by Brenda Hiatt
Sean misinterpreted my hesitation. “No, I get it. I sound completely crazy, don’t I? Making up all that stuff when I was a kid, imaginary conversations and all.”
“No! That’s not it at all,” I was forced to reassure him. “I, um, did a lot of that kind of thing myself when I was younger. So I get that part. It’s just . . . knowing all this only makes it harder, Sean. I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder resignedly and looked away again. “Yeah. It was stupid of me to think you’d have some kind of instant affinity for me, just because I had it for you. It’s not like you’d ever even heard of me, while I’d been thinking of you my whole life. Of course, I had no idea about . . . about you and Stuart. Uncle Allister didn’t tell me,” he added, clearly annoyed at that omission. “He just said it was important I get to Jewel as quickly as possible. I only realized later that was why.”
“I’m sorry, Sean,” I repeated, and was surprised to discover I meant it. “Who knows? Maybe if I’d met you before I met Rigel . . . But I didn’t. And I can’t undo my bond with him, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
He just nodded, still not looking at me, which somehow made me feel even worse. It seemed cruel now to give him my side, but it was still important. Necessary. “It’s my turn now. I need to convince you that Rigel and I really do have a graell bond. Because until you believe that—”
“Look,” he interrupted. “Can we . . . not do that right now? Please? I don’t think I . . . I mean . . .” He closed his eyes for several long seconds, then opened them and said, with a sort of desperate, forced cheerfulness, “Hey, I said I was going to entertain you tonight, remember?”
“Right.” I couldn’t bring myself to press the issue when it so clearly pained him. “What did you have in mind?”
With an obvious effort, he summoned a grin. “Come and see. I think you’ll like it.” He stood up and walked over to the desk on the other side of the room.
Curious, I followed him and saw several weird-looking items assembled there.
“You were so fascinated by my omni, I thought you might like to see a few other fun gizmos.” He picked up something that looked vaguely like an electric hot plate, but without a cord. “Mum does at least half her cooking with these—she has close to a dozen, all different sizes.” Turning, he held it out to me.
Careful not to touch him, I took it. Forcing myself to focus on the item instead of his unsettling revelations, I turned it this way and that. It was flat, maybe half an inch thick and less than a foot square, with a big red circle on one shiny white side and a button on one edge. “How does it work?”
“Sort of like a microwave oven, only better and faster. You put a pot or a serving dish on it, then set it, so.” He pushed the button and a little holographic screen much like the one from his omni popped up. “It instantly heats, cools or cooks whatever is in the pot or on the plate. You can even put different stuff on one plate, like with leftovers, and it’ll make everything the right temp—potatoes hot, applesauce cold, like that.”
“Convenient,” I admitted, trying not to act too impressed since I was still uncomfortable around Sean for a whole variety of reasons. “What’s this thing?” I pointed at something that looked like a leather scroll, maybe eight inches long.
Sean picked it up. “This would have been a lot more gee-whiz a few years back, but someone leaked the technology a decade or two ago. Now electronic readers are everywhere here on Earth, but we’ve had them on Mars for over a century. This is what I think of when you say the word ‘book.’”
He touched the end of the “scroll” and it snapped flat and rigid, then touched it again and lettering appeared all over one side. He handed it to me.
“Wow.” It was harder now to hide my awe. “This is Martian, right?” I asked, looking at the same strange characters I’d seen on some of the books on the shelves.
“Yeah, but it’ll also display in English. Or any other language. It has a translator.”
I watched as he demonstrated, the text switching to English—it looked like one of Shakespeare’s plays—then to something I guessed was German or Dutch, and then to Chinese or something similar. Okay, I was impressed. Bri’s Kindle sure couldn’t do this.
“And it’ll hold more than two million volumes,” he told me, rolling it back up with another touch of a button. “Videos, too, but since the omni came out, nobody really uses books for that anymore.”
This time his finger did brush mine, though I couldn’t tell if it was intentional. I tried not to jerk away from the thoroughly disturbing jolt I felt, since I didn’t want him to make a big deal about it.
“Yeah, the book thingy is pretty cool. But what’s with these?” I asked, picking up what looked like an ordinary pair of eyeglasses with thin metal frames. “I thought all Martians had perfect vision naturally.” I hadn’t, of course, but I did now—now that bonding with Rigel had “fixed” me.
Sean just chuckled. “Try them on.”
I did. Everything looked the same. But then Sean reached over—I managed not to flinch—and touched the frame. Suddenly everything got huge.
“Here, look,” he said, holding his finger about six inches in front of me. I could see every pore in his finger and the ridges of his fingerprint looked like a mountain range.
“So they’re like a microscope?”
“That’s not all. Check this out.” He crossed the room and flipped the light switch, plunging us into darkness.
Which was super creepy, after what he’d told me earlier. “Hey!” I protested.
“Touch the upper outside corner of the left lens,” he said.
I did, and suddenly I could see everything in the room just as clearly as when the lights were on. “Whoa. How—?”
“Infrared, like night goggles or security cameras. It’ll also see into the ultraviolet spectrum on another setting, and do telescopic vision, though not as well as a real telescope, of course. More like good binoculars.”
He flipped the lights back on and I removed the glasses, feeling a little foolish about my moment of panic.
“And nobody would ever suspect.” I looked more closely at the glasses. The buttons, or sensors, or whatever changed the settings, weren’t even visible. “But I guess that’s the point? Nobody’s supposed to know about this stuff, right? Regular Earthlings, that is.”
“Well, no, but it’s not like I’m showing this stuff to anyone at school, and you’re not going to mention it to Bri or Deb, right?”
An hour ago I’d have wanted to make him sweat, but now I shook my head without hesitation. “Of course not. It’s not like I’ve told them about myself.”
“No, I know. Though it must be tempting at times. Even more tempting to tell your aunt and uncle, considering the way they treat you. Hell, I’ve been tempted myself!”
I shrugged, trying not to feel touched by his concern. “They’d never believe you. And they’d believe it even less if I told them.”
“I guess. So, um, can you also not tell Stuart about this stuff? He might make trouble with some of the higher-ups if he knows we have all this.”
Immediately, my original irritation at Sean surged back. “Higher-ups? Isn’t your precious Uncle Allister one of the highest-up guys on the planet? Anyway, I don’t keep secrets from Rigel.”
Sean’s mouth twisted, but whether with anger or chagrin, I couldn’t tell. “But you want me to keep secrets from my mum, right?” Before I could retort, he backed off. “No, sorry, that was out of line. I’m really not trying to put you on the spot or anything. Come on into the kitchen—I’ve got a couple other things to show you.”
CHAPTER 25
teachneoc (TEEK-nee-ok): technology; gadgetry
Sean’s sudden shift from accusatory back to friendly and apologetic defused my flare of anger, almost against my will. And I did want to see more, so I followed him. Mrs. O’Gara was in the kitchen, frosting a yummy-looking chocolate cake.
“Ah, you’re a wee bit early, Sean. I was goi
ng to bring this out as soon as the tea was ready. But now you’re here, will you get out the cups?”
“I’ll do it, if you tell me where they are,” I offered, but Mrs. O’Gara looked horrified.
“You’ll do no such thing, Excellency! It won’t hurt this overgrown son of mine a bit to help out in the kitchen for a change.”
Sean just grinned. “It’s okay, M. Besides, it gives me a chance to show you something else.” He opened a cabinet and took out a teacup, but instead of setting it on a saucer, he dipped a finger into the frosting bowl, laughing when his mother swatted him away. Then he daubed chocolate on the cup and put it back in the cupboard.
“Watch this,” he said. He closed the cabinet and pushed an unobtrusive button underneath, waited a second, then opened the cabinet again. As I expected, the cup was now clean.
“Cool dishwasher, huh?”
I nodded, trying not to feel smug. “Yeah, Rigel . . . um, told me about these. Very cool.”
Maybe Sean would worry less if I told him the Stuarts had Martian gadgets of their own, but it didn’t feel right to share something that wasn’t my secret to tell.
“I’ll just have to find something else to show you, then,” Sean said, making me realize I should have acted more impressed.
Mrs. O’Gara pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Have a seat, M, do. As you’re in the kitchen already, you may as well have your tea here.”
Sean set out teacups for all three of us while his mother cut thick slices of chocolate cake. It all smelled heavenly, though I hadn’t been hungry until now.
“There, now. Do let me know if you need more sugar, or anything at all,” she said comfortably, sitting down at the table with us and pouring the tea.
I smiled at her, though being fussed over still felt weird. Nice, but weird. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Gara. And, um, thanks for getting me out of the house tonight.”
“T’was the least I could do, dear, after our family disrupted your life so. I hope things weren’t awkward with Molly away, and that you and Sean have had a nice chat?”
I wondered if she’d been able to hear everything we said, but it seemed rude to ask. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” I replied, though “nice” wasn’t the word I’d have used to describe it.
“Well, that’s just grand.” She seemed more pleased than my lukewarm response called for. “By the bye, I believe I’ve convinced your aunt to let you come here as often as you like, provided you finish whatever tasks she sets you first.”
“Really? Thanks! That’s great.” The evening had started out awkwardly, but now I was genuinely grateful I could have this regular escape.
I heard the front door open and close, then footsteps, but they sounded more like Mr. O’Gara’s than Molly’s.
Mrs. O glanced that way, then turned back to me with a concerned smile. “I’d prefer Theresa stop giving you menial jobs altogether, as it’s simply not fitting, but with her not knowing who you are, I can scarcely explain why.”
“That’s super nice of you, Mrs. O’Gara, but it’s okay, really. I’m, uh, pretty much used to it. And it won’t last forever. I hope.”
The look she gave me seemed both fond and a little sad. “The way you’ve held up all these years is a marvel, Princess. A credit to your breeding, it is, fitting or not. And now you do know who you are, I hope you won’t take it amiss if we try to help you understand some of what you’ve missed out on, being raised the way you have.”
“No, of course I don’t mind! I love learning more about Mars. It’s all fascinating to me.”
A voice behind me—a voice that made my stomach instinctively clench—said, “I’m glad to hear that, Excellency, because your instruction definitely needs to proceed more quickly. Time may be getting short.”
I whipped my head around and sure enough, the very last person I wanted to see was standing there: Allister Adair, looking as pompous and sure of himself as ever.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out before remembering Allister was Mrs. O’Gara’s brother. Then I did remember, and gave her a quick, apologetic glance before turning back to Allister. “I mean, um, how long have you been listening?”
To my surprise (and secret satisfaction), he looked a little chagrined. “My apologies, Excellency. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I should have revealed my presence at once. But I was so pleased to hear that you are eager to learn more about your people and duties that my feelings got the better of me.”
I refrained—barely—from making a snarky comment about him having feelings. “What did you mean, time is getting short? Short for what?”
“Nothing alarming, I assure you,” he said, trying for that fatherly smile he sucked at. “Simply that a regular, even accelerated, schedule of study is long overdue, as you have missed so many years of education already. Thrice-weekly visits, perhaps?” He looked questioningly at Mrs. O’Gara.
She gave him a quick frown but nodded, then turned to me with a smile. “If you’re willing, M? You did say you wanted to hear more, and it would get you away from your aunt more frequently.”
“I guess so, if you really think you can convince Aunt Theresa to let me come that often. But . . . will he be teaching me?” I shot a suspicious glance at Allister.
“Only occasionally,” he assured me. “I’m a busy man, after all, with duties in both Washington and Montana. When I am in Jewel, however, I would be pleased to teach you about certain topics for which I am particularly well-suited. If that meets with your approval, of course.”
It was the most deferential he’d ever been toward me, but I still didn’t trust him. “That depends. What topics are you talking about?”
His jaw twitched, but he kept his tone surprisingly polite. “Primarily Nuathan governmental structure, traditions and procedures. Things vitally important for you to learn about, especially given—”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mrs. O give a quick shake of her head and he broke off.
“Given what?” I prodded, sure now that there was something he wasn’t telling me. “What’s changed? Why the sudden urgency?”
“Allister means that we have no way of knowing how soon you may need this knowledge, given the, ah, increasingly uncertain state of things in Nuath,” Mrs. O’Gara replied, with another frown for her brother.
“Yes, better safe than sorry.” Allister’s suddenly jovial tone only made me more suspicious. “Are you willing, Princess?”
My first instinct was to refuse, but the more I knew about all their convoluted rules, the better chance I’d have of finding ways around them—legitimately or not. Maybe I’d even discover a loophole that would allow Rigel and me to stay together.
“I suppose,” I said. “Though I’d probably learn more from someone else. Anyone else.”
After just the slightest pause, during which he again seemed to be biting back an instinctive rebuke, he nodded. “I understand. It is unfortunate that you and I began on such poor terms, Excellency. I intend to do my best to remedy that.”
I wanted to tell him that the only remedy would be for him to stop being such a jerk about Rigel, but that would just lead to another big argument, and it was getting late.
“Right,” I said. “But I’d better head home, if I want my aunt to let me come here again.”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. O’Gara looked relieved. “We mustn’t antagonize her unnecessarily at this stage.”
I felt like a wimp, not challenging Allister the way I wanted to, but maybe I’d have better luck changing his mind about Rigel by degrees, if I could manage to keep my temper around him. I owed it to Rigel—and to myself—to try.
I was so distracted, I forgot to protest when Sean put on his coat to walk me home. In fact, I was barely aware of him walking next to me, I was so busy mulling over the evening’s revelations and wondering what Mrs. O had kept Allister from saying.
“Hey, you want to see a new omni trick?” Sean asked abruptly when we were halfway to my house, snapping me back to the pres
ent.
“What? Oh, um, sure.”
He pulled it out and I was surprised all over again at how small it was, not even as big as his thumb. He brought up the first screen, hit a button to bring up another screen, hit two buttons there, then stuck it back in his pocket.
“So . . . what did you do?”
He grinned down at me, his hand hovering above my shoulder. “May I?”
Though my first instinct was to refuse, I knew by now that some of the omni’s functions required contact. I nodded, steeling myself against the tingle I always felt. Then, suddenly, I heard music. But not through my ears, exactly. More like it was playing in my brain.
“Waltz of the Flowers,” I murmured. One of my favorite classical pieces. Did Sean somehow know that? Probably. “How does it do that? Can anyone else hear it?”
“Nope.” He took his hand off of my shoulder and the music disappeared. Then he touched me again and it came back. “Way better than earbuds, huh?”
“Way,” I had to agree.
We reached my house before the Tchaikovsky piece ended, making me wish the walk were longer. Only not really, because the last thing I wanted was to spend more time with Sean. Between his disturbing confession and all that Martian technology, the jerk had somehow managed make me forget I was mad at him. Was I really that easy to manipulate?
“Thanks,” I said, stepping away from him and cutting off the music. “Tell Molly I said hi, okay?”
I headed up the front steps without a backward glance, half expecting him to stop me. He didn’t, though, and when I finally peeked as I closed the front door, he was already halfway down the street. Telling myself firmly that I was relieved rather than disappointed, I went upstairs to get ready for bed.
CHAPTER 26
ateamh rioga (ah-TEV ree-OH-gah): persuasive ability possessed by some of Royal blood
I tried to ditch Sean and Molly as soon as we got off the bus the next morning. I wanted to tell Rigel about my visit to the O’Garas’ before Sean could, plus all this staying apart was starting to give me a headache and the first hints of queasiness. But the two of them tagged along, talking to me, until I had to hurry to get to class before the bell. I was sure it was on purpose.
