Her uncle leaned toward her now. “It’s a bigday. How are you feeling?”
“Big day?” she began, surprised that he hadremembered Quito’s birthday. Then she bit back a laugh. “Oh, youmean the presentation?”
“Yes.” He scowled for emphasis. “Thepresentation. It’s an important event, not just for the recipientsbut for the entire nation. The world, even. You should take it moreseriously.”
“I bought a new dress, didn’t I?” Zia stoodand twirled so that he could admire the short, full skirt andelasticized bodice of her pink outfit. “Like it?”
When he didn’t react, she added soothingly,“I’ll be good. I promised Grandpa I would, so you can count onit.”
“Talking to the robot again?” Jared’s mouthrelaxed into a smile. “He’d love that if he knew.”
“Don’t worry. He knows.”
“Right, right. Well, as I was saying, it’s abig day. You’ve always handled this well in the past, I have toadmit. The cadets love receiving their medals from you. This isyour eighth year, right?” He smiled again. “At first, they wereimpressed because you were Quito’s granddaughter. Now I think theyjust enjoy being so close to such a pretty girl.”
Zia studied her uncle cautiously. He wasn’tusually this complimentary, which told her he was about to ask afavor. Or more likely, make an unreasonable demand.
Bad timing, given her promise to hergrandfather to behave.
“What’s going on, Uncle J? This isn’tnano-surgery, you know. I mean, if I had to pin the medal onthem, there’d be a chance I’d draw blood. But I just put theribbons around their necks, right? As long as I don’t strangleanyone, we should be safe.”
His lips tightened, and she knew he waslosing patience, but his tone was calm when he said, “There’s moreto it this year, Zee. A reporter from OmniVid wants to interviewyou and the recipients after the ceremony is over.”
“Really?” Zia licked her lips. “Whythis year? Is something different?”
“The public is always curious about you,” hereminded her. “They only know what they see in the tabloidvids—fancy dresses, outlandish hairstyles, wild partying. For somereason, they still adore you. But I imagine they expect you tosettle down now that you’re starting college. It’s possible thereporter will ask you what classes you’ve selected to make up forthe easy schedule you took in high school. I don’t suppose . . .?”
“Sorry, Unc, but no poli sci or history. I’mtaking a literature course, though. That’s good, right?”
He beamed. “It’s excellent. I don’t supposeit’s Early American Lit, is it? That would really thrill themasses.”
“The official title is Science Fiction asLiterature, but I’ll bet there are one or two early Americanauthors in there, right? Like Ray Bradbury, or the War of theWorlds guy.”
This time, her uncle didn’t even try to hidehis annoyance. “Why am I not surprised? This is all a joke to you,as usual. I should just tell them you aren’t available for theinterview. But even then—” He stopped himself and fumbled,finishing with a weak, “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Really?” She leaned forward, intrigued.“Why?”
He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “We don’tknow for sure who the recipients are. The military academy doesn’trelease the names, not even to us, until the actual ceremony. Butthere’s a very good chance Jeremiah Stone—Aengus’s son—will be oneof them. He’s graduating this year, and we’ve heard he’s a talentedpilot. I’m sure the vid press has heard about it too. I’m guessingthey can’t wait to get a shot of you pinning a medal on aStone.”
Zia bit her lip, honestly surprised by theinformation. “That’s kind of amazing, don’t you think? I mean, Iget the problem. His father was a traitor and all that. But hisgrandfather was Finn Stone. Stone and Quito—that was apowerful combination once.”
Yes, it was. Once. Now it’s just anembarrassment for all concerned, including Rem Stone. I’m sure he’snot looking forward to being honored by the daughter of the womanwho ruined his father. Don’t you see what a mess it is?”
“I guess.” Zia stood and walked back to thewindow, trying to visualize Jeremiah Stone in the sexy blue uniformof a military cadet. She had seen vid coverage of him more thanonce, and knew he was a tall, lean, muscled guy—wonderfullyphotogenic. But the real reason the reporters liked to catch sightof him was his bizarre legacy: grandson of a beloved president, sonof an ex-vice-president-turned-traitor named Aengus Stone.
“You think the reporter will ask me how itfelt to give him an award? And whether it was embarrassing foreither of us?”
“Absolutely. Your mother was the one whobrought Aengus Stone to justice. Not only was she our president atthe time, she was the eyewitness at Aengus’s trial.”
And then he hung himself in his jailcell.
Zia wrapped her arms around her bareshoulders. “How old was Cadet Stone when it happened?”
“It was ten years ago, so he would have beeneleven or twelve.”
“Wow. It’s kind of amazing that he’s managedto lead such a clean life, don’t you think? To make something ofhimself after that. Poor guy.”
“I wouldn’t pity him too much. Yes, he hasled an impeccable life, but I’m willing to bet he hates us.All of us. And you in particular.”
Zia drew back, surprised by the thought ofanyone actually hating her. Mock her? Sure. Feel sorry for her forbeing such a failure? Absolutely. She had even experienced awhopping amount of jealousy from girls who watched her run wildwith zero consequences, all because she was Quito the Great’sgranddaughter.
But this was something new. Something shewasn’t quite prepared to accept. Especially from someone like RemStone, whom she had never even met.
Turning to her uncle, she murmured, “MaybeCommander Logan should do the honors this year. I don’t want tospoil Rem’s big day.”
“That’s out of the question. It would be aslap in the face of the other two recipients. And it would draw toomuch attention to Stone’s medal. What we need from you is for youto behave yourself. Scrupulously.”
“I guess that depends on how yummy-lookingthe guys are,” she quipped, but when her uncle’s eyes darkened, sheadded quickly, “I’m kidding! I’ll be good. I promise.”
“You’ll be good,” he agreed with a growl.“Dr. Fuller will see to that.”
“Huh? Oh no! Not again.” Zia
