Chapter 2 (part 1)
Emileia (em-i-LAY-ah): current Banfriansa (Princess); sole heir to the Nuathan monarchy
For early November in north-central Indiana, it was a glorious day—bright sunshine, an impossibly blue sky and just chilly enough for a light jacket. Of course, it was even more glorious for me because I was walking hand in hand with the most wonderful guy in the world. Even after two months together, I still couldn't believe Rigel Stuart—Jewel High's star quarterback and the most gorgeous guy I'd ever met—was my boyfriend. No, not just my boyfriend. My soulmate.
"What do you think, M? Too cool for ice cream today?" Rigel asked, slowing in front of Dream Cream, one of our favorite places in tiny downtown Jewel.
I glanced up at him, savoring his flawless profile along with his rich, mesmerizing voice. "Ice cream sounds good. We may not have many more days like this before winter."
"Good point." He opened the screen door for me, then the solid one with the store's name etched on the glass.
We headed for the counter, perusing the hand-painted sign on the wall above, when I heard a gasp off to my right and simultaneously felt a familiar twinge. I instinctively glanced that way, to find two middle-aged women I'd never seen before staring at me, their mouths twin Os of amazement.
"Is it?" one whispered to the other, who nodded furiously.
"It is! Get your camera!"
Rigel and I both froze, then turned quickly back to the door.
"I just remembered, I left my bag at Glitterby's," I said, for the benefit of old Mrs. Posner at the counter, who was watching us all with a distinctly curious gleam in her eyes.
We left the shop and turned back up Diamond Street toward the artisan jewelry store I'd mentioned, only to hear rapid footsteps behind us.
"Wait!" one of the women called. "We just wanted to—"
Rigel rounded on them so quickly it startled me nearly as much as it did them. "Quiet! Are you crazy?" he demanded in a fierce whisper.
Rocking back on their heels, they gaped at him, then glanced at each other, their faces reddening.
"We're sorry," said the woman with the camera. "We didn't mean to cause a stir. But please, if I could just get one photo of the Princess?"
"Nobody is looking," the other woman said, peering up and down the street with such exaggerated caution, she was likely to draw attention just from that.
"Fine," I muttered. "Just be quick, okay?"
They exchanged ecstatic smiles, then took turns with the camera, each taking the other's picture as she stood next to me.
"Do you suppose—?" one asked then, holding the camera out to Rigel.
"No," he snapped. "That's enough. People are starting to stare. What are your names?"
They both reddened again. "Gladys and Orana Pickerell," one of them practically gasped in answer. "But please don't report us or . . . or anything. We didn't mean—"
"It's fine," I said with a quick frown at Rigel. "But please, don't do anything else to attract attention. And, uh, have a nice day."
Nodding and thanking me profusely, they backed away, then turned and hurried off down the street, whispering excitedly to each other.
"Well, that was awkward," I said to Rigel.
He took my hand again, which I appreciated, since his touch helped ground me after that brush with the bizarre. "Yeah. And they should know better. They all should. You okay?"
I nodded, though I was still slightly freaked. About three weeks ago, word had gone out to all the transplanted Martian colonists here on Earth that their long-lost Princess—me—had been found alive. Since then, some had started making pilgrimages to Jewel to gawk at me. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.
As recently as September, I was a complete nobody, possibly the most average, boring high school sophomore ever. So imagine my shock to learn that I'd been born in an underground colony on Mars, smuggled to Earth as a baby, then orphaned—twice—to be raised by people who still had no clue about my origins.
I hadn't yet come to terms with the idea that I was some kind of secret celebrity to thousands of people I hadn't even known existed until all those stunning revelations. Plus, I still felt kind of skittish around Martians other than Rigel and his family, since a bunch of them had tried to kill me just last month.
Even though it had now been two months since I'd learned my true identity, I still didn't feel anything like a princess. Probably because nobody in Jewel, apart from Rigel and his family, had the first inkling of the truth. My own family—my Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie, that is—definitely didn't treat me like royalty. Quite the opposite.
Which reminded me.
"I won't be able to stay out very long this afternoon," I told Rigel. "I have laundry duty now that Aunt Theresa is working some evenings at the florist shop. I meant to get to it over the weekend, but . . ." I shrugged.
Now that football season had ended, leaving Rigel's afternoons free, we'd gotten into the habit of spending that time together in town more days than not. He wasn't allowed to come to my house unless my aunt or uncle were home, and I felt weird going to his place all the time—plus my aunt didn't like it.
"That's okay." He gave my hand a delicious squeeze. "I have to get home early, too. Allister is visiting again."
I grimaced. "This is, like, his third visit, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Rigel looked disgusted, too. "At least he's hasn't asked to see you again—yet."
"Thank goodness for small favors." I'd seen Allister Adair twice over the last month and both times had left a definite bad taste in my mouth.
For one thing, it was creepy the way he always watched me, like he was just waiting for me to screw up. He was the head dude on Earth of the Martian Royals—which, as far as I'd been able to figure out, was like their conservative party—so he seemed to think it was his job to make sure I acted like a Sovereign. Which I clearly didn't, not having been trained up to it. Like I cared.
For another thing, he'd once tried to force me to leave Jewel, Indiana—and Rigel—so he and his cronies could "keep me safe," which meant hiding me away in some Martian compound in Montana. I'd avoided that, but I didn't trust him not to come up with some other excuse to spirit me away in the dead of night.
Worst of all, he always made it crystal clear he totally did not approve of Rigel and me dating. Which was pretty rude considering he was staying as a guest in Rigel's parents' house. I hoped he wouldn't still be around for Rigel's sixteenth birthday party a week from Saturday, something I wouldn't miss, Allister or no Allister.
"So, you still want that ice cream?" I asked, refusing to worry about it when I could be enjoying Rigel and one of the last nice days of the year.
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