Starcrossed (43 page)

Heads started shaking all around the table. “Ridiculous,” one of them snapped, followed by several murmurs of agreement. As I’d feared, they weren’t going for it. And no matter what their laws might say, I couldn’t
make
all these important people do anything. But I had to try. Steeling my resolve one more time, I played my very last card, the one that would seal my fate.

“If you accept this compromise, I will also promise to learn all I can, as quickly as I can, and to fulfill my duties as Sovereign. However, if Rigel isn’t brought back—in fact, if
anything
happens to him—” I glanced meaningfully at Allister— “I’ll abdicate. I won’t cooperate, even as a figurehead. I’ll have nothing to do with governing, or diplomacy with aliens or anything else, no matter
how
high the stakes are.”

There was a long, disapproving silence. From their expressions, I could tell some didn’t believe me and others thought I was acting like a spoiled brat.
 

Finally Breann, the highest ranking Royal after Allister, said, “For any compromise to be binding, we must put the Sovereign’s proposal to a formal vote, with all—” She pinned me with her aquamarine gaze— “agreeing to be bound by the result.”

As one, the others chorused, “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” I echoed, a huge knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I’d really done it now. I knew the law. If the vote went against me, they couldn’t
make
me do the Sovereign thing, but I’d also be leaving Rigel to the mercy of a crazy mob in Montana, with Allister calling the shots. Even if he escaped alive, even if we someday saw each other again, he wouldn’t remember me.
 

Feeling like I just might faint, I held my breath, praying I hadn’t just jettisoned Rigel’s future, along with my own.

Rigel
(RY-jel):
an intense star expected to end in supernova at a relatively young age

“Hey! Come back here!” I yell. “Where are my parents?” But the guard is gone.

I make a face at the sorry excuse for a dinner he left me—a hot dog and some carrot sticks—then glare around at my cell. It’s absolutely a cell, a cinderblock room with a metal door and a tiny barred window the size of a missing cinderblock. I haven’t left it since I got here. I only know “here” is Montana because my mom mentioned it during the ten minutes they let me see my folks this morning.
 

For the past twenty-four hours or more—I don’t really know—my world has been this ten by ten room with a cot-like bed, dilapidated table, two chairs, and a chest with two drawers—not that I have anything to put in them. A bucket and a wash stand in the corner pass for a bathroom.

I glance again at the hot dog and push it away before it makes me heave. Separation from M is making me sicker faster this time, but I’m not about to give anyone here the satisfaction of mentioning it. They can keep their stupid antidote. If it even exists. Nobody’s offered me any and I wouldn’t take it now if they did. Though for M’s sake I hope it does exist and that it works—for her.
 

Like I’ve done most of the day, I strain my ears to hear anything that will give me a clue whether she’s here, too. It’s more likely they took her back to Jewel, but my folks didn’t know and the guard won’t tell me anything, no matter how many questions I ask when he brings me food and empties my toilet-bucket.
 

There’ve been voices outside the door a few times, but too far away to make out words. I can reach the window by standing on the bed, but it looks out on a wall and I haven’t heard anything from that direction at all.

I don’t know what time it is, but it’s dark. I fling myself down on the bed. Between nausea, headache and worry for M and my folks I’m pretty tired but doubt I can sleep. Then I hear footsteps.

Jumping back up, I go to the door, but before I can put my ear to it, it opens. A man I’ve never seen before, flanked by two other men, comes inside.

“So,” he says, looking at me like I’m a bug—which immediately reminds me of Allister Adair, even though this guy is taller, younger, and better looking. “You’re the Stuart kid.”

“Yeah. So? Who are you?”

He flicks a glance at the larger of the men behind him, and he steps forward and smacks me across the mouth. It hurts, but I’ve had tackles hurt worse. I don’t make any sound, just keep watching the first guy who came in, the one in charge.

“Clearly, you need to learn some respect,” he says, tilting his head back so he can look down his nose at me, since he’s no taller than I am. “But I knew that already, since no properly brought up
Echtran
would presume to imagine our Sovereign had some kind of preference for him.”

I want to shout at him that what M has for me is way more than a “preference,” but I clench my jaw instead. I’m not telling this asshole anything.

“Sit down,
Rigel
.” He makes my name sound like something nasty.
 

I don’t move, so the two guys with him grab me by the arms and force me into one of the chairs at the table. Then they step back and stand behind me, while the guy in charge seats himself across from me.

“I am Governor Lennox, magistrate of Dun Cloch.”

The compound in Montana. Last I heard, there were five or six hundred
Echtrans
living here. This jerk’s their governor?

“I am also,” he continues, “the person who holds your fate in his hands. So I recommend you not only show me proper respect, but give prompt and truthful answers to anything I ask. This may be the only trial you get.”

Trial?
What the hell?

Lennox watches me for a minute or two, then folds his hands in front of him like he’s settling down for a long talk. “So,” he begins at last, “was it because she wouldn’t go along with your little romantic fantasy that you decided to kidnap the Princess?”

I expel my breath through my nose in a snort. They have to know by now I didn’t kidnap her. I heard my parents trying to convince someone about our bond this morning, before they were hauled away. Forcing myself to act calm, even though I don’t feel it, I look him in the eye.

“What have you done with her? And with my parents? Whatever you think I did, they had nothing to do with it.”

“There will be an inquest,” he says, like that’s supposed to reassure me. “For now, your parents are under house arrest for plotting to help you escape. We can’t have that, obviously. You’ve done enough damage already.”

My gut twists, thinking of my folks in a nasty little cell like mine when all they were doing was trying to help me. That
is
my fault.
 

“And M? Is she here, too?”

He shoots another glance at the big guy behind me and I get another smack across my mouth.
 

“How dare you?” Lennox sounds less calm now. “If you refer to her Excellency, you will call her Sovereign or Princess, and not by her given name. Or, worse, some disgusting diminutive of that name. I am Governor of the largest
Echtran
enclave on Earth and
I
would never presume to do such a thing. Who are
you?
Nobody. The Earth-born son of two longtime emigrants who were misfits even on Mars. Having a grandfather on the Council won’t earn you any special favors in Dun Cloch, I promise you.”

“She’s not here, then, huh?” No way she wouldn’t have set the story straight by now if she were. But she’d do that no matter where she is. Which means wherever she is, nobody’s listening to her—or maybe even letting her talk to anyone. Are they keeping her drugged or a prisoner in Jewel? I
so
need to get out of here!

Though he’s still glaring, Lennox finally answers my question. “No, the Princess is not here. She was safely returned to her home and to the Council, no thanks to you. Believe me, if she had been harmed—at all—while in your company, you would not be sitting here talking to me now. As it is, you are guilty of high treason, a capital crime.”

Though I’m careful not to let it show, I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. Capital crime? What the hell? Grandfather told me Martians—or
Echtrans
—have never had a death penalty. Did they? Do they?

“It will be
my
decision,” Lennox continues, “whether or not you deserve any sort of leniency. At the moment, I am inclined to think not. I am, however, prepared to listen. It’s possible you may escape with only the
tabula rasa.
So, I ask you again. Why did you kidnap the Princess?”

Having my memory completely wiped, all the way back to infancy, doesn’t sound much better than death. Maybe worse. I wouldn’t even remember M. Which I guess would be incredibly convenient for everyone but us. The idea of seeing her again but not knowing her twists my heart.

“I didn’t,” I tell him. “Leaving Jewel was a mutual decision, hers as well as mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps. “Everyone knows the Princess has begun receiving the instruction necessary to lead her people. That’s been widely publicized. Also that her personality and aptitude profiles are ideal, despite having been raised
Duchas
. What possible reason could such a promising Sovereign have to leave her instructors and her future Consort at the exact moment Faxon fell from power on Mars? The timing suggests that you are a sympathizer of his, seeking to undermine the resistance in its very moment of triumph.”

My growing headache makes it hard to take in everything he just threw at me, but I do my best. “Wait. Faxon is out? Like, totally out? When did that happen?”

He looks like he’s about to have one of his goons hit me again, but he doesn’t. “Friday night,” he finally tells me. “By Saturday morning, nearly every
Echtran
on Earth had heard the news. Do you expect me to believe you didn’t?”

“How would I? How would either of us? M, er, the Princess didn’t know, either. And the
last
thing I am is a Faxon sympathizer! Hell, his guy Morven tried to kill me, along with, uh, the Sovereign and my folks. Or didn’t you hear about that?”

That does fetch me another clout to the head from one of the guys behind me.
 

“I know all about Morven, I assure you,” Lennox tells me with a little smile. “Far more than you do, I imagine, as he’s been in residence here for two months. The only reason he still possesses his memories is that the Council hoped he might recover enough to provide information on Faxon. Believe me, there are those here who feel strongly enough about what he attempted to take matters into their own hands. Most of them feel the same about you. And you still haven’t told me why you abducted the Sovereign.”
 

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Is this guy deaf, or what? “I did tell you. I told you she and I left together. As for why, I know this will probably get me smacked around again, but it was because the Council was planning to separate us, probably permanently, and she didn’t want that any more than I did. Don’t you get it? We
need
to be together!”

I’m about to tell him about our
graell
bond, but he nods at the thugs behind me and this time they both hit me, one on the head and the other across the back.
 

“That was a warning,” Lennox says. “I will
not
allow you to impugn the honor of our Princess by implying not only that she has romantic inclinations toward you, a nobody, when she has already been introduced to her Consort, but that she would put such inclinations above her duty to her people. That is tantamount to accusing the Princess herself of treason.”
 

I want to yell at him to
ask
her, to call the Council or anybody who’s talked to her since we were caught, but he keeps talking.

“If such a vicious rumor became public, it would seriously undermine the Sovereign’s ability to lead, to gather the support she
must
gather, and quickly, now that Faxon is gone. In which case, instead of a vocal handful of a hundred or so,
every
Nuathan who cares about the future of our race, here and on Mars, would want you dead.”

For the first time, I detect the fear behind Lennox’s anger, which means he’s even more dangerous than I thought. I’m not sure what to say, since the very last thing I want is make things worse for M. Who knows what she’s going through back in Jewel? Getting endlessly ragged on by Allister, at the very least, but maybe worse than that. They can’t accuse
her
of treason, can they? Wouldn’t they just decide she’s unfit to lead, instead? I guess that would be bad for Mars, but—wouldn’t it be good for us?
 

Maybe it would be like my dad said and they’d have to elect somebody or appoint somebody or something. It’s not like M ever wanted to be Sovereign—she’s said so dozens of times. But I know deep down it can’t be that easy. They aren’t going to revamp their whole system of government because of a teen romance. And if shutting me up—permanently—is what it will take to prevent that, that’s what they’ll do.

But what about M? She won’t sit by while they make me disappear. In fact, she’s probably screaming bloody murder right now. In which case, won’t the easiest way to shut
her
up be to tell her I’m dead? If she believes that—whether it’s true or not, and it probably will be—she won’t have any reason to stay on Earth at all. Then they’ll get
exactly
what they want.

I look up at Lennox’s implacable face and feel icy fingers of dread crawling up my back as I realize these people will never allow me to see M again. They see my very existence as a huge threat to their cause. And there’s not a damned thing I can say that will convince them otherwise.

“Ah,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I see you finally understand. Pity you didn’t think things through several days earlier. If you had, we wouldn’t have this mess to sort through and keep quiet.”

Something in his eyes makes me realize another truth. “You knew. You knew all along I didn’t kidnap her, that we ran away together. I’ll bet you even knew about our bond.”

He shrugs. “What I know—or believe—makes no difference, as nothing we say here will ever leave this room.” He stands up. “Since it seems unlikely either you or the Princess will be able to keep your dangerous opinions to yourselves, my decision becomes obvious. If, as you claim, she also believes in this
bond
, a simple memory wipe won’t suffice, despite our law.”