LITMIR.BIZ

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not sure how much you know already,’ Erhard said. ‘I’ve talked the situation through with Nick this week, and I did outline this in the letter, but maybe I need to start at the beginning.’

      ‘Go ahead,’ Rose said, sipping some more champagne and smiling. It was an amazing smile. Stunning.

      Nick was stunned.

      Erhard cast him an amused glance. He was an astute man, was Erhard. The more Nick knew him, the more he respected him. Maybe he should look away from Rose. Maybe what he was thinking was showing in his face.

      What the heck? Not to look would be criminal.

      ‘I’m not sure if you know the history of Alp de Montez,’ Erhard was saying, smiling between the pair of them. ‘Let me give you a thumb sketch. Back in the sixteenth century, a king had five sons. The boys grew up warring, and the old king thought he’d pre-empt trouble. He carved four countries from his border, and told his younger sons that the cost of their own principality was lifelong allegiance to their oldest brother.

      ‘But granting whole countries to warlike men is hardly a guarantee of wise rule. The princes and their descendants brought four wonderful countries to the brink of ruin.’

      ‘But two are recovering,’ Nick said, and Erhard nodded.

      ‘Yes. Two are moving towards democracy, albeit with their sovereigns still in place. Of the remaining two, Alp de Montez seems the worst off. The old Prince—your mutual grandfather—left control more and more in the hands of the tiny council running the place. The chief of council is Jacques St. Ives, and he’s had almost complete control for years. But the situation is dire. Taxes are through the roof. The country’s on the brink of bankruptcy, and people are leaving in the thousands.’

      ‘Where do you come into this?’ Nick asked curiously. He knew much of this, and not all of it was second hand. Several years ago, curious about the country where his mother had been raised, he’d spent a week touring the place. What he’d seen had horrified him.

      ‘I’ve been an aide to the old Prince for many years,’ Erhard said sadly. ‘As he lost his health, I watched the power shift to Jacques. And then there were the deaths,’

      ‘Deaths?’ Rose asked.

      ‘There have been many,’ Erhard told her. ‘The old Crown Prince died last year. He had four sons, and then a daughter. You’d think with five children there’d be someone to inherit, but, in order of succession, Gilen died young in a skiing accident, leaving no children. Gottfried died of a drug overdose when he was nineteen. Keifer drank himself to death, and Keifer’s only son Konrad died in a car crash two weeks ago. Rose, your father Eric died four years back, and Nick, your mother Zia, the youngest of the five children, is also dead. Which leaves three grandchildren. Eric’s daughters—you, Rose, and your sister Julianna—are now first and second in line for the throne. You, Nikolai, are third.’

      ‘Did you know all this?’ Nick asked Rose, and she shook her head.

      ‘I knew my father was dead, but I didn’t know any of the ascendancy stuff until I had Erhard’s letter. My mother and I left Alp de Montez when I was fifteen. Have you ever been there?’

      ‘I skied there once,’ Nick admitted.

      ‘Does that mean you can inherit the throne?’ she asked, smiling. ‘Because you skied there?’

      ‘It almost comes down to that,’ Erhard said, and Nick had to stop smiling at Rose for a minute and look serious. Which was really hard. He was starting to feel like a moonstruck teenager, and he’d only had half a beer. Maybe he’d better switch to mineral water like Erhard.

      But, regardless of what he was feeling, Erhard was moving on. ‘We need a sovereign,’ he said. ‘The constitution of the Alp countries means no change can take place without the overarching approval of the Crown. I’d love to see the place as a democracy, but that’s only going to happen with royal approval.’

      ‘Which would be where we come in, I guess,’ Rose said. ‘Your letter said you needed me.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘But I’m not a real royal. Eric really wasn’t my father.’ She touched her flame-coloured hair and winced in rueful remembrance. ‘Surely you remember the fuss, Erhard? Eric called my mother a whore and kicked her out of the country.’

      ‘Not until you were fifteen. And you went with her,’ Erhard said softly.

      ‘There wasn’t a lot of choice.’ She shrugged. ‘My sister—my half-sister—wanted to stay in the palace, but my mother was being cut off with nothing. There wasn’t a lot of love lost between me and Julianna even then. My sister was jealous of me, and my father hated my hair. No. That’s putting it too nicely. My father hated me. I had no place there.’

      ‘He acknowledged you as his daughter until you were fifteen,’ Erhard said. ‘Yes, there was general consensus that you weren’t his, but the people felt sorry for your mother, and they loved you.’

      ‘And my grandfather wanted my mother in the castle,’ Rose said bluntly. ‘My grandfather didn’t care about the scandal which had produced me. He knew his son was a womaniser, and he knew my mother’s affair happened through loneliness. My mother was kind, in a family where kind was hard to get. It was only after Grandfather became so ill, and he wasn’t noticing, that my father was able to send her away.’

      ‘To nothing,’ Erhard said bleakly. ‘To no support.’

      ‘We didn’t care,’ Rose said, sounding defiant. ‘At least…it would have been nice at the end, but we got by.’

      ‘So you left the throne for Julianna.’

      ‘I didn’t,’ Rose said, sounding annoyed. ‘My mother and I assumed Keifer and then Konrad would inherit. We weren’t to know they’d die young.’

      ‘So you’ve never officially removed yourself from the succession?’

      ‘I didn’t think I had to. If I’m not real royalty…’

      ‘You are real royalty,’ Erhard said, emphatic. ‘You were born within a royal marriage.’

      ‘I have red hair. No one in my extended family has red hair. And my mother admitted—’

      ‘Your mother admitted nothing on paper.’

      ‘But DNA…’

      ‘If DNA testing were done, half the royal families of Europe would crumble,’ Erhard told her. ‘Your mother married young into a loveless marriage, but such things aren’t unusual. Your parents are dead. There’s no proof of anything.’

      ‘Julianna looks royal.’

      ‘You think?’ Erhard asked, with a wry smile. ‘There’s no proof of that either, and no one dare suggest DNA. So we turn to the lawyers. There’s an international jurisdiction—legal experts chosen for impartiality—set up by the four Alp principalities for just this eventuality. They decide who has best right to the crown. Rose, I told you in the letter, Julianna has married Jacques St. Ives and they’re making a solid play for the crown. Their justification is that Julianna is the only one of the three of you who lives in the country, and moreover she’s married to a citizen who cares about the place. You, Rose, walked away almost fifteen years ago. Regardless of your birth, your absence by choice sits as an implacable obstacle. The panel will decide in Julianna’s favour, unless they’re given an alternative.’

      He hesitated. He looked as if he didn’t want to continue—but it had to be said, and they all knew it. ‘Rose, if there are questions about your parentage there are also questions about Julianna’s,’ he said softly. ‘Regardless of DNA testing, the panel acknowledge that. Your parents’ marriage was hardly happy. You remain the oldest. And behind you both there’s Nikolai, whose mother was definitely royal. I’ve thought and thought of this. The only way forward is for the two of you to present as one. Together you must

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