by Brenda Hiatt
I swallowed, aware not only of her judgmental regard but Mr. O’s, as well. “Ah, no. I’m afraid I don’t. Without our bond, I doubt I can become the kind of leader Nuath needs. Rigel and I are both stronger, healthier and…better when we’re together.”
That skeptical eyebrow went up again. “I suppose it is understandable you would believe that under the circumstances, Excellency. If he is not feeling better tomorrow, I will bring him in for testing and confer with my colleagues on the best course for him. For both of you.”
“But scientists on Earth—Martian Healers—already tried a cure. They did a bunch of tests and came up with something they called an antidote, but it obviously didn’t take, since Rigel and I are both getting sick again now.”
She actually smiled, though not a very nice smile. “With all due respect for those Echtran Healers—” she used the word Echtran like a slur— “and while I’m sure they did their best with whatever equipment they have, I can’t say I’m surprised they were less than successful. In Pryderi we have the most advanced Healer research facility in existence, with resources that go far beyond anything available on Earth.”
I drew myself up, doing my best to look and sound regal, though I was feeling less so by the moment. “Madam, I must insist—”
“Once you are Acclaimed, Princess, we can discuss this further. At present Rigel is my responsibility, and I must do what I feel is best for my grandson. When our researchers develop a cure, it will of course be shared with you immediately.”
“But—”
“And now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my work.” With a final, perfunctory bow, she broke the connection.
I sat back, suddenly limp as a dead fish. “I can’t believe her!” I practically wailed. “Even his own grandmother won’t believe we’re bonded? Why didn’t Dr. Stuart tell her?”
“You heard what she said.” Mr. O switched back to the news with a shrug. “Now that you’ve met Morag, can you blame Ariel? It’s clear her mother still hasn’t forgiven her for marrying outside her fine. No doubt she was abusive enough toward Van that it caused a permanent breach. Sad, of course, but these things happen.”
Sean took my hand and squeezed it, which felt better than I wanted to admit, even to myself. “We just need to hurry and get you Acclaimed, M. Then she won’t dare go against your wishes.”
I glanced up at him in surprise and saw the shadow of pain behind his smile. He wasn’t happy at the prospect of me getting Rigel back, but he’d help me do it. Because he really did care about me.
It hit me again, strongly, how unfair this was to him, since I could never care for him the same way. Still, I’d accept whatever help he was willing to give.
What choice did I have?
My approval numbers did get a slight bump from the day’s efforts, though less than Mr. O had hoped. Probably because, while I was answering questions and wandering around Glenamuir, my opponents were busy undercutting my support. Like the press conference Devyn Kane gave late that afternoon.
“Clearly this recent stress is taking a toll on our Princess,” the feeds showed him saying. “She looked so ill during her conversation with Regan Ryan this morning that I was extremely concerned for her, as I’m sure many of you are, as well.” He nodded to a large screen behind him that showed my face, pale and sweating, magnified to several times normal size. “She seemed to rally somewhat afterward, but it seems obvious she is on the verge of some sort of breakdown. And who can blame her? She’s little more than a child, one who has had multiple shocks in recent months.”
Then there was the footage with those men who’d disrupted my forum in Glenamuir. “You implied earlier that Princess Emileia is unfit to lead Nuath. Can you tell us why?” a reporter asked one of them.
“Are you serious? Look at her—she’s just a kid! Think about the state of Nuath these days: legislature barely functioning, cobbled together from the few Royals healthy enough to serve and some random Scientists. We’ve got disruptions in half our supply chains, not to mention that power outage the day she got here. You really think she can handle all that? When she couldn’t even keep her Bodyguard’s hands off her?”
Worst was a panel discussion on the Comeadach Network, which pandered to Nuath’s staunchest traditionalists—the ones Mr. O had originally claimed I could count on.
“We can’t only look to the next decade or two, but must consider future Nuathan generations,” Gordon Nolan said. Others on the panel, including Rory Glenn, nodded in agreement. “That is why it is essential, before Acclamation can occur, to know for certain that the Royal bloodline has not been polluted. We owe it to our children and grandchildren—and their grandchildren.”
Though fewer than 10% were in favor of Gordon as Nuath’s next leader, more than twice that many agreed with his stance about my “purity.” That bothered me more than Devyn’s approval rating, which was now 42% and rising, nearly even with the Interim Governor’s 47%. Mine was currently at 58% but that would be hard to maintain now that my “easy” interviews were over.
Over the next few days, as my opponents got better organized, my appearances became more confrontational, just as Mr. O had predicted. Though I tried hard to keep my focus on the issues, people kept demanding to know exactly how “serious” my relationship with Rigel had been. Two different interviewers baldly asked whether I was still a virgin. (I said yes.)
My schedule became more and more grueling, with Mr. O constantly prepping me as we traveled from one appearance to the next, all over Nuath. Sometimes I even had to change outfits in transit to better relate to whatever audience I needed to reach.
I never could have survived any of it without Sean. Not only his physical touch, which was the only thing keeping me healthy enough, alert enough, to function at such a level, but also his unwaveringly supportive presence. Not once did he let slip a single snarky word about Rigel or our bond, or even try to take advantage of our forced closeness by getting too cuddly.
Still, I was continually, uncomfortably aware of his feelings for me. Touching as often as we had to for my health, his emotions were coming through more and more clearly, sometimes even when I didn’t focus. That bothered me almost as much as the emotions themselves, since it reminded me way too much of the earliest days of my bond with Rigel, when emotions were the only things we could pick up from each other, and only when touching.
Despite all our efforts, my numbers slowly began to erode. Devyn and I were now neck and neck on the question of who Nuath’s next leader should be, with Nels Murdoch a not-too-distant third. Bringing up the rear were Gordon Nolan and Crevan Erc, spokesman for the “Populist” movement.
According to Mr. O’Gara, when Nels had been pressed to assume temporary leadership, he’d only accepted because no other qualified Royal was healthy enough to serve. But apparently two months in power had given him a taste for it. Both he and Devyn constantly hammered home my lack of experience. The traditionalists, goaded by Gordon, continued to shout for Rigel’s head, while Crevan Erc spun my own comments about a representative legislature against me.
It looked less and less likely I’d be able to deal with the Grentl in time to stop the next power glitch Eric had predicted. Finally, I suggested to Mr. O that we just go public about the aliens, since colony-wide panic was obviously preferable to its destruction, but he shook his head.
“Only if all else fails. That news could do nearly as much harm to Nuath as Faxon did.”
“How about just telling Nels Murdoch?”
Mr. O sighed. “I’ve already suggested he put in extra safety precautions against the chance of another outage. He brushed me off, claiming everything possible is already being done. I rather doubt he’d believe the truth now, but that may have to be our next step.”
Crazy as my schedule was, I tried several more times to talk to Rigel but his grandmother never answered, forcing me to leave message after message—which I doubted she even relayed to him. In desperation, I even sent a message to S
him, on Earth, begging him to do something. Finally, after more than a week, I received a text from Morag, but it only read, “Rigel comfortable, stronger daily, research ongoing.”
I was glad he wasn’t getting sicker, but I still wanted to talk to him more than anything—especially after a news story that ran that same evening.
As he always did, Mr. O turned to the main Nuathan Network after dinner to check the day’s numbers and we saw the blonde reporter, Moya, chatting with her colleague, Gaynor.
“Not a bad day for our Princess, all told. Many thought those technical questions from the acting Minister of Planetary Resources would point up some chinks in her armor, but I didn’t notice any. Did you?”
“She did hesitate once or twice, but overall her performance would have done credit to a woman twice or three times her age. Even so, most predict that Devyn Kane will pull ahead of her in the polls any day now.”
Moya nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid the only thing keeping Princess Emileia alive in the polls is how charmed people are by the real-life romance unfolding right in front of our eyes between our Princess and her prince-to-be, Sean O’Gara. Let’s look at some responses to this afternoon’s vid-poll.”
I cringed, then cringed again, as they showed brief clips of Nuathans from all over the colony sharing their opinions on that topic.
“It’s like a fairy tale, only it’s really happening,” said a young woman from Monaru, the big manufacturing city where my most recent interview had been held.
“I didn’t think I had a romantic bone in my body, especially at my age,” said an older man from the mining village of Einion, “but watching those two together puts me in mind of when my wife and I first fell in love.”
The network cut back to one of yesterday’s interviews, where I was answering a question about Nuath’s power supplies while clinging tightly to Sean’s hand. He was gazing at me with complete absorption and I looked totally okay with it, even glancing over to smile at him once or twice while I talked. Then they cut back to the videos from today’s poll.
“Aren’t they just the most adorable couple?” gushed a middle-aged woman from Thiaraway, the capital city.
A dozen more flashed up, interspersed with other clips of Sean and me together, like that first one in Glenamuir. Not all the comments were positive—some referenced the “scandal” with Rigel—but most focused on Sean and me as a couple. Over and over, I heard words like “charming,” “adorable” and “sweet.”
Sean must have noticed my appalled expression. “Hey, silver lining, it’s keeping your numbers up.”
“He’s right,” Mr. O agreed. “We need something more substantial, though. Tomorrow will be your first chance to face all of your opponents at once. All of Nuath will be watching this one, so it’s imperative you be impeccably prepared.”
He launched into the questions I needed to be able to answer, keeping the fear I could sense from him out of his voice and expression. Though I was equally aware of how short our time was, my answers were rote, automatic.
Because all I could really think about was Rigel, wherever he was, watching that same news report. Watching Sean and me, looking for all the world like two people falling in love.
CHAPTER 31
nimhic (NIV-ik): antidote; cure
I went up to bed that night both depressed and frightened.
If Eric’s prediction was correct, the next power glitch would happen the day after tomorrow. If tomorrow’s debate didn’t turn the tide in my favor, Mr. O and I had agreed our next step would be to sit down with Nels Murdoch and perhaps Devyn Kane to inform them of the Grentl threat—and hope they believed us. In fact, Mr. O had already tried to arrange an appointment with Nels, but the Interim Governor’s office hadn’t confirmed it.
Squashing down my panic—I had lots of practice by now—I let Molly help me undress, then finished getting ready for bed. Just before lying down, I glanced one last time at my omni…and saw the message indicator blinking. I picked it up off my nightstand, expecting another totally unnecessary reminder from Eric that time was getting short, since it had been more than two days since his last one.
Instead, to my delighted astonishment, it was a message from Rigel!
Testing if this works. Quick chat tonight after MT asleep?
I quickly touched the reply button, which opened a holo-keyboard. Works! I typed. What time? Love you! I was about to hit send when it occurred to me that he might be using his grandmother’s omni, which meant she’d see anything I wrote. Reluctantly, I deleted the last two words, then sent my message.
Quivering with eagerness, I slid between the sheets, the omni on the pillow next to me, and waited. And waited…
A soft pinging in my ear woke me more than an hour later. I blinked, disoriented, thinking for a moment that I was in my old bedroom in Jewel. Then memory flooded back and I sat up. Rigel! I quickly smoothed my hair with my fingers, unsure if we’d be able to see each other or just talk.
“Rigel?”
“M! I can’t talk long—or loud—but it’s great to hear your voice.”
“Ditto! How are you? Can you do that holo-video thing?”
“Not sure. I’m using the the vid in my room. I had to reprogram it to send that text and I spent the last hour getting voice to work. Just a sec, let me try something.”
While he did more tinkering, I made sure my own ultra-security setting was in place. According to Kernan, that encrypted my conversations and made them unhackable—by anyone.
“Okay,” Rigel said, “try your holo button.”
I did, and after a long second or two, a fuzzy image of Rigel appeared in midair in front of me.
“You did it! Can you see me, too?”
He nodded. “Probably better than you can see me. Best this ancient thing’s camera can do.”
“You said you have to be quiet. Does that mean your grandmother will get mad if she knows you’re talking to me?”
“She didn’t specifically forbid me to contact you, just made a point of telling me my vid’s comm settings didn’t work.”
“So you’re not exactly disobeying her, since she didn’t make it a rule.” I couldn’t help grinning, since I’d similarly skirted the line with Aunt Theresa on plenty of occasions. “Has she been awful to you?”
His blurry image shrugged. “She’s gone on and on about me and my parents and how we’ve all let her down and disgraced the family and stuff, but she hasn’t put me on bread and water or anything. The worst is all the tests and treatments she’s putting me through.”
“But are they working? Are you feeling better yet?”
“Finally, as of yesterday. But I hate what Grandmother has the Mind Healers doing. It’s like they’re trying to brainwash me, make me forget we ever had a bond. Which I won’t. Unless…unless it would help if I did?”
“What? No! Why? Because of all that junk on the news, about Sean and me? That’s just media spin. The only reason he’s staying so close is to keep me from getting sicker.”
He gave a single nod. “With the side benefit of helping you in the polls.”
“Yes, but please don’t think—”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t even imagine the pressure you’re under right now. How are you holding up?”
“Talking to you helps,” I told him truthfully, “but I wish you were really here. I…I’m afraid I can’t do this on my own, Rigel.”
Suddenly, I was pouring out all the fears I’d had to keep bottled up over the past week. It was an incredible relief to finally share everything I was feeling with the one person in the universe who completely, totally understood.
“So if I can’t turn things around tomorrow and Nels won’t meet with us, we’ll have to go public with the truth to get me Acclaimed,” I concluded. “In which case it’ll be up to me to keep the whole colony from going into a panic meltdown. Then I still have to be some kind of…intergalactic diplomat, to somehow convince the Grentl not to destroy us. Oh,
and I hate all the awful stuff they keep saying about you on the news, Rigel. I’m scared a mob will show up at your grandmother’s with torches and pitchforks!”
“I’ll be fine.” Of course he’d say that. “Grandmother won’t let anyone actually hurt me. Please don’t worry about me, M, on top of everything else. If casting me as the villain gets you Acclaimed without spilling the beans, it’s good news for everybody, right? We can worry about my reputation once you take care of…everything. Meanwhile, I’ll just lie low.”
I stared at him helplessly, wishing I could sense his real feelings and thoughts, know for sure if he really believed he was safe. “Oh, Rigel, I need you so much!” I whispered.
He gave a convulsive little twitch. “I’m sorry, M. I wish we could— But there are bigger things at stake right now. Don’t let me—missing me—screw that up, okay? I don’t need that on my conscience, too.”
“Your conscience? Rigel, none of this was ever—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, I’d better go. I’ll make sure Grandmother sends you this new serum first thing tomorrow, okay?”
“You don’t think it’ll screw up our bond?” I asked fearfully.
“We won’t let it. And hey, once it works, you won’t need Sean to keep you healthy. Bonus.” He tried to grin but even pixelated it looked fake. “Now get some sleep so you’ll look your best on camera tomorrow.”
“I’d rather talk to you.”
This time his smile looked real. “We’ll manage it again soon—as long as I don’t get caught.”
“Can you erase the record of this on your end, in case your grandmother checks?”
“Yeah, I made sure of that before I texted. Don’t want to give her an excuse to make rules I’d have to break. Sleep tight, M.”
“I’ll try. I love you, Rigel. I’ll do my best to get Acclaimed really, really soon, so we can be together again.”
“Among other reasons. I love you too, M. G’night.”
