We had all jumped a little and turned to see the Prince of Wales, looking tanned and handsome, striding in with Eleanor on his arm. The hush that blanketed the room was nearly palpable, as the band whipped up “God Save the Queen” as a sign of respect. Even in a non-Commonwealth country, as guests of another monarchy, Eleanor carried a special kind of majesty and gravitas—and incited genuine deference, even from other rulers. She’d been queen for as long as nearly everyone in this room could remember, and I think she represented, to them, the best of what our lives as royals could be: devoted to service, beloved by country, and a living symbol of history.

“I don’t envy them,” Elizabeth had said to me, nodding at Richard and Eleanor. “Everyone wants their ear. No room for an extra tipple or a spot of mischief in a dark corner.” She smirked. “Eddybear would burst if we couldn’t steal away for a snog. Oh, look, he’s already giving me the tug on the ear. No rest for the wicked.”

Once she flitted off, I sidled to the bar and sucked down a very large glass of ice water, and took stock of the rest of the party. It was nice not to be the center of attention for once; lurking at the bar, people-watching, I felt like the old Bex for a flash, although she probably would have been drinking a beer. Nick was stuck in a conversation with a clutch of diplomats, but when he spied me eyeballing him, he winked. Across the room, Daphne glowed in an orange silk dress and diamond hair combs, with no outward trace of the nervous woman she’d once been. But the way Freddie kept her so close, a protective hand on her at all times, looked more like a bodyguard than a doting bridegroom. Eleanor’s voice floated into my head, reminding me that love doesn’t look the same for every two people, so I blinked my inner cynic away and squeezed through the crowd to the nearest bathroom. It was occupied. I eased myself into a brocade chair in the hallway and waited.

“Bex!” came Daphne’s voice as she rounded the corner into view. “Is everything all right? Are you feeling well?”

I gestured at the closed door, which now was rattling in such a manner that I suspected Elizabeth and Edwin were the occupants. “I’m waiting for the restroom. My bladder is the size of a pea lately. I think one of the twins is using it as a pillow.”

Daphne frowned at the door, then took my hand and helped me stand. “You forget, this is technically one of my houses,” she said.

I followed her down the hallway, past the room where the party was, and up a winding back staircase.

“I hope I don’t get stuck in here,” I joked as I carefully navigated the narrow turns.