, leaned in, elbows on knees, and intensely stared into her friend's eyes, "Four messengers from the palace were dispatched this afternoon on the Prince's behalf." She waited a moment before saying, "One of them is on his way to your house."

Clarisse held tight to her reaction. Not only because she didn't know how to react, but mostly because she wanted to keep any palace-talk as quiet as possible, especially in the student union. The sheer amount of chatter that flew through the student union on a slow day was mind boggling, but in the weeks since the palace had sent its tentacles out into the masses and snatched parents for meetings with the Prince, well… the student union had all the decorum of floor of the New York Stock Exchange. Rumors were flying, reputations were being bandied about – made and destroyed – catty comments were being hurled like hand grenades, friendships were being demolished.

Every girl's insecurities were out in force; Clarisse had heard overheard a few absolutely brutal rants about classmates whose parents were rumored to have been summoned to the palace. She had come upon a different girl crying her eyes out in the bathroom over some palace-related issue two days in a row. Considering Natalie knew her parents had met 'the Royals', as she called them, Clarisse assumed others must know and she cringed at the thought of what the more sour grapes on the grapevine must be saying about her. She did not want to find herself using industrial grade toilet paper to blow her nose any time soon so she kept herself very much in check, a difficult task under the laser-like stare Natalie was leveling at her.

Clarisse said slowly, rearranging herself in her chair, "Well…that doesn't necessarily mean…"

Natalie shushed Clarisse again and said, "Yes, it does. Why else would the palace send your family a hand delivered message, just days – apparently four days, for the love of Pete…", Natalie paused, eyeing Clarisse significantly to remind her she was in for a tongue lashing for not sharing, and then continued, "…four days after they met with the Royal Renaldi's?"

Clarisse furrowed her brow, and having no answer for Natalie's question, scrambled for something to say that at least sounded strong, "How do you know about the messengers? I don't know anything!"

Natalie said confidentially, "You know Amelie Kent, yes?" Clarisse nodded and Natalie continued conspiratorially, "Well, her cousin – Lance, I think is his name – he is dating a girl who used to go to school with a guy whose sister's husband's cousin works for the Palace, or some damn thing." Employing one of her trademark dramatic pauses, she let that information sink in before continuing, eyebrows raised, "He works in the mail room! Which, of course, includes the messengers." She was nodding knowingly at Clarisse as if to say, 'enough said'.

Clarisse stared at her friend intently, processing the info, but saying nothing, so Natalie further explained, "Apparently, Amelie's parents were invited to the palace, but when Amelie hadn't heard anything back, she had her minions check the source in the mail room. He coughed up the four names who were on the list – a list that came directly from the Prince's staff, mind you – and she wasn't on it. I happen to have Biology with one of the girls that Amelie cried to after she found out; Sheila Cummings, do you know her? Well, I don't know Sheila that well, but enough to shoot the breeze; apparently she'd just come from talking to Amelie and couldn't keep something like this secret so she blabbed the whole story, complete with the four names. I don't think she would have told me if she'd known you and I were such good friends, but like I said, she and I aren't close."

Natalie stopped talking, but Clarisse was beyond responding. She was very confused. She had been sure she was out of contention. When her parents had returned from the palace they looked so glum that she didn't even approach them about it. It wasn't until two days later that she wound up having separate conversations with them; her mother said things 'went nicely' and was relatively optimistic that they would know something soon. Her father said, 'Fine. Things went fine' but it was hard to know what was in someone else's mind. It seemed strange, especially now, that she hadn't been more aggressive about finding out exactly what happened, but they seemed so…lukewarm about the whole subject that she'd assumed things hadn't gone well and they were just trying to prepare her for not hearing from the palace.

Now here was Natalie with – admittedly – a chaotic chain of evidence, but she'd never known Natalie to be wrong; not about something she was willing to repeat. Clarisse slowly leaned back in her chair, eyes focused out the windows of the union, knowing Natalie was watching her carefully. Stalling, she asked absently, "Who are the other three girls?"

Knowing Clarisse was stalling, Natalie said quickly, not removing her eyes from Clarisse's face, "Vanessa Simone, Elizabeth Channing and someone named Sophia Maneras. I don't know her; you?"

Clarisse shook her head silently, still looking through the windows. She tore her eyes away and focused on Natalie, who was clearly waiting for a reaction. Clarisse took a deep breath, sat up straight, retrieved her glasses from across the table where they'd landed upon Nat's sensational entrance and put them on her nose. Looking over them and folding her hands, reproachfully she deadpanned, "So,…you didn't make the list?"

Natalie blinked for a minute, actually about to explain that she was engaged and that's why she hadn't even been eligible for the list, when she looked at Clarisse's exaggeratedly disapproving look; a look Natalie had seen those rare times when Clarisse poked fun at her reputation for being 'juuuust' a tad serious. Natalie shook her head marveling that Clarisse, who more than earned her reputation as a prig, responded to this momentous news with a semi self-deprecating joke. Of course it was also a Natalie-deprecating joke, but, a joke was a joke.

She started to laugh quietly, still shaking her head. She leaned back in her chair while Clarisse smiled and relaxed in her own seat. After a few moments of silence, never taking her eyes off Clarisse, who was pondering the glasses in her hands, Natalie said, "Clarisse. You're going to be Queen."

Clarisse's looked up and shook her head quickly, a blasphemed look on her face. "What…? Good Lord, Nat. Don't say things like that out loud!"

She stared at Clarisse intensely as if trying to confirm her own prediction that Clarisse would be wearing the crown of Genovia. She said steadily, seriously, "No, I mean it. This is going to happen. It's what you were meant to do with your life."

The look on Natalie's face stopped Clarisse from voicing what she thought were reasonable arguments as to why she wasn't necessarily a lock for the job. Natalie was, after all, her dear friend and just a touch biased, but what Clarisse saw in her face was not the usual 'you are my friend and I think you're fabulous' smoke-blowing. There was such a sincerely convinced look on Nat's face that Clarisse was startled.

Clarisse said bewildered, "What do you mean?"

Natalie said simply, "Just what I said…it's what you were meant to do with your life." She paused a moment, and continued earnestly, leaning forward, elbows back on her knees, "Don't you think so? Doesn't this feel… right? I mean, when I heard that your name was on the list…it was as if something blurry suddenly came into complete focus."

Clarisse considered that statement. She was…appalled, actually…to realize that part of herself knew exactly what Natalie meant. When her parents came home less than ecstatic about their meeting with the Prince, her reaction was neither despair nor relief, but skepticism. Skepticism that something had gone so wrong that she wouldn't at least get a meeting with the man. She just did not believe it would end right there.

She had spent the last week wallowing in how difficult, frightening and outside of her abilities the responsibility of being Genovia's Queen, not to mention Rupert's wife, would be. She had labored uncomfortably under the stress of being considered for the role, wishing she could just run away. She had a million reasons why she should, would, and could never become the Queen of anything. Yet, deep down, a part of her was diligently preparing herself for the next step in becoming Queen. She didn't know why, all she knew was that there was a very small, very quiet part of herself that believed all of this would happen.

Of course, she could never say such a thing, so settled for, "Oh, I don't know, Natalie. There are dozens of ways this could all turn out to be for naught."

Natalie took a breath and leaned back, contemplating how to tackle Clarisse's artful deflection. She knew Clarisse well enough to know that her hesitation about all of this was not coming from an inferiority complex. As genuinely modest as she was, Clarisse knew her strengths and knew why she was being considered for this job. No, Natalie had done this dance with Clarisse before. Clarisse was looking for reassurance that her own thinking was in line with someone else's. She wanted Natalie to make the argument to her; a tactic Clarisse had employed since they were kids; a tactic that might come in handy as, say, someone who ruled a country, Natalie thought wryly.

Natalie thought for a moment, knowing she'd have to use the analytical brain that made her one of the most promising math majors in school; Clarisse would never be swayed by something so vague as a gut feeling. Natalie decided to begin with the what she thought was the most pertinent information, the only information that Clarisse didn't have until Natalie arrived – the competition. She said slowly, "Well, let's think about this. As far as the other candidates are concerned, the only one that stands as any kind of competition is Ms. Maneras and that's only because we don't know anything about her. Vanessa and Elizabeth are wonderful and are actually on my short list of bridesmaids – don't tell anyone that, I still have some culling to do and am still iffy about Vanessa – but seriously, when you get right down to it, aren't they just the same girl with different hair color?"

Clarisse laughed in surprise when she heard Natalie's dismissive assessment of the two girls they had known for years. She sighed disapprovingly and said, "Natalieeeee…"

Natalie rolled her eyes and said mockingly, "Clariiiiiiiiiiise…."

They both smiled and for a moment said nothing, each lost in their own thoughts. Natalie, always the one to cut to the chase, decided to just lay it all out, "Look, can we just be honest here for a moment? Vanessa and Liz are incredibly 'appropriate' choices; they're both smart, cultured, well liked and, most importantly, well-behaved. Lovely to look at and delightful to know, perfectly understandable candidates that would make adequate Queens every day of the week, twice on Sunday."

Natalie paused as Clarisse nodded her agreement. Nat bluntly went in for the kill, "But we both know that you have it all over the two of them; from every angle; brains, poise, sophistication, good judgement, temperament…"

Natalie was heartened that Clarisse said nothing, she didn't disagree, even out of that annoyingly inconvenient sense of fairness she possessed. Natalie continued, "Now…you know and I know that as soon as I leave here, I'm going to scour the grapevine to find out as much about Ms. Maneras as I can by the end of the day, but truly, Clarisse, I'm not worried. I can't think of anyone who could take this away from you."

Clarisse sat quietly for a moment looking at her closest confidante idly wondering if Natalie weren't engaged, would Clarisse have even made the final four, when Natalie chirpped, 'Unless, of course, this Maneras broad is really pretty. Then you're royally screwed."

Ah, yes, the fatal flaw in Natalie's royal resume: her mouth. Clarisse said coolly, "Oh, well, that's very nice. Thank you."

Natalie said, delighted, "See? That was a very queen-ly 'we are not amused' kind of reaction. You were born to do this!"

Clarisse laughed but was shaking her head. "I thank you for your unbridled confidence, but I suspect there is more to the job than sounding 'queen-ly'. For that matter, there's more to all of this than just the resume, at least from now on. That may have gotten me to this point, but now it's all about…the 'intangibles'. And we both know I'm not a master of the intangibles."

Natalie knew this was coming. She said wearily, "Clarisse, are you seriously having an attack of the 'boys don't like me'-s?"

Clarisse squirmed, embarrassed at how Natalie phrased it, but frankly, yes, she was having an attack of the 'boys don't like me'-s. They didn't! She said, slightly hurt, "Well, when you say it like that it just sounds silly."

Natalie, trying to nip this train of thought in the bud, said, "Well, that's because it is silly. Please, please tell me that you are not trying to predict how Prince Rupert Renaldi – a grown man of 31 years old – might react to you based on the fact that the stammering, knock-kneed dips we are forced to socialize with are intimidated by you. Please, tell me you are not doing that."

Clarisse sighed and said, "Nooo, of course I'm not doing that! Not if you're not going to let me, anyway."

Natalie launched into her defense of Clarisse, to Clarisse, "Look, this situation is a whole new can of worms for you. His Highness is not going to be afraid of you or nervous around you. He's staring straight into the face of becoming King in the very near future…you and your brainy-ness and your weird-for-your-age-composure' is not going to knock him sideways. He is going to want to find those things when he gets to know you. All those things about you that have the blockheads around here turning tail are the things that Rupert is going to appreciate. That's what I meant when I said this was what you were meant to do with your life – this moment is where you shine."

Clarisse smiled. She liked the way that sounded. Still, she had a point to make. She said, "All I'm saying is that, on paper, His Highness must think all four of us are qualified to be Queen, or we wouldn't have made it to this point. No, this stage, this meeting is for the role of wife, and that requires a much less… learnable set of skills. It's so subjective…he'll be going on instinct, feeling, attraction..."

Natalie nodded and said simply, as if stating that the sky was blue, "Granted, but taking all of that into account, I still don't know anyone who can compare to you, sweetie."

Clarisse just stared at her friend, deeply affected by Natalie's confidence in her. She blinked a couple of times, finding herself absurdly close to tears.

Natalie quickly moved to hug Clarisse and whispered happily in her ear, "You just let yourself be you, Clarisse, and a King will ask you to be his Queen."

Suddenly, Gillian LaConte bounced by and said, "What's all this girls? Bad news or good?"

They broke apart and Clarisse quickly composed herself, blinking her tears away furiously, as the always smooth Natalie said, "Hi, Gilly. Yes, good news. Nothing but very good news."

Gillian sat down eagerly and said, "Oh, I love good news. So…out with it. Why are we so happy?"

Clarisse looked at Natalie, terrified for a moment that she would blurt out the whole story, when Natalie said sweetly with a wink toward her dear friend, "Well, Clarisse just agreed to be my Maid of Honor and promised to wear any hideous dress I want, no matter how vile the color."

Gillian said warmly, looking between the two, "Oh, that is good news!"

Relieved with Natalie's discretion, and happy about the request she managed to slip in, Clarisse said, "Yes, it is. What would be even better news would be if we could find something only a little hideous in…oh, I don't know, maybe…purple?"