Starcrossed

Chapter 16a: Cheile Rioga (part 1)

Chapter 16 (part 1)

Cheile Rioga (KEE-luh ree-OH-gah): Royal Consort

I noticed Sean's expression—startled, angry and embarrassed—about a quarter of a second before Allister's words penetrated.

"Wait. What?" Surely I couldn't have heard him right. Maybe it was just a Martian word that sounded like—

"Your Cheile Rioga. Your destined Royal Consort," Allister repeated. "I presume you have not yet been educated, Princess, about our customs for pairings?"

I swallowed, glancing wildly at Molly, who looked as embarrassed and upset as her brother. "Um, Molly told me people usually, uh, pair up within their own clan. Er, fine," I stammered. She'd said "married" but I wasn't using that word. Nuh-uh. No way. I was fifteen for Pete's sake!

"Did she tell you that the more important the fine, the more important that tradition is?"

I shrugged, not willing to admit to anything more. I could feel Rigel's hand in mine, feel the anger and frustration flowing from him. I imagined he could feel something similar from me, along with big doses of fear and confusion. What could Allister possibly be suggesting?

Sean, still beet red, leaned over to Allister. "Uncle, I asked you not to—" he began, but Allister waved him to silence.

"I know, Sean, but I felt it necessary to make the situation perfectly clear before things, ah, progress any further." He turned to Rigel and me with a disapproving glare, his gaze lingering on our clasped hands. "I presume from your confusion, Princess, that Molly did not enlighten you as to the pairing requirements for the Sovereign and his or her heirs?"

Numbly, I shook my head, gripping Rigel's hand more tightly, as if he might be forcibly torn away from me at any moment.

"Our traditions are quite specific when it comes to the upper echelons of the Royal fine, particularly for our Sovereigns. While the Sovereign is always a direct descendant of the previous Sovereign, the Royal Consort is traditionally the ranking person of the opposite sex, of the same generation, from the Second Royal House—in this case, descended from the Sovereign of four generations prior."

It sounded as complicated as the family trees in the appendix of The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

"So, wait," I interrupted again. "Does that mean Sean is my . . . cousin or something?"

"Fourth cousin, yes. You both trace your lineage back to Sovereign Nuallen, father to Sovereign Aerleas, who was mother to Leontine. Which means you share a great-great-grandfather."

Not totally icky, then, but there was still no way on Earth—or Mars—that I was okay with this. "So Sovereigns don't get to choose their own . . . Consorts?" I glanced at Molly again, but she was no help. She just looked upset and helpless and wouldn't meet my eye.

I'd thought the Stuarts would come to my defense, but though they looked shocked and disapproving, they didn't say anything at all. And Mr. and Mrs. O'Gara just stood off to the side, like they weren't involved at all. Cowards. Weren't they supposed to be famous heroes or something?

"With great power comes great responsibility," Allister intoned, like he was reading off a script. "The Sovereign has a duty not only to shepherd our people, but to safeguard their future. Maintaining the Royal bloodline is one of those safeguards. In the past, the designated heir to the Sovereign has known almost from birth who his or her destined Consort would be. The two are introduced as young children and encouraged to form bonds of friendship and, later, of love, enhancing their ability to jointly lead our people when the new Sovereign takes power.

"You, Princess, have unfortunately been denied that opportunity due to the unconscionable behavior of the usurper Faxon. Therefore, the sooner you and your Consort become well acquainted, the better—for you, for our people, and for the future of our race."

He finally stopped talking and smiled, like he expected I would thank him or something. Uh, no.

Drawing strength from Rigel's hand around mine, I said, "That's all very interesting, Allister, but I don't see how it applies to me. I mean, we're on Earth, not Mars. I don't have a 'people' to shepherd and probably won't, since the Martians are all moving here over the next few decades anyway. So how can any of this really matter?"

Allister finally lost his smile completely, clearly taken aback by my response. Sean didn't look happy either, though I wasn't sure if his frown was more for his uncle or for me.

"Sorry, Sean," I told him—and almost meant it. "You're a nice guy and all, but . . . I'm with Rigel. You know that. No Martian tradition is going to change how I feel."

Rigel gave my hand a squeeze—subtly enough that no one else would notice, but it boosted my courage enormously. No matter what happened, he was on my side.

But Allister wasn't giving up that easily. "Princess, you don't understand what is at stake, nor the enormity of what you propose. Never, in nearly a thousand years, has a Sovereign paired with someone outside the Royal fine. It simply isn't done—for a multitude of reasons."

"Right." I wasn't buying it. Not even a little. "Traditions. Customs. Stuff that doesn't matter diddly-squat to me. Sorry."

Allister sucked in a shocked breath. "There is much more involved than simple tradition, Princess! For dozens of generations, the Royal fine has been carefully maintained to maximize leadership qualities. This next century will be a critical one for us all, perhaps the most pivotal period since the colony began, as we make the transition from Mars to Earth. At this, of all times, we cannot risk our people losing any shred of confidence in their Sovereign or in the Royal line."

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