Rupert stands and holds out his arm for Dora. I stand and raise my arm for Gwendolyn who gives me a toothy grimace I suppose she means to be ingratiating. She lifts her right hand and gestures several times and then tilts her head back toward the table.

I give a half turn and proffer my free arm to Victoria. Bishop pulls back her chair and Victoria reaches out and drags herself up on my arm, "Why th-thank you your high high highness."

I walk into the parlor with as much decorum as I can muster with two strange females upon each arm.

"Oh, isn't this divine. I see you have a pianoforte." Gwendolyn says.

"Do you sing, King Peter?"

"Not very well."

"That is divine. You and my Toni must sing a duet."

King Peter draws in a big breath, ready to refuse but looks at Prince Rupert who has his head forward, eyebrows lifted to the point where they seem to want to merge with his hairline. His hands lift up in a silent imploring gesture.

King Peter's shoulders drop and his breath comes out in a long suffering sigh.

"It would be my pleasure." I signal Bishop to make that a very strong brandy with a twitch of my jaw and a stabbing glare.

There they are, singing. His voice is a strong baritone, full bodied and measured. Her soprano is a bit forced. Alto would be a more suitable range. What she lacks in modulation she more than makes up for in diligence.

Cyndi barges in and makes quick hand motions to Charlotte. There is no need to do this soundlessly since the double doors suddenly swing open wide and the heavy echo of brass door handles smacking mahogany wainscoting reverberates through the room.

Gwendolyn's hands skitter across the keyboard and then her next chord is misplaced. Dissonance, Tori frowns but her voice follows the downward sweep over the keys and accurately hits the misplaced notes. Toni may be relied upon for her ability to mimic pitch, as well as follow her mother's instructions.

The sound is ghastly. Rupert only has eyes for Dora and he is oblivious to everything else. Charlotte covers her ears. Dowager Margaret was dozing off and comes awake with a start. Her needle hidden beneath the heavy linen suddenly pokes through into her index finger, "Oh, hell," she exclaims. I take a large swallow of brandy.

Gwendolyn raises her voice, "Look what you made me do. Must you ruin everything by being here?"

"I am sorry, step-mother. I have only come to remind Charlotte of her bedtime."

"Very well. Both of you, leave. Damage is done."

Cyndi stands stock still and looks around the room. I catch her eyes and she juts out her chin and frowns. Just so. She turns on her heels and marches out the door.

"Good night, my child," my grandmother calls after Charlotte and then stuffs her index finger into her mouth.

"Excuse me, I have business to finish." I bow to Victoria and then to Gwendolyn. Leaving the room I glance over to Rupert with an intent to hit him squarely with a red hot poker which I intend to blast from my eyes. But he seems not to notice time or sound or place. There is only Dora.

Gods. Love is blind. I make a silent prayer for our kingdom that I may never be tempted by the false appeal of the heart. I had witnessed first hand what others do and say and the fools they become in the name of love. May it never provoke me.

* * *

It is later, when my body lays beneath comforters and my head atop rabbit filled pillows, that the scene in the parlor comes back to me. Even gulping stiff brandy between verses could not dull the irritation and assault upon my senses. I had been party to a common entertainment act, much like being the monkey to the organ grinder. Nothing could wipe that memory from my mind. Except then Cyndi blew in like a cold wind from the north, skittering the needle across the groves of the record, making such a welcome racket that brought the fiasco to a close. I felt such unexpected gratefulness for her sudden presence.

I had grown cold and distant as though the scene played out far below as though I was a balloon, somehow tethered to the spot but there was no one holding the string. Her sudden presence had the effect of placing me into my body. I felt a rush of heat in my loins and the full weight of my body on my feet. I wasn't rooted to the spot with that weight but had the feeling I could have rushed over to her or at least slammed the cover on the keyboard upon her step-mother's fingers. For now I heard the desperation in Victoria's voice, for being forced to follow her mother's insistent notes as she banged out the keys with the intention of a dilettante.

I even got a glimpse into my brother's heart. How it swelled with pride and he glowed with such obvious well-being. I felt a pang of jealousy for Rupert's gift of the common touch, the ease in which he mingled and merged with nearly anyone.

These thoughts were foreign. The thoughts of a long and uncomfortable day. Tomorrow things would be set right and return to normal. This was only a moment of sentimentality brought on by fatigue. The King hasn't the luxury of being swayed by his subjects. He must stand fast and anchor the kingdom. Yes. Fatigue and brandy sunk me suddenly into the dark legions of sleep.