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“I did my research,” Rebecca continued. “She’s a reporter forThe New York Courier.”

“IreadThe Courier.”

“Yes, Ma’am. As do a lot of people in St. Rais. When I spoke with her, I didn’t get the feeling that she would portray you in a negative light, would insert her own opinion, or that she would cause us any problems.”

“What’s her name?” Elizabeth asked, now curious.

“Palmer Honeycutt. She was born in Pennsylvania; the daughter of a high school teacher, and her mother owns a small restaurant in Pittsburgh. She went to New York University, majoring in journalism. I’ve emailed you some of her articles from college and added a fewCourierlinks as well. She seems like an ethical, fair journalist, Ma’am.”

“You want me to talk to her?”

“She only asked me to give you the choice. She said she’d let us review her questions in advance and that she wouldn’t record you if that would be a problem.”

“What’s in it for us, Rebecca? She gets her story. What do we get out of it?”

“I think she’d give you a real chance to tellyourstory, Ma’am. She seemed genuine to me. She was here on vacation when the bombing happened. I don’t think this was something she planned on doing, and her paper didn’t send her here. She just happened to be in the country already.”

Elizabeth sighed and said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve done an interview, and I wasn’t Queen then.”

“We’ve been receiving requests left and right for your first interview as Queen.Thisis an article. It could be a nice warm-up for a TV interview or your Christmas address to the nation if you don’t do a TV interview prior to that.”

“I’d forgotten all about that,” Elizabeth said, closing her eyes.

“Maybe just read through her articles. If you’re interested after that, let me know. I have her business card. I can handle the arrangements.”

“What about the other arrangements you were working on for me?”

“Security said they’ve checked out the house, and the press hasn’t been around much recently since you’re here at the palace. They believe that if we can get you out of the palace at night unnoticed, you could have some privacy there. But they’ll only agree if you promise not to leave the house until you’re ready to return to the palace.”

“That’s fine.” She nodded.

“I’ll make the arrangements. Are you thinking a long weekend?”

“That would be perfect,” Elizabeth replied, smiling at her secretary. “Thank you, Rebecca.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

After Rebecca left her alone in her office, Elizabeth moved behind her desk. She had hardly used this desk in her lifetime. It had been a gift from her mother when she’d turned sixteen, but she preferred a relaxed environment when she studied, so she’d chosen to sit in front of her fireplace with her books back then. Now, she was Queen of a nation, but she couldn’t actually find it in herself to move her stuff into her father’s old office or suite of rooms in the palace, which many people here had asked her to do. It was the custom of the new monarch to sit behind the same desk as the old monarch and to sleep in the same bedroom. It also wasn’tjustthe custom. It was for security reasons as well: there were secret exits and entrances in those rooms, allowing the monarch to be safely moved when needed.

Elizabeth needed more time, though. Until then, she was perfectly safe in her old rooms. In fact, she might even be safer since many people would have assumed she’d moved already. She opened her computer, clicked on Rebecca’s email, and proceeded to the first link. She read article after article from Palmer Honeycutt’s college years. Then, she moved on to the puff pieces fromThe Courier. Eventually, she clicked on Palmer’s biography and saw her professional headshot. Palmer Honeycutt was younger than Elizabeth had expected. She might be thirty years old, but could be a few years younger. She had short brown hair that nearly met her shoulders and some pretty deep brown eyes. Her smile seemed genuine, though posed, but Elizabeth found herself smiling at the photo.

“She’s beautiful,” she said to herself.

She leaned back in her comfortable desk chair and thought about whether or not she was ready to subject herself to a reporter; to an article that may or may not paint her positively. That would be the risk she’d face if she chose to sit down with Miss Honeycutt. Actually, maybe she was aMrs.Honeycutt. Who knows? The photo had only been from the shoulders up, so there was no way to see a ring or its absence. Surely, a beautiful and successful woman like Palmer Honeycutt was married by now. Elizabeth squinted at herself, wondering why she was thinking about the marital status of a reporter she’d never met.

CHAPTER 6

“Got anything yet?”

“Not enough,” Palmer replied, sipping on her white wine at the hotel bar as she spoke to her editor on the phone.

“What’s the angle?”

“I’m planning something about the new Queen, but I need to get to her first. I had a meeting the other day with someone who works at the palace. She said she’d get my card to someone close to the Queen. I’m still waiting.”

“I know you, Palmer. You’re notjustwaiting. What else you got?” he pressed.

“I’ve got a pro versus anti-monarchy thing, but I’d prefer that be on the side, not the main course.”