Starbound

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Please do,” Shim said. “And keep us—the entire Council—apprised.” Then, turning to me, “For your part, Excellency, please do nothing whatsoever that could further antagonize your guardians before you leave in the morning.”

  I shook my head eagerly. “I won’t. I’ll be an absolute angel. I promise.”

  “Very well.” Shim favored me with a slight smile. “Though Malcolm is right. This will mean even closer scrutiny of your every move, and Rigel’s as well, going forward. You must do everything possible to insure you are acclaimed Sovereign. That is the only way you will gain access to the communication device in the Palace, which is absolutely essential, for all of the reasons explained to you.”

  More frightened than ever by that reminder of the potential stakes, all I could do was nod.

  CHAPTER 10

  orinacht (OR-in-ott): propriety; seemliness

  Mrs. O’Gara walked me home, then talked with my aunt while I washed the dinner dishes and wiped down the counters. I put my nervous energy to work, scrubbing until every single surface gleamed. When Mrs. O left, my aunt came into the kitchen and glanced around with grudging approval.

  “Lili O’Gara has been pleading your case, Marsha. She told me how you were provoked, which I will certainly share with Miss Squires’s parents, should they issue any more threats. Of course, you still shouldn’t have let her goad you into a confrontation, but I’ve decided that this scholarship is too important to your future to allow you to throw it away.”

  A huge weight lifted from my chest and the eager anticipation I’d suppressed all evening came bubbling back. “Thank you, Aunt Theresa! I promise you won’t regret this. I’ve totally learned my lesson.”

  “Lili suggested you stay the night at their house, so you can get off for Chicago more quickly in the morning. Quinn will be coming by to pick you up in an hour, so you’d best finish packing.”

  “Oh. Oh! Great! I’ll get right on that. Thank you, Aunt Theresa, thank you!” Overcome with relief, I surprised both of us by throwing my arms around her and giving her a hug—the first time I’d done that since I was little.

  Even more surprising, after a startled moment her arms came around me and hugged me back. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled. “Off with you, then.”

  I let her go with a nod. Then, before I could say anything that might break the mood, I ran upstairs to pack my toiletries, the only things left.

  I was going to Mars! And Ireland! I really, truly was! I could hardly believe it, even when Mr. O’Gara knocked on the door an hour later.

  “Thank you, Quinn,” Aunt Theresa said as he took my bigger suitcase. “And do thank Lili for me again, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Shall we go, then, M?” The little bob of his head showed he still had a hard time restraining his urge to bow to me.

  I said a strangely unemotional goodbye to my aunt and uncle, then followed Mr. O’Gara outside. It occurred to me to wonder what my aunt would do if I never came back. Get angry? Celebrate? Either seemed more likely than tears.

  “M! Yay!” Molly greeted me a few minutes later as her dad brought in my suitcase. “Mum had us so worried earlier, when your aunt was saying you couldn’t go, but I knew she’d bring her round. Come in, do, we’re all going to have a spot of tea before bed.”

  Glancing up, I saw Sean hovering behind her. “Give us a sec, Mol?” he murmured to his sister.

  “Oh. Um, sure.” She headed to the kitchen, where I could hear the clatter of cups and spoons.

  For a long moment, Sean just looked at me, anguish in his blue eyes. “M, I wish I knew how to say how sorry I am that I was so horrible about that thing Trina did. How I could have ever believed—”

  “Yeah, how could you believe that picture, Sean? Especially knowing Trina? I mean, how would she have taken that picture even if it was real? Apparently neither you or Rigel thought about that.” I’d had way too much time to dwell on details like that during my long afternoon in the school office.

  He hung his head. “I know. It was stupid. Of both of us. And if we both hadn’t been so twillya to you, you probably never would have got mad enough to—”

  Molly rejoined us and he broke off. “Tea’s ready. And M, I’ve gotta say, even though it caused all this trouble, I’m glad you made Trina break her own nose. So are a lot of other people. She so deserved it!”

  I had to laugh at the relish in her voice. “Yeah, she really did. Though I still shouldn’t have done it.”

  Molly headed back to the kitchen, but Sean hesitated, still with the puppy-dog eyes. “So…do you forgive me? At least a little?”

  I nodded. His assumption hadn’t been nearly the betrayal Rigel’s was, and I’d forgiven him. “Just don’t go assuming things again, okay?”

  “Deal!” A grin broke like sunshine across his face, making him almost as handsome as Rigel for a second.

  But only almost, because of course that was impossible.

  We went up to bed an hour later, since we had to be up early. Looking around Molly’s room, I asked what she’d done with her plants. The last time I’d been in here, there had been at least a dozen, all, unfortunately, in varying stages of decline.

  “I gave them all—well, the ones that were still mostly alive—to Heather. She’s better with plants than I am, even though she’s pure Duchas, go figure.”

  Molly had mentioned more than once how frustrated she was with her “brown thumb.” As someone born into an Agricultural fine (the O’Garas had adopted her as a toddler) she was supposed to have a special gift with plants and kept hoping it might miraculously kick in. That it still hadn’t was obviously a sore point.

  “So, you never said, did you have a boyfriend in Bailerealta?”

  My change of subject worked, and we ended up talking until well past midnight. Even so, when Mrs. O’Gara woke us at six the next morning we both bounced out of bed. As we scrambled into our clothes, Molly chattered nonstop.

  “You are so going to love Bailerealta and Nuath, especially Glenamuir. I can’t wait to show you around! Dad says we might even be able to visit Elana in the hospital.”

  Elana was Sean and Molly’s much older sister, who’d been snatched by Faxon’s forces just before the O’Garas escaped to Earth. Not till last week had they learned she was among the hundreds of political prisoners released after Faxon’s ouster. Like a lot of Royals, she was undergoing treatment for memory tampering, which explained why she hadn’t tried to contact them. I hoped she’d be okay.

  After yesterday, I completely abandoned my “sexy” look. The side-effects just weren’t worth it. Besides, I was now resolved to tell Rigel the whole truth as soon as we were safely on our way to Mars. As my Bodyguard, he needed to know, no matter what the Council said. Or so I told myself.

  We’d just finished a quick breakfast when the Stuarts arrived in the full-sized van they’d rented to drive us all to Chicago so they could see Rigel off at the airport. After a last-minute panic when Molly couldn’t find her book scroll, we piled into the van, everyone chattering with excitement. I managed to snag a seat next to Rigel and when Sean and his parents frowned at our clasped hands, I reminded them that this was probably our last chance for at least a month.

  “Besides, it’s not like any other Echtrans can see us.”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course, Excellency.” Mrs. O’Gara turned away with no more argument.

  Sean, on my other side, still frowned suspiciously. “So when did he have a chance to apologize?” he muttered. “Or doesn’t he have to?”

  “Called her yesterday, even though I wasn’t supposed to,” Rigel whispered back. “Don’t say anything, okay?” That’s all we need, to get in trouble for something we didn’t even do, he thought to me.

  Yeah, we need to keep better track of what we say out loud and what we don’t, since we’ll all be together for the next month or two.

  He squeezed my hand. Together. I like that part. Even if we have to pretend we’re not.

 
During the drive I tried to pay attention to the political discussion between the Stuarts and O’Garas, though a couple of times it veered into territory that almost made me think about the Grentl. I scooted an inch closer to Rigel, so we were touching from hip to knee. That helped keep him from picking up any forbidden thoughts, even if it made Sean glower again.

  The Stuarts had allowed extra time, so even with the awful Chicago traffic we got to O’Hare Airport nearly three hours before our flight. Mr. and Dr. Stuart came inside with us to spend the extra time with Rigel before we had to go through security. When Dr. Stuart finally hugged Rigel goodbye, with tears in her eyes, I felt a pang. What would it be like to have parents who loved me like that? She hugged me, too, but it wasn’t quite the same.

  At security, I worried we might set off the scanners because of our Martian static thing, but none of us did. When Mrs. O handed out our boarding passes, I saw Rigel and I were in different rows.

  “Um, shouldn’t Rigel and I sit together on the plane?” I whispered to her. “He’s my Bodyguard after all, plus it might be the last time—”

  “I’m sorry, dear,” she whispered back, “but there are other Echtrans on this flight. You didn’t feel their brath while we were in line?”

  “Oh. I, uh, no.” I didn’t mention that when I was with Rigel, I rarely noticed anyone else’s Martian vibe unless I was really paying attention.

  When we reached the gate, though, I had no trouble identifying the Echtrans, even apart from their brath—two men, talking quietly together, both a little too handsome. In fact, when the taller one turned his head I had to stifle a gasp, he was so over-the-top gorgeous. Dark-haired and strong-jawed, he looked a bit like an older version of Rigel.

  He glanced over and caught me looking, then whispered something to his companion. They immediately headed our way. Before they reached us, Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara both stepped casually in front of me while Rigel and Sean just as casually flanked them. Though I appreciated it, their protectiveness seemed kind of silly in such a public place, especially since the men didn’t seem at all hostile.

  “I see we’re all on the same flight.” The super-gorgeous one’s voice was as amazing as his smile, low, smooth and assured. “Devyn Kane. The O’Gara family, right? I believe we met once, back in the, ah, old country.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mr. O’Gara shook his extended hand. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been well. Even better these past months, of course, as I assume we all are.” His eyes flicked to me, where I still stood behind them, then back to Mr. O. The other man wasn’t as restrained, blatantly staring at me. Devyn glanced his way. “Have you met Gordon Nolan?”

  “Pleasure.” The shorter, fairer man stuck out his own hand. “Pleasure. Would these be your children?” His gaze roved over Rigel, Sean and Molly before coming to rest on me again. I stiffened slightly. In addition to the usual Echtran brath, Gordon Nolan also had a faint whiff of what I termed “bad guy vibe,” something I’d picked up from some of Faxon’s followers last fall. This one would bear watching.

  Got it, Rigel thought, edging a little closer, creating more of a barrier between me and the newcomers.

  Mrs. O’Gara smiled back, not appearing to sense anything sinister. “Sean and Molly, here, are ours. These are Rigel Stuart—” She nodded his way— “and Marsha Truitt.”

  Neither man showed any surprise.

  “Hello.” I managed a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Honored, of course.” Devyn gave a very slight bow of his head, which his companion, still staring, echoed. “I regret we can’t greet you properly in such a venue. Please know we mean no offense by it.”

  “No, that’s fine,” I said quickly. “I appreciate your, um, discretion.”

  “I imagine we’ll see you all in Bailerealta.” Gordon’s smile now seemed forced, his eyes darting from me to Rigel, then back.

  The O’Garas assured them they would. When they headed back to the other side of the gate, I let out a relieved breath. “Are those some of the Royals you mentioned before?” I whispered.

  Mrs. O nodded, frowning at their retreating backs. “Planning to take the same ship we are from Bailerealta, no doubt to build support of their own.” Her mouth primmed with disapproval. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d picked up that questionable vibe.

  “Devyn Kane was becoming quite prominent in political circles before Faxon’s uprising.” Mr. O’Gara kept his voice low. “The youngest minister in a century or more, on track to become High Chancellor one day. Possibly your most serious competition for leadership of Nuath. I notice they were careful not to pledge their allegiance to you, for all they showed outward respect. I’d hoped such shifts in attitude were exaggerated.”

  I wasn’t particularly surprised when the two Royals boarded with the first class passengers. I wondered if they were surprised I didn’t. Boarding several minutes later, the six of us made our way to our assigned seats: three rows of two, one behind the other, along the windows. Sean and I were in the middle two, with Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara in front of us, Rigel and Molly behind.

  Sitting next to Sean for the whole flight, ignoring that faint tingle I always got from him—and making sure Rigel didn’t pick up on that at all—was going to be a challenge. At least I had a window. I stared out of it during taxi and takeoff, watching everything below us grow smaller and smaller until Chicago looked like a model of a city and the Great Lakes like ponds. Then we climbed into clouds and there was nothing to see but a floor of dazzling white foam with brilliant blue skies above. I released a small sigh.

  Glad you enjoyed that. Rigel’s mental tone was indulgent, making me smile.

  “I forgot this was your first time flying,” Sean said at almost the same time, probably in response to my sigh. “Glad you’re not scared.”

  “Scared? I’d better not be, considering—” Considering I’ll be getting on a spaceship in a week, I thought to Rigel. Then, aloud, “I think it’s awesome.” I turned back to the window, wondering how it would feel to watch the whole planet getting smaller the way Chicago had.

  CHAPTER 11

  aitlean (ayt-lee-AN): airplane; primitive aircraft used extensively by Duchas; Earth’s primary means of intercontinental travel

  Sean

  M finally falls asleep somewhere over the Atlantic, not long after they take our dinner trays away. She’s been so keyed up all day, I figured she’d crash eventually. Can’t blame her, I’m excited too. It’s going to be way cool to show her around Bailerealta and I can’t wait to get her back to Mars. I wonder how much has changed in two years?

  Some attitudes, for sure, like Dad said after those two Echtrans talked to us at the gate. How anybody who calls themselves Royal can possibly not want M to take her place as Sovereign of Nuath is beyond me. Almost makes me wish they could get demoted to another fine or something, even though I know it’s genetics and not a choice. Still.

  My eyes are beginning to get heavy when M starts to lean…toward me. I hold my breath as her head droops further and further my way until, finally, her head is resting on my shoulder. I slowly lean my own head back, careful not to jar her awake. It’s beyond awesome that she trusts me enough to relax so completely against me, especially after yesterday. For a long moment I savor her closeness, her wonderful scent, the soft sound of her breathing…until something painful twists my gut. Because I know, deep down, she’d never let me be her pillow if she were awake.

  I try to push that thought away, pretend she’s leaning against me on purpose. Pretend she’s sitting next to me on this plane by choice and not because Mum assigned her this seat. But my gut knows perfectly well that if it were up to her, she’d be one row back.

  With him.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy having her head on my shoulder for as long as it lasts.

  I wake up a couple of hours later and pleasure lances through me when I discover M is still snuggled against me. I smile down at her for a long moment, then lo
ok past her out the window, where the sun is just rising…over Ireland!

  Much as I don’t want to wake her, I don’t want M to miss her first sight of Ireland even more. Gently, I touch her arm, the one that’s not pressed against me, then shake her just a little. She stirs, then opens those amazing green eyes, looking adorably confused. But then she wakes up for real—and immediately pulls away from me, obviously embarrassed.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” She struggles to sit upright. “I didn’t—”

  I grin down at her. “No, it’s fine. I hated to wake you, you looked so peaceful, but…look out the window.”

  She does, and gasps. Because Ireland is spread below us in every conceivable shade of green, dotted with lakes and crisscrossed by roads that are getting bigger and bigger as we start to descend.

  “Wow, no wonder they call it the Emerald Isle. It’s beautiful!”

  I’m grinning again, drinking in her pleasure and sharing it. “Isn’t it? I knew you’d like it. And I promise, you’ll like our, uh, final destination even more.”

  I keep an eye on those two disloyal Royals as we go through Immigration. They’re near the front of the long non-E.U. passport line, which means they must have come to Earth via Montana instead of Ireland. Unfortunately, M and Rigel have to wait in that line, too, while the rest of us breeze through the E.U. line.

  “Guess we’d better go find our bags,” Dad says. “Anyone want to wait here for the others?”

  I volunteer, since I’m watching M like a hawk anyway. She and Rigel are standing way too close to each other, in my opinion, even if those Royal Echtrans are already through and gone. They’re not all lovey-dovey like when I first got to Jewel last fall, but they still act more like a couple than a Bodyguard and the person he’s protecting.

  The way they look at each other, smile at each other, sometimes it’s like they can communicate without words, they’re so tuned in to each other. Even in the middle of conversations with other people. Impossible, of course, bond or no bond. Just me being paranoid again. I still don’t like it.