by Brenda Hiatt
Not until Adina and my parents are all asleep, more than two hours later, do I finally have the privacy I need to call Dun Cloch. Locking myself in the bathroom, I again activate the aural dampening field. I decided earlier that a text message won’t do for something this big and unbelievable. I’m also curious to hear what Allister and Lennox will say about it.
Fortunately, Allister answers almost immediately. “Kira? I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon. Dare I hope this mean you’ve already won the Sovereign’s trust?”
“Um, I’m still working on that, but I learned something today that I thought you both should know about.”
I relay what Sean told me about the Grentl and how they would have killed everyone in Nuath if the Sovereign hadn’t stopped them in time. Also that, according to Sean, nobody else could have done it.
“So convincing our people to remove her from power might not be a great idea after all. Not if she’s the only one who can respond to them if they threaten us again. Right?”
There’s such a long pause on the other end after I finish, I wonder for a moment if I’ve lost the connection.
Then, “Thank you for telling me this, Kira. As it happens we’ve already been told about these claims. We have reason to believe they are greatly exaggerated.”
“But Sean said—”
“Yes, well, you said yourself that he is still almost blindly loyal to Emileia. Still besotted with her, no doubt. Of course he would be predisposed to believe her actions were purely for the benefit of Nuath. Our source believes it was in fact merely a political ploy to convince her most serious rivals to withdraw their opposition.”
Though I have reason to believe Sean’s no longer “besotted” with the Sovereign, as his uncle puts it, I’m not about to tell Allister that. “What if he’s right, though? What if she is the only one who can talk to those aliens if they come back?”
“Unlikely. Our associate believes anyone of similar ancestry could do the same. Myself, for instance, or my sister. We are, after all, direct descendants of Sovereign Nuallan, Aerleas’s father. Furthermore, my sister and I both have far more diplomatic experience than a teenager possibly could. Should any future negotiations prove necessary, either of us would of course be willing to step up.”
“I’m…I’m sure you would, sir. But, um, since neither of you were in Nuath last spring, she really was the only one who could have used the device to prevent the Grentl from destroying us.”
Whether I like M personally or not, I have to be grateful to her for that. I also wonder how a virtual prisoner in Dun Cloch could “step up” if needed. Maybe Allister figures he’ll be released if the Sovereign is deposed?
“You assume the Grentl would have done so. Personally, I take leave to doubt it. Why should they? What harm had we ever done them?” His tone is completely dismissive. “In any event, the Council has assured us that we no longer have anything to fear from them, as they are unlikely to return in our lifetimes.”
The Council also gave the Sovereign—and Rigel—credit for that, but I don’t risk pissing Allister off by pointing that out. “Um, good point, sir. Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you. I…I thought you might not know.”
“Kira, you are still committed to our cause, are you not?”
I hesitate for an instant, then reply, “I’m as committed as I’ve always been to the best possible future for our people, sir. All of our people.”
His hesitation is longer than mine. Then he says, “These discoveries about the Grentl have clearly unsettled you, Kira, which is most understandable. I’d very much like you to hear Governor Lennox’s thoughts on the matter. Unfortunately, he is not available at the moment. Can you arrange to be alone—completely alone—for a somewhat longer conference later this week?”
“Um, yes, I think I can manage that.” Though I’ll have to find a better place to talk than this bathroom I share with my sister.
“Excellent. I’ll message you with a day and time after I speak with Lennox. Farewell until then.” He breaks the connection.
For the first time, I wonder if he’s truly committed to the good of our people—or just to what would be good for Allister Adair.
31
Bounce pass
Sean
Considering I talked twice with Kira over the weekend and spent Sunday afternoon shooting hoops with her, it seems pointless to ignore her at school Monday. So I don’t.
“Hey. Good weekend?” I greet her when she arrives in Physics class.
To my relief, she seems to have come to the same conclusion. At least, she stops and smiles instead of just nodding as she passes me.
“Mostly the same weekend you had, I think.” Her smile is almost a grin now—though I detect a certain wariness in her eyes. “How was yours?”
“Better than most, actually.” I hold her gaze so she’ll know I mean because of her.
A tiny crease forms between her brows but before she can reply, Alan comes in looking irritated.
“I thought you were going to wait, Kira.” His peevish expression encompasses both of us. “I only needed to stop at my locker for a second.”
Kira keeps looking at me for a heartbeat before turning to Alan. “What difference does it make? We’re both here now.”
He shrugs. “So you two are talking again?”
“Yeah, we ironed out our little…misunderstanding over the weekend.” I can’t resist slanting a smile down at Kira as I say it, earning a positive glower from Alan. I shouldn’t enjoy needling him like this, but he ticked me off last week, trying to move in on Kira while I was keeping my distance.
“Did we?” She arches an eyebrow at me but looks more amused than upset.
“I hope so.” Again, I try to imbue my words with extra meaning. By now she’s had time to think over everything I told her yesterday. If I succeeded in changing her Anti-Royal attitude, I won’t feel so guilty about the way she affects me.
Her expression doesn’t give anything away, though. After watching me for a long moment, she just turns away with a tiny smile. Alan follows her to their lab table, though with a quick frown over his shoulder at me.
Our next chance to talk is in Lit class, though we carefully limit our conversation to schoolwork. Even so, her comments are interesting. So much so that I catch up with her on the way to the lunchroom afterward.
“Are you as frustrated by this assignment as I am?” I murmur too softly for any Duchas to overhear. “Comparing the stifling of information in Fahrenheit 451 to what went on under Faxon’s regime would make an excellent essay, don’t you think?”
She glances up at me in evident surprise. “I’ve been thinking that exact same thing! I guess all dictators realize at some point that they have to control what people are allowed to know if they hope to maintain power over them. Do you remember how—?”
“Ooh, what are you two whispering about?” Molly pops up next to me out of nowhere, grinning. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”
I give her a quelling look. “Just the book we’re reading in Lit. Drawing some parallels to stuff we can’t talk about in class.”
“Oh.” Her grin gives way to disappointment, but only for a second. Then, “Why don’t you sit at our table today, Sean? Then you can continue your, um, discussion.”
“Right. Because Bri and Deb and the other Duchas at your table won’t think it’s weird at all if we start talking about Faxon and Mars.”
Kira chuckles at my sarcasm. As always, the sound sends a not-unpleasant shiver through me. “It might be interesting to see their expressions if we did.”
Molly gives us both a wry smile. “Okay, so I didn’t exactly think that through. But you can still sit with us. And Kira, maybe you can come over again tonight or tomorrow so you guys can finish discussing that topic.”
“Er, maybe,” she replies noncommittally, shooting me a quick, sideways glance. “I’ll, um, let you know.”
Pete Griffin joins us then to talk basketball, though I notice him sn
eaking looks at both Molly and Kira while we chat. When we reach the cafeteria two other teammates from last year waylay Pete and me, while Molly and Kira keep walking.
When I finally have my tray, I take a couple steps toward Molly and M’s table before noticing Bri and Deb are sitting between Kira and the only empty seat. Stifling a pang of disappointment, I head to my usual table instead.
Probably just as well. Molly doesn’t need extra ammunition for her transparent attempts at matchmaking.
With that in mind, I don’t go out of my way to talk to Kira in Government, where Molly’s watching us a little too interestedly. In fact, I don’t get a chance to talk to her again at all that day. And when Kira gets to Physics the next morning, Alan is with her and sticks too close before and after class to allow us to say anything to each other without him hearing.
I’m resolving to snag a word with her before Lit class when Molly catches me in the hall between second and third period.
“I talked to Kira in French class just now and she says she can come over tonight! Thought you’d like to know.” A mischievous wink accompanies her words.
I respond by frowning. “Why are you doing this, Mol? You heard what Mum said last week. What if—?”
“Oh, pssh.” Molly waves a dismissive hand. “Mum will come around once she sees how much you and Kira like each other.”
“How much—? Molly, I keep telling you we hardly even know each other yet. If you convince Mum it’s more than that, she might try to discourage Kira from visiting our house again.”
Molly looks startled. “She wouldn’t do that! She said herself we should be making friends with the new students.”
But she looks slightly worried now—enough, I hope, to keep her from doing anything too embarrassing while Kira’s at our place tonight. Molly knows as well as I do that our mum is completely capable of freezing somebody out without technically being rude. She does it to Rigel every time she sees him—and he helped save the planet.
* * *
Sure enough, when Kira arrives that evening, Mum’s greeting is noticeably less warm than it was a week ago.
“Oh, hello, Kira. Molly said you’d be stopping by again so she can continue helping you to catch up in French class.”
“And Government,” Molly says from behind Mum. “Sean’s in that class, so he can help, too. And don’t you two have a couple of other classes together?”
Despite the sharp look Mum gives me, I reply, “Physics and Literature, yeah.”
“I see.” There’s no mistaking our mother’s coolness now. “I was about to suggest Molly and Kira go up to her room to study, but I suppose the living room—”
“We can all study in my room, it’ll be fine,” Molly interrupts. “Why don’t you two go on up and I’ll get us some tea and cookies.”
Mum turns The Look on Molly. “Nonsense. All three of you can go upstairs and I’ll bring up a tray once the tea is brewed—though I can’t help thinking you’d have more space to spread out down here in the living room.”
“It’ll be quieter upstairs,” Molly counters, looking slightly disappointed. “Come on.”
Kira and I follow her up the stairs, keeping enough distance between us there’s no risk of accidentally touching. Until I find out whether I’ve changed Kira’s mind about M and the monarchy, I absolutely need to avoid that extra complication.
32
Field goal
Molly’s room is small but pretty, decorated in shades of green with posters of flowers on the walls. The only off-note is the row of houseplants on the window sill in various stages of distress. She wasn’t kidding about lacking the usual Ag skills.
Unfortunately, the only places to sit are the single desk chair and the bed—and Molly’s already reaching for the chair.
Sean is quicker. He practically pulls it out from under her and sits in it himself, forcing Molly and me to take the bed instead of Sean and me, as she clearly intended.
I’m relieved. Friendly as Sean has been at school this week, he’s obviously as eager as I am to avoid any more disturbing touches. I wonder if there’s a subtle way to make Molly back off—though I suspect Sean’s already tried that.
“I guess we should get our books out before Mum comes up with that tray,” Molly says, settling herself cross-legged on the bed. “But we can totally talk about other things than school if you want, Kira. Sean says he finally told you why M needed to get Acclaimed so quickly last spring?”
“Um, yeah. Pretty mind-boggling to think those aliens can control Nuath’s power supply from who knows how many light years away—and that the only person who can talk to them is the Sovereign.” Though Allister disputed that last point…
Sean leans toward me, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. “Now you’ve had time to think about it, you get why it’s important to keep that a secret, right?”
I nod, my eyes not leaving his. “You’re right that it would scare everyone in Nuath half to death to find out what the Grentl can do—especially since there’s apparently no way to stop them if they change their minds again.”
“And M? Are you willing to agree now that it would do more harm than good to stir up opposition against her? Opposition that could conceivably become violent?”
This time I hesitate. Over the past six months I’d become increasingly convinced that Emileia is the worst possible leader for our people. Admitting I was wrong feels like a betrayal—not only of the Populist movement, but of myself.
“I still can’t believe real Populists would resort to violence,” I finally say. “But it’s possible she’s not quite as unqualified as I thought. She seems to have picked a good Regent, at least.”
Sean’s lips quirk up in a little smile, causing an unwelcome warmth to seep through me.
I remind myself that the approval of some high-ranking Royal shouldn’t matter to me at all even though I know, deep down, that liking to see him smile has nothing to do with his rank or fine.
“I guess that’s a start,” he says. “By now I hope you know me well enough that—”
Molly cuts him off. “—the Constitution. Those projects we just turned in were all about— Oh, hi, Mum.”
Mrs. O’Gara appears in the doorway. Molly obviously heard her coming up the stairs…and doesn’t want her to know Sean shared that huge secret with me.
“I’ve brought a little something to help you keep up your energy while studying.” She casts an approving glance at our seating arrangement as she sets the tray she’s carrying on the edge of the desk. “Molly, don’t forget to bring the empty dishes back to the kitchen. I don’t want to find them stacked on the floor tomorrow.”
Molly grimaces. “I only did that once.” Then, at her mother’s penetrating look, “Okay, maybe three times. But I won’t do it again, okay?”
Mrs. O’Gara nods, one eyebrow still raised, then leaves. Molly waits till she’s had time to get all the way back downstairs before saying anything else.
“I hate when she does that.” At my look of confusion, she adds, “Our mum always knows if someone’s lying to her. An inconvenient little talent she has. Which means we’d better spend some time on actual schoolwork, in case she grills one of us about it later.”
We spend the next hour on Government, the subject I need the most help with. Good thing, too, since Mrs. O’Gara comes back twice more during that hour to “see if we need anything else,” though I suspect it’s really to make sure Molly hasn’t left Sean and me alone.
At nine-thirty I reluctantly tell them I should get home. They both come downstairs to see me to the door and Sean opens it for me.
I involuntarily start back at the sight of rain coming down in sheets just past the porch overhang. “Ew. I’m still not used to it doing that, even though the Horizon landed right in the middle of a thunderstorm. Luckily a lot of Dun Cloch is shielded, so we didn’t have to deal with too much of it after that first night.”
Molly laughs. “Sean’s not a big fan of Earth weather, eith
er. You should have seen him the first time it rained in Bailerealta—only their central square is climate-controlled. Do you even own an umbrella yet?”
“You mean those upside-down bowl things on sticks the Duchas use to stay dry?” I’ve seen them on television but never used one.
That gets another laugh, this time from both of them. “Good description,” Sean says. “We have one, but they do about as good a job as you’d expect. Why don’t I walk you, instead?”
“Good idea.” Molly grins, then glances over her shoulder toward the back of the house. “I’ll handle Mum if she asks where you are,” she whispers.
“It’s not—” Sean begins, then shrugs. “Okay. I won’t be gone long.” He and I step out onto the porch and Molly quickly shuts the door behind us.
The rain looks even worse up close, though at least there’s no lightning or thunder. Yet. “Do you really have something better than an umbrella? Or are you just coming along for moral support?”
“Both,” he replies with a half-wink. “Molly’s right that I had the hardest time of anyone in our family adjusting to the idea of stuff falling from the sky. Just wait till your first snowfall.” He shudders. “It’s why Mum and Dad let me get this app.”
Pulling an omni out of his pocket—not just a cellphone with a few special functions, but a real Martian omni—he activates the holographic control screen and makes a selection I can’t see from my angle.
“There. This’ll keep us dry. The only catch is we, um, have to be touching to keep the rain off both of us.”
“Oh. Okay.” Pretending it’s no big deal, I put a hand on his forearm. Immediately, I feel a sizzling rush of adrenaline course through me, stronger than ever.
Sean sucks in a quick breath and swallows visibly but just says, “Okay, let’s go.”
Together, we walk down the porch steps into the rain. Even though I expect it, I’m fascinated to see the water sheer away without touching us.
