Starcrossed (17 page)

“Thank you for what? For making me stand by while you let these people screw up M’s life almost as much as Faxon would have?” Now I’m glaring at all of them.

My grandfather shakes his head at me. “No, Rigel. For preventing you from doing something both you and Emileia would doubtless have regretted for the rest of your lives. Think of the burden you would have placed on her shoulders, along with your own.”

He looks into my eyes and makes me really listen to what he’s saying. I hate when he does that and I especially hate it now. Because much as I don’t want to admit it, I know he’s right. I could tell M didn’t really want to zap Allister. She felt reluctant, even shocked, when I “suggested” it. After a couple seconds I manage to yank my gaze away from Grandfather’s, shrugging rather than admit anything.

“Will one of you please explain what you’re talking about?” Allister sounds peevish. “If the boy threatened to harm me in some way, he should surely be evaluated for mental stability before he is allowed near the Princess again.”
 

Grandfather gives Allister one of his patient looks. “Did you hear a threat, Allister?” he asks mildly, like he himself didn’t just accuse me of exactly that.
 

Allister frowns, looking back and forth between my grandfather and my parents. “No, but you all spoke as though—”

“For a moment, I believe Rigel may have been tempted to, ah, demonstrate the strength of the bond he shares with Emileia,” my grandfather calmly explains. “The setting seemed inappropriate, however, so we discouraged him from doing so.”

“Bonds again! Are
all
of you so credulous as to buy into what is clearly a teenage fantasy? Or are you merely cognizant of the effect on your family’s status, should your grandson form an alliance with the Sovereign? I would hate to think such worldly considerations could sway your judgement on a matter so important to our people.”

“Our people!” I blurt out, tired of his posturing. “What about M, and what’s good for her? Does that even matter to you?”

“The good of the Sovereign and the good of our people are one and the same,” he says, more pompous than ever.
 

I can’t help rolling my eyes. “You can’t even think of her as a person, can you? To you, she’s just a . . . a chess piece you want to manipulate. But if she’s really the Sovereign, she should have final say in pretty much everything, shouldn’t she?”

Allister looks down his nose at me like I’m a bug or something—though he has to tilt his head back to do it, since I’m taller than he is. “Eventually, she will. But it is imperative that before she takes up her authority she be thoroughly educated in the intricacies of Nuathan politics and her own duties.”
 

Duties that apparently include her hooking up with Sean.
 

“So what she wants doesn’t matter at all?”

Instead of answering me, he turns to my parents and grandfather. “I’ve told you repeatedly, the boy has been allowed too much freedom and far too much access to the Princess. If he has convinced her that they share a
graell
bond, it is likely he means to persuade her to an intimacy she is by no means ready for—if he has not done so already. Such an egregious act could seriously undermine a delicate political situation, as well as centuries of—“

“Allister!” my mother snaps, startling me—and everyone else as well. “It is clear you cannot be expected to share a roof with someone you are determined to mistrust so thoroughly, nor will I stand by any longer while you insult my son. I think it best if you spend the remainder of your time in Jewel elsewhere.”

“I beg your pardon?” he blusters, looking to my dad and grandfather to intercede.
 

They don’t.

He makes a few outraged noises, then says, “If that is the way you feel, Ariel, I won’t trespass on your
hospitality
another moment. I’ll pack my things at once.”

My mom is a little pinker than normal but her jaw is as rigid as I’ve ever seen it and she doesn’t back down. “I’m sure if you call the O’Garas they will be willing to put you up for the night.”
 

Allister gives them all another disbelieving glance, then storms upstairs. No one says a word for the two minutes it takes him to get his suitcase and come back down. He doesn’t say anything either, just grabs his coat, gives everybody one last glare and slams out the front door. We hear the engine of his rental car start, then fade into the distance.
 

Finally, my mother lets out a sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t apologize, Ariel,” my grandfather says. “Allister’s behavior tonight has been execrable. I’m surprised you allowed him to stay as long as you did, if he has been this unpleasant since his arrival.”

“He has,” I say, not adding that it’s mainly been aimed at me.
 

My dad just shakes his head. “I don’t blame you either, Ariel, but I hope he won’t make us all regret this. He may not have the power here he had on Mars, but he does wield quite a bit of influence with the Council. And the O’Garas—“

“Will surely understand,” Grandfather finishes. “None of them seemed pleased with the way Allister handled things this evening. And no wonder. He had no business saying the things he said.”

“So . . . it’s not true?” I can’t quite keep the hope out of my voice, even though I know I’m grasping at straws. “What he said about Sean and M?”

The looks they all give me are pitying in varying degrees and my brief hope sputters out even before my grandfather answers.

“I’m sorry, Rigel. While Allister was both precipitate and clumsy with tonight’s revelation, I can’t imagine he would have made such a claim were it not true. Certainly all past Sovereigns have paired in the manner he described.”

Betrayal slams me in the gut like one of my own uncontrolled football passes. “So you
knew
about this arranged marriage crap and never said a word to me? Or to M? What the hell?”
 

My mother puts a hand on my shoulder but it doesn’t help much. “We knew about the custom, yes, but not about Sean. It seemed unlikely after Faxon’s purges that anyone of the appropriate age and lineage had survived, so we assumed that M would be able to pair as she chose, without regard to the old customs.” Her voice is soothing—which just irritates me, because I can tell she’s
trying
to soothe me, with that special power she has.

“Faxon was very thorough,” my father explains. “The O’Garas had to conceal their lineage in order to remain there, heading up the resistance. People became so tight-lipped about things like Royal bloodlines that I doubt anyone but Allister knew they were members of the Second House. In fact, it’s likely that the reason they finally left Mars was to keep Sean safe. It was incredibly brave of them to stay as long as they did, under the circumstances.”

The
last
thing I want to hear right now is another paen to the wonderful, heroic O’Gara clan. “Does that mean M really
doesn’t
have any choice, like Allister said?” I probably sound as appalled as I feel.

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” my grandfather says. “At least, I know of no case in our history where a Sovereign was forced to pair against his or her will.”

“You must realize that this is a unique circumstance,” Dad reminds me. “As Allister said, all previous Sovereigns knew from childhood who their Consort would be, and also grew up with full awareness of Nuathan pairing customs.”

Grandfather gives a little snort. “Customs that fly in the face of accepted genetic principles. I’ve argued for over a century that we should—” He breaks off. “But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, Sean does exist, and most of our people will expect the Sovereign to honor tradition.”

“Eventually,” my mother adds, frowning at him. “Surely there’s no need to require any sort of commitment while they are still minors?”

He sighs heavily. “Of course no one will expect a teen marriage, but once word gets out—and I have no doubt Allister will see that it does—there will be pressure to follow tradition as closely as possible. Which means encouraging Sean and Princess Emileia to spend time together, to facilitate emotional bonding.”

“And discouraging her from spending time with anyone who might interfere with that? Like, say, me?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. My gut feels like it’s on fire.

“I’m sorry, Rigel.” My grandfather sounds like he really means it. “I honestly believed this situation was unlikely to arise. When it became clear that you and Emileia had formed a
graell
bond—which is not quite so rare as Allister would like to believe—” he glances at my folks— “it seemed that you and she were genetically destined for each other. It is unlikely, however, that many of our people will see it that way.”

My dad weighs in again. “The question is, what course will best serve our people in the long run? The first priority, of course, must be completely removing Faxon from power. But after that—”

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore.
 

“I’m going to bed. You can all plan the fate of ‘our people’ without me.” What I need to plan is how to see M privately, so we can figure a way out of this mess. Maybe even tonight, if I can sneak out without—

“Rigel.” Grandfather’s voice stops me halfway to the stairs. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”
 

Not for the first time, I wonder if he can read my mind. Or maybe, after almost three hundred years of experience, he can just read
people
. Either way, it’s awfully inconvenient sometimes.
 

“No, sir.” Not lying. I won’t do anything
I
consider foolish.

He watches me for another second or two, then nods, apparently satisfied.

A minute later I shut myself into my room and stare at all my stupid model spaceships hanging from the ceiling without really seeing them. Foolish? Foolish would be risking what M and I have together. Especially since risking our bond means risking our lives, whether anyone else believes that or not.
 

Which means I can’t afford to play by their rules. Neither of us can.

shilcloas
(shil-CLO-ahs):
hearing another's thoughts; telepathy

“Didn’t you hear me calling up the stairs?” Aunt Theresa greeted me when I dragged myself down to the breakfast Sunday morning after an almost sleepless night. “I was starting to think you intended to pout rather than come to church today. Here—you have time for a quick bowl of cereal, and then we need to go.”

Fifteen minutes later we were turning right on Emerald, then the block past the Town Hall to the old-fashioned white wooden church I’d attended as long as I could remember. We were walking quickly, because of the cold, and my mood improved with every step. Even if the Stuarts didn’t sit with us because of Allister, I’d at least be able to
see
Rigel and soak up some of his vibes from across the sanctuary. Maybe we’d even be able to snatch a few seconds to talk.

Almost the only people at church this early were choir members, ushers and their families. And the O’Garas.

Aunt Theresa hurried forward and, to my amazement, actually
hugged
Mrs. O’Gara
.
I could count on one hand the number of times she’d ever hugged me. “Lili! Does this mean you’ve decided to join the choir? I’m so glad.”

“It seemed a good way to get to know people,” Mrs. O’Gara replied. “Will it be all right if my family sits with yours again?”

“Of course! I can’t imagine why you even needed to ask.”
 

She led them back to our pew, where Uncle Louie seemed more effusive than necessary, too. Then Aunt Theresa and Mrs. O’Gara went to join the choir downstairs while the rest of us sat down. Somehow Sean ended up next to me.

“Hey,” he whispered as Uncle Louie and his dad talked across us. “I hope you’re not still weirded out about last night.”

I stared at him. “Seriously? I’m way beyond weirded out. Nothing about this is
remotely
okay.” Uncle Louie was oblivious by nature, but I still used my less-than-a-whisper voice—which I’d never used with anyone but Rigel. That I was able to use it now made me resent Sean even more.

“I didn’t make the rules,” he said in the same barely audible tone. “Blame history, or even Uncle Allister. Not me.”

“But you
knew
. You’ve known all along, all of you.” That betrayal still rankled—a lot. “Where is dear Uncle Al, anyway? Coming with the Stuarts to make sure Rigel and I don’t get anywhere near each other?”

Before he could answer, Molly peered around from Sean’s other side. “Did you say something?” she whispered.

I just shrugged and shook my head, her question a reminder that now there were way too many people around who could hear stuff I didn’t want heard. Sean didn’t say anything else and I was glad, since just having him next to me was unnerving enough.

Five minutes before the service started, when I’d nearly given up hope they were coming, the Stuarts finally arrived. No Allister, but all three glanced quickly our way—Rigel the longest—then went to sit on the other side of the little sanctuary without saying a word.
 

Still, just having Rigel in the same room gave me a boost, both physically and mentally, like I’d received some nutrient I’d been lacking. That sensation reassured me that no matter how much everyone was against our relationship, they could never break our special bond.
 

“Hey, Marsha, you and your guy Rigel didn’t have a fight, did you?” Uncle Louie asked in a perfectly audible tone. “How come they’re sitting over there?”
 

He
would
pick this one time to be observant.

“No! I, um, told him Aunt Theresa would be mad about me coming home late last night, so he’s probably just trying to keep me from getting into more trouble.”
 

He just nodded and grunted. “Think she overreacted, myself,” he confided, “but I can’t claim to know much about raising kids.” Clearly uncomfortable, he let the subject drop with a shrug.