“You’re probably right… for now,” Descroix replied. “On the other hand, I wasn’t thinking about right this minute, or even any time in the next several months or even the next few years. But let’s face it, Michael. You and I both know that eventually there’s going to be a change of governments.”

“Cromarty hung on to the premiership for the better part of sixty T-years with only three interruptions,” High Ridge pointed out just a bit stiffly.

“And he had the enthusiastic support of the Crown the entire time. A happy state of affairs which,” Descroix observed dryly, “scarcely obtains in our own case.”

“If the approval of the Crown were critical to the survival of a government, we’d never have been permitted to form one in the first place!” High Ridge shot back.

“Of course we wouldn’t have. But that’s not really the point, is it? However temperamental the Queen may be, she’s also an astute political observer, and she was right. Our differences in priorities and ideology—especially between you and me, on the one hand, and Marisa, on the other—are too fundamental for us to maintain our cohesion indefinitely. And that completely overlooks potential outside forces. Like that idiot Montaigne.” Descroix grimaced. “I don’t think she has a hope in Hell of pulling it off, but it’s perfectly clear what she’s up to with that dramatic renunciation of her title. And while I think the odds against her are high, I didn’t expect her to win her precious little special election, either. So I don’t have any desire to stake my own political survival on my faith that she can’t do it after all.”

“You think she could effectively challenge Marisa’s control of her party leadership, then?” High Ridge asked.

“Probably not as things stand,” Descroix replied. “But that’s my point. You and I both know politics are a dynamic process, not a static one. Things change, and Montaigne’s challenge could weaken Marisa enough for someone else higher up in the party hierarchy to challenge her successfully. Or, for that matter, to pull Marisa back towards the Liberals’ ‘true faith’ and away from her coalition with us. Frankly, I think that’s what’s most likely to bring this Government down in the end, because let’s face it, she’s never really been comfortable working with us in the first place.”

“It doesn’t help any when you snipe at her in Cabinet meetings,” High Ridge said in a painfully neutral tone.

“I know that. It’s just that she’s so damned sanctimonious and pious that I can’t help myself. Come on, Michael! You know that when it comes right down to it, she’s at least as willing as you or I—probably more willing—to do whatever it takes to hang on to power. But, of course, she’s only doing it because of the absolute sanctity of her holier-than-thou, save-the-universe, rescue-mankind-from-original-sin ideology.”

“I suppose so.” High Ridge drank a little more coffee, using the cup to obscure his expression until he was certain he had it back under control. He’d known Descroix’s impatience with New Kiev had been growing steadily, but the sheer venom in the Foreign Secretary’s biting tone still came as something of a shock. Particularly if it proved to be the first rumbling of the very discord Descroix was warning him against.