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“What are we doing?”  Rensa thought that Yannic was being deliberately mysterious for the fun of it.  Having been married to him for almost a week, and after living with him for that time, she could believe that he was capable of that.  She hadn’t had much choice in marrying him of course but Kiriel had and, all in all, Rensa was of the opinion that on that point Kiriel’s head had been firmly screwed onto her shoulders.  Yannic, well being married to Yannic seemed to be rather nice.  But he was still being mysterious.  “Where are you taking me?”

“You could say we’re helping Bannoc win a bet,” he smiled at her conspiratorially.  “We just have to collect my mother and aunt, and then we can be on our way.”

“Are they expecting us?”  Rensa was hoping Tyrren and her sister knew more about this than she did.

“No.  If they’re expecting us, they might not co-operate.  The less the three of you know…,” he trailed off deliberately.

“You’re teasing me!”

“It’s the expression you get just as you realise that,” he smiled then added, “and I’ve told you what that makes me think.”  She dimpled and there was a private moment of warm looks and smiles.  “Parents.  Must collect parents!”  He led her in the direction of the guest rooms again.

“Parents, plural?  Is this something about Mirren?”  Rensa was trotting to keep up, Yannic had longer legs and was much fitter.

“I’ve said enough, come on.”  He hurried along and she couldn’t get anything more out of him until they reached the guest quarters.  There he frankly smoodged his mother and aunt into coming with them and led on towards the public rooms of the palace.

“I know you’re up to something,” his mother shook her head, “and I’m only coming to find out what it is, you understand?”

“Just as long as you come,” was all he said.

When Yannic opened the door Tyrren’s comment was, “Oh?”

Her sister followed her into the room and asked, “Where’s Mirren?  She must be the only one not here.”  Rensa and Yannic followed them into one of the reception rooms.  All of Yannic’s family was there plus a number of Yannic’s friends including brave Kolloc of the fussy plans who was wearing a close coms headset.  In the centre of the room was a pantu rug, the registration book on its stand and a Registrar.

Kolloc said something into his mouth piece and a few moments later the door on the opposite side of the room opened and Bannoc and Mirren entered with Mirren saying, “And why are you wearing that earpiece?  Are you-.”  She stopped as she realised they weren’t alone.  “What?”

“You said that if I got your family together and organised everything we could get betrothed now.”

Mirren’s face worked for a moment and a tear leaked down her face.  “I didn’t believe,” the tears were streaming down her face now, “I didn’t believe,” then she threw her arms around the puzzled Bannoc and buried her face in his chest, “that you really meant it.”

He put his arms around her and looked confused.

Rensa’s next few days passed in consideration of healthy eating and moderate exercise plus dress and shoe fittings. Several establishments whose doors they had not been permitted to enter had contacted the Palace attempting to arrange private showings for the Princess. Mirren and Rensa took a small guilty pleasure in drafting a perfectly polite, unexceptional and bland note that said:

Thank you for your interest, however Her Highness has satisfied her expected clothing requirements for the coming period and committed her budget.

Your note will be kept on file for consideration during Her Highness’ preparations for future periods.

Their satisfied contemplation of this missive was interrupted by the arrival of Tuluc and a fussy man called Kolloc. Rensa had encountered him on her second visit to Yannic’s office where he had been complicating the lives of Yannic’s secretaries.

“We’ve come to see you about the Montjoy commemoration,” began Tuluc.

“Here’s your schedule,” put in Kolloc, “As you can see you’ll be travelling there the night before by train. The ceremony is the next day followed by a visit to the burial grounds for private commemoration in the afternoon. You will be part of the official party but you are not required to do anything but be present.”

Rensa scanned the schedule. “These speeches,” she tapped the ceremony part of the schedule, “What are they about? What tone will they take?”

“What does that matter?” asked Kolloc perplexedly, “You just have to turn up, stand and sit when you’re told to and listen.”

“And approve the proceedings by my attendance,” added Rensa smoothly. “If the intention of the ceremony or any of the speakers is to demonise the members of my family or the government employees who also died at Montjoy, then I will not attend or I will walk out. You understand that when finalising your arrangements, Master Kolloc. Additionally,” she went on, “You will arrange things so that your grandmother and her friends will have no reason to gossip about the Emperor’s betrothed attending his commemoration of his wife’s death.”

Mirren looked over her shoulder then added, “Your program could be better worded, Kolloc.”

Tuluc, who’d been watching Rensa’s face asked shrewdly, “Who of yours died at Montjoy, Your Highness?”

“My father,” a tear slid over the end of the slash of colour under her eye, “My best friend, one of my first cousins and the man my family had just decided I would marry.”

Kolloc was trying to splutter something. Mirren wrapped a concerned arm around her charge’s shoulder. Tuluc spoke firmly, “Kolloc, it seems to me that the line we want to take here is His Majesty and Her Highness providing mutual support on a difficult day for both of them, and for everyone else who lost loved ones there.” He stood up. “Come along Kolloc, we have some people to talk to.” He bowed, “Ladies,” and dragged Kolloc out of the room.