Star-Crossed

Chapter Eleven: Real or imagined, what does it matter?

IN THIS MEMORY, I am speeding down the halls of the castle where I grew up. The staff and a few of the warriors make it a point to keep out of my way, most likely sensing the ominous air around me. The way that I'm walking makes it clear that I am displeased.

Mother has just told me that Xerxion shares the same birthmark that I do. She has basically said that he is my Consort. If what Mother is saying is true, it's bad enough that my Consort has been so close without me knowing, but it will be even worse to know that he has known all this time and he said nothing.

I turn and enter the training room. As soon as I enter, training ceases and the warriors all turn to me, bowing their head in respect.

Xerxion is standing in the middle of the room, eyeing the fighters and giving them pointers since he is the most skilled warrior on Niburu. When I walk in, he just looks at me in mild surprise, raising an eyebrow questioningly and looking at me as if I'm insane.

"Rania," he says my name wearily, looking as if he is afraid that-like one of the Mad Dogs that guard the Hills of Ember-I will attack him if he moves too quickly.

"Take off your shirt," I demand, wasting no time.

Eyes move from me to Xerxion, surprise on all of their faces, clearly, they are not sure how to deal with the fact that a newly engaged woman is demanding for a male other than her fiancee to take off his shirt. Technically speaking, now that I'm engaged, I shouldn't even be making eye contact with Xerxion. On our planet, it is considered disrespectful for those who are engaged to meet the eyes of someone of the opposite sex.

"Excuse me?" He raises a brow.

"You heard me. I demand that you take off your shirt now."

Xerxion looks very curious but makes no move to take off his shirt. Instead, he just cocks his head to one side, looking infuriatingly calm as he studies me.

"And is there a reason I have to take off my shirt, Your Highness."

Narrowing my eyes, I say, "You are not in a position to disobey your princess."

He gives a brief glance around, taking in account all the eyes that are moving back and forth between us, confused and curious all at once.

"Leave."

Just like the way his voice commands the battlefield, it commands this room also. The men and women file out of the room, bowing to me quickly as they passed, the air around them filled with wonder as they sneak more glances between Xerxion and me.

When they are gone, Xerxion shifts his attention back to me, his strange eyes narrowing.

"You do realize how inappropriate what you have asked of me sounds?" He wonders, watching me sharply.

"I have done nothing inappropriate," I argue.

"Asking a man to strip for you is extremely inappropriate, Your Highness," Xerxion replies, his tone mocking.

Growing tired of our quarrel, I march directly up to him, going to remove his shirt myself.

"By the waters of Mare Aurea, what are you doing?" He growls, taking hold of my wrists to stop me.

"If you won't remove your shirt, then I'll do it for you." My tone does not betray my nervousness at our closeness. My voice does not show that his hands on my wrists are like a pleasurable, slow burn.

I wrench my wrists out of his grasp and throw a punch which he dodges. It's a good thing all of the others are gone now, they would most likely get much enjoyment out of watching me throw blow after blow at Xerxion. Xerxion is our best soldier, but as the future ruler, I am not too shabby myself. People would love to see the two of us go toe to toe.