Did I mention I wasn't, at that point, used to alcohol? I had always strenuously avoided it. I had never liked the chug-a-lug parties that kids tended to have, and watching Mom slowly descend into alcoholism was enough of a deterrent for me to stay away from it.

The effects of that one drink were taking hold. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and sitting on the chaise longue with my head between my legs, I figured I should have either practiced my drinking or just stuck to Coke. Too late for that.

Mia sat down next to me. "Hey, are you okay?"

"No," I mumbled. "Lemme alone."

"Did you eat something gross? I saw people eating, like, fish eggs." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe it's some kind of rich-person prank, getting people to eat disgusting things."

"You are getting stupider by the day," I muttered.

"What did you say?"

"I'm going to throw up." I wended my way into the bathroom. Of course, Mia followed me.

"Maybe you should go back to the embassy." She pulled a cell phone out of her purse. "I can call a cab or something if you like."

I was touched by this display of niceness. "That's very kind of you, but I'll just ask one of the porters to get the driver."

"Okay. So, what did you think of Kenny?"

Oh. My date. I had almost forgotten about him. "Um, he's okay."

"I was trying to set you up with him so that he'd stop bugging me, but I guess that's not going to work now." Mia peered in the mirror and did something fussy with her hair. "I guess since you're sick and he's your date, he's going to have to go with you." She sounded very pleased about the prospect.

So that was it. "Oh, I couldn't do that. He's having such a nice time! No, I guess you'll just have to entertain both him and..." What was the other guy's name? "Michael. But I'm sure you can handle it." I patted her on the shoulder and rose to exit.

I decided to walk home. The embassy was half a block away, and it was in a very nice neighborhood. Besides, it was a lovely July night and I needed to think some things over.

As I strolled along the flag-lined boulevard, I noticed a forlorn figure in a fake fur coat. It was Mia's friend Lilly. I recognized her from the few times Mia had been allowed to bring a friend to princess lessons.

Lilly was a little more interesting than Mia. The two of them looked a lot alike, but where Mia tended to try to hide her flyaway brown hair and gawkiness with gel and unflattering starched white blouses, Lilly accentuated hers with beaded headbands and those T-shirts you get from Hot Topic with clever sayings like "My invisble friend can beat up your invisible friend" printed on them. She always seemed to be a little more confident than her friend, and while she was still stuck in that "boys, makeup, and cute baby animals" teenybopper stage, she at least had some kind of grasp on the real world.

I tapped her on the shoulder. "What are you doing in this part of town? I thought you lived near Greenwich."

Lilly whirled around. "Oh my God, you scared me. Don't pull shit like that!" She peered at me. "Rachel? I thought you and Mia were supposed to be at the ball. With Michael and Kenny."

"I decided to go home a little early." I put the back of my hand up to my forehead, in a classic swooning pose. "I've had a bit much to drink. Could you escort me back to the embassy?" I asked in my best Scarlett O'Hara voice.

Lilly grinned and took my arm. "Sure. I really didn't expect to see anyone I knew around here."

"So what are you doing here, then?" I asked.

"Well, Mia wanted to take me to the ball. She thought it would be fun. But..." She shrugged. "I guess Queenie made her take Michael."

"You don't like him?"

"I think he's a jackass. He acts like this incredibly cool punk guy, but...Well, I've known him for longer than Mia has. My dad and his dad went to college together. In real life, he's an annoying prick."

I nodded. "Yeah, I got that vibe."

Lilly sighed. "Yeah...I'm sort of worried about Mia. Being a princess can't be good for her. You know what they say about absolute power."

"It's not like she's the queen of the world or anything. Genovian royalty doesn't actually do that much. They're just the figureheads."

"Really? From what I've been reading, they're the real head of the government. I mean, Queenie has to approve anything the Parliament does."

"Nah, that's a fiction created by Queenie and the press. The approval by the queen is just a formality. It's not like the US, where the President has the power to veto things. The Parliament votes on it, and Queenie basically okays the vote."

"But doesn't the queen have the power to overturn a vote?"

"Technically, yeah. But that option hasn't been used for ages." I was lying through my teeth, of course. Queenie didn't technically have any power in the Parliament, but she did have the right of Genovian common law, which stated that the ruling monarch was allowed to pardon or condemn citizens at will without even a trial. It was a holdover from the days when kings still had oracles, or so Queenie claimed.

The rule ensured that the monarch held sway over the entire country, especially Parliament. Queenie met with the heads of the various parties every month or so, right before an offical session. She told them the way she wished them to vote and which issues she wanted them to introduce. They would do so, because if they didn't do what Queenie said, she would throw them in jail or execute them for some trivial bit of treason.

The problem was that the system was about to break down. The head of the Socialist party, Erik Blare, wasn't a Genovian citizen. He was English. Technically he was not covered under Genovian common law, and so Queenie held no sway over him. He was beginning to influence others to side with him and nobody could do anything about it.

We finally reached the embassy. My head was still swimming, so I sat down on the steps while Lilly rang the doorbell.

After a few minutes, Satine opened the door. "Ah, Mademoiselle Lilly. Thank you so much for escorting Rachelle home."

"No problem." Lilly helped me up the steps, which was unneccesary but nice. She stood there for a second. "Rachel, can you tell Mia--never mind, it's not important." She scuttled away into the night.

"Queenie told you I was coming back early, didn't she?" I asked as Satine led me up the stairs.

"Of course she did. Now we must get you to bed. What did you have, anyway?"

"Some orange drink. I don't know what was in it."

Satine sniffed. "Well, whatever it was, I am sure it was strong. They serve very good liqueurs at functions like that." We reached my room. I sat on the bed and kicked my shoes off, then unbuttoned my shirt.

Satine gently took my hands away from the shirt front. "Madame, allow me."

"I can do this by myself, I'm not that inebriated," I told her muzzily.

"After a ball, a lady should not undress herself. She has a maid for such things," Satine told me.

It was not the least bit sexy having Satine undress me, if that's what you're thinking. It was embarassing, like being a doll or a toddler. Maybe in other circumstances it would have been nicer, but my head was throbbing and I really wanted to lie down.

She finally let me be. I flopped facedown on the bed and tried to ignore my nausea. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt Satine rubbing my back.

It really helped. My headache subsided to a dull roar, and I no longer wanted to throw up. "That feels so nice," I mumbled. "Do you do this a lot?"

Satine just hummed and went to work on my shoulders. "When you are feeling better, perhaps we can do this again," she whispered in my ear.

I had some very nice dreams that night.