Starbound: A Starstruck Novel (32 page)

“I assume you know why I’m here?” she asked him, confusing me further.

He gave her a fleeting, uncertain smile. “It’s…it’s good to finally meet you…Grandmother.”

 
scar a cheila
(scar ah KAY-lah):
separated; torn asunder; ripped apart

Stunned, I looked back and forth between Morag Teague and Rigel. Was this Shim’s wife? Hadn’t I been told she’d died? Then, with a start, I realized why Morag seemed familiar. She looked like an older—and much more severe—version of Dr. Stuart, Rigel’s mother.

I kept expecting Morag and Rigel to hug or at least smile at each other. Instead, after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Morag spoke again.

“You look even more like your father now than in the picture your mother sent a few years ago. Still, you are my grandson, and therefore my responsibility while you are in Nuath.”
 

She turned to me then with a slightly more pleasant expression, though when I focused I mainly sensed anger and resentment from her. “I must apologize for the role he played in potentially delaying your Acclamation, Excellency. Rest assured I won’t allow him to interfere further in matters of state.”

“As I tried to tell you, it’s not completely—” Mr. O’Gara began, but she waved him to silence with an imperious hand.
 

“I don’t blame you, Quinn. I’m sure you’ve done your best with him, but recklessness is in his blood, from both sides. Neither of his parents respected propriety or tradition, either.”

“Excuse me?” Indignation overcame my surprise. “You will please, Madam, not insult Rigel’s parents or Rigel himself in my presence. They have all been of great service to me many times over, including saving my life. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude.”

Morag inclined her head to me deferentially, though there was no lessening of her anger. “Your defense of them speaks very highly of you, Excellency. No doubt it is that gratitude that prompted you to shield my grandson from the consequences of his poor judgment. But as his natural guardian it falls upon me to ensure nothing of the sort will be necessary again.”
 

“How?” I tried not to let Rigel’s growing anger and worry distract me.

She primmed her lips, again reminding me of Aunt Theresa. “I intend to take him home with me to Pryderi before he can do any more harm to your reputation, or to my family’s.”

“Thanks for your
concern
, Grandmother,” Rigel practically snarled, “but I have a job to do here. I’m part of the Princess’s security detail.”

Morag sniffed audibly. “I’m certain they can find someone far more suitable for that position, Rigel. It has taken seventy years for your mother’s flouting of tradition to be forgotten and I will not have it dredged up again because of her son’s improper association with someone so completely above his station. As you are underage, you will do as I say. Get your things and let’s be gone with no more nonsense.”

Rigel started to refuse, but Mr. O touched his shoulder. “Go ahead, Rigel. We don’t want more rumors that could damage the Princess further.”

Though he looked—and felt—furious, Rigel gave an abrupt nod and headed up the stairs without a backward look.

I’ll stop her somehow,
I thought after him. Angry as he was, I doubted he could hear me.

“You can’t just take him,” I told his grandmother the moment he was out of sight. “You don’t have the authority—”

“Actually, she does,” Mr. O informed me gently.
 

“How? She can’t be his guardian. Both of his parents are alive, even if they’re not here on Mars.”

“As the eldest member of Rigel’s immediate family, Morag is indeed his guardian according to Nuathan law. That would be true even if his parents were here.” He paused to let that sink in. “And I believe it
would
be best for Rigel to go with her, given what’s being said in the media.”

“Not to worry, Princess.” Morag gave me a thin smile. “This has in no way altered my intention of voting in favor of your Acclamation. I, at least, hold your lineage in the highest respect.”
 

Implying that Rigel didn’t.
 

“None of this is Rigel’s fault,” I insisted. “When he and I started dating, no one knew whether I’d ever get to Mars or become Sovereign. And even if I did, Dr. and Mr. Stuart didn’t know my supposed traditional Consort was still alive, so they never told Rigel it might be a problem.”

“Again, your defense of the Stuart family is commendable, Excellency. I have no doubt you will be a most effective Sovereign in time. However, all question of blame aside, Quinn and I both feel it is best—for Rigel, for you, and, most importantly, for Nuath—that my grandson stay with me from this point on. That will minimize the risk of any further scandal that could imperil your Acclamation.”

I turned to stare at Mr. O’Gara. “Wait. You
knew
about this?”

He at least had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Until Morag messaged me a short while ago, I didn’t realize Rigel still had relatives living on Mars. I was about to tell you when she arrived. Please, Excellency, remember what is at stake. I’m sure Rigel will agree with our reasoning, once he’s calmed down.”

A cold fist seized my heart as I realized he was probably right. Feeling blindsided and betrayed, I tried another tack. “Won’t you hustling him away only start more rumors? Make everyone assume we really do have something to be ashamed of?”

Morag dismissed that argument with a flick of her fingers. “If anyone asks, I will simply tell them that I desired to become acquainted with my long-lost grandson and that you were gracious enough to allow it. I would suggest you say the same.”

“But—” I sensed Rigel approaching and broke off.
 

“Rigel, your grandmother and I both agree that the best way for you to support the Princess is to go with her now,” Mr. O said the moment he appeared. “It will help to defuse speculation and improve her chances of Acclamation.”

He stopped on the bottom step, frowning from the two of them to me.
He…he has a point, M. If this can help you get Acclaimed faster—

“Are you ready, Rigel?” Morag asked briskly before I could respond. “Let’s go, shall we?”

He nodded, thinking to me as he joined her,
Will you be safe? Do you trust Cormac?

Yes. He knew my father and grandfather. But you
can’t
go, Rigel! Maybe if we tell her about our bond? If I get sick, it’ll be even harder for me to get Acclaimed or do anything about the Grentl.

It would only make her more determined,
Rigel assured me.
Just get yourself Acclaimed before you can get sick, okay? Then maybe I can come back to help with the Grentl. Be safe, M. I love you.

I looked directly into Rigel’s eyes, which reflected the anguish I was feeling no matter how much he pretended it was for the best.
Call me as soon as you can—my secret code is cornfield.
 

His grandmother put her hand on his arm to lead him away.

Cornfield, Rigel. Did you hear me?

I felt him struggling to control his emotions enough to communicate and after a few anxious heartbeats he sent back,
Cornfield. Got it.
 

I love you, Rigel! Always. We’ll be together again soon, I promise!
Then I made myself say aloud, “Thank you for everything, Rigel. I hope to see you again very soon.” It sounded formal, even cold, after my impassioned silent vow. I saw him wince slightly.

Mr. O, Sean and Molly all said their goodbyes, then Morag Teague and Rigel left while I just stood there, numbly staring after them.

“I, ah, have a list of interview requests to go over with you,” Mr. O’Gara said after a moment, breaking the awkward silence.

I rounded on him. “How could you agree to this? Don’t you remember what happened when we were apart over Thanksgiving? How am I supposed to convince people I’m a leader if I get that sick again?”
 

“I agreed because it will help you get Acclaimed. Nothing else is as important right now, you know that.
If
you get sick, we’ll deal with it. Right now, we need to line up interviews and appearances so that you can undo the damage that’s been done as quickly as possible.” There was no compromise whatsoever in his tone—or in his emotions.

“Fine,” I snapped, still furious. “Where do I need to be when?”
 

No one else said a word as he led me back to the table, pulling up his omni screen as he went. “The main Nuathan Network should be first as it has the widest viewership. Regan Ryan has a morning show and a reputation for informal, chatty interviews, so it shouldn’t be too adversarial. She has a studio right here in Tullymayne. Ten a.m.?”

“Fine,” I said again. I tried to tamp down my anger, telling myself that the quicker I could get Acclaimed, the quicker I’d get Rigel back. And if I
was
going to start feeling yucky, it made sense to do my most important interviews first.

“Excellent. I’ll confirm that one.” He touched the holo display. “Then I suggest a couple of village square appearances, with moderated questions. Ballytadhg and Glenamuir are the most sympathetic. An Informatics interview would be good as well. They’re open-minded and likely to show you in a good light. After that, things could get trickier unless we turn perceptions around quickly.”

He proceeded to line up six or seven appearances for me over the next couple of days, a ridiculously tight schedule. I agreed to all of them, doubting I’d stay healthy much longer than that. I hoped I was wrong, for Rigel’s sake as well as my own. And Nuath’s, of course.

“That will do for now.” He closed the display. “Let’s see how these go before considering other requests.”
 

We joined the others, who were still watching the interminable news, switching back and forth between live reporting and more in-depth text updates. Nothing much had changed. Some people were making excuses for me while others seemed to think I was unfit to do more than sweep floors. Nearly everyone talked about Rigel like he was some kind of vile seducer. They only disagreed about whether I’d been a willing participant or a hapless victim, either through understandable gratitude or arrant stupidity.

I tried to keep track of which groups held which views so I could do a better job winning over the unsympathetic ones and solidifying support from those already on my side, but my attention kept wandering back to Rigel. Would he even be allowed to contact me? I didn’t dare check my omni in front of everyone else, so when Sean announced he was hungry I jumped up.
 

“I’m going to run upstairs and change before dinner. No, that’s okay, Molly, I don’t need help. You can stay here too, Cormac. I’ll only be a few minutes. Feel free to start without me.”
 

The moment I reached my bedroom, I pulled out my new omni. Unfortunately, the only message was from Eric, sent half an hour ago.
Heard RS is with grandmother. Wise decision. Stay focused.

Irritated, I threw the omni on the bed. Was every single person on Mars against us? I yanked off the conservative outfit I was still wearing from my press conference, fuming at the injustice of my whole stupid life. Vowing to get Rigel back whether I got Acclaimed or not, I stalked into the bathroom to splash water on my face and brush my hair into a less severe style.

As I discontentedly pulled on a more comfortable outfit, I suddenly remembered something. Morag Teague
wasn’t
Rigel’s only relative on Mars. His father had a brother here! Could he help me? Before I even finished that thought, I snatched up my omni from the bed.

“Stuart,” I said to it, dredging Rigel’s uncle’s first name from my memory. “Um, Tor Stuart?”
 

It was my first time using an omni, so I was a little surprised when it worked. A little holo-screen popped up, showing a man’s face. “Excellency?” He looked shocked. “I, ah, wasn’t anticipating—”

“No, I know. And I apologize, especially since we’ve never even met. But you’re Rigel Stuart’s uncle, aren’t you?”
 

He inclined his head. He was as handsome as Rigel’s father—in other words, extremely—but noticeably older. “I am. How can I be of service?”

I quickly explained about Morag taking Rigel away. “Mr. O’Gara says she has that authority, but is there anything you can do to get her to bring him back?”

“I doubt it, Excellency.” He looked genuinely regretful. “Her family and mine have not been on speaking terms for over a century, and as Rigel’s guardian she has precedence, as the elder. The only person with the authority to overrule her would be Shim, my father, but as he is on Earth—”

Though I’d known it was a long shot, disappointment settled heavily in my stomach. “I understand. Thank you anyway. Um, have a nice evening.”

He bowed and I cut the connection, fuming again. If only Shim were here— But all I could do at the moment was go down to dinner.
 

The others were still in the living room watching the feeds and Sean waved me over to join him on the couch. “Come look! Your numbers are still inching up, though not as fast as before.”

I glanced at the vidscreen. Sure enough, my approval rating was now over 50%.

When I didn’t sit, Sean stood. “I’m doing my bit to help, too. Dad had me record a statement while you were upstairs and I’m doing a couple of interviews tomorrow. That looks better on you, by the way.”

I glanced down at my pants, the closest thing to jeans I’d found, and simple blue blouse. “Uh, thanks. So, dinner?” I wasn’t hungry, but Sean’s compliment—and the admiration I sensed from him—made me uncomfortable. Better to turn his attention to food, which never seemed far from his thoughts anyway.

While I picked at my meal, Mr. O gave me a rundown on the sorts of questions I could expect during my three appearances tomorrow.
 

“Be prepared for personal questions, since that’s what the media is focusing on right now. Let’s practice again how you’ll deflect those back to policy issues, shall we?”