Starcrossed (34 page)

“M, dear,” Mrs. O said, “this is Brody and this is Fiona, two of our most accomplished Healers, down from Chicago. We told them how ill you’ve been this past week, and they agreed you should be seen. In fact, we came by your house earlier today and were surprised to find no one home. I understand you actually went to school today?”
 

I nodded, regarding the pair dubiously. “I had to. I mean, I feel fine now. Are . . . are you the Healers who are friends of Dr. Stuart’s? I thought you were coming to Jewel to see Rigel.”

“Yes, although Ariel tells us he is feeling much better, as well,” the woman, Fiona, said.
 

“Um, did the O’Garas or Dr. Stuart explain
why
Rigel and I are both better today?”

Brody frowned as he replied, “Ariel Stuart mentioned something about a bond, but she was rather vague.” That surprised me. Why wouldn’t she just tell them the truth? Politics? “With your permission, Excellency, we would like to perform a medical scan to document what appears to be a rather remarkable recovery.”

“Er, sure. But what about Rigel? Aren’t you going to examine him, too?”

“We are indeed. The Stuarts should be here soon.”

Even as he spoke, I heard a car door slam outside and a moment later Mr. O’Gara ushered Rigel and his parents into the room.
 

To the best of my knowledge, it was the first time Rigel had ever been in this house. It gave me a weird feeling, sort of like when his parents had come to my house for the first time, the night we got grounded. Did they know the O’Garas were in a shabby little house like mine, so different from their big, modernized farmhouse out in the country?

Weirdly, I felt almost defensive on the O’Garas’ behalf, even while I wanted nothing more than to run to Rigel and wrap my arms around him. It was like two separate pieces of my world were colliding and I was caught between them. What I felt wasn’t quite guilt—more like being pulled in two directions by conflicting loyalties. Except my loyalties
weren’t
conflicted, of course. They were completely with Rigel. Always.

You okay?
he sent, even as I thought that.
 

I started to nod, then decided we maybe shouldn’t tip everyone off to our new ability just yet.
Fine. Just not sure what’s going on. Do you know?
He didn’t.

“Thank you for coming.” Allister’s stiffness reminded me that Dr. Stuart had thrown him out of their house after Rigel’s party. Had they seen each other since?

Dr. Stuart was apparently remembering that, too, judging by the disapproving look she gave Allister before addressing the Healers directly.
 

“I appreciate you coming to Jewel on such short notice to examine my son—and Princess Emileia, of course—though it now appears they’ve recovered to a remarkable degree.”

“Which in itself is worthy of study, both in my opinion and in that of the Council,” Fiona said with a smile. “We by no means consider this a wasted trip.”

Brody nodded his agreement and I felt my spirits, already buoyed by having Rigel in the same room, rise even higher. This was our chance to prove to everyone, once and for all, that our
graell
bond was absolutely real. Then they’d
have
to let us spend more time together.

Picking up on my elation, Rigel thought to me,
Yes! Perfect. Bet old Allister didn’t count on that.
It took all my self control not to nod this time, but I looked at him and grinned.

Meanwhile, his mother was saying, “I definitely agree that this unprecedented sickness and near-instantaneous recovery our Sovereign and Rigel have experienced should be independently verified.”

“Independently?” Allister echoed. “By members of your
fine
, who also happen to be your personal friends?”

“Who would you suggest evaluate the recent dramatic changes in both Rigel’s and Emileia’s health, Allister, if not Healers?” Dr. Stuart asked mildly. “The Royal
fine
is as well represented in this room as ours.”

“She’s right, Allister,” Mr. O’Gara said, with a frown for his brother-in-law. “It’s in the interests of all our people that we get to the heart of this matter as quickly as possible. I, for one, am willing to accept the professional opinions of the Healers present, once they have examined the evidence.”

Allister gave a terse nod and retired to a chair on the far side of the room, though he kept shooting dark looks at Rigel—and, occasionally, at me. Clearly, he still thought we were either making the whole thing up, or that we’d chosen to bond just to piss him off. I tried not to look at him, afraid I might smirk once our claim was proven. Which it would be.

“Now, Rigel,” Fiona began, “your mother tells us you have been extremely ill this past week, and we were able to verify that with several other
Echtrans
who visited Shim during that time. Can you describe your symptoms?”

Though he looked a little nervous—and no wonder, since he was essentially in the lion’s den—Rigel answered readily, describing the headaches, nausea, fatigue and mental fuzziness I was all too familiar with by now. As he spoke, the two Healers nodded, making notes on little electronic tablets.

“Would you mind if we took a hair follicle or two for analysis?” was Brody’s next, unexpected request.
 

“Um, sure,” Rigel said, immediately plucking a few dark hairs from his scalp and handing them to the Healer.

Fiona turned to Dr. Stuart. “Ariel, did you bring any intact hairs or other cells of your son’s from while he was ill, as we suggested?”

Rigel’s mother nodded, pulling a tiny plastic bag from her purse. “I took these from his comb before he got home from school.”

“Thank you. Excellency? If I might ask you some questions as well?”

I went through the same interrogation and gave nearly identical answers: from Friday afternoon on, I’d felt progressively worse—as the O’Garas and Allister could all verify—but after reuniting with Rigel today at school, I’d become perfectly well within minutes. I was tempted to mention our new, improved telepathy thing, but again thought better of it. For now. Just in case.
 

I also didn’t mention the weirdness of Thanksgiving when Sean’s touch had temporarily restored my appetite. In fact, I shut that bit out of my thoughts entirely in case Rigel was “listening.” I’d much rather tell him privately, since I was sure he wouldn’t like it.

“Finally,” Fiona said, “and I hesitate to ask, Excellency, but might we have a hair follicle of yours?”

Nodding—this was nowhere as scary as that blood test the Council had insisted on back in September—I pulled a couple of light brown hairs from the side of my head and handed them to her.

Anticipating her next question, I said, “I can get some from this morning or yesterday from my brush at home, too.”

“Ah, no need, Princess.” Mrs. O’Gara held up a small envelope. “When we visited yesterday, I took the liberty . . . that is, I thought that a cellular analysis might help in diagnosing whatever illness you had, so I pulled a few hairs from the brush on your dresser.”

“Oh.” I felt strangely violated, even if it was just old hair from my hairbrush. I mean, why not just ask me? Of course, I’d been pretty out of it at the time . . . “Um, that’s fine. Great.” I tried hard not to be weirded out, since I believed she did care—about me, personally, and especially about me as a potential benefit to Mars.
 

Speaking quietly with each other, and occasionally with Dr. Stuart, the Healers fed the hairs into a small electronic device that had a pop-up holographic screen sort of like the omni’s, but with a much more complicated display than anything Sean had shown me.
 

“Interesting,” Brody murmured at one point. “See how the peptides have changed? I’m guessing the boy’s will show something similar. And look at the matches along these two DNA strands, between—” Eyebrows raised, he glanced at Rigel, then at me.
 

“Yes, there does appear to be a genetic affinity. Very interesting,” Fiona agreed.

Suddenly, Sean spoke for the first time since I’d arrived. “Um, do you think you could take a look at one of my hairs, too?” He plucked one and held it out. “Because I seemed to have a healing effect on her, too.”

Everyone stared at him, though I noticed neither Allister nor the O’Garas looked surprised. In fact, Allister was nodding. Everyone else was clearly startled, especially me. Sean hadn’t given any hint—

“At Thanksgiving,” he clarified. “After we held hands to say grace, she looked a lot better and . . . and ate more than I’d seen her eat all week up till then.”

So he
had
noticed. I was starting to realize Sean didn’t miss much, when it came to me.

Fiona turned to me. “Excellency, is this true?”
 

Trapped, I bit my lip, hesitating. “Not exactly.” Then I saw Mrs. O’Gara watching me carefully and remembered her lie-detector talent. Crap. “Well, sort of, I guess. I did feel a
little
better for an hour or two. Not back to normal at all, but . . . better. It wore off really quickly, though. Touching Rigel this morning made me one hundred per cent healthy instantly. And I still am. Healthy, I mean.”

“Fascinating,” Brody said, finally taking the short strand of copper hair Sean was still proffering.
 

He fed that into the device, too, and more muttering ensued. Dr. and Mr. Stuart seemed tense, though I didn’t see why. They’d left me so completely alone since finding out about Sean and the Consort thing, I’d assumed they’d bought into the political necessity of keeping Rigel and me apart.
 

But these Healers were proving we
had
to be together to stay healthy. Were they upset because that would force people to rethink their precious Martian traditions? I’d assumed they’d be relieved to have proof Rigel and I really were bonded, but it didn’t look that way. I swallowed the little lump in my throat, remembering how nice Dr. Stuart had been to me before the O’Garas came along. Motherly, even. I missed that.

“Well?” Allister asked from across the room. He looked tense, too, but that didn’t surprise me at all. He’d been hostile about Rigel and me from the beginning.

The two Healers exchanged a glance, then turned toward him.

“Particularly considering this evidence from the O’Gara lad, I believe what you have suggested may be possible,” Fiona told him, “though we won’t know for certain until we perform a few
in vitro
experiments.”

Rigel and I exchanged a confused glance. “What may be possible?” he asked suspiciously.
 

Allister’s mouth twisted unpleasantly. “We can’t have our Sovereign incapacitated by whatever genetic anomaly you seem to have produced in her. I, or rather the Council, has asked our Healers to find a solution to that problem.” Then, to the Stuarts, “As soon as they do, the original plan can proceed as scheduled.”

Mr. Stuart looked angry but it was his wife who spoke first. “We don’t know enough to risk that yet. The whole idea is strictly theoretical at this point. I won’t risk my son’s life—or Princess Emileia’s—on a theory.”

“Of course not.” Allister tried to speak soothingly, but he really sucked at that. “The Council doesn’t expect your family to relocate until Christmas, by which time our Healers will surely have developed a cure and tested it—on both of them.”

“Relocate?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?” Then, silently to Rigel,
Did you know about this?

He shook his head fiercely, then, before it could be obvious it was in answer to me, he said, “No. I can’t leave M. I won’t. She needs me now more than ever. All these factions, people trying to—”

“Rigel,” his father said warningly.
 

Allister positively smirked. “Just because you helped to protect the Sovereign against Faxon’s assassins once doesn’t mean you have been appointed her personal bodyguard, boy. We have people specially trained to fill that role. Not that she’s in any danger at the moment, to the best of our knowledge—except from you.”

Dr. Stuart looked seriously pissed. “We have to take more than Emileia’s
physical
safety and well-being into account, Allister. It is no exaggeration to say that she—and Rigel—will suffer enormously if they are permanently separated, no matter what
solution
might be achieved medically.”

Her husband nodded. “She’s right. When we tentatively agreed to leave Jewel, it was before we’d seen the result of Rigel and the Princess being separated, then reunited. Now that we have—”

Mr. O’Gara interrupted him, his voice quiet and reasonable-sounding. “Van, Ariel, will you really endanger the future of our people—all our people—for the sake of a teen romance? No one expects you to leave before some treatment can be found for the physical symptoms, but you both know how critical appearances are right now. Loyalties are balanced on a knife’s edge. Emileia
must
be seen as our future Sovereign, with all that entails.”

There was a long, tense silence. I could tell the Stuarts were communicating and realized belatedly that Rigel and I do the same. I’d been so happy, so sure—

They can’t really do this, can they?
I thought at him, panicked.
There’s no such thing as an . . . an antidote to the
graell,
is there?

Sounds like they plan to create one if they can.
The emotion that came through with his thought was both grim and scared, though I could tell he was fighting the fear. I tried to do the same, so I could think more clearly.

Dr. Stuart gave her husband a quick nod, then came over and surprised me with a hug. It clearly surprised everyone else, too; I saw various degrees of outrage on the faces around me, especially Allister’s. I immediately hugged her back to demonstrate that I didn’t mind a bit. In fact, it was exactly what I needed right then.

“I’m so sorry, M,” she whispered as she embraced me. Her voice caught and I wondered if she was holding back tears. “We really thought— Please believe that the last thing we ever wanted was to hurt you.”

It was incredibly reassuring to know they still cared about me. “I know. And . . . you can’t leave. Really. I . . . I won’t allow it.” I could feel tears threatening, too, until sudden anger pushed back my fear.