Starcrossed (14 page)

“Before they were killed,” I finished, swallowing hard. Seeing the palace, so real and close it seemed I could walk right into it, suddenly made my shadowy past real in a way it had never been before. I had
lived
in that palace! For my first year of life, anyway.
 

“Once Faxon’s finally overthrown, which he will be,” Sean said confidently, “Thiaraway can be restored to what it used to be.
Echtrans
who want to can go home, and research on extending Nuath’s habitability can resume. So much important work has stopped under Faxon. And so many people have had their lives ruined—or worse.”
 

“Once he
is
overthrown, he’ll be . . . punished, right?” I’d almost said “executed,” but recalled what Shim had once told me about Mars’ alternative to a death penalty. “They’ll do that . . . that memory wipe thing?”
 

Sean nodded. “Yeah, the
Scriosath
, um,
tabula rasa
. Blank slate. That’s the complete wipe, as opposed to the short term ones they use for lesser crimes. It hasn’t been used in like a century, but if anyone deserves it, Faxon does.” He gave a little huff. “Sorry. I get a little wound up about this stuff.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I get why. And I agree.”

He smiled, but it was a serious sort of smile. “I’m glad. Because you really are our best hope for putting things right. I know it seems scary right now, but there are tons of people who’ll help you. Once the government is reestablished, you can even live in that palace again. If you want to.”

Such a weird thought! But . . . if not for Faxon, I’d have grown up in that beautiful pink diamond structure. In fact, I probably never would have come to Earth at all.

Or met Rigel.

“I really appreciate you showing me this stuff, but can we talk about something else for a minute?”

“Sure.” Sean switched off the hologram and the living room reappeared.

I was startled by a pang of loss when the palace disappeared, but I didn’t let it sidetrack me. “Earlier today, Molly and I had a talk. Did she tell you?”

“I tried to.” Molly frowned at her brother. “He wasn’t big on the listening.”

Sean stood and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end with a comical look he clearly didn’t intend. “Look, I said I was sorry about Wednesday. I know you think you and Stuart have a
graell
thing going on. And . . . I guess he actually believes it, too.”

“Because it’s
true
,” I insisted. “Molly believes me now, don’t you, Molly?”

Molly looked uncomfortable, but she nodded. “If everything M told me today is true, I think they really do have the bond, Sean. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? “Why—?” I started to ask, but Sean shook his head almost fiercely.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, M, but I just can’t buy it, no matter what symptoms or whatever you think you’ve had. I . . . I know how easy it can be for people to convince themselves of stuff they want to believe. Did you tell her about Penny?” he asked Molly.

“Um, no. But you never told me the whole story, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you were only thirteen. Well, Penny was the twin sister of a good friend of mine, back on Mars. A
twilly
named Godrick convinced her they were
graell
bonded, even though they were barely sixteen, and nobody could talk her out of it. She pretended to feel all kinds of vibes off him, claimed he’d even changed her eye color, though nobody else could see it. When she found out he was laughing about it to other guys, bragging how he’d . . . Well, she came unglued, actually tried to kill herself. Last I heard, she was still under a Mind Healer’s care and pretty messed up.”

Even though it was obvious what he was implying, I couldn’t help saying, “That’s terrible! What did they do to that Godrick jerk?”
 

“Nothing . . . officially.” Sean’s fists clenched, reminding me of his confrontation with Rigel two days ago. “He denied everything and his buddies backed him up, even though a lot of people knew the real story. By then Penny was acting so crazy, her word wasn’t worth much as evidence. But her brother and I made sure he regretted what he’d done.” He smiled grimly.

I sucked in a breath. “Sean, I’m really sorry that happened to your friend, but I promise you that’s
not
what’s going on with Rigel and me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not. But . . . you’re the Sovereign, M. Even if it was somehow possible, it still wouldn’t . . . I mean, they’d never allow . . . Look, can we not talk about it any more right now? If we do, I’m . . . afraid I’ll say something that’ll get you mad at me all over again.”

I’d been about to remind him of the lightning thing, which was what had convinced Molly, but he looked so uncomfortable I stopped myself. “Okay, I guess I sort of understand. But
none
of this is Rigel’s fault, even if it makes you feel better to think it is.”

Sean sighed heavily. “I’ll try to remember that. And I really am sorry I came down so hard on him before. It just seems so . . . presumptuous, the way he is with you, touching you without asking and stuff. I know he didn’t grow up on Mars so he doesn’t have our same ingrained reaction to who you are, but—” He broke off and took a steadying breath. “So . . . more pictures?”

Though I really wanted to finish convincing Sean about the
graell
, I decided not to push it right now. I could try again later. And soon I was completely distracted by more holograms of Nuath: the area around Glenamuir, classrooms, hydroponic gardens, orchards, and all the people Sean and Molly had known there.
 

Around nine, their parents came in, Mrs. O’Gara bearing a tray of herbal tea and adorable little lemon biscuits. While I nibbled, they told me how life had gradually changed after Faxon came into power, how he had dissolved the government by degrees until he was the sole authority.

“So, before that, there were two legislative houses, right?” I asked, glancing at Sean.

“Right,” he said. “The Royal House, sort of like the Senate here, or maybe more like the House of Lords over in England, and the
Eodain
. Similar to the House of Commons, whose members are popularly elected.”

“The People’s House,” Mrs. O’Gara clarified. “That’s the closest English translation, I suppose, though it’s primarily elected from among the Royal and Science
fines
. Each house had a mix of conservative and progressive members, though historically the Royal House has been the most conservative and the
Eodain
primarily progressive.”

Mr. O’Gara took up the explanation. “Of course, the old government is in shambles after Faxon’s depredations—assassinations and arrests, with most others in hiding or here on Earth. Even after he’s overthrown, it won’t be an easy task to rebuild it. I
wish—
”

“I know, dear.” His wife patted his arm soothingly. “We’ll go back as soon as we possibly can.”
 

They spent the next half hour telling me more about how the Nuathan government was structured, with ministries for bizarre things like Terran Obfuscation (a whole branch devoted to keeping Earth from finding out about the colony), Gravity/Antigravity, Water Reclamation, Hydroponics and Animal Husbandry.

“Agriculture is still pretty big there,” Sean explained when I looked surprised at the last two. “Though the Sciences have overtaken Ags and Husbandry as the biggest
fines.
Um, has anyone explained to you about
fines
yet?”
 

I nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Molly did. Sort of like genetically predetermined career paths and clans and a social hierarchy all in one.” And self-enforced gene pools, though I didn’t say that.

Mrs. O’Gara chuckled. “That’s rather a clever way to put it, dear, and not far off the mark.”
 

I was grateful that they never once, during the whole conversation, put any pressure on me, never made me feel like they expected me to
do
anything, the way Allister Adair did. Still, I couldn’t help suspecting the reason they were telling me all this was so I’d sympathize more with their cause. So I’d
want
to do something eventually.
 

Worse, I was worried that it might be working.

Cinnwund Rioga
(KIN-wund ree-OH-gah):
Royal Destiny

I tried to hurry through my chores Saturday, hoping I might be able to get to Rigel’s party a little early. Already our walk—and makeout session—the day before yesterday seemed forever ago.
 

But Aunt Theresa kept thinking of more and more things for me to do. At least my taekwondo class in the middle of the day gave me a chance to swing by Glitterby’s on the way home, to pick up the present I’d had made for Rigel’s birthday. I thought it was gorgeous, but worried he might think it was too girly.

Talking so much about the
graell
yesterday made me even more aware of how “off” I felt when Rigel and I were apart. By late afternoon, I was positively antsy to see him again.

Finally I finished mulching the roses, my last chore. I showered, put on the outfit I’d carefully selected—a top in shades of green that Rigel had once said he liked and dark khaki slacks—and primped until I felt ready. Anticipating Rigel’s smile when he saw me, I practically skipped down the stairs.

“Can you take me over to Rigel’s now?” I asked Uncle Louie, who’d gotten home from the car lot a little while ago.

“Oh, your friend Brianna called while you were in the shower,” Aunt Theresa informed me, coming out of the kitchen. “Her father offered to pick you up, so they’ll be here in about half an hour.”

I tried not to let my irritation show. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” So much for getting a few minutes of private time with Rigel. Knowing Bri, it would be more like an hour before they got here, so the party would be well underway. I went back upstairs a lot more slowly than I’d come down, to pass the time with homework.
 

“Allister probably wouldn’t have let us be alone for more than two seconds anyway,” I mumbled to myself. Not that it was much comfort.
 

Sure enough, a solid fifty minutes passed before I finally heard the doorbell. I grabbed Rigel’s present and raced downstairs, reaching the door just as Aunt Theresa opened it.
 

“Ready?” Bri asked.
 

“Duh. Let’s go,” I said, hurrying to the car ahead of her.

She laughed as she followed me. “You’ve still got it bad, don’t you? You just saw him yesterday, you know.”
 

I just slid into the back seat next to Deb. “Hey, Deb. Thanks, Mr. Morrison.”
Thanks for making me so late,
I added silently.

When we arrived, the long driveway leading to the yellow farmhouse was already lined with cars, a couple dozen, at least. Definitely no alone time with Rigel tonight.
 

“Huh. Somehow I thought their house would be fancier,” Bri said as we headed up the front walk.

“Why? He told you it was just a big old farmhouse. They’ve fixed it up, though.” Including a few “special” renovations, but of course those were well camouflaged.
 

“Do you realize this is the first party Rigel’s ever had?” Bri commented. “Almost every other guy on the team has had at least one since the start of the year.”

Since Rigel and I had been together, Bri and Deb had gone out with a few football players and Bri, especially, had been going to a lot of parties. The one or two times I’d mentioned it, she’d shut me down immediately, which worried me a little.

“What are you giving Rigel for his birthday?” Deb asked, distracting me. “I hope he’ll like the Jewel Jaguars football mug I got him.”

“How could he not?” I rang the doorbell rather than answer her question, worrying again my present was stupid.
 

But then Rigel opened the door and my jitters disappeared. “Hey, M.” His smile was the one he reserved just for me. For a long moment we were lost in each other’s eyes, but then he remembered his manners. “Hey, Bri, Deb. Glad you could come.” He opened the door wide for all of us to enter.

As the others went past him into the house, he touched my arm and murmured, “I should warn you, some friends of my parents came and I don’t think they’re really here because it’s my birthday.”

I cringed. “You mean . . . because of me?”

He nodded, but then gave me a quick kiss that drove every other thought from my head—for a moment. I followed him into the house, trying to be upset that he knew so well how to distract me. Because even though I now understood better how most
Echtrans
felt, it was
not
okay if virtual strangers had come to gawk at me. Today was Rigel’s big day, not mine.
 

But we hadn’t taken three steps before Rigel’s dad came up with three strangers in tow, two women and a man. “Ah, here you are, M,” he greeted me. “Some friends of ours would like to meet you.”
 

“Hello.” I tried to hide my discomfort, glad Rigel was still beside me.

The three exchanged glances with each other and one of the women actually giggled. Finally, the man spoke. “So very, very pleased to make your acquaintance, your—“ He broke off when Mr. Stuart frowned and shook his head. “That is, um, I’m Girard Neeson. Allow me to present my wife, Brenna, and her sister, Doreen Gilley. We’ve known Rigel and his family since . . . well, for years.”
 

Sixty years? Seventy? Just as well he hadn’t said, since several of our classmates were within earshot.
 

“Marsha Truitt,” I said, extending my hand to each of them in turn. I felt the usual faint tingle from each of them, nothing like what I got from Rigel, or even Sean.

They were all very attractive, of course, and looked to be in their early thirties, though they could be a hundred, for all I knew. Somehow, given that giggle, I doubted it.
 

“Marsha?” Doreen—the giggler—echoed. “Is that—?”

“My friends call me M for short.” Hadn’t the fact that I’d been raised under another name circulated along with the news of my existence?