Starcrossed

Chapter 17b: Rigel (part 2)

Chapter 17 (part 2)

Rigel (RY-jel): Orion's left foot

"I beg your pardon?" Allister blusters, looking to my dad and grandfather to intercede.

They don't.

He makes a few outraged noises, then says, "If that is the way you feel, Ariel, I won't trespass on your hospitality another moment. I'll pack my things at once."

My mom is a little pinker than normal but her jaw is as rigid as I've ever seen it and she doesn't back down. "I'm sure if you call the O'Garas they will be willing to put you up for the night."

Allister gives them all another disbelieving glance, then storms upstairs. No one says a word for the two minutes it takes him to get his suitcase and come back down. He doesn't say anything either, just grabs his coat, gives everybody one last glare and slams out the front door. We hear the engine of his rental car start, then fade into the distance.

Finally, my mother lets out a sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't apologize, Ariel," my grandfather says. "Allister's behavior tonight has been execrable. I'm surprised you allowed him to stay as long as you did, if he has been this unpleasant since his arrival."

"He has," I say, not adding that it's mainly been aimed at me.

My dad just shakes his head. "I don't blame you either, Ariel, but I hope he won't make us all regret this. He may not have the power here he had on Mars, but he does wield quite a bit of influence with the Council. And the O'Garas—"

"Will surely understand," Grandfather finishes. "None of them seemed pleased with the way Allister handled things this evening. And no wonder. He had no business saying the things he said."

"So . . . it's not true?" I can't quite keep the hope out of my voice, even though I know I'm grasping at straws. "What he said about Sean and M?"

The looks they all give me are pitying in varying degrees and my brief hope sputters out even before my grandfather answers.

"I'm sorry, Rigel. While Allister was both precipitate and clumsy with tonight's revelation, I can't imagine he would have made such a claim were it not true. Certainly all past Sovereigns have paired in the manner he described."

Betrayal slams me in the gut like one of my own uncontrolled football passes. "So you knew about this arranged marriage crap and never said a word to me? Or to M? What the hell?"

My mother puts a hand on my shoulder but it doesn't help much. "We knew about the custom, yes, but not about Sean. It seemed unlikely after Faxon's purges that anyone of the appropriate age and lineage had survived, so we assumed that M would be able to pair as she chose, without regard to the old customs." Her voice is soothing—which just irritates me, because I can tell she's trying to soothe me, with that special power she has.

"Faxon was very thorough," my father explains. "The O'Garas had to conceal their lineage in order to remain there, heading up the resistance. People became so tight-lipped about things like Royal bloodlines that I doubt anyone but Allister knew they were members of the Second House. In fact, it's likely that the reason they finally left Mars was to keep Sean safe. It was incredibly brave of them to stay as long as they did, under the circumstances."

The last thing I want to hear right now is another paen to the wonderful, heroic O'Gara clan. "Does that mean M really doesn't have any choice, like Allister said?" I probably sound as appalled as I feel.

"I wouldn't put it quite that way," my grandfather says. "At least, I know of no case in our history where a Sovereign was forced to pair against his or her will."

"You must realize that this is a unique circumstance," Dad reminds me. "As Allister said, all previous Sovereigns knew from childhood who their Consort would be, and also grew up with full awareness of Nuathan pairing customs."

Grandfather gives a little snort. "Customs that fly in the face of accepted genetic principles. I've argued for over a century that we should—" He breaks off. "But that's neither here nor there. The point is, Sean does exist, and most of our people will expect the Sovereign to honor tradition."

"Eventually," my mother adds, frowning at him. "Surely there's no need to require any sort of commitment while they are still minors?"

He sighs heavily. "Of course no one will expect a teen marriage, but once word gets out—and I have no doubt Allister will see that it does—there will be pressure to follow tradition as closely as possible. Which means encouraging Sean and Princess Emileia to spend time together, to facilitate emotional bonding."

"And discouraging her from spending time with anyone who might interfere with that? Like, say, me?" I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. My gut feels like it's on fire.

"I'm sorry, Rigel." My grandfather sounds like he really means it. "I honestly believed this situation was unlikely to arise. When it became clear that you and Emileia had formed a graell bond—which is not quite so rare as Allister would like to believe—" he glances at my folks— "it seemed that you and she were genetically destined for each other. It is unlikely, however, that many of our people will see it that way."

My dad weighs in again. "The question is, what course will best serve our people in the long run? The first priority, of course, must be completely removing Faxon from power. But after that—"

Suddenly, I can't take it anymore.

"I'm going to bed. You can all plan the fate of 'our people' without me." What I need to plan is how to see M privately, so we can figure a way out of this mess. Maybe even tonight, if I can sneak out without—

"Rigel." Grandfather's voice stops me halfway to the stairs. "Promise me you won't do anything foolish."

Not for the first time, I wonder if he can read my mind. Or maybe, after almost three hundred years of experience, he can just read people. Either way, it's awfully inconvenient sometimes.

"No, sir." Not lying. I won't do anything I consider foolish.

He watches me for another second or two, then nods, apparently satisfied.

A minute later I shut myself into my room and stare at all my stupid model spaceships hanging from the ceiling without really seeing them. Foolish? Foolish would be risking what M and I have together. Especially since risking our bond means risking our lives, whether anyone else believes that or not.

Which means I can't afford to play by their rules. Neither of us can.

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