Starcrossed (28 page)

A tiny voice whispered that he wouldn’t really be satisfied to see me cry, that he liked me too much for that, but I resolutely ignored it. The only voice I wanted to hear in my head was Rigel’s, not my stupid, disloyal conscience.

dhualgis cumann
(doo-AHL-gus koo-MAHN):
benevolent duty; royal obligation

I spent the rest of the school day careening between misery and panic and trying not to let any of it show—not until I could figure out what to
do
. Because there had to be
something
! I’d never survive ten whole days completely apart from Rigel, and neither would he, no matter how much we’d tried to convince each other we’d be okay.
 

By the time I got home, I was mentally and emotionally wrung out. My head was starting to pound and my heart felt bruised and battered. I went straight to my room to curl up in a ball and be miserable, now that no one was watching me for signs of weakness. When Aunt Theresa got home I dragged myself downstairs, only to be told I was going to the O’Garas’ again tonight.

“Do I have to?” I didn’t have to fake my reluctance this time. That was the last place I wanted to go, especially if Allister was going to be there.
 

“I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to, after they did you such a favor last night by taking you to that basketball game,” my aunt replied. “Refusing to help Molly with her schoolwork would be the height of ingratitude after that.”

I’d temporarily forgotten that I was supposedly doing a good deed by going over there. I considered telling her I wasn’t feeling well, which was true, though I suspected it was because I’d been crying for an hour. And because I was already imagining how awful I
would
feel after a few days without Rigel. No, better save that excuse for later. I’d need it.

“Sorry. You’re right. Sure, I’ll go,” I said dully.
 

As usual, I headed over as soon as I finished the dinner dishes. My feet were dragging despite the cold, I was so not looking forward to their reactions to Rigel’s leaving. Would they be smug? Condescendingly sympathetic? I just hoped I could keep from either crying or losing my temper if they brought it up.

Sean answered the door, but the whole family was waiting in the living room. And sure enough, they all seemed oppressively cheerful when they greeted me. At least Allister wasn’t there—yet. I sat next to Molly on the couch and was relieved when Sean sat in a nearby chair instead of beside me.

“We still have some pie left from dessert, M, if you’d like a piece,” Mrs. O said with a wide smile. “And I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of chamomile tea.”

“Um, just tea, thanks.” I hadn’t been able to swallow much dinner but didn’t feel the least bit hungry, even though Mrs. O was an even better baker than my Aunt Theresa.

As she poured, her husband said, “I’m sorry if we seem a bit overly excited tonight, Excellency. It’s just . . . we’ve received some rather good news today.”

Molly turned to me in surprise. “Oh! I totally forgot that you wouldn’t know, M. And, um, I guess you’re probably not in the best mood right now, huh? What with Rigel leaving and all.”

“You mean that’s not your good news?” I didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. All this grinning was pissing me off.

Molly’s surprise turned to shock. “Of course not! That would be so mean. Can I tell her?” she asked her parents.
 

Mrs. O’Gara nodded, still smiling.
 

Practically bouncing in her excitement, Molly said, “There’s been a real uprising against Faxon back on Mars. Some of his guards have even deserted him and joined the resistance. Mum and Dad told us as soon as we got home from school today. They’re pretty pumped about it—we all are.”

“We are, indeed,” her father agreed. Sean and Mrs. O also nodded enthusiastically. “We didn’t want to say anything until the preliminary reports were verified and it’s still too soon to know all of the ramifications,” he continued, “but Faxon is quickly losing support. When he finally falls, it will change everything. It’s what we’ve hoped for, been working for, for years. Almost since the usurper seized power.”

That explained why they were so secretive last night—that meeting at the Stuarts’ must have been because of those “preliminary reports.” My panic started creeping back, but not because of Rigel this time. Or not only because of Rigel.

“So . . . what does this mean, exactly?”
 

“It means we can go home!” Sean burst out, looking positively ecstatic at the prospect.

“Not yet, dear,” Mrs. O’Gara cautioned him, “but soon, we hope. Once we know for certain what the political climate is like. Unfortunately, things are likely to become even more dangerous in Nuath before they get better. Faxon is unlikely to step down without a fight.”

“With the news reports so vague and confused, how will we be able to tell?” Mr. O sounded frustrated.

His wife patted his arm. “It’s still very early days. We’ll know more soon. Besides—” She broke off and glanced at me.

“Besides what?” I prompted. “I
need
to know this stuff, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Mr. O’Gara said decisively. “That’s why you’re here, after all. To learn as much as possible about ‘this stuff,’ as you put it.” He chuckled, his frustration apparently no match for his good mood.

It sort of made me want to smack him. Smack all of them, with their stupid grins.

“It’s why we’re so anxious to get back,” he continued. “There is an enormous amount of work to be done, work we can help with.”
 

I was perfectly fine with
them
leaving to rebuild the government or whatever, but clearly that wasn’t all they had in mind. “What kind of work?” I asked suspiciously.

“Bolstering the resistance, now that it’s finally taking hold. Organizing protests, so that Faxon can be deposed with as little bloodshed as possible. Bringing together the various factions that oppose him, so they can work effectively together.”

I waited, knowing there was more, and that I wasn’t going to like it. I was right.

“Needless to say, once Faxon is removed—which could happen at any time—we’ll need to act quickly before the resulting power vacuum degenerates into anarchy or even civil war, which could tear our people apart. In other words, the moment it’s safe, we need to bring back the exiled Royals.”

Which obviously included
me
. But not the Stuarts, since they weren’t Royals and not exactly exiled, having been on Earth for seventy-five years. And if the “authorities” wanted Rigel away from Jewel right now, how much more would they want to keep him on Earth if I went to Mars?
 

The panic I’d been fighting now grabbed me by the throat. I tried to force my brain to function so I could argue my side convincingly.
 

“Look, I know this is really important to you and all, but you can’t possibly expect me to just . . . just walk away from everything I’ve ever known, everyone I care about, to become some . . . figurehead for your cause.”

“Not a figurehead!” Mrs. O’Gara seemed shocked. “Not at all. It may seem that way at the moment, because you don’t yet know enough and aren’t yet old enough to truly lead. But our Sovereigns have been anything but figureheads. Surely you’ve learned that much by now?”

“Sovereigns in the past, maybe. But this new government will be starting from scratch, right? Even Allister has said no one expects me to actually
lead
until I’m older. So what would that make me, exactly, if not a figurehead?”

She and her husband exchanged glances and I got a sense they didn’t really want to answer. But I kept waiting and finally Mr. O’Gara said, “I won’t deny that at this moment you are primarily a . . . symbol to our people. A symbol of hope, and a rallying point. But even as a minor, a Sovereign has certain powers.”
 

Mrs. O’Gara cleared her throat and he broke off with a guilty glance at her.

Immediately, I pounced on what he’d started to say. “Powers? What powers
do
I have? Right now?” Maybe enough that I could at least make them bring Rigel back?

“Well . . .” Mrs. O’Gara pursed her lips and sent her husband a quick frown. “Once you’re properly Acclaimed Sovereign, you’ll likely appoint a Regent to serve until you reach your majority. Depending on your age, you can invest certain powers in that Regent while reserving others to yourself, but it’s been many generations since a Regent was required, so I’m not certain exactly where the dividing lines are.”

I stared at her, fervently wishing I had her ability to tell if someone was being truthful. Even without it, I had a gut feeling there was a lot she wasn’t telling me. Especially when she sprang to her feet the moment I opened my mouth to ask more questions.

“I’ll just get a fresh pot of tea, shall I?”
 

I doubted I’d get more answers out of her tonight but I wasn’t
about
to let the subject drop for good.

At breakfast the next morning, Aunt Theresa informed me that I could go to taekwondo that day after all. No doubt she’d learned Rigel was out of town, and didn’t want the money she’d paid for those classes to go to waste.
 

Not that I wanted to argue. Whatever her reason, I was eager to go someplace other than the O’Garas,’ someplace I could burn off a bit of my frustration. I headed out as soon as I finished my morning chores.

After warmups and kicking drills, Master Parker split us into pairs for sparring practice. I found myself opposite Darlene, a black-belt in her early twenties, one of the most aggressive sparrers in the school, even counting most of the guys. I hadn’t sparred with her since I was a yellow belt, but the memory made my stomach clench. She’d knocked me down twice, hard, and I’d come away with a couple of really nasty bruises, even with all the pads we had to wear.

“Master Parker says you’ve gotten better lately,” she whispered as we bowed to each other. “Let’s see whatcha got.”

Though nervous, I smiled grimly as we shifted to fighting stance. I
was
better now, and I was in a mood to prove it. Master Parker gave the Korean command to begin, and Darlene immediately led off with a lightning-fast roundhouse kick, followed by a back-spinning kick to my head, which I barely ducked before missing her completely with a roundhouse kick of my own.
 

She came at me again and I forced myself to focus, imagining her as one of the people trying to keep Rigel away from me. My momentary fear vanished, replaced by anger and an unexpected surge of confidence.

Darlene’s next kick seemed to happen in slow-motion, giving me all the time in the world to fade back and counter with a solid back kick to her midsection that sent her flying, landing on her backside.
 

She was up again before I could worry that I’d hurt her, coming at me with renewed determination—and a hint of respect in her eyes. She feinted a bit, watching for an opportunity, then lunged in with a vicious axe-kick that would have knocked me to my knees if it had landed. Again, I had no trouble sidestepping and delivering a roundhouse to her chest pad, followed by a back-spinning kick that connected solidly with her padded helmet.

This time, she didn’t get up. Time abruptly returned to normal as concern spiked through me. “Darlene?” I said uncertainly, and to my relief she started to stir. She was struggling to sit up when Master Parker blew his whistle and hurried over.

“Just sit still for a moment,” he told her, then looked at me. “Marsha, are you
sure
you don’t want to spar in the upcoming tournament?”

Darlene was clearly still dazed. “What
was
that? It felt like a baseball bat.”

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice, appalled by what I’d done, legal move or not. Now I understood how Rigel and Sean must feel when playing sports against regular Earthlings. But if I couldn’t control myself any better than that, I definitely had no business trying to be a leader.
 

Just like I’d tried to tell everyone from the start.
 

Between freezing drizzle and no Rigel at church, Sunday was dreary. Especially since I was feeling the first twinges of headache and nausea from going too long without seeing him.
 

The only diversion occurred when several of Jewel’s more prominent citizens gathered for the latest gossip after the service. I tuned it out at first, wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself, but then a few words caught my attention.

“What I don’t understand is, why now?” Mrs. Billingsley was saying. “Mid-November isn’t exactly tourist season in Indiana, and the Jewelry Festival isn’t until May.”

Her husband put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, Belinda. I’ve sold three houses in two days, which has never happened in my life. You said sales at the bookstore are up, too.”
 

“So are my sales,” chimed in old Agatha Payton. “And have any of you noticed? I probably shouldn’t say this in church, but most of these out-of-towners are awfully good-looking.” Aunt Theresa and one or two others looked slightly shocked and Agatha tittered. “Hey, just ‘cause I’m old don’t mean I’m dead!”
 

The Billingsleys had owned Belinda’s Books on Diamond since way before I was born, and Mrs. Payton owned and ran Glitterby’s a few doors down. All were at least third generation Jewelites, so their opinions carried weight in town. Mrs. Batten and her mother, who owned and ran Quilt World, nodded their agreement. I glanced at the O’Garas, who all looked impressively clueless.
 

Was Jewel going to become the next Martian enclave? I used to think it would be cool to have lots of other
Echtrans
around, like Sean and Molly had always had, but not if they were mainly here to pass judgment on everything I did—and who I spent time with.

“Marsha!” Aunt Theresa broke into my thoughts in a tone that made it clear she’d already said my name more than once. “It’s time to go. Those baseboards won’t scrub themselves, you know.”