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The journey from Fons-Askaz to Paris wasn't a particularly uncomfortable one, though it could be time-consuming. A local train ran from Fons-Askaz to Nice, and from there one could fly to Paris fairly economically, but King Michaelis didn't like flying and did enjoy trains, a fact that made his head of security, Lael, despair.
From Nice there was also a high-speed train to Paris, which took six hours but was far more comfortable than flying. Most Shivadh traveling to or from the City of Lights chose to catch the train that would deposit them at Gare du Nord in the late afternoon, with time to leave their bags at a small hotel in the second arrondissement, run by a Shivadh expat, and have an early dinner in the labyrinth of hip eateries and wine bars surrounding it. The king, who also enjoyed Paris, was pleased to do the same.
His purpose for visiting Paris in the spring of 2015 wasn't entirely for his own pleasure; he was attending a political summit, but had planned to arrive the week before for a holiday. Gregory, with an MBA and two years of apprenticeship in the palace under his belt, was capable of covering his absence, and it was good to start giving him increasing responsibility without straying so far from home that he couldn't easily return if a more senior hand was needed on the rudder.
And also Michaelis hadn't really taken a vacation since Miranda passed, leading Gregory to become progressively less subtle in his hints that perhaps for the mental health of both father and son, a holiday would be helpful. Or else it would become mandatory.
So Michaelis, beginning to understand that his future would be a slow series of concessions to the next king, had caved gracefully.
He was enjoying himself, at least. The scenery was as beautiful as always, and traveling by train offered excellent people watching. He was in particular keeping his eye on a young backpacker who seemed determined to exercise his terrible French on everyone who mistakenly made eye contact, and a woman who had boarded in Fons Askaz, when Michaelis had, and seemed to be journeying to Paris like he was. When they were not far out from Paris, he leaned across the aisle, catching her attention with a wave of his fingers.
"Not to presume, but are you stopping in Paris also?" he asked. She hadn't seemed to notice she was sharing a carriage with her king, but she also didn't seem surprised when she looked up at him. Good old Shivadh disregard for authority, perhaps.
"Yes, your Majesty," she said. "I'm staying at the guesthouse on the Rue des Lombards."
"I thought so," he said. "I am as well. I have a driver picking me up from the train -- I was wondering if you'd like a lift."
"I -- that would be nice, thank you," she said, clearly a little surprised. "I'm only in Paris overnight, and I want to see as much as I can. Getting to drop my bag at my room faster would help."
"Heading to London tomorrow?" he asked. Traveling on to London meant changing not just trains but stations, and was another reason people tended to stay at the guesthouse, resting overnight before traveling onward.
"Yes -- for a job interview," she said, not sounding very thrilled.
"What is it that you do?"
"Mostly complain," she muttered, then when he chuckled, seemed to remember who she was speaking to. "I just finished law school," she explained. "Feels unfortunate I also just realized I don't really want to be a lawyer."
"Well, no knowledge is wasted," he said. "I'm sure law school is great training for other things as well."
"You'd think," she said, but her tone suggested otherwise.
"At least it gives you extra edge in complaining with flair," he said, and that earned him a startled laugh. "I'm generally at a disadvantage in these things, since you know who I am -- "
"Oh! Georgiana," she said, gesturing to herself. "Georgie. Altaras."
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Altaras. What are you planning to see in Paris?"
"I wanted to see Notre Dame, though really I'm just passing by it, not doing a tour," she said, as excited as any young person to talk about her trip. "I'm following the Seine down to the Jardin des Tuileries. And the Musee D'Orsay is open late so once it gets dark I'll go there, and when it closes I'll have a late dinner by the guesthouse. Open to suggestions," she added impishly.
"Sounds like a very nice evening. There's a decent Turkish place nearby that I believe is open late -- I'll see if I can recall the name."
"What about yourself, sire? Exciting plans?"
"I'm in Paris through next week -- tonight it's just dinner with an old school friend, and then a good book and an early night. Time enough this weekend to get into mischief."
"Well, if you end up needing a lawyer, I'll be back through Paris on Saturday night," she said.
They announced the station then, and people began to gather up their things and take down their bags; most of his luggage had been sent ahead, so he only had his leather satchel with him, and Altaras only had a largeish backpack. They navigated their way off the train ahead of most others, and Michaelis led the way to the waiting car. Lael, who as his head of security and self-appointed bodyguard had gone ahead to meet him there, looked resigned when he saw Michaelis had acquired a traveling companion.
"Lael, this is Ms. Altaras," he said, amused. "She's staying at the guesthouse. I thought we might ease her journey."
"If your Majesty some day befriends an assassin on the train, I won't be held responsible for your untimely death," he said, giving Altaras a dark look.
"If I planned to kill the king he'd already be dead," she said coolly. Michaelis made a mental note to talk to Gregory about what use the palace might have for a lawyer who didn't want to be a lawyer.
The ride to the guesthouse didn't take long, though the traffic in Paris was brutal as usual. Altaras seemed happy to look out the window at the world going by, while Michaelis texted Gregory to say he'd arrived safely and make sure nothing was on fire at home. All quiet, it appeared.
They weren't far from the guesthouse when Altaras said, "Stop the car." They had been at a snail's pace as it was, but the absolute authority in her voice caused Lael to brake immediately. She was out of the car and running a second later. On instinct -- not perhaps his wisest instinct -- Michaelis followed, and heard Lael throw the emergency brake on and follow him.
Altaras had bolted down one of the narrow pedestrian streets in the dense network of shops and restaurants near the Fontaine des Innocents, and ahead he saw her turn into an even narrower one, an alley that several bars and small hotels backed onto. When he skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley, bewildered, she was halfway down it, fighting three large men.
No, not fighting, he decided, as Lael joined him. She was beating them -- thoroughly, efficiently, and without mercy. Lael tried to pull him back, but Michaelis has also seen something that put his heart in his throat.
"Help her," he ordered, shoving Lael ahead of him into the alley. "I'll get the child."
"The CHILD?" Lael demanded, but he was already surging forward to grab the nearest man, pulling him back in a chokehold so Altaras could twist away and knock one of the others to the ground, smacking him into the cobblestones with a thud.
In amongst the violence was a terrifyingly small body, a boy in a familiar maroon jacket, the uniform jacket of Institut Alpin. More terrifying still, the boy's pale face was familiar, too. He was trying to dodge around the fight to the only exit, but clearly scared out of his mind -- and then he saw Michaelis and took his chance, plunging through. Michaelis grabbed him and immediately pivoted, putting himself between the boy and the fight, but it was already ending. Lael had one man pinned to the ground under him, and the other two now lay unconscious at the feet of a bruised and bloody Georgie Altaras.
"Is he okay?" she called. Michaelis crouched in front of the bewildered eleven-year old.
"Are you all right, Hal?" he asked, and the boy burst into tears and threw his arms around Michaelis's neck. He seemed steady enough, tears aside.
"I think so," he told Altaras. Lael had his phone out, and sirens were sounding, distant but growing closer. "Where's your father?" he asked Hal, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face clean.
"He said I could get an ice cream," the boy stammered. "Then the men came out of nowhere -- "
"They were following him. I saw them," Altaras offered.
"Is she Wonder Woman?" Hal whispered. Michaelis smiled, relief replacing panic, and gave him a hug before standing.
"Ms. Altaras, this is Halley McAllister, the son of the friend I was going to meet for dinner. Hal, this is Georgie, she's a friend of mine. Who apparently has hidden depths, for a lawyer," he added drily.
***
The police weren't pleased by the young woman who had beaten two men unconscious or the momentarily abandoned car blocking traffic, but Michaelis showed them his ID and put on his most high-handed attitude as king, which convinced them to allow him to take Georgie and Hal down the block to the guesthouse with a single police escort while Lael dealt with the crime scene. Hal's father, having unwittingly lost his child and then received an alarming text from Michaelis that he was found, met them at the lobby, face ashen, and swept Hal into a worried hug. He followed in obedient shock as Michaelis collected a key card from the desk clerk and piloted them into his suite.
They managed to piece together at least some of what had happened, while the guesthouse's proprietor cleaned Georgie's knuckles and face with gauze and disinfectant. Olly -- Oliver McAllister, who had been a friend since they were dormitory mates at boarding school -- had been passing through Paris with Hal after picking him up from their alma mater, Institut Alpin, and when Michaelis had said he'd be in Paris the same evening, they'd arranged to meet up for dinner.
Arriving earlier than Michaelis, they'd gone out shopping, and Olly had stopped in one of the nearby shops, telling Hal that he could walk the scant block west to an ice cream stand, secure in the knowledge that the area was reasonably safe. Somewhere in that block, Hal had picked up a tail, and Georgie, idly staring out the car window, happened to notice it -- and noticed too when the men grabbed the boy and quietly, all but invisibly, pulled him down the alleyway, clearly meaning him some form of harm. So she'd gone after them, and apparently had some frustrations with the world she'd been eager to work out on deserving targets.
"I didn't think they taught unarmed combat in law school," Michaelis added, as messages began to come in on his phone from Lael.
"No, but krav maga is a great hobby for someone who is easily annoyed by it," Georgie replied.
"I can imagine," Michaelis said, scanning the messages. "Olly, you aren't in bed with organized crime, are you?"
"What? No!" Oliver said, then corrected, "Not that I know of. You get all kinds in finance, but I try to make sure nothing I do is illegal. Is that who they are?"
"Probably hired muscle, so says Lael," Michaelis said. "Just making sure you hadn't lost all good sense in the last few years. The one that's still conscious has some known organized crime tattoos, at least according to Lael. He's speaking French with a Spanish accent?"
"Ah. I might know who's behind it, then," Olly said, but didn't elaborate.
"Lael's on his way here now. He says Hal won't have to give a statement but we might. He'll have more for us in person, I'm sure," Michaelis said. "Halley, there's a bedroom with a television in it through there," he added, pointing to a door in the suite. "Why don't you rest for a little while and then we'll see about dinner?"
When the door was shut behind the boy, Michaelis turned back to Olly. "His mother?"
"I don't think of myself as a man who makes a lot of mistakes and I wouldn't give up Hal for anything, but marrying her was definitely not my finest moment," Olly said. "She's angry I got custody in the divorce and then sent him to boarding school. She says if he's going to live with strangers he might as well be with his mother instead."
"What did Hal think?"
"Of boarding school? He wanted to go -- half his friends were going. He was homesick the first week, but everyone is, you remember how it was, Imp. He's thriving there now." Olly sighed. "They probably weren't going to harm him -- just take him to her -- but I didn't think she'd do anything so risky. This is exactly why I wanted custody, she never thinks of him or his feelings! She thinks he's some kind of prize," he blurted, though he kept his voice low.
Georgie looked uncomfortable to be witnessing the discussion, and seemed about to excuse herself, but Lael arrived -- along with two police officers, who joined the one that had been standing guard outside their door with clear intentions not to leave. Lael caught Michaelis's eye; Michaelis glanced briefly at Georgie, tipping his head in a silent question, and Lael nodded.
"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.
"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look.
"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."
"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."
Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.
"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."
"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- "
"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."
"Just the facts?" she asked.
"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.
"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."
"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.
"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."
"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming.
"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."
"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension."
"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them.
"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert."
"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back.
"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael.
"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words."
"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think."
Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."
"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused. "She didn't introduce herself, I did that, and it sounds as though Olly knows exactly why poor Hal was grabbed off the street."
"Well, I'm going to check her background very thoroughly regardless. I've already sent an inquiry back to Palace research, they'll message me if they turn anything up."
"Fair enough," Michaelis replied. "I should probably call Gregory and let him know what's happened."
Gregory was predictably alarmed, even though Michaelis downplayed the seriousness of the situation and minimized his own participation in it. By the time he'd convinced his son it was nothing, and inquired about various issues he'd left for Gregory to handle in his absence, Lael had heard back from Palace research about Georgiana Altaras, a bright young woman from dairy country who had received a scholarship from the state to attend university and law school, not unusual for academically gifted Shivadh youngsters.
"No criminal record, no outstanding tickets or fines," Lael said, as Michaelis finished his coffee. "It seems she is as she appears."
"Good," Michaelis said, just as his phone buzzed with a text. Olly's name was on the ID.
Your Majesty, this is Georgiana. I didn't have your number. I don't want to leave Mr. McAllister and his son alone but the police have gone.
"Good instincts too," Lael said, when Michaelis showed him the message.
"Another few years and you might trust her not to kill me in the night?" Michaelis asked, amused. Thank you. Stay put, we'll come back.
She met them at the door of the suite; Olly was sitting with Hal at a desk under the windows in the living room, and the boy seemed in better spirits, playing idly on his phone.
"The police say they have what they need. The inspector gave me his card, and I wrote the case number on the back," she said, holding it out to Lael. "I cancelled the interview," she added to Michaelis.
"Very good. Did the police give you any trouble?"
"No, sire."
"They do tend to walk more softly when they see the royal papers," he said, then glanced past her to where Olly was watching them. "Can I infringe on your goodwill a little further? It's not a flattering request, but needs must."
"Well, you're now paying for my room," she said, with a small smile.
"The Turkish place I mentioned -- if you walk out of the guesthouse and turn left, at the end of the block turn left again and it's the second door on the right side of the street," he said, and saw Lael reach for his wallet to provide her with petty cash. "We'll want food for five -- whatever you like for yourself, plus lamb and beef kebab, hummus, pita, and some of the flatbreads they do -- at least one vegetarian. Baklava, too. And if you see any gelato on your way, some of that for the boy. There are drinks in the icebox here, no need to buy those."
She nodded, accepting the cash from Lael, and left. Lael took up a position near the door; Olly stood, saying something to his son.
"Olly, I need to unpack -- come, keep me company," Michaelis said, ducking into the bedroom. Oliver joined him, leaning against the wall as he opened his suitcase and began shifting clothing into the wardrobe in the corner.
"Just like boarding school," Olly said. "Gossipping about what we got up to over the summer hols while we moved back into the dorm. You're in Paris for a while, aren't you?"
"Ten days or so. Gregory made it clear he felt a vacation was overdue, so I'm here ahead of some work next week." He held up his royal uniform jacket briefly, Exhibit A, then hung it in the wardrobe. "I've sent Georgiana to get dinner, by the way -- wasn't sure you'd want to go out, all things considered."
"Thank you. I doubt anyone's going to make another try for Hal but..."
"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to bolt from Paris entirely. If someone tried to snatch Gregory when he was Hal's age, I'd be in a state."
"Believe it or not, it helps to know it was probably my ex. She wouldn't hurt him. She just...isn't good for him. And she keeps trying to convince me he shouldn't spend time with his brothers."
"Why on earth? Your boys aren't particularly bad influences, are they? Gregory was friends with Will at school, if I recall."
"No, they're good lads. They like Hal, so they want to set good examples for him. I think she just doesn't like the idea that he has family, that she's not his whole world."
"You did pick a winner, Ol."
"Well, we can't all be as lucky as you," Olly said, and then made a shocked noise. "Imp, I'm sorry, I forgot -- "
"It's fine," Michaelis said, although there was a brief stab of pain through the careful numbness he'd cultivated around Miranda's loss. "I know how lucky I was to have her when I did. Do you suppose this might be the impetus to get yourself full custody?"
"If they can trace the kidnapping back to her, perhaps -- they'd have to arrest her, I think, and perhaps for the best. But it happened here in Paris and our divorce decree is in the UK, and she lives in Spain. And it's not like a legal decree saying she can't see him is going to prevent her from trying this kind of stunt, clearly. No, I'll have to..." he sighed. "Well, I'll find some kind of leverage. You know I don't like playing dirty pool -- "
Michaelis raised an eyebrow at him.
"Fine, I love playing dirty pool, but I try not to do it, because it's unethical and never as fun as I think it'll be," Olly admitted. "Still, don't you think a bit might be justified in this case?"
"She moved it firmly out of the realm of the legal," Michaelis allowed. "Beyond that I'm on tricky ground myself if I advise you. And obviously if she turns up dead in the next few months I'm not going to keep my suspicions to myself, even for you."
Olly chuckled. "I'm not going to have her murdered. Dirty pool and evil are two different things. Perhaps some compromise over the school thing. Some parents do move up near the school for the spring term. If I got her a chalet near the school, she might calm down. Hal won't like it, but there are worse fates than having your mum live in the same town you're boarding in."
"Seems like a reward for bad behavior, but...well, perhaps she just misses her son," Michaelis replied. "I missed Gregory when he was at school. And his cousins too, being honest."
"How are they?" Olly asked. Michaelis suspected he was deliberately moving the topic away from his youngest son and his wayward ex-wife, but that might be for the best.
"Gregory's thriving -- not quite ready for the big job yet, but he'll get there. Alanna has a job with the palace now as well; I think if Gregory is elected, she'll end up running operations or similar. She has a knack for herding cats. Gerald..." Michaelis sighed. "Well, he's always been wilder. As far as I know he's fine, and he's come running the few times Gregory's called him, but I do worry for that one."
"Sowing his wild oats, perhaps. I was the same after school."
"It's been eight years since he left school. I wish he'd start reaping soon but I'm worried what'll turn up if he does. Still, not my place, and his mother isn't worried, so I suppose I shouldn't fret. He takes after Eitan, and Eitan never got so deep in trouble he couldn't get out again."
"Strange to be old," Olly said quietly. Michaelis glanced at him. "I know, we're only fifty-four, but...you lose your parents, and then you start to feel like you're losing your kids -- I've a son in the family business same as you do, but the other one's looking at art schools, of all things, and Hal's growing like a weed. I've two ex-wives, and a girlfriend who has grown children of her own. It feels like it all just sort of piles up in one's arms."
"I suppose. I haven't thought about it much. Always something more important to deal with," Michaelis said. He had been actively not thinking about it for years -- about losing Eitan, and then Miranda, and his own fears for a very solitary future. Time enough to worry about that once he'd retired, and that was still years off. "I think you've also had a very long day, Olly. Maybe not the best moment for introspection."
"Certainly I'm not making any big decisions tonight," Olly agreed. There was a beep and the click of the door opening from the other room, and then Lael called out.
"Dinner, Mr. McAllister, your majesty!"
"We'll all be better for a meal, and then I'll have Lael take you back to your hotel," Michaelis said, rubbing his hands. "Lael, Georgie, come eat with us. Hal, would you like flatbread or kebab?"
"They also had potato borek," Georgie said, unpacking paper cartons of food onto the dining table. "And I've put the gelato in the icebox for after dinner."
They ate quietly; Hal seemed to have recovered and now had the ravenous appetite of childhood. Olly clearly had a lot to consider and was focusing on that. Michaelis saw Georgie glancing at Lael from time to time, taking cues from him about how to handle dinner with the king as someone who wasn't an employee but wasn't exactly a guest, either.
Once Hal had finished his gelato, Lael started gently moving them towards the door. Olly seemed glad of the hint.
"Let me know when you arrive in London," Michaelis said, as they prepared to go. "And of course if you need anything..."
"Thanks again, Imp," Olly said, ruffling Hal's hair. "Say goodbye to His Majesty, Hal."
"Bye, Michaelis. Thank you," Hal murmured. "Say hi to Gregory from me."
"I will. Nice to see you again," Michaelis told the boy. "Next time under happier circumstances, eh?"
When they were gone, trailed by Lael, Michaelis settled on the couch. Georgie hovered uncertainly by the remains of the dinner.
"Leave it for a moment. Come and sit. Lael will be furious if I send you off before he comes back, but nobody's going to try and assassinate me between now and then, so we may as well relax," he said, as Georgie sat in the armchair nearby. "He agrees we should make you an offer of a job, and you seem amenable, but I may have been a little...forceful about my offer. Parliament generally needs a strong hand, and I forget that individual people don't. I didn't mean to intimidate you -- I want it made clear you can say no to the job offer. There won't be consequences if you do."
"I -- no, that was fine -- I was looking for an excuse to skip on the London interview," she blurted. He smiled.
"Believe it or not, I know that sensation. Well, let's see. Lael says you have a clean basic background check, though he will suspect you of being a spy for, oh, the next year or so. Don't take it personally. Paranoia is part of his job. And will be part of yours, if you train with him."
"I can't blame him," she replied. "In his shoes I'd suspect me too."
"As you said, if you wanted me dead I'd be dead already."
"Doesn't that worry you?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows. "I was born and raised in Askazer-Shivadlakia, and you've been king my whole life, but surely if you're looking for a new bodyguard you want someone you know, someone whose loyalty is more complete?"
He regarded her. "Someone who would give their life for mine, say?"
"Dramatic as it sounds, yes."
"No. Not that I want to die, I very much like being alive, but I'm not interested in a self-sacrificing romantic for an employee. Clearly you have some training in the kind of skill that a security agent requires, but I don't have a shortage of people who can throw a punch. What I want is intelligence and initiative -- forethought, self-awareness, and a willingness to speak up when needed. You managed to cram all of that into about thirty seconds today."
She seemed confused. "I just picked a fight with some guys who were going to hurt someone. Someone you knew."
"From your point of view, perhaps. But you didn't know I knew Hal. What you saw was a child in danger and rather than worry about the fact that you would be upsetting my afternoon and possibly offending your king, you ordered Lael to stop the car, pulled three grown men away from the boy long enough for someone else to get him to safety, and clearly gave no thought at all to what anyone would think of you for doing that. Commendable," he added. "I don't want your loyalty, Georgie, beyond what you owe the country as a citizen, and I don't particularly need your muscle. But my son will likely be king after me and I want someone who will learn enough now that they can be for him what Lael is for me. Or, honestly, whoever follows me if for some reason he chooses not to."
"Even then?"
"I'm not king because I wanted my son to be king. I'm king because I care about the country. That includes the kings to come, whatever relationship they might have to me. I should care about their competence and safety as if they were my children."
She studied him, and as he had sometimes in his long career as king, he wondered what he seemed like to her. It was difficult to know how regular people thought of him, sometimes.
"Okay," she said. "When do I start?"
"You haven't even heard the offer yet," he pointed out.
"Doesn't really matter. Everyone knows the palace pays well, and you're already offering me more than any law firm has."
"Oh?"
"I don't know if you understand how incredibly rare it is to get a job offer based specifically on a lack of fucks to give about one's employer," she said. "I'll take a pay cut if it means I don't get micromanaged into oblivion. And Prince Gregory is gay."
He blinked. "What does that have to do with it?"
"So am I. It means something. That he's out. And that you didn't flinch about it."
He had. He wasn't proud of it and it had been in private but when Gregory had told him, he hadn't handled it all that well at first. Still, she had a point, that it wasn't as if he'd disowned him. He'd adjusted, because he loved his son and was only scared about what the world would do to him for being different. And apparently his private concerns had remained private. Well, good.
"It's no business of the palace," he said.
"Maybe not, but not every government would agree," she pointed out. "And you didn't flinch just now when I said I was, either."
"No reason to," he said. "Well, that's good. When Lael returns, you and he can discuss the particulars. We'll have your room here transferred to the palace account; you can get petty cash from Lael for your food, or keep your receipts and be reimbursed when we're home. I'm in Paris for some time, but if you'd like to return sooner, we can arrange the ticket. Did you have any questions?"
"Do you hire all your staff this way?" she asked. He laughed.
"Not many. But I suspect the lot of the Palace security office is to lead very interesting lives," he told her. "Get used to it."
"Looking forward to it. Did you need anything else, sire?"
"Not a thing. I'm going to finish unpacking and settle in with a book. Entertain yourself if you like."
He'd brought two books with him, and when he unpacked them he did sit down on the bed, just intending to read for a moment -- then got pulled in, so that forty minutes later he looked up to see Lael in the doorway.
"Olly and Hal safely delivered?" he asked.
"Yes, and there's a police guard on the hotel tonight. I gave Mr. McAllister the number of a private security coordinator here in Paris if he wants someone for the trip home."
"Thoughtful of you. Has Georgie left?"
"Up to her room. I gave her the paperwork to go over. Just thought I'd see if you needed anything else from me."
"Remind me of tomorrow's agenda?"
"Breakfast here, then morning social visits, nothing especially sensitive," Lael said. "Some free time after lunch, and a swimming party at the Piscine Molitor before dinner."
"Mm, at the invitation of the contessa, who is still angling to be the next queen of Askazer-Shivadlakia. Well, the exercise will do me good. Thank you, that'll be all."
"Sleep well, your Majesty."
"And you," Michaelis said, but he sat up reading a while longer, turning the day's misadventure over in his mind.
He got the postcard a few days later, when he was still in Paris; it was sent care of the guesthouse, and showed a pretty, if generic, London skyline. The back informed him that they'd made it home safely and thanked him again, promising that Olly owed him one. He doubted Olly would ever be in a position to rescue his son from kidnapping in return, but he supposed one never knew.