"Come," was Rupert's perfunctory answer to the knock at his door. His back was to the door and he studied the view outside his window. The King's office faced the front of the palace and the view of the splendid lawns and huge fountain seemed to have captured his interest for the moment.

She crossed the room quietly to stand in front of his desk, arms crossed. He slowly turned his chair to face her.

"Good afternoon," he said stiffly.

She didn't reply for a few moments. "What do you want, Rupert?" she finally asked.

"You came to me, darling," the last word was tinged with sarcasm. "What do you want?"

"A truce," she said as she sat down. She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt over her knees. "I know I couldn't divorce you, even if I wanted to. Truthfully, I don't want to. There is too much at stake. But things have to change."

Rupert didn't reply at first. He studied his hands that were now clasped on his desk. He met her eyes as he finally spoke. "I don't want to lose you Clarisse. I know this sounds like a lie, but this was never about you. It's about me."

Clarisse's gaze hardened slightly. "That's the problem, Rupert. You operate under the mistaken notion that what you do in private effects only you."

"You're right of course. But please believe me that it was only about sex, Clarisse. It wasn't about you or us or anything else. You know our relationship is different; special, perhaps." He said the last bit somewhat hopefully.

"We should've had this conversation years ago, Rupert. Perhaps that's my fault. I was just a naive, inexperienced child when we married. I didn't know what to say or do when you first started this mess. If I had spoken up then, maybe things would be different today."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Please understand, Clarisse, I know I hurt you. For that I am very, very sorry. But I was looking for something – release, power, call it what you like – that didn't have anything to do with you at the time. If I'd been thinking, instead of just reacting, I would've realized how hurt you would be if you found out."

She looked at him for a long moment before rising and moving to the windows.

"Did you ever consider that I might leave you?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away. When she turned to see why he was so quiet, she started slightly to find that he was standing right behind her. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, I didn't consider it Clarisse. I don't want to consider it now, either."

She met his gaze coolly.

"Things can be different between us, Clarisse," he said.

"That is up to you, Rupert. I'm not going to chase after you like some wounded schoolgirl." With that she patted his chest and tried to hide her self-satisfied smile when he winced in response. "Make sure you take care of those scratches, darling. Wouldn't want them to get infected." With that she stepped past him and out of the office.

Rupert stood watching her, surveying her retreating form while unconsciously, and rather gingerly, smoothing the front of his shirt.

Joseph leaned forward, elbows on knees. Clarisse matched his posture. Joe looked at her and asked, "So is that when things changed? When you became friends?" As he spoke his eyes drifted down to the front of her shirt. It gaped open at an alluring angle, affording him a magnificent view. She was staring down at her hands and didn't notice his eyes.

"No, not quite." She sighed and stood up. Joseph's eyes followed her as she walked over to her desk. She leaned back on the edge of the desk and regarded her listener lazily through lowered lashes. She crossed her arms over her chest. He sat back again, stretching out against the cushions.

"Things were quiet for a while. Rupert and I both concentrated on work, but I made an effort with him. I tried to be more of a wife, instead of just a business partner. He seemed to appreciate it."

"But I wasn't putting all my eggs in that basket, either," she said. "There were plenty of times he had the opportunity to slip back into his old ways." She looked at Joseph directly then. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw tears in her eyes. "I got to the point where the stress of knowing what could happen was making me truly miserable. You can't believe how shallow the nobility can be, Joseph. There are so many women, beautiful women, with nothing to do with their time but primp and flirt. Being able to boast of bedding the King would be quite a social coup."

She took a deep breath. Joseph studied her, his expression openly curious. "I don't like who I was during those years. I was suspicious, callous. Rupert tried to behave, but he'd always attracted so much female attention. That didn't change and I guess he never learned how to walk away."

"You're making excuses for him, Clarisse. Does he really deserve that?" Joseph asked quietly.

"That's the problem. I don't really know what he deserves. And I don't really know what I deserve, either." Joseph started to answer her, but she kept speaking, now obviously trying to forestall his questions.

"I remember one time when we'd been to a fashion show in Paris. One of the designers was a Genovian native, so we'd been asked to attend the opening. It was rather fun, until I caught Rupert in a side room chatting up Lady Chatham. He complimented her on her dress. She explained that is was one of the designer's originals. She directed his attention to the fetching way the bodice was laced. It accentuated her 'assets', I think she called them, and pointed out that she couldn't remove it without help. He was too enthralled to notice that I had entered the room and was standing right beside them. Lady Chatham knew, of course. It just didn't stop her. What did she have to lose?"

"What did you do?" Joseph asked.

"I cleared my throat and he finally dragged his eyes away from her chest. He tried to cover by saying something about what a nice dress it was, and didn't I think I would like one of my own. I told him I appreciated the thought, but that I didn't particularly want artificial 'asset' enhancement. But I complimented Lady Chatham on what a marvelous difference the enhancements had made for her. I think I mentioned something about how she might actually be able to cast a shadow in that dress."

Joseph snickered.

She seemed not to notice. "I was angry at being reduced to making insults as a means to reel him back from the edge. It was cheap." She paused and the clock on her mantel began to strike the hour.

"Damn!" Joseph rose from his seat. "The guards changed shift an hour ago. They are going to have plenty to talk about if they catch me sneaking out of here at this time of night." His voice betrayed his frustration. "I'm sure the last shift has informed them that I am in here."

She waved him off, indicating that he should resume his seat. "Don't worry about it. You can use the dumbwaiter."

He raised an eyebrow in question. "There's no dumbwaiter in here. I've seen the blueprints."

"This is different. It's not on the plans. It's really more of a secret elevator, I guess. It works on a pulley system. It runs from my shoe closet to the library downstairs. Rupert's mother showed it to me when I moved in here. She said his great-grandmother had it built."

"You're must be joking! And you've never told anyone?" Joseph asked incredulously.

"No, although, Rupert almost found out about it, once. There is actually a problem with it. You can go down, but something is broken with one of the pulleys and you can't pull yourself up in it. Rupert's mother said it had broken when she was using it. She couldn't very well have it fixed without admitting its existence, so it is a one way route now."

Joseph was still standing and now he crossed his arms and tried to glower at her. "Tell me, Your Majesty, how often do you use this means of escaping your tower and avoiding your security?"

"Not very often, honestly. Being able to get to the library unnoticed might have been the start of absolute freedom for the Queen a few generations ago, but with the way the palace is secured now, it just means someone will find me as soon as they check the camera scans. Generally I use it when I can't sleep and I want to read." She smiled at Joseph. "You've caught me in there so many times, late in the evening, that I was really beginning to wander if you hadn't found it and put a sensor on the hidden door."

He stepped closer and looked down into her eyes. "No, I had no idea," he said. "I just have a sensor in my head that goes off when you are having a bad day. I knew to go looking for you on those evenings, just to see if you wanted to talk."

Her eyes twinkled warmly in the soft light. "I never wanted to just talk to you, Joseph. But talking is all that we ever seem to do."

"I hate talking, sometimes," he said huskily. He felt his body leaning in towards hers.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Fine, then. Just listen. Listening is something you are extraordinarily good at."

"I'm extraordinarily good some other things, too," he replied.

"Joseph, please!" Her voice was partially pleading, partially amused. He grinned at her and turned around to sit back down on the couch.

"Very well, I will listen," he said formally. "But I don't have to like it," he growled. "How did Rupert come to find out about your dumbwaiter?"