The Star Dwellers (18 page)

“Auntie!” Elsey exclaims, running to her and
hugging her around the waist.

“Ready for dinner?” Jinny says.

“Yes,” Roc and I reply simultaneously. Seems
we can always eat these days.

Jinny laughs. “They’ll have food for you guys
in there,” she says, motioning to the door.

“That’s what Mr. Meathead said last time,”
Roc says under his breath.

I chuckle. “See ya later, El. Bye,
Jinny.”

“I’ll miss you both dearly,” Elsey says,
pushing the back of her hand to her forehead like she might
faint.

“And you, Lady Elsey,” Roc replies in his
best theater voice, generating a peal of giggles from his new best
friend. Jinny smiles and shakes her head as she shepherds Elsey
back the way we came.

Ram grunts and pulls open the door, holding
it for us. “Ladies first,” I say, motioning for Roc to enter
first.

“Age before beauty,” he returns, bowing
graciously.

“I’m a day older than you.”

“And ten times uglier.” I fake a punch to his
midsection and he flinches.

The cast around the table is the same as it
was earlier. The Resistance leaders. Ben, at the head. Vice
President Morgan at the other head, her back to us. Maia sits next
to Jonas on one side, and flashes me a smile as I enter. Jonas’s
expression is less friendly, his mouth a tight line. His eyes
follow me to my seat.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Ben
says.

“How could we refuse when you sent such a
persuasive escort,” I say, watching Roc smile as he sits down. Even
if no one else gets my sarcasm, at least he does. Ram grunts again
from the spot he’s taken in the corner. I guess he gets it,
too.

“We have a bit of a—”

“Situation? Yeah, we heard, but what does
that mean exactly?” Unlike the last time I was in this room, I feel
more confident. I have a better idea what to expect from the other
people in the room. Vice President Morgan I know from before;
Maia’s got my back; Jonas is one to watch out for, but could be an
ally; Ben’s my biggest advocate. And Ram, well he’s just a
bunghole. I smirk at my own thoughts.

“The President has taken over all the
airwaves,” Morgan says. I like the way she calls him
the
President
, and not
your father
.

“He does that all the time,” I say. “Whenever
he wants to spout his propaganda.”

“True,” Ben says, “but this time it’s a
message about you.”

“Wha…what?” I say, unable to prevent the
slight stutter.

“It’s probably best if you see for yourself,”
Morgan says, motioning to a screen that’s descended from a crack in
the roof behind Ben. For living in a cave in the middle of nowhere,
these people are full of surprises.

“Nice telebox,” Roc says. It’s the first
thing he’s said while in this room, and his face turns a dark shade
of crimson when everyone looks at him.

“It wasn’t easy secretly running lines in
here,” Ben comments. “But then again, it wasn’t easy building a
train network unknown to the government either.” It’s weird
thinking about how Ben had another life, back before we were even
born, a life involving secret trains and communication networks and
the Uprising.

The dark screen turns white, and then gray
bubbles buzz across it. “Acquiring signal,” a voice drones.

The screen changes, bringing up a visual that
I know is from the Sun Realm, because the lighting is way too
bright to be anywhere else. And because I’ve been there many times.
It’s where my father conducts all his press conferences: on the
steps of the government buildings. The camera pans to show the
beautiful backdrop of the palace gardens. In the top corner of the
screen is a message in red:
Recorded earlier today.

President Nailin is at the podium. Before he
speaks, there’s light applause from his admirers. “Thank you, my
friends,” he says. Another round of applause. “There has been much
speculation over the past couple of weeks about the state of our
great Tri-Realms. Rumors of attacks by the star dwellers in the
Moon Realm plague the headlines. People are worried about my son,
Tristan, who went missing about the same time as the star dweller
attacks began. I thank you for all of the letters and cards wishing
for his safe return.” A pause. He licks his lips, scans the
crowd.

“I’ve called this press conference today and
will be broadcasting it for the next twenty-four hours, as I have a
very important message for all citizens of the Tri-Realms. First, I
can tell you that after some strong messaging from me personally,
the star dwellers have ceased their attacks on the Moon Realm, and
it is my understanding that the two great Realms are getting close
to a peace accord. It’s a sad day indeed when any of the Realms are
in disagreement with each other, and I’m so thankful I was able to
step in and facilitate a peaceful resolution.”

I grit my teeth and glance at Ben, who wears
a wry smile. The lies are so blatant I can barely stop myself from
removing one of my boots and chucking it at the screen. This is
bad, even for my father.

“Furthermore, I am so pleased to announce
that Tristan has returned, safe and sound.”

“What the hell?” I blurt out. Ben points to
the screen, urging me to listen to the rest.

“My son, bless his heart, left the Sun Realm
seeking to find his mother, who, as you all know, disappeared a few
years ago, breaking all of our hearts.” The camera pans to show the
crowd, who are nodding and murmuring words of pity to the poor
President, the victim of a terrible tragedy.

“Lies,” I growl through my teeth.

“Although he’s not yet ready to stand in
front of all of you, or resume his duties as my son, he asked me to
apologize to all of you on his behalf, for putting the Sun Realm
through such a trying ordeal. My youngest son, Killen, will,
effective immediately, stand in for Tristan, fulfilling all the
duties of the eldest son. Please show him your appreciation as I
do.”

As Killen walks across the white rock
platform to stand behind the podium, my father claps loudly,
leading a roar of applause from the crowd. My jaw is aching from
clenching it so hard.

Killen’s face is lit up in a smile that
reminds me so much of my father. Arrogant. Smug. Looking down on
his worshippers. I hate him in that moment. “My friends,” he says,
using the same greeting as my father, “I am so pleased to be able
to serve you.” Scripted. My father’s words—not his—but he pulls it
off. He’s a natural at BS.

“My first order of business is to lead the
rebuilding of the Moon Realm after the careless star dweller
bombings. To the people of the Moon Realm, I say, do not fear, help
is on the way.”

The reply is deafening. Shouts of “Thank you,
Killen” and “We love you!” fill the air.

My brother uses his bobbing arms to quiet the
crowd. “And then I will personally meet with the star and moon
dweller leaders to help them work out their differences, to once
again restore peace to the Tri-Realms.” More applause. More
screams.

My fingernails are scraping the table and if
Ben didn’t turn off the telebox right then, I fear my fingers would
be cut and bleeding soon.

I stand up, cracking my knuckles. I’m
seething, my emotions out of control, like a tidal wave of rage,
but I don’t care. All I want is revenge. “I’ll go public—prove him
wrong. Turn the people against him.”

Ben sighs. “He’s controlling everything right
now, Tristan. We can’t get a message out to everyone. And even if
we could, he’d just counter with another message refuting it. Who
do you think the people will believe? The President, or his rogue
son who’s desperately seeking his runaway mom?”

I stand there, my chest puffing in and out,
my arms tight at my sides, my hands fisted. “Urr,” I growl and then
sit back down. I feel better. I just needed to get the anger out.
“I’m okay now,” I say. “Let’s talk about it.” Roc’s looking at me
strangely, like I’m a weird new animal species who’s just
demonstrated a bizarre mating ritual. I ignore him.

“There’s something else,” Morgan says. I
groan inwardly.
What else could there be?
“Shortly after the
initial broadcast from the President, he sent a typed message to
all the moon dweller vice presidents. He said if any of them are
harboring his son, to pass the message along to him.”

“So he admitted to his lies. We’ve got him,”
Maia says, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Not exactly,” Ben says. “The message also
warned them that if anyone tries to make the information public,
that he would deny it, and destroy them. I don’t think any of the
VPs, with the exception of VP Morgan here”—he motions across the
table—“would be willing to go head-to-head with Nailin. They know
what he’s capable of.”

“And if Morgan tries to do something, he’ll
make an example of her,” I say. I know my father’s tactics all too
well.

“This is good news,” Roc says suddenly, and
all eyes shift to him. He raises a cheek and chews on the side of
his mouth for a second, and then says, “If he sent the message to
all
the VPs, then he doesn’t have a clue where we’re hiding.
So that’s good, right?”

He has a point. It’s not often my father is
so in the dark about the goings-on in his own kingdom. It’s an
advantage, albeit a small one.

“That’s a good point, Roc,” Ben says,
nodding. Roc grins. I knew there was a reason I wanted him with me
at these meetings.

“So what message did my loving father give
me?” I ask.

Ben has a paper in front of him and he
consults it, using his finger to guide his eyes across the page.
“He said, ‘Tell Tristan he must contact me within twenty-four hours
or I’ll start killing moon dwellers.’”

I cringe. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“He provides information on how to reach him
directly from the Moon Realm.”

“Of course I’ll do it,” I say. “It’s not like
he can do anything to me over a videoconference.”

“There’s one other thing,” Ben says.

“Yeah?”

“He wants Roc with you when you call
him.”

“Roc? Why?”

“You tell me.”

Roc and I look at each other. His face wears
the same expression I expect I’m wearing. Confusion. I don’t have
the slightest idea what my father could want with Roc. I mean, in
my eyes Roc is an amazing person, my best friend, but in my
father’s eyes, he’s just a servant. Scum. No—lower than scum.
Fungus on scum. Of no concern to him. And yet…there must be a
reason he wants him there. And not an honorable reason. A way to
get to me.

“I have no idea,” I say, while Roc shakes his
head. “When can we do it?” I ask. I’m curious now, which probably
means I’m falling right into my father’s trap, but I don’t care—I
have to know what he’s playing at.

“Right now,” Ben says, standing up and
pushing back his chair. “He said you must do it alone.”

“Fine. Will you be listening?”

“He said he would know if it was being
transmitted to multiple receivers or being recorded. I don’t want
to take the chance. You can give us the details afterward.”

I nod. “You ready?” I ask Roc.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’m ready.”

M
y life feels
complete for the first time in a long time. I mean, we’re not one
big happy family or anything, but at least my mom, dad, and sister
are all alive and okay and I’ve been able to see them all recently.
That’s about as good as it gets these days. So you’d think that
would mean maybe I’d be at peace, or something like it, but
instead, I’m throwing everything I have into training.

And that feels the most normal of all.

I grunt as our wooden staffs connect in the
middle. The raw power of my opponent allows him to shove me
backwards, crushing the wood into my lip. I taste coppery blood in
my mouth as it splits open. He charges, swinging the rod back and
forth like a sword.
Use all parts of your body
. I hear my
father’s voice in my head and I obey, ducking my enemy’s attempted
blow, crushing his kneecap with my heel, and slamming my elbow into
his jaw. I take his head off. Not literally, but his head snaps
back and he tumbles to the rock, yowling in pain.

Jamming the butt of my staff into his throat,
I say, “Do you submit?”

He’s discarded his own staff and is rubbing
his jaw and clutching his knee. “Uhhh,” he moans.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmur, moving
away from him and out of the ring. It’s my fourth staff victory in
a row. The dude was twice my size, but in some fights, size doesn’t
matter.

Someone’s clapping. Brody. He’s been clapping
after each of my victories. Beyond him I see Tawni and she gives me
a thumbs-up. Next to her Trevor is glaring at me. There’s something
not right about that guy.

Ignoring him, I stride over to the next
station, archery, and pick up the bow. It’s brand new and
practically sparkling. The arrow is like a violin bow as I move it
along the catgut string. Although the target is at least two
hundred feet away, I pull it toward me with my eyes, until it’s
just in front of me, the bull’s eye like a throbbing red beacon. I
make small movements, just like I’ve been taught, until I’m certain
my aim is true.

Twang!

The bow sings and my arrow cuts sharply
through the murky air, embedding itself in the dead center of the
target.

“Another perfect shot—four for four,” Brody
says, resuming his clap. “You’re doing well, Rose.”

“I completely missed the gun target,” I say,
frowning.

“It was one shot,” Brody says, flashing a
smile. “You’ll get better. I can teach you.”

“Really?” I say, lowering my voice so no one
will hear our conversation. I don’t want to be accused of getting
special treatment because of my mom, but I do want to learn how to
shoot. I don’t know where it comes from—my drive. For some reason,
ever since I was little, I’ve had to be the best at anything I try.
Nothing less is acceptable. Anything less is failure.