Starfall: A Starstruck Novel (3 page)

Especially without Rigel.
Even if I never saw him again, I positively recoiled at the idea of us being stuck on different planets—permanently.

“You must realize how important it is, during this sensitive rebuilding time, that Nuath’s Sovereign remain available to shepherd the necessary changes through to completion.” Mr. O’Gara spoke calmly, persuasively. “Not to mention the situation with the Grentl.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No. I
have
to go back! What if my aunt and uncle demand a search for me? A bunch of stuff could come out about Bailerealta and
Echtrans
and, well, everything!”

“They won’t demand a search if they have reason to believe there’s no point to such a thing.”
 

I stared at him, a whole new horror creeping in. “You mean if they think I’m…dead?”

His apologetic expression was answer enough.

“Really? You’d do that to my aunt and uncle? To my friends?” I
wanted
to believe Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie would be upset if they thought I’d died. Bri and Deb would, for sure. The thought of never seeing
any
of them again was beyond awful, totally apart from being so far away from Rigel.

“Wow, that’s pretty harsh, Dad.” Sean exchanged a worried glance with Molly, who nodded.

“No harsher than the situation warrants. I’ve discussed the matter with Devyn and Nels, as well as the
Echtran
Council. We feel that the risk to Nuath of your leaving is great enough to outweigh all other concerns. Matters on Earth can be handled so as to minimize the risk of discovery.
Echtrans
, of course, would be informed via MARSTAR that the story of your death is false, to forestall any panic there.”

“But…wouldn’t that mean I can’t
ever
go back?”
 

“Not as Marsha Truitt. But that was never your true identity, Sovereign Emileia.”

I groped for another argument, one that might sway him. “Wouldn’t Sean have to stay here, too? And Molly, since she’s my Handmaid? I can’t believe Mrs. O’Gara is okay with that, when she has to be on Earth because of the Council.”

“Lili and I have messaged back and forth a good deal over the past day or two. She agrees that, particularly if I accept any office of importance under your Sovereignty, it would make the most sense for her to step down from the Council and join us here. In fact, she has already looked into booking passage once she arranges to pack up our belongings in Jewel and tell everyone there that we’ve decided to move back to Ireland.”

I felt slightly dazed. Apparently they’d worked out every single detail—without even consulting me!
 

“You can’t do this! I’m the
Sovereign.
” Tears of frustration threatened, making my voice quiver. “If I decide to go back to Earth, who’s going to stop me?”

“It would not be hard to convince any ship captain that transporting you away from Nuath right now would amount to an act of treason. You’d be asking someone like Captain Liam to choose between a direct order from you and the good of his people.”
 

My threatening tears spilled over as I realized, appalled, that he was probably right.

His voice became gentle again. “Tell me, were you really so happy in Jewel? I had the impression you’d been eager to escape it most of your life.”

I immediately opened my mouth to deny that, then closed it again. Because it was true—or had been until Rigel arrived. Apart from my friendship with Bri and Deb, my life in Jewel before Rigel had been pretty dismal: barely tolerated by my aunt, picked on by half the school, ignored by the rest. I
had
wanted to escape, had worked hard in my classes in hopes of winning a scholarship that would take me far away from Jewel and Indiana.
 

“That’s different,” I finally said. “That would have been
my
choice. This isn’t.” Especially since staying on Mars for good—or even for the next few decades—meant I’d never have
any
chance of seeing Rigel again, even from a distance.
 

“I truly am sorry, Excellency.” Mr. O’Gara managed to sound like he meant it. “It was never my wish to deceive you in any way. I’d hoped by now that you cared enough about Nuath’s people and their future to put them ahead of mere personal concerns.” He rose. “I suggest you get some more rest. When you’ve had time to think things through, I’m confident you will agree this way is best.”

Refusing to soften, I glared after him as he left, then immediately rounded on Sean and Molly. “Did you know, either of you? That they planned for me to never go back?”

“Of course not.” Sean was emphatic.
 

Molly shook her head as well. “Mum and Dad told us exactly what they told you. We assumed we’d all go back during this same launch window.”

“Do you think they’re right, though? That it would be some kind of disaster for me to leave?”

I could sense Sean’s sudden conflict. “Well…there
is
the Grentl thing. What if they call again or need to be convinced not to attack or something? You’re the only one who can talk to them. Plus there’s all that government stuff Dad talked about.” His expression was apologetic. “They totally should have told you all this upfront, though.”

Though Molly voiced her agreement with that last bit, it was obvious neither of them were nearly as upset as I was by the thought of staying on Mars. Which made sense, as they’d always thought of Nuath as their home. But it wasn’t mine. Even if I
had
wanted to escape from Jewel most of my life, I could never regard this fake underground habitat as “home.”

Sure, I’d agreed to come here and be Acclaimed Sovereign to save Nuath from being destroyed, but the only part I’d looked
forward
to was using my authority so I could be with Rigel for good. Now… Now I had
nothing
to look forward to.

Still, much as I hated to admit it, Mr. O was right. I couldn’t just turn my back on Nuath and its people. Like it or not, I was Sovereign now, and the responsibilities that went with that were here, not back in Jewel. Responsibilities like figuring out what the Grentl’s message really meant, and choosing a Regent, and doing what I could to get the Nuathan government up and running.
 

Things that might, possibly, keep me from dwelling on the fact that by tomorrow Rigel would be back on Earth, with no memory of me or all we’d been to each other. It was too late to change that. But maybe a new sense of purpose would help me to hold myself together until my pain faded…even if it took years.

*
   
*
   
*

As Molly dressed me in yet another gorgeous gown that evening, this one of flowing amethyst studded with actual amethysts, I tried to block out her depressingly obvious sympathy by thinking about the evening ahead.
 

“There!” Molly stepped back. “What do you think?”

I faced the mirror, prepared to gush so I wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but the sight of myself so amazingly decked out startled me to silence. This shade of purple was perfect with my coloring, somehow enhancing the dark green of my eyes. And the amethyst tiara set off my golden-brown hair beautifully, brightening the highlights I hadn’t had a year ago.
 

Highlights I had now because of my bond with Rigel.

“Molly, you’re a magician.” I put as much enthusiasm into my voice as my suddenly-constricted throat allowed.

“Your wardrobe makes it pretty easy. I’d better change, too.” Molly had her own beautiful
Chomseireach
(Handmaid) wardrobe, and soon she was arrayed in an embroidered pale blue tunic with darker blue leggings. Not nearly as ornate as my getup but every bit as pretty—and a lot more practical.
 

Sean and his father arrived a moment later, both resplendent in shimmery tunics, shorter than Molly’s, over form-fitting leggings. Sean looked handsomer than I’d ever seen him, the deep blue of his tunic the same color as his eyes. I tried—hard—not to remember how incredible Rigel had looked in his Bodyguard uniform during his too-brief stint in that role.

“Already there has been media speculation about the fact you haven’t been seen for more than two days, so tonight you
must
do your best to appear as, ah, normal and competent as possible,” Mr. O said as we left my apartments.

Normal? I wasn’t sure what normal was, without Rigel. This empty, dead feeling? “I’ll do my best.” It was all I could promise.

Mr. O regarded me narrowly for a moment. “Please do. Perhaps we should brush up on a few policy issues in case they arise in conversation.”
 

He began drilling me on the same questions we’d practiced before my Acclamation and was clearly relieved when I was still able to reel off the answers. I, however, was painfully aware of the ones he
didn’t
ask—because my relationship with Rigel was a moot point now.

When we reached the main state dining room, I was irresistibly reminded of the last time I’d eaten there, my very first day at the Palace. I’d been excited, distracted, looking forward to Rigel’s imminent arrival…which had never happened. Swallowing, I squared my shoulders. I’d promised Mr. O I’d do my best, and I would. Even if it killed me.

For the first hour, drinks and appetizers were served by Palace staffers as the guests milled around, schmoozing about politics. I did my best to be pleasant and regal, matching faces and names as I evaluated each one as a possible Regent. None of them impressed me much. By the time the bell rang for dinner, Mr. O’Gara still seemed my most viable option—which made me realize (duh!) that must be the “office of importance” he’d meant earlier. No wonder Mrs. O was willing to resign from the Council and relocate to Mars.

The guests now moved to the long, black stone table. I sat first, spreading my amethyst skirts around me, then the others took their seats, by order of rank, each bowing formally as they did so. Sean lifted my orchid-adorned finger bowl and I did the ceremonial three dips of my fingers and dried them on the tiny linen cloth Molly handed me. Sean then held the bowl for Cormac to use, who then held it for Molly, who handed it back to Sean. Finally, Sean dipped his fingers into his own bowl, the signal that everybody else was free to dip their own fingers and start eating.

The whole ceremony was an excruciating reminder of our practice dinner at Rigel’s house a month ago, after his Bodyguard test—a test he’d passed with flying colors. I remembered how proud of him I’d been…and how Sean had needled him into jealousy with snide remarks while Rigel stood where Cormac stood now, behind me.
 

Though the food Molly spooned onto my plate looked and smelled amazing, I was so overcome by that memory I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Still, conscious of so many observers, I forced myself to take bite after mechanical bite. As the second course went around—Cormac duly tasting my food and Molly serving it to me—snippets of prior conversations with Rigel, spoken and silent, popped into my head.

How many times had he told me he’d love me forever? Sworn I could never alienate him, that he’d always be my strength? Broken promises, every one.

Desperate for distraction, afraid I might crumble right there at the table, I made myself relive yesterday’s events, especially Eric Eagan’s heroic final hours, when he’d taken me down to the secret room with the Grentl device and shown me how to use it.
 

With a quick, indrawn breath, I suddenly sat up straighter.
 

Sean, on my left, noticed at once. “What? What’s wrong?” He spoke softly enough that only his father, on his other side, heard him.

“I’ve just remembered something important.” I looked past Sean to give Mr. O a significant look. “I’ll tell you as soon as this thing’s over.”

It was another two hours before I could diplomatically excuse myself, long after dessert was served. Yawning, I accompanied the O’Garas back to my apartment, hoping not every State dinner would be this tedious.
 

“You had something to tell me?” Mr. O asked the moment my outer door closed, shielding us from potential prying eyes and ears. “About the Grentl?”

Apparently he hadn’t dismissed them quite as thoroughly as I’d thought.

“That Archive stone Eric showed me, right before he helped me use the Grentl device. He said it might be helpful afterward but I only just remembered it tonight. I’m sorry, I should have—”

Mr. O stared at me with an arrested expression. “No, I’d forgotten as well, and with far less excuse. You’re right, it could be vitally important. Can you retrieve it now, tonight?”

When I nodded, Sean put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll come, too.”
 

“And I, Excellency.” Cormac bowed to me, then Mr. O’Gara. “With your permission?”

Molly and her father remained behind while Sean, Cormac and I hurried to the secret elevator concealed in my office. I thought to glance down at a certain star-shaped crystal Eric had said would turn blue whenever the Grentl device activated. It had been blue yesterday morning, before I’d responded to them, but now it was reassuringly clear. Or
was
that reassuring, under the circumstances?
 

I palmed open the lift, which took us to the sub-basement where the Grentl room was hidden. Retracing yesterday’s path down the dimly-lit hallway and maze-like storage cavern with its towering stacks of containers, we reached the secret room without incident. I palmed that open, too.

Sean and I went in but Cormac hesitated, staring at the foot-square cube that was the Grentl device. Then, getting a grip on himself, he followed us inside.
 

I went straight to the little panel in the wall next to the inert device and covered it with my hand. It opened to a little recess containing a purplish, crystalline stone maybe an inch thick and two inches across, like a flattened sphere. It felt warmer than it had yesterday when I picked it up, with that same
mine
-ness I’d felt from the Scepter and the Grentl device itself. Interesting.