Star-Crossed

by Pintip Dunn

  He fixes his eyes on the floor, as if he’s never seen this particular hue of yellow before. “I don’t know. I sent word to my mother after Astana got sick, but she never responded. I haven’t spoken to her in months. With my dad, it’s been more like years.”

  “But the royal guards contacted them about your selection as the Fittest?”

  “As far as I know.”

  The silence settles between us like a sponge, getting heavier with every moment. And there’s so much water in this room.

  I don’t know how long we sit there, but then he shifts, and the rough fabric of his pants brushes the cotton of mine. I look up, and the expression in his eyes makes me forget the loop, forget the council, forget the team of analysts listening to our conversation.

  He sees me. Finally, at long last, he sees the girl I am when no one else is watching.

  “I know it wasn’t easy, what you did for me,” he says. “Given how you feel, I don’t think one person in a hundred would’ve passed over the veto. You’ll have my respect forever.”

  I swallow. “Carr—”

  “The most unforgivable thing,” he rushes on, “is when I said you wouldn’t make a good ruler. That’s the kind of decision only a good ruler could make. Our colony should be so lucky to have someone like you leading us.”

  He seizes my hand. “I’m sorry, Vela. I was so fixated with saving Astana, I couldn’t see your side. If the situation were reversed, maybe I would’ve cheated, too.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I say automatically.

  “I don’t know. That’s the thing with ideals. They’re easy to impose on other people. Not so easy to practice yourself.” He skims his thumb over my knuckles. “I don’t have much longer, but if you’ll let me, I’ll make it up to you every day for the rest of my life.”

  My throat closes, and I blink, blink, blink to keep the tears from falling. “I don’t want you to die, Carr.”

  “I don’t, either.” It’s the first time he’s said that. The first time he’s admitted he has any selfish interest in this whole process. A heart to give, years and years to live. “I have two more months. And I don’t want to waste a moment of it.”

  I don’t respond with words, but with my whole entire soul poured into my kiss.

  The water sloshes on the floor, colors swirl all around us, and we pull our feet onto the bed, creating an island of our very own.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  “Problems, Princess.” Captain Perth strides over the moment I enter the control room. His hair stands up, like he’s been shoving his hands through it, and he doesn’t even bother to frown. Either he’s preoccupied with his news, or he’s finally getting used to me. “We’ve collected the silver discs from all the candidates except one—Zelo Hale. We can’t find him anywhere.”

  Behind him, everything looks the same. Same analysts tapping on their desks. Same holograms floating in the air. Same lights blinking on the circuit boards. I get the feeling I’d find this same scene, no matter what hour or day I entered.

  “Can’t you look him up in the system?” I ask.

  “We tried. He’s not listed. According to our records, there’s never been a Zelo Hale living in our colony.”

  “How can that be?” I make my voice calm and mild, even though each syllable wants to dart in a new direction. “All the candidates were vetted when they signed up for the Trials. Fingerprints, retinal scans, DNA samples. How can somebody fake an identity?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I believe his record did exist. I think it got erased along with the files.”

  My mind whirls. Out of all the records, only Zelo’s is missing. One of the two candidates who should’ve beaten Carr for the title. It can’t be a coincidence. “If his record was erased, this means—”

  “You were right.” The frown finally comes to Captain Perth’s face. But instead of disapproval, I think the downturn of his lips means I’ve found an ally. I want to save Carr. He wants to protect his data. We can work together. “Someone tampered with the Fittest results. Someone doesn’t want us to find Zelo Hale.”

  …

  The space shuttles stand majestically at the top of Protector’s Courtyard. From my angle at the base of the platform, all I see are steel plates and curved lines, sleek and striking under the sun lamps. In less than two hours, no one will even notice the shuttles. All eyes will be on the King placing a crown of ivy on his newest savior, the Fittest.

  A hint of eucalyptus floats from the trees, and the gnawing inside me intensifies. Memories of my mother mix with the dread of the ceremony to come.

  Sure, the crowning ceremony may be a formality, but it’s also one step closer to the conclusion I don’t want. A bit more momentum to push Carr toward one fate over another. The longer this course goes on, the harder it will be for me to stop.

  I will stop it. That much is certain. The only question is how.

  An Orderly bot swerves around me, picking up trash from the emerald green grass, and technicians roam the courtyard, installing speakers and holo-screens at regular intervals. I retreat a few steps, trying to get out of their way, and almost plow over a woman so bent with age she looks like a folding chair.

  “Sorry!”

  “I was searching for you, anyhow,” the woman says.

  I take a closer look at her. Her skin is pocked by countless scars, but in her dark eyes, I see a glimmer of someone familiar. Someone whose hands never used to stop—kneading dough, slicing an apple, peeling the blistered skin off a roasted red pepper—as Astana and I perched on stools in the royal kitchen and regaled her with our latest adventures.

  Carr and Astana’s mother, Lima.

  “You’re here.” I want to throw my arms around her. Thank Dionysus. Carr won’t have to be crowned without his parents watching. “We weren’t sure if you would come.”

  She scowls, the scars on her face rearranging like an interactive map. “You’re not as pretty as I remember. Shorter than I expected, too.”

  I smile as I’ve been taught. I’ve heard much worse from the Surly Bots. “We have time before the ceremony. I can take you to your children. Astana’s resting in the medical facility, and Carr’s probably with her.”

  “I’m not staying.” Her face betrays no indication that she recognizes her children’s names. “I’m only here because the guard said something about a monthly allowance. You can pay me, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “But the ceremony.” Maybe she doesn’t understand. Maybe the message got garbled. Maybe she doesn’t know what a huge deal this crowning is. “The whole colony is coming out to honor Carr. He’s giving his life to save the King, and in return, you get all the benefits of being an Aegis without the shortened life span. Don’t you want to witness that?”

  “Listen. My man and I could care less about food. I’ve lived in that tin can before, when I worked in your kitchens. Not shredding my skin to go back. If you ask me, this whole ceremony’s rubbish. What makes it okay to kill someone just because you’re rewarding his family?” She leans so close drops of spittle land on my face. “But nobody asked me, and my man and I could use the extra pills. So fork ’em over.”

  I open my mouth to tell her about the tradition of sacrifice, one as long-standing as Earth itself. About soldiers who gave themselves for their country. About heroes who risked their lives to protect the innocent. But I doubt she’ll listen. Just as I doubt she would know how to breach a firewall.

  “I could have one of the royal guards locate Carr. He could be out here in a few minutes.”

  Her laugh is as harsh as splinters. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  My blood heats up. Oh, I get it, all right. His entire life, Carr’s been working to please his mother. To earn her love. He’s taken care of his sister, paid the rent. Took over each and every one of Lima’s responsibilities so she can spend her days strung out on drug pellets. And now, she won’t take a few minutes to see him?

  I wipe the spit off my face. “A m
other should want to see her children.”

  “You’ve never been a mother, so how would you know? You’ve obviously never been in love, either.”

  My mouth opens and closes. “Of course I have. That’s what my life is about. The people I love.”

  She clucks her tongue. “I’m not talking about family ties. Societal constructs that tell you who and when to love. I’m talking about real love. Soul-mate love.” She straightens her spine, and I hear a loud “pop” as her bones shift in their sockets. “My man gives me first choice of pellets. He even shares his favorites, so I can feel what he feels.”

  “Are you talking about Carr and Astana’s father?” I ask incredulously.

  “He’s always been the only one for me.”

  “He also neglects your children and encourages you to do the same. He’s never taken responsibility for anything in his life.”

  “I love him,” she says. “When you find love, you’ll understand. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for him.”

  “What about your children?” My voice cracks, not for this pitiful person in front of me. But for Astana, for Carr. For myself. Not a single one of us has a mother anymore. “Don’t you love them, too?”

  “Sometimes there’s only room in your heart for one person.”

  She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t explain or excuse. It’s as if she’s been telling herself this lie for so long she believes it as truth.

  “My children will take care of themselves. They always have. They don’t need me like my man does.”

  I can’t listen to this garbage anymore. The stuffing’s coming right out of my heart. The same white fluff has been leaking out of Astana and Carr for years now, but she doesn’t see their pain. She doesn’t care. Her love is like a fire held to their toes, straddling the line between heat and danger, and maybe it’s time to send her away before we all burst into flames.

  “Go. Before one of your children sees you.” My voice is high and thin, as if it did come from a doll. “I’ll have someone get in touch about the monthly allowance.”

  “That’s all you had to say in the first place.” She turns and clomps away.

  I don’t watch her go. She’s taken too much of my time already. Stolen even more from her children. I’m not about to give her another second.

  I hope to Dionysus that Carr feels the same way.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  Ten minutes and counting.

  We’re in the antechamber of the shuttle, waiting for a Regal Bot to lead us onto the stage at the appropriate time. Carr, as the Fittest. Astana, as his recipient family. Blanca and me, as the Royal Princesses.

  The only one missing is the King. And the only one extra is Denver.

  I squeeze my cousin’s shoulder. He’s not going onto the platform with us, but I’m grateful he’s present. While the rest of us are mute with tension, he points out the hooks in the wall to Astana, explaining that astronauts used to suit up here before exiting into space. He also brought Blanca and me our favorite snacks—candied crickets and roasted almonds.

  I crunch a few bugs, even though I’m not hungry. Even though I may never be hungry again. The sweetness coats my tongue, and the red digits displayed on the ceiling tick down. I can’t delay anymore.

  “I saw your mother.” My voice comes out excessively bright, like a spotlight on top of the sun lamps.

  Carr’s foot stops tapping, and Blanca squints from her seat on the white storage lockers, where she’s been waiting, separate from the rest of us. For once, she is without her trusty shadow, Hanoi, and she seems lost without her. Maybe she’s beginning to rely on her assistant more than she realized.

  I wait another beat, until Astana turns from her post against Denver’s chest. She hasn’t spoken to me since the Bee Park.

  “She, um, she couldn’t stay.”

  “You mean, she didn’t want to,” Astana says. Her words are a response to mine, but they don’t count in breaking our wall of silence. Not when she can’t even look at me. “Let me guess. She took the pills and ran. Nothing new there.”

  Carr swallows again and again, as if trying to get down an uncooperative pill. Each bob of his Adam’s apple tightens my own throat.

  “Did she say anything about my dad?” he asks, his voice rough despite the multiple gulps. “I thought this win might be enough. I’ve gotten them an allowance every month for life. That’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

  My heart lurches. Even now, he hopes. Even now, he’s trying to earn their love.

  Astana hobbles to her brother and seizes his hand. “You are done trying to please that man. Do you hear me? You are worth a thousand—no, a million—of him. He’s not fit to trim your toenails.”

  “He’s my father,” Carr says quietly.

  Brother and sister look at each other with so much aching emotion it turns the rest of us into outsiders. Blanca, Denver, and I have many shared experiences. We’re even related by blood. But at that moment, the thing that unites us most is that we can’t share their pain.

  Astana and Carr’s hands drop to their sides, still connected, and we wait like that, not speaking, until the bot rolls up to the door.

  …

  “Today is a bittersweet day for me,” the King says. His words, amplified by the microphone in his collar, carry over the crowd, and a sheen of sweat covers his forehead. Instead of his usual pine cone insignia, he wears one of Denver’s new breed of azaleas. The unique pink color has been covered by a layer of gold, but the shape of the flower is unmistakable. My cousin will be pleased his royal flower is debuting at such a large gathering.

  Not everyone in the colony showed up. I know of two people who are conspicuously, offensively missing. But judging from the sea of people pushing up against the metal railings, I’d guess we’re close to full attendance.

  “I get to honor one of the worthiest young men I’ve ever met.” My father’s voice is heavy, as though saturated with the drops of our manufactured rain. “At the same time, I have to accept his gift: the sacrifice of his life for mine.”

  He steps from behind the podium. Despite the royal insignia at his shoulder, despite the fact that he’s orating in front of a crowd of ten thousand, he turns into just another colonist. Someone to whom we can all relate—a father, a brother, a son. This is his strength as the King. He rules not by his authority but because he is loved.

  “I’ve crowned many worthy young men.” He lowers his voice, so that it seems like he is talking to each of us individually. “And always, I am humbled by the extraordinary heroism of the boys and girls who have laid down their lives for me. But today is different. Because today, I am accepting the sacrifice from a friend.”

  A murmur ripples through the crowd. Carr’s eyes widen, and he takes a couple steps off the X that was added right before the ceremony. He doesn’t understand what the King means. I never told him about my father’s role in his life. The subject never came up, and besides, it wasn’t my story to tell.

  The King turns to Carr. “I’ve taken you by surprise. For that, I apologize.” He looks at the audience once more. “You see, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to speak to young Carr since he’s been named. I would’ve saved our conversation for later, but then I thought: What better way to honor this boy than to show the entire colony what he means to me? So I hope you’ll indulge me for the next few minutes.”

  The men and women in the front row press even closer to the railing. Of course they’ll indulge him. He is their king. They can’t learn enough about his personal life.

  This is why my father wasn’t present in the antechamber. This is why their spots were marked right before the ceremony, to make sure the crowd can see the King’s and the Fittest’s profiles when they faced one another. The King’s speech was changed at the last minute, and this conversation was added. But why?

  “I suppose nearly a decade has passed. And I’m not wearing my straw hat.” A bot rolls up to my father and gives him a tattered h
at, which he places on his head. “Is it possible you’ve forgotten your old buddy? I have more than a few pleasant memories of us walking around Protector’s Pond. Do you?”

  Carr’s mouth falls open. He closes it, and then it opens again. “That was you? You walked around the pond with me?”

  “My dear friend,” my father says. “How could you not recognize my face on the news feeds?”

  “I remember your eyes.” Carr’s words are a mumble, but the microphone in his collar broadcasts his voice, loud and clear. “They were kind. And your face on the feeds did look familiar, but that’s to be expected. The King and his daughters always look familiar to us, on account of our love for them.”

  “Well said!” a woman shouts, and another colonist whistles his agreement.

  Several people in the front row spread their palms against their hearts and tap three times. My chest tight, I catch Blanca’s eyes. She stares into my gaze briefly and then looks away. This is the first time we’ve been included in the royal salute. The first time the people have signaled they would be willing to accept one of us as the King’s Successor.

  “We drifted apart a month into our friendship,” my father tells the crowd. “Young Carr moved away, and we weren’t able to continue our walks around the pond. But I never forgot him. I kept tabs on him and helped him out whenever I could.”

  Carr’s jaw twitches, as though he is sifting through the past and putting his life back together like a jigsaw puzzle. The month’s rent that showed up out of nowhere. The employer who called him the day he left his job at the apple orchard. That was the King, I want to shout. That was my father helping you because he values you.

  “Some would say I was his guardian angel.” My father touches the brim of his straw hat. “But to me, it was more than that. To me, I was looking out for my son, if not by blood, then at least by feeling.”