Starbound: A Starstruck Novel (41 page)

I remembered what Rigel had said about those “therapy” sessions, how they seemed to be trying to undermine our bond with them. I was determined that this would be his very last one. I quickly called Morag back—and again got her canned message.

I squared my shoulders, trying not to let my frustration show. “While I appreciate your concern for Rigel, Morag, I insist you bring him to the Royal Palace as soon as possible, no matter what sort of therapy you’ve scheduled for him. It’s
extremely
important.”

I sent that, then left yet another message for Rigel, though by now I doubted he’d ever see it. Maybe she’d found out he’d hacked his vidscreen and disabled or confiscated it. Still, after my last message to Morag,
surely
she’d have him here at the Palace by tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. Maybe together, Rigel and I could find and figure out how to use the Grentl device even if I didn’t hear from Eric?
 

With that hopeful thought to fortify me, I headed into my bathroom. Though it boasted the first real, hot-water shower I’d seen since leaving Earth, I took an ionic one anyway, to save time.
 

After that, I let Molly array me for my Accession and Installation, trusting she knew what she was doing when she fitted me into an outrageously sumptuous gown and matching jewelry. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at myself in the mirror, finding it hard to believe that vision in deep purple silk was really me. The dress was studded with about ten pounds of diamonds, which also sparkled at my ears and throat, and in the tiara securing my upswept hair.
 

“You’re
sure?
” I asked for the third time.

“It’s the traditional Accession gown, so yes, I’m sure,” she said with a grin, also for the third time. “We should go. Unless you want to make a grand entrance after everyone else is already there?”

“Uh, no. Let’s go.”

When we reached the Royal Audience Hall, the two elaborately uniformed Palace staff members on either side of the double doors bowed deeply, then flung the doors wide. Suppressing a gasp, I paused on the threshold.
 

I’d seen pictures of this room, the equivalent of the Sovereigns’ throne room, but pictures hadn’t come close to doing it justice. For one thing, it was beyond enormous, at least twice the size of Jewel’s Town Hall. And the opulence was off the charts, the walls covered with artwork and silk hangings and the ceiling painted with a huge mural of planets and stars, with what looked like real gold highlights.
 

At the far end, on a dais, was the
cathoir—
a beautifully ornate golden chair with purple velvet cushions. Actually sitting on that thing suddenly seemed ludicrously impossible…just like everything else in my life lately.

Mr. O’Gara and Sean arrived just then and I turned to them in relief, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “Oh, good! What am I supposed to do? I know you told me, but I’ve totally spaced it.”

Mr. O’s smile was understanding. “You’ll greet the dignitaries and reporters who will arrive in just a few minutes, then Nels Murdoch will present you with the Royal Scepter. Here is the text of the ceremony. It’s very brief.”
 

He punched it up on his omni screen for me and now I recognized it from my earlier reading. After saying my part under my breath twice, I was pretty sure I had it memorized.
 

“Thanks. And I really have to sit there?” I pointed to the
cathoir
.

“You do. In fact—” He glanced at the time on his omni— “I suggest you do so now.”

Insealbau
(in-SALL-baw):
Installation, as of Nuathan Sovereign

I moved to the dais as quickly as my elaborate gown would allow and sat in the intimidating throne-thing just as the doors flew open again, this time to admit a whole crowd of people.

I recognized Nels Murdoch, Devyn Kane, Gordon Nolan and a few others, and Mr. O quietly identified the rest. “The entire acting legislature—both Houses—as well as at least one reporter from every network.”

The hundred-plus people arranged themselves in a semi-circle facing me, then Nels stepped forward, thumping his right fist smartly against his chest before bowing.
 

Everyone else in the room followed suit, then chanted,
Emileia, Thiarna ar barr Nuath, failte a Thiaraway agus cumacht,
the traditional greeting welcoming me to Thiaraway and to the throne.
 

Then Nels recited, first in Martian, then in English. “Sovereign. It is my honor to welcome you to Thiaraway and to cede leadership of the Nuathan people into your august hands. I hereby present the Royal Scepter, which I deliver into your hands as a token of your authority to rule. May you do so with wisdom and mercy.”
 

He bowed again, the action as stilted as his speech, and the man Mr. O had identified as acting High Chancellor came forward to hand the glittering staff to Nels, who presented it to me with another bow. I hesitated for a second, then reached out and took the Scepter in both hands. It was lighter—and warmer—than I expected. It also felt surprisingly…
mine.

“
Go raibhe mile maith agat. Me aidh bhunach go deo.
Many thanks,” I said. “That will ever be my goal.”
 

Now the whole room chanted along with Nels, “
Thiarna Emileia ar barr Nuath, failte a agus cumacht go deo,”
roughly, “Sovereign Emileia, we look forward to your long reign.” Then they all bowed again.
 

I did the proper inclination of my head in response, which freed everyone to start moving around, some toward the door, others coming forward to offer their personal greetings and congratulations. That took a while, but once the reporters were gone and most of the crowd had dispersed, Nels came up to me again.

“May you rule long and well, Sovereign. I wish you much success in
everything
you do.” He felt sincere, which wasn’t really surprising, considering what my first task needed to be.

“Thank you, Nels. You served well as Interim Governor during a very difficult time for the Nuathan people. You were chosen because they trusted you to do what was best for them, and clearly that trust was well placed. I hope you will accept a post on my Advisory Council. Your experience would be very valuable to me.”

His eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled—the first real smile he’d directed at me. “It would be my great honor, Excellency. My allegiance, of course, is yours. Always.” He bowed deeply.

Relieved to have him as an ally instead of an opponent, I smiled back. “I appreciate that more than I can say. If you have suggestions for other members of my Advisory Council, I would very much like to go over them with you.”

“Absolutely, Excellency.”

I glanced down at the scepter I still held. “Did Faxon carry this while he was in power?” Nothing in my reading had mentioned it either way.

Nels blinked, then shook his head. “He did have it brought to him at the very beginning, but then ordered it locked in the Royal Treasury, where it has remained for the past fifteen years. Why?”

“Just…curious.” I suspected the Scepter might be one of those things specially attuned to the Sovereign bloodline. When I got a chance, I’d have to study up on it.
 

But first I had to get through this afternoon’s stupid Royal Reception, so I could get on with the two things that
really
mattered—stopping the Grentl and getting Rigel back.

“That was well done, inviting Nels onto your Advisory Council,” Mr. O’Gara commented as we left the Royal Audience Hall twenty minutes later. “I must say, I’m impressed, Excellency.”

His use of my title still made me blink. “Thanks. It seemed like the right thing to do, somehow.”

“Indeed.”

“How long until that reception? Is there time now to talk about…you know?” There were still Palace staffers nearby.

He shook his head. “It’s scheduled to begin in the main function room in about forty-five minutes and you’ll need to change first. As will Sean and I. Molly will know how to dress you.”
 

I glanced at her and she nodded eagerly, clearly distracted from her earlier fears by the prospect of again treating me like a living Barbie doll.
 

“But we’ll talk after, right?” I pressed, before Mr. O and Sean left us to go to their quarters. “I
still
haven’t heard back from Eric and we need a plan for…everything.” No one was close enough to hear, but I had no idea what kind of surveillance system the Palace might have. No point taking chances.

“Of course. I haven’t lost sight of what’s important, Excellency, not to worry.” With that, he bowed, which felt weird, too, and turned away.
 

Sean hung back. “I thought you did great just now, too.” His blue eyes were warm and, at the moment, unshadowed by fear or jealousy. “Try not to worry too much, okay? It’ll all work out somehow.”

I hoped he was right.

Half an hour later, arrayed in a
different
purple-with-diamonds dress that was nearly as gorgeous as the Accession one but easier to walk in, we left for the Royal Reception. This time Mr. O and Sean were waiting in the hallway to accompany us to the main function room. Sean’s eyes lit up with frank admiration when he saw me.
 

“Wow. That last outfit was great but this one suits you better. You look awesome.”
 

I felt myself blushing, stupid as that was under the circumstances. “Um, thanks. You guys look great, too.”
 

They did. Their costumes for the Accession had been nearly as ridiculous as mine, but now Sean and his father wore discreetly embroidered navy tunics over dark gray body suits that made them both look very distinguished. Maybe not as impressive as Rigel in his Bodyguard uniform, but…

“Shall we?” Mr. O said, turning toward the corridor on the left.

After a five minute walk, we reached our destination and I gasped yet again. “Main function room” was an absurdly dry description for the most sumptuous ballroom I’d ever seen or even imagined. Chandeliers of pink crystal illuminated gem-encrusted frescoes of flowers and foliage on the walls and intricate gold-inlaid mosaics on the floor. Tables laden with all kinds of delicacies and drinks were scattered around, adorned with fantastical ice—crystal?—sculptures in every color of the rainbow.
 

People were already entering through another door, decked out nearly as lavishly as the room. Molly and Sean stared around, as stunned as I was, but Mr. O appeared unfazed. Of course, he’d probably been here before, when my grandfather Leontine was alive.
 

“There will be a receiving line,” Mr. O informed me before I could ask. “You, Sean and the senior acting ministers and their spouses.” He nodded toward the other early arrivals. “This way.”
 

Soon every healthy Royal in Nuath was there, well over a hundred of them by now, along with the heads of every
fine
and the few non-Royal town or village mayors. Each formally greeted me with bows and congratulations before moving on down the line to the ministers.
 

Some of these Royals, Mr. O whispered during a brief break, had only recently been released from treatment for memory or other impairments inflicted by Faxon. Another two dozen or so had arrived from Earth three days ago, on a ship from Montana.
 

“I’ll
never
remember all these names and titles,” I murmured at one point, as the introductions went on and on. Didn’t Mr. O get how distracted I was right now? Wasn’t
he
?

“Not to worry. I’m recording everything so you can go over it after, ah, afterward.” He tapped his breast pocket, which I assumed contained his omni. “We’ll have time to talk later, I promise. For now, just keep smiling.”
 

He and Sean stayed by my side after the interminable receiving line ended, Mr. O’Gara deftly steering conversations away from undesirable topics, but there was no chance for private conversation. Slowly, we made our way around the enormous room, Cormac and Molly trailing behind me. I smiled and nodded as one government official after another outlined what they hoped I’d be able to do for their particular Ministry, and at least a dozen Regent hopefuls politely tried to convince me they’d be my best choice.
 

Several of the Royal guests still had obvious memory issues, like Jeremy, the former Minister of Elections, who told me at least four times that he’d once visited the Midwest during the six years he’d spent on Earth in his twenties. And Thora, once a Legislator from Monaru, who kept calling me by my mother’s name, Galena, then blushing and apologizing profusely, swearing I looked just like her.
 

Some unimpaired Royals made me uncomfortable, too. There was one in particular, Cora, a recent arrival from Earth, whose bright blue eyes held an almost fanatically intense gleam whenever she looked at me, giving me the creeps. Gordon, at least, kept his distance, merely smiling with exaggerated politeness any time I looked his way.

As we went, Cormac and Molly tasted and served me whatever food or drink I showed an interest in, though Mr. O frowned me away from the prettiest glasses. Sean informed me in a whisper that those contained an alcoholic beverage called
spakriga
, the Nuathan version of champagne.
 

If it weren’t for the terrible threat looming over everyone, I might possibly have enjoyed myself, at least at first. But as the evening wore on and people kept talking at me, I had an increasingly strong urge to yell at everybody to shut up—that they had no idea what was
really
important, that their whole complicated colony might be
gone
in two days.
 

Instead, I smiled my thanks to Molly as she handed me another adorable little canapé, then whispered to Sean, on my left. “How soon till we can politely get out of here? I can’t believe your dad’s making us do this when we need to be working on…you know.”