Queen Elizabeth hit the flat of her palm against the table. Ariel's tail lashed back and forth.
"You make your points very well, Aunt Caitrin, but I cannot accept that these people will be permitted to go free. If a trial is unacceptable, I must take refuge in our Code Duello."
"Beth!" Justin gasped. "You couldn't!"
"Is the Queen not permitted the same recourse as a private citizen?" she responded angrily.
"Can you fire a pistol?" Chou asked, his tone one of idle curiosity, but his eyes burning.
"I can," Elizabeth said proudly. "My father made certain that both Michael and I had training."
"And how would you challenge them without making public the reasons for the challenge?" Duchess Henke said. "Remember, each one must accept your challenge. I do not believe Marvin Seltman could be so goaded. He knows that you have too much to lose if this becomes public."
"I will offer . . ." Elizabeth's voice faded, her eyes flooded with tears.
"And Marrou would have every reason to request a champion," Daniel Chou added. "And the opportunity for an enemy to offer her the use of a skilled specialist is too great to ignore."
Justin leaned across the table and took Elizabeth's hands in his, ignoring Ariel's growled threat.
"Beth, you'd be killed and for nothing. The end results of a duel would be sufficient to severely weaken the Star Kingdom."
Queen Elizabeth stayed silent for a long while, her downcast eyes studying the tabletop as if reviewing her options. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with unshed tears.
"I most sincerely hope that I am never forced to refuse any of my subjects the choice you have taken from me today. I never realized that the Queen would be less protected by the law than the least of her subjects."
Caitrin Winton-Henke touched her arm. "Why do you think Roger so enjoyed dangerous sports? The monarch is given great power and privilege, but the cost is so high no sane person would pay it."
"Why should I then?" Elizabeth asked, her voice calm.
"Because you're a Winton," Caitrin answered, "and we all understand our duty."
"Give me your advice then," the Queen said, freeing one hand from Justin's grasp to blot the tears from her eyes, "on how we should handle this mess."
When the summons to Mount Royal came, Marvin Seltman considered taking advantage of one of the escape plans he had in place. Something about the little old man with the drooping mustaches who brought the invitation, rather than the more obvious threat of the two burly "bodyguards" who accompanied him, made him decide that such an attempt would be unlikely to succeed.
When they arrived at Mount Royal, the sight of his three co-conspirators quashed the vague hopes he had been nourishing that this was unrelated to his recent extra-legal activities. Swallowing a sigh, he permitted himself to be offered a seat and put his mind to salvaging what he could from the situation.
The group gathered in the council chamber did not offer a great deal of hope for a happy ending. There gathered were the Queen, Queen Mother Angelique, Crown Prince Michael, Dame Eliska, Duchess Winton-Henke, Justin Zyrr, and the little, wizened man who had brought him to the palace.
Queen Elizabeth's expression was cold as space, but the lashing tail of the treecat who crouched on the back of her chair gave lie to her calm.
"This meeting," the Queen began without further ceremony, "is to be regarded as a state secret, its minutes to be sealed until at least a century after my death. To speak of the proceedings will be considered treason—not that I expect that threat to trouble any of you greatly."
Her words were a beautiful bit of irony. They could be interpreted as meaning that she would not believe any here gathered capable of contemplating treason . . . or that she knew that several of them already were guilty of it. She continued:
"I am fully aware of—and possess incontrovertible, legally admissible proof of—the roles the four of you and the late Padraic Dover played in the death of King Roger the Third. In case you're curious, Padraic Dover met his death when he attempted to assault my promised husband. Through great good luck, my father's treecat was with Justin and saved his life."
Her words gave menace to the treecat growling at her own shoulder, but with a thrill of delight, Marvin Seltman realized that the 'cat was growling from frustration rather than because it intended to attack. His terrified fantasy that he would meet his death as had Dover vanished and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with renewed confidence.
Queen Elizabeth's next words stole some of that confidence from him.
"Ms. Marrou and Earl Howell, from what I have learned, your crimes grew from a misplaced belief that our people were seriously threatened by King Roger's plans to expand the Star Kingdom's sphere of influence. That you turned to murder to right these wrongs rather than working within our established government was your folly. You are traitors, no doubt, but traitors who are, oddly enough, still loyal to the system you would circumvent.
"Mr. Seltman and Lady Gwinner, you have no such excuse for your actions. Not only are you murderous traitors, but we have undeniable proof that you are both in the pay of the People's Republic of Haven."
Gwinner made a small sound, as if she would, even at this late date, try to offer some excuse. The Queen's dark gaze silenced her:
"Don't try to tell us how you were led astray by Mr. Seltman. Your stock portfolio records reveal some very interesting additions that cannot be easily explained. You have had ample time to reconsider any `bad influence.' "
Earl Howell stared at his former allies, the expression on his aristocratic features an undisguised mixture of horror and revulsion. His mouth shaped words that protocol would never permit him to speak aloud:
"I never knew. I never even suspected."
Elizabeth might have pitied him, but the memory of her father's twisted body, her mother's anguished scream, kept her hard.
"For reasons I do not intend to discuss," Queen Elizabeth continued, "I do not care to bring this matter to trial. Nor, although you have forfeited the protection of the law, will I have you quietly executed. Instead, I have other offers for you."
The dark eyes sought Howell. The man who sat there was a poor mockery of the bold politician who a few hours earlier had directed plans for his ascendance to the Regency.
"Willis Kemeny, I cannot strip you of your titles without the type of lengthy explanation I am certain both you and I would both prefer to avoid. Therefore, I request that you voluntarily renounce your seat in Parliament and pass it to your eldest daughter, Maralise. As she is a minor, a Regent will need to be appointed for her. I am certain that both you and I would be satisfied with LeBrun taking on that responsibility."
Aware that the Queen's offer would permit him to salvage both his life and his reputation, Howell rose to the occasion.