Alex’s expression flattened. “I am not defecting,” she said. “I am attempting to spend five minutes alone with my wife without someone bursting in yelling about poultry.”
Erin stared determinedly at a point somewhere above everyone’s heads, as if she could wish herself into another dimension.
“It’s not about poultry,” Vic said, sounding personally affronted. “It’s about structure.”
“Structure,” Alex repeated. “Like… bones. Or the constitution. Or perhaps the scaffolding of your psyche.”
“Yes,” Vic said. “All of those. And right now the scaffolding is under serious strain, so we need everyone—everyone”—she stabbed the air with her pen for emphasis—“to stick to the plan.”
Julia saw the muscle jump in Alex’s jaw. She knew that look. It was the one that meant I am being polite only because there are witnesses. The one where she swallowed herself down to be the Queen everyone expected her to be. She wasn’t always like this with Vic. Sometimes she snapped at Vic. Their bond went way back and they often behaved like sisters.
“The plan,” Alex said carefully, “is… flexible.”
Unfortunately Vic wasn’t registering Alex’s needs. Vic as Vic often did was fixating on something else.
“Not this part,” Vic said. “We are at T-minus twenty-four hours to Christmas and the margin for error is zero. If you two start sneaking off-script, someone is going to set something on fire.”
“That’s… not how causality works,” Julia said.
“Tell that to the snow,” Vic shot back.
“Mummy J?” Hyz tugged on her sleeve again. “Did I do something wrong?”
Julia crouched automatically, bringing herself level with her daughter. Hyzenthlay’s hazel eyes were wide, earnest, with that faint crease between her brows that always made Julia want to smooth it away.
“No, sweetheart,” she said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re trying to help.”
“I’m making sure Mummy’s rules are followed,” Hyz said. “She said it was ‘mission critical.’”
“Of course she did,” Julia murmured.
She stroked a hand through Hyz’s hair. “We also have another mission,” she said softly. “Operation: Don’t Drive Auntie Alex crazy. It involves being… selective about what we announce.”
Hyzzie frowned. “But secrets cause problems,” she said. “You said we should talk about things.”
“In general, yes,” Julia said. “But sometimes adults need a little privacy for… grown-up conversations. It doesn’t mean they’re hiding anything bad. It just means they need time to be… themselves.”
“Like when you and Mummy go to your room and tell me not to come in until you say?” Hyz asked. “And then you come out with messy hair and happy faces?”
Julia nearly inhaled a bauble.
“Something like that,” she managed, face heating. “Yes.”
Hyzzie considered this. “So I should not report those,” she concluded.
“That would be… ideal,” Julia said.
“Okay,” Hyz said. “I will add it to my internal rules.”
“Bless you, sweetheart,” Julia murmured.
By the time she straightened, Alex’s chance had evaporated.
The equerry had found his courage and stepped forward, brandishing the tablet again. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry, but we really do need your decisions on these last two options for the Christmas message subtitles.”
“Of course you do,” Alex said, with a sweetness that made Julia’s spine tingle in sympathy. “Bring me your subtitles, James. Let us prioritise subtitles over my marriage.”
She caught Erin’s eye, a flicker of apology and longingpassing between them, and then she let herself be pulled back toward the sofa, the children, the responsibilities.
