by Brenda Hiatt
I hadn’t learned much Martian yet, since I’d thought I had more time, so I’d have those lessons, too. Even though English was spoken more than Martian in Nuath these days (except in schools, where it was required at all times), I’d be expected to use it for formal occasions.
Molly was officially appointed my Chomseireach or Handmaid—sort of a combination companion, chaperone and lady’s maid. I hated the idea of her being some kind of a servant, but Mrs. O insisted the position was considered a huge honor, especially for someone not born Royal.
“If not Molly, it would be someone else, and I’m sure you’d rather have her than a stranger, dear.” I couldn’t argue with that.
At school we’d already been given a ton of extra homework to make up for missing the rest of the semester. Plus, Aunt Theresa seemed to think I’d create some kind of diplomatic incident in Ireland if she didn’t drill me on my manners every chance she got. While that was kind of hilarious under the circumstances, it meant I had to deal with her etiquette lessons on top of everything else.
“Oh, and this from the Council,” Mrs. O added after going over our schedules. “It is imperative you and Rigel remember that the relationship between a Sovereign and his or her Bodyguard is strictly a professional one. However close the two may have been beforehand, once that position is accepted, no sign of intimacy will be tolerated in public. It has always been thus.”
Sean looked as pleased by this reminder as I was irked. Until his mother’s next words.
“There are also protocols governing a Sovereign and his or her future Consort, prior to the official pairing. Any time you and Sean are together you’ll be strictly chaperoned, either by the Princess’s advisor—” She nodded toward Mr. O— “her Chomseireach, or by her personal Bodyguard, who will never be far from her side.”
Now it was Rigel’s turn to be pleased. Excellent, he thought to me, though he carefully kept his expression grave.
“Wait.” Sean’s smile was gone. “You mean once we get to Mars, M and I can’t ever be alone together?”
“That is indeed the custom before your joining. Proper impressions are extremely important, as they will help the Princess to gather the support she needs to be Acclaimed.”
All things considered, I decided I could live with that—especially since it meant Rigel would have to stay close enough to me that we’d always be able to talk. Silently, anyway.
Yeah. It also means I get to watch Sean trying to “court” you, or whatever.
Maybe it’ll be funny.
Maybe. But now his emotions held a sour edge. Again.
CHAPTER 6
chomhaerle (KOM-ahr-lee): advice; counsel
Time seemed to speed over the next week, between my ramped-up schedule in and out of school and yet another holo-meeting with the full Council for an update from Mars.
“The Grentl appear to be growing impatient for a response to whatever message they’ve sent,” Shim informed me. “They’ve activated the device again.”
A knot of tension formed in my midsection. “Do you think they’ve issued some kind of…ultimatum?”
“We won’t know that until you can decipher the messages, Excellency,” said Kyna gravely, her eyes reflecting some of the same fear I felt. “But their repeated attempts at contact make your mission all the more urgent.”
After that, it became even harder to keep my secret from Rigel. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t completely prevent stray Grentl thoughts from popping into my mind at odd moments. Friday at lunch, Rigel caught at least part of one.
What was that? Something about a code?
I clamped down my mind immediately and just shook my head.
Sean, on my other side, noticed. “Something wrong, M?”
“No. Just, um, thinking about stuff.”
He put his hand on my arm and I did my best to ignore the tingle his touch always gave me, maybe half what I got from Rigel. “You know you can always talk to me, M. Any time, day or night.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. But the violent surge of jealousy I felt from Rigel proved he still believed my secret had to do with Sean.
I was dying to just tell Rigel the truth and swear him to secrecy, but Shim was staying at his house now and would surely be able to tell if Rigel learned something that big. Plus there was always the chance Mrs. O might ask me about it directly again. I had to hold out, at least until we were both safely on our way to Mars.
For the rest of lunch I concentrated—hard—on my food and on the gossip Bri and a couple of the JV cheerleaders were sharing, but I was starting to doubt I could keep this up for another two weeks.
Though I missed Rigel, Saturday was almost a relief since I could finally obsess to my heart’s content. At least during my few free moments between Aunt Theresa’s etiquette lessons, taekwondo class and another protocol training session at the O’Garas.’ But Sunday at church was worse than ever. Shim, sitting right there in the pew with the Stuarts, was a constant reminder of the consequences if I screwed up. I couldn’t even properly appreciate the little boost I got from Rigel’s brath after our day apart.
During the sermon, I found myself wondering—very, very privately—if there was some trick I could use to quiet my thoughts when I really needed to. Maybe some Martian meditation or discipline…or would anyone else even need such a thing? The only other people I’d ever heard about who could do what we did were Rigel’s parents.
Which suddenly gave me an idea.
So, what are your plans for the day? I thought to Rigel as everyone stood after the benediction.
Dad and I are going to a firing range up in Kokomo. I suggested adding practice with Earth weapons to my other Bodyguard training, just in case. Grandfather agreed. He’s coming, too.
Good plan. I hoped he’d assume my eagerness was about him being my Bodyguard instead of the perfect opportunity he’d just given me. Hey, maybe I can teach you some taekwondo, too.
Yeah, if they’ll let us spend ten minutes together before we leave. I shared his frustration, but halfway hoped they wouldn’t. At least until I found out if my idea was possible.
I waited until after lunch, when Uncle Louie had gone upstairs for his Sunday afternoon nap and Aunt Theresa had taken a crossword puzzle into the bathroom, also upstairs. With just one phone in the house—and not a cordless, either—private calls were always a challenge.
I called Rigel’s home line and, as I’d hoped, Dr. Stuart answered. “Oh, hello, M. I’m afraid Rigel’s not home right now. He and his father—”
“That’s okay. It’s really you I wanted to talk to, Dr. Stuart. I, um, need some advice. Can we maybe meet someplace? I don’t know how long I’ll have the kitchen to myself and it’s kind of, um, personal.”
She only hesitated for half a second. “Of course. Would you like to come here, where we can be private? I can pick you up.”
I exhaled with relief. “That would be perfect! Is it okay if you pick me up at the corner? I’d, ah, rather not tell my aunt where I’m going, since she’d want a reason, but she’ll be fine if I say I’m going over to the O’Garas’ house.”
There was a longer pause this time. “I can’t say I approve of you deceiving your aunt, but under the circumstances, I suppose it’s often unavoidable. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I thanked her profusely and hung up just as the toilet upstairs flushed.
As I’d predicted, Aunt Theresa had no objection to me going over to the O’Garas’ for an hour or two. It usually bothered me how much she liked the O’Garas, since I knew it was at least partly because Mrs. O used her Martian Royal ability to influence her, but at times like this it worked to my advantage.
Dr. Stuart pulled up about five seconds after I reached the corner of Garnet and Opal, halfway between my house and the O’Garas.’
“Thanks.” I climbed into the car. “This probably seems kind of weird…”
“Not really,” she assured me. “I’m always willing to talk with you, M, or jus
t listen. I know it must be hard for you, not having a mother, and your aunt and uncle not knowing the truth. I’m sure Lili O’Gara would say the same.”
I warmed at her tone as much as her words. “She has. But she can’t help me with this particular problem. Plus, she’s on the Council—”
“I understand. A promise of confidentiality could conceivably conflict with her oath.”
Though I’d suspected as much, her words underscored just how careful I needed to be around Mrs. O. “Exactly. I’m glad you, uh, understand.”
I wasn’t sure she’d be as understanding once I explained my problem, though, since Rigel and I had never told anyone what we could do. I spent the rest of the car ride rehearsing just how I was going to reveal it, hoping I could convince Dr. Stuart to keep our secret.
When I stepped inside the Stuarts’ house a few minutes later, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. For several glorious weeks, when Rigel and I had been openly dating and the O’Garas hadn’t yet shown up to complicate things, I had spent some of my happiest hours here. This was my first visit since their New Year’s Eve party, shortly after that awful compromise went into effect.
Dr. Stuart led the way to the kitchen—the place I’d learned that I was a Martian—and motioned me to a chair at the table. She poured us each a glass of milk and set a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table between us.
“Now, what did you want to talk about?”
I swallowed, my prepared speech evaporating in the face of her concerned, motherly expression. “I, er, well…you know how, um, you and Mr. Stuart can sometimes, uh, talk without talking?”
Her eyebrows rose, but she nodded. “I assume Rigel told you about that? Or did you deduce it on your own?”
“I, uh, both, I guess. The thing is,” I said in a sudden rush, “Rigel and I can do it, too. Talk telepathically, I mean.” I braced myself for her reaction, but all she did was smile.
“I’ve rather suspected that for a while.” Her hazel eyes, so like Rigel’s, didn’t betray shock or even surprise. “In fact, I considered cautioning you both to be more discreet if you don’t want others to guess, but I didn’t want to force your confidence before you were ready.”
I closed my mouth, which had dropped open. “You knew? Are we…that obvious?”
“Only to those who know the, ah, symptoms.”
Relieved, I made a mental note to be a lot more careful. I definitely didn’t want the Council, or even Sean, to find out what we could do.
“Is that what you wanted advice about?” she prompted, when I didn’t immediately say anything.
“Um, yes. I mean, most of the time it’s great, being able to talk whenever we want, without anyone else listening in. Not that we’re always ‘talking’ in class and stuff! But since we’re not allowed to act like we’re together, it…helps a lot.”
Her smile was understanding. “Yes, I can imagine it does. You’ve been put into a very difficult situation, one that’s not easy for either of you.”
I stared down at the table, willing myself not to cry at the sympathy in her voice. It felt so good to know someone else understood. That alone made me glad I’d come here. But I still needed a solution to my problem. Taking a deep breath, I looked up.
“The thing is, even though I love being able to think back and forth with Rigel, there are times when it’s, well, awkward. I thought if anyone might have tips on how to keep some thoughts to myself it would be you.”
She chuckled. “Yes, there certainly are some thoughts a girl needs to keep to herself. Van and I developed our telepathic link gradually, over a period of many years, which no doubt made it easier to learn control as our ability matured. I take it your link with Rigel developed rather abruptly, when your graell bond formed?”
“Not instantly. It was just feelings at first, and only if we were touching. It wasn’t until the battle with Faxon’s people in the cornfield that we exchanged actual words. Then later, after Thanksgiving, when we were apart for ten days and got so sick and all? Well, when we got back together it was like our bond…doubled or something. After that, the mind-reading got way easier until, well— Do you have tips on how I can sometimes…shield what I’m thinking?”
Her cheeks inexplicably pinkened as she hesitated. “The best way I’ve found to block the mental give and take is to focus on the, ah, physical.”
“You mean like being hungry or hurt or something?” That made sense, since it was hard to carry on a mental conversation with distractions like that. It wasn’t something I could easily control, though.
“That too. But what I… That is…” Her color deepened further. “I assume you and Rigel have never, ah, escalated your relationship to a…physical level?”
Now it was my turn to blush. “Oh, um, no! I mean…we kiss and hold hands and stuff. Not that we get much chance these days. But we’ve never—”
She bit her lip and nodded. “No, I thought not. But that makes this a bit more awkward.”
I nearly fell off my chair. “What? Do you mean we should—”
“No! No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all! In fact, that would be a very bad idea given current circumstances. When I said ‘focus,’ I only meant your thoughts. Especially Rigel’s thoughts.”
“Rigel’s thoughts?” Now I was confused again.
“Given how you and Rigel feel about each other and the fact that you are both sixteen years old, I’m sure thoughts about the, ah, physical pop up quite often?”
Though I felt my face getting hot again, I nodded. “I…I can’t help it. I mean, he’s so—”
She held up a hand, though she was smiling now. “No details, please. He is my son.”
I fell silent for a moment, thinking hard. “So…you mean if we’re, uh, thinking about each other that way, we can’t read each other’s thoughts?” I suddenly remembered our last makeout session in the arboretum…and how I hadn’t needed to shield.
“I can’t know for certain in your case, but from my experience it’s likely that if Rigel is preoccupied with such thoughts it will tend to block his ability to pick up on anything less…primal. For a while, at least.”
“How long is a while?” To keep him from learning about the Grentl, I’d to need to do a lot of blocking—preferably without making Rigel too suspicious.
Clearly still embarrassed, she didn’t quite meet my eye. “As I said, it may not work exactly the same for you. But I’ve found that the more, ah, intensely my husband thinks about such things, the longer before he can pick up on anything else I’m thinking.”
I was sure my face went redder than hers as her meaning sank in: to block Rigel from picking up my thoughts, I would have to make him to think about sex. A lot.
Monday morning, I did my best to dress “sexy” for school, choosing my tightest jeans and a clingy green sweater Rigel had once said looked hot on me. I also put on extra makeup—eyeshadow, mascara and super-shiny lip gloss—but after I got to school, so Aunt Theresa couldn’t make me wash it off. I didn’t look anywhere near as sexy as Trina did every single day, but it was the best I could do.
Leaving the girls’ room for first period, doubts assailed me again. I didn’t have a clue how to act sexy and even if I could, it seemed mean to get Rigel all hot and bothered when we couldn’t do anything about it. But…what choice did I have?
When I walked into class, my first thought on seeing Rigel wasn’t about distracting him but about how hot he looked in a long-sleeved t-shirt that outlined his chest and shoulders. His thick, dark, perfect hair fell across his forehead as he turned his head, then his amazing hazel eyes widened and he smiled his incredible smile.
Wow, looking good today, M, he thought.
Ditto, I thought back, giving him a half-wink that I hoped looked seductive instead of like I had something in my eye. When Trina glanced my way, I headed to my desk. But slowly, so Rigel could watch me from behind.
“Are you okay?” Deb asked as I sat down next to her. “You look flushed.”
I peeked over my shoulder to see Rigel still looking my way. I was reminded of his very first day at Jewel High and how I’d kept sneaking looks at him—and how intensely he’d affected me before he even noticed I existed. A sudden, overwhelming wave of longing hit me—a longing for those wonderful days when we could spend hours together, holding hands, whispering together, touching…
Rigel echoed my longing with a nonverbal surge of agreement. Quickly steeling my resolve, I tried a little test. I wonder if there’s going to be a pop quiz today? I thought, though without specifically directing it to Rigel. I really should have studied instead of playing with my pet unicorn last night.
No response. Not even a flicker of amusement. Focusing, I still felt that longing from him, though it was starting to fade a bit.
Maybe I’ll go for a walk today instead of eating lunch, I thought then.
When he still didn’t respond, I repeated the same thought but “pointed” it more his way.
Huh? You want to do what instead of lunch? he thought back, clearly startled.
Oh, sorry. Nothing. I was thinking some exercise would be better for my figure than eating, that’s all.
Another burst of desire came from Rigel. There’s not a thing in the world wrong with your figure, M, believe me!
Dr. Stuart had definitely known what she was talking about! Thanks, I replied, opening my math book with a secret smile.
When class ended, Jimmy Franklin, my old “crush,” made a point of stopping to talk to me about our assignment. He’d shown some brief interest in me when Rigel and I had our first fake breakup last fall, but mostly ignored me now I was supposedly with Sean. So this was new.
