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Marines formed a perimeter around her. Even on the embassy doorstep, they were not taking chances.
    “I will do my best to speed the process of awarding you a permit,” he said without looking her in the eye.
    “Is there a problem?” Kris asked.
    “My supervisor did not seem in any rush.”
    “You could wave this. It’s bound to make the media.”
    The local cop shook his head. “Not in any outlet he’s likely to read.”
    “Well, please tell me which media it will make. After last night vanished into some kind of invisible hole, I’m wondering how to fill up my scrapbook.” Or Abby’s.
    “You haven’t heard about our alternate press.”
    “Is it to be trusted?”
    “Some more than others. I read the El Camino Real . You might want to subscribe.”
    “I’ll look into it.” N ELLY, SEE ABOUT HAVING P ENNY SUBSCRIBE. T HAT SHOULD KEEP MY NAME OUT OF IT.
    D OING , K RIS .
    Kris hardly got in the basement door before she was ambushed by the ambassador’s secretary. “Where have you been?”
    Kris frowned at Jack. “We reported to the Marine Comm Center where we were,” he said.
    “Well, they didn’t tell anyone else. You can’t just vanish, Your Highness. People expect better things of you,” he sniffed.
    Kris wondered how big a bribe it would take to have one of the Marines behind her pop this guy one. From the looks on their faces, the fellow was rapidly reaching bargain-basement pricing. A few of them looked willing to pay for the privilege.
    “Did you check in with the Marines?” Kris asked softly. Dead softly.
    The secretary ignored Kris’s question and went on to the matter of some importance to him. “We have a request for your presence this evening. Ms. Broadmore is throwing a small party at her city residence and would so like you to serve as the centerpiece of her evening.”
    “I’ve had a rough afternoon,” Kris bit out.
    “Not doing your duties, if I may say so. The negotiations floundered without you. They’ll continue tomorrow. Please try to be there.”
    “Last night, I went to one of Eden’s little balls and got shot at.” Kris was rapidly losing what temper she had left.
    “So you say. The ambassador wonders about that. I must say, I do, too. Ms. Broadmore is a very important person here on Eden. You really must be there. It will be small, so even you will likely not foul it up. Here’s your invitation. Do be at least fifteen minutes late. Any more is gauche. Any less and, well, you are a princess, aren’t you.”
    And apparently, some people figured that made her just the person they could order around.
    Before Kris could decide between decking the guy herself or just hanging, drawing, and quartering him, she was interrupted.
    “Kris, what have you done to your hair!” And Kris got ready to be ordered around some more.
    Unfortunately, the secretary was long gone by the time Kris explained that the condition of her hair was the result of another bomber’s near miss.
    “I had planned to go out this evening,” Abby grumbled, “but it looks like I’ll be up to my elbows in princessing you for most of the afternoon. Let’s get started.”
    Kris was freed from Abby’s “tender” care just in time to board one of the embassy’s armored battlewagons at 1930. Jack was her escort, in dress red-and-blues. The driver and one other Marine were also in dress uniform. Two men and two women in formal dress were too clean-cut to be anything but Marines.
    “I’m glad you could arrange things so quickly,” Kris said.
    “Captain DeVar was already on it when we got back. He seems to be better wired into the embassy rumor mill than the ambassador’s secretary.”
    “Good man,” Kris offered.
    “He also asked if you might want to go jogging with some Marines. They run their three miles at 0515 every morning. Five miles on Saturday.”
    “I’d love to join his Marines,” Kris said. It would be good to spend an hour with real line beasts every day. The rest of her day was