Chapter Four

Michael stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He had no idea how long it had been since Julayna had left, but it felt like several hours. He suspected that Maria was also awake because she kept tossing and turning, but neither of them said anything. Maria was probably trying to digest everything like he was.

Michael rolled over onto his side and stared at the wall, thinking. He had spent the first half of his life on Earth consumed with getting back to wherever it was he, Max, and Isabel had come from. He had wanted it so bad he hadn't believed anything could keep him away when he finally had the chance. And even up to the last few moments before he had left the Granolith he had been conflicted about staying on earth. But by then he had met Maria, and his priorities had changed, despite himself. He had given up the dream to come back. He hadn't needed to return "home" because he already had one.

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes in the semi-darkness. Why was he thinking about this? He hadn't thought about these things in years, practically since the time they had happened. He didn't like living in the past, and he didn't like thinking about his feelings. If anyone were to ask him now how he felt about being back on Antar, the only response he'd give is "it sucks." Sure they had technically been in hiding, but he and Maria had actually managed to have a life. He had felt like a normal functioning member of Planet Earth for the first time he could remember, and now it was all stripped away. Even if they did manage to get back, their life there was going to be all jacked up. How would they explain their sudden absence? And since time supposedly flowed differently, who knows how long they'd actually be gone. What if they were here fighting in a war for ten years and only six months passed on Earth?

Michael thought about everything that Arrin and Julayna had told them. Frankly, it was hard to wrap his brain around. He had known that the whole point of their earthly existence was to come back to save their planet, but to be honest, he hadn't given a lot of thought to what they were supposed to save it from. Deep seated racism and a reign of brutality and terror were more than a little out of his scope, and he didn't even know what, if any, his role was going to be. As Rath, he had been Zan's second in command, but what the hell did Michael know about war? What advice could he give? Trying to think about helping to lead a rebellion made his head spin. He was a restaurant owner and a cook. He'd never had military training. He'd never even gone to college.

In the middle of these thoughts, he finally felt his eyelids start to droop and fell asleep.

Rath walked purposefully through the hallways of the palace, eager to meet with his king and friend and share the good news. The rebel uprising had been brought to an end, and without fatalities, as King Zan had commanded.

He walked towards the door, which the guards immediately opened, and strode through, immediately kneeling.

"You may rise," Zan said, smirking as Rath stood. The newly ascended king was dressed simply, in a black jumpsuit, the only adornment marking him as royalty the pure emerald circlet on his close-cropped black hair.

"You'll never tire of watching me kneel, will you?" Rath said.

Zan chuckled. "After all the times you gloated about beating me at weapons training, I think it does you good to kneel."

Rath changed the subject. "The rebel uprising has been contained as you requested."

Zan turned around to face the window. "Were there fatalities?"

"We avoided all fatalities, as commanded, though it was difficult." Rath found it difficult to keep the judgment out of his tone. Adjusting his relationship with Zan from one of friendship to one of King and Subject was taking some getting used to. Only four months ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about telling Zan that it was foolish to waste time and resources keeping rebels alive when they would only continue attacking.

Zan turned around, another smirk on his face. "Your tone indicates you're holding something back." He gestured towards Rath. "Please, speak freely."

Rath didn't need to be told twice. "The thing to do with these rebels isn't to arrest them. They will only keep attacking."

Zan folded his hands in front of him. "And what would you have me do?"

"Either placate them by repealing your grandfather's decree, or crack down on the violence. If you continue along this path, you will only show your enemies that you are willing to let them walk all over you."

Zan raised his eyebrows. "It's nice to know you aren't afraid to speak the truth to your king," he said dryly.

Rath winced and bowed his head. Though it chaffed to be so formal with Zan, he said, "Forgive me, sire. I spoke too freely."

"Don't be dramatic," Zan said. "I told you to speak freely."

Rath didn't answer, though it was on the tip of his tongue to complain about the formalities of royalty like he had when they were antari, forced to wear constricting formalwear to a ball neither one cared to attend. He held his tongue, however, the voice of his mother yelling at him in his head. She had never ceased to remind him that his father had worked tirelessly to place his son in a position close to the future king of Antar and that it behooved him to treat Zan with the respect he deserved. He usually was rewarded with a cuff on the side of his head when he reminded her that regardless of what his father had done he had been the one who had actually befriended the future king.

Zan looked at him for a moment before walking to sit in a chair, indicating that he should sit in the chair opposite. When they were seated, Zan tried to assume a relaxed position, though Rath could tell that he was anything but relaxed. "While I wish to hear further details of your victory, I have another matter I wish to discuss with you."

Rath nodded.

Zan cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable. "It has come to my attention that you are unbonded and that this is not a desirable state to remain in for one in your position."

Rath stared, completely unprepared for the turn the conversation had taken. "What? Who said this?"

"My advisors have pointed out that as the second in command, and as leader of the Antarian military, you are looked to as an example, and therefore should lead an exemplary life."

"And I can't do that if I'm not life bonded?" Rath didn't even bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

Zan placed the palms of his hands together and rested his chin on his fingertips. "Are you saying you have never considered it?"

Rath, trying not to show his impatience, responded, "You know everything about me. We've been friends since we were kids. You know more about what I'm thinking than I do half the time."

"You're right." Zan suddenly stood up and went back to the window. Rath wondered what he found so interesting that he kept going to look out. Or maybe he was just playing at being impressive. "That's why I've arranged for your betrothal to Vilandra."

Rath stood quickly, forgetting momentarily that he was in the presence of his king and not just his friend. "You did what?"

"You will be married within a revolution."

He tried to absorb this information and make some sense of it. He couldn't. "You can't be serious."

Zan turned to look at him, genuine surprise on his face. "Why are you upset? I thought you'd be happy. You've pined after Vilandra for years."

Rath could feel his temper rising and fought to control it. "Happy that my future has been planned out for me? That my choice of lifemate has been taken away? You're the Royal, not me. I'm supposed to be free to make my own choices."

"Do you have someone different in mind then?"

"That's not the point," he responded, his voice starting to rise. Zan was right, Vilandra was his first choice as lifemate, but not like this. Not arranged, without even the formalities of courting, to find out if Vilandra even shared his feelings, though he already knew the answer to that question. He gritted his teeth together. "Does Vilandra know?"

"No, I haven't told her yet. I wanted to discuss the matter with you first."

Rath turned his head sharply. "Discuss it? You mean, inform me." He shook his head. "Vilandra isn't going to agree to it."

Zan looked troubled. "She'll have to agree. I'm her king."

"So you'll force her to marry someone she doesn't love?"

Zan's face softened. "She'll learn to love you. And I have no doubt that she'll be loved in return. Not to mention, she's a princess. It's not her job to bond for love."

"You did," Rath shot back.

"The fact that Ava turned out to be a political advantage was nothing more than pure luck."

"And yet you would deny both Vilandra and me the same opportunity for luck."

Zan lost his patience. "It's not as if I'm forcing either of you to marry a stranger. You've known each other since you were children. You've been in love with her nearly as long."

"It doesn't matter!" Rath yelled, also losing his patience. It galled to have his life dictated for him. "No matter whom you're choosing, you're still commanding me to get married against my will."

Suddenly a voice interrupted. "What is going on here?"

They both turned to see Ava standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face. She walked over to Zan and placed a hand on his arm. "Zan, what is happening? I've never seen you and Rath argue before." She glanced between the two of them. "At least not like this."

Rath furiously tried to reign in his anger. It was one thing to speak impatiently to Zan, king or no, and quite another to speak impatiently to his wife and queen. "Forgive me, Your Highness. Your husband, the King, was just informing me of joyous news," he said tightly. "It would appear I am going to be married."

Ava gave Zan a confused look. "I'm afraid I don't understand. I was unaware that Rath had begun the courting process. Why didn't you tell me?" Zan looked guiltily down at Ava.

Not wishing to remain any longer than he had to, Rath took the opportunity to say, "If that is all, I would like to return to my quarters," he paused deliberately, "to reflect on my upcoming lifebond ceremony." He wanted to make an immediate exit, but knew better than to test yet more rules of conduct by leaving before he was dismissed.

Zan gave him a curious look and then nodded. Rath walked out, fuming.

Michael jerked awake and immediately sat up, looking around, confused about where he was, why he was there, and, most disconcertingly, who he was.

A quiet voice spoke up. "Michael?"

Michael looked down, taking a moment to clear his head and focus on who was sleeping beside him.

Maria sat up. "Are you ok?"

He let out a sigh of relief, running his hands through his hair as the dream faded away. "Yeah. I just…had a dream."

Maria frowned and grab his hand, her other hand rubbing his back. "What was it about?"

Michael thought back to his dream and frowned. "I think it was a memory." He looked at Maria.

Maria looked surprised. "What happened?"

Michael looked away, running his fingers through his hair again. "I – I mean Rath – was letting Zan know he had taken care of some rebel uprising type thing. And then Zan told Rath, that he was arranging his marriage to Vilandra."

Maria leaned forward, riveted. "What'd you do?"

Michael thought of the anger he had felt, not missing Maria's use of "you". "Rath – I - was pretty pissed."

"Hmm."

Michael looked over at her. "What?"

Maria shrugged. "I don't know. I just always thought that you – the old you - liked Vilandra. I mean, I figured it was arranged or she wouldn't have run around on you, but I at least thought you were for it or it wouldn't have happened."

"I did like her." It felt weird to use first person. These were the first concrete memories Michael had ever had of his time on Antar. All he'd had before this were some general feelings left behind by his former life. He wasn't used to really thinking of himself as Rath; he always had thought of Rath as sort of removed from himself, like a clone. But clones didn't share memories.

"Then why were you so pissed?"

Michael sighed and ran his hands through his hair a third time. "I didn't want my life dictated by Zan."

Maria smirked. "So not much has changed then?"

Michael rolled his eyes and lay back down on his side, facing away from Maria. "Let's just go back to sleep."

He felt Maria lay back down and they both fell silent. Michael felt unsettled by the memory and didn't like it. He had felt like himself and yet also hadn't. He knew what it was like to get pissed at Max, but he'd never really taken his leadership all that seriously. Sure, Max was the leader of their group, but it wasn't like there were formalities, and Michael had no problem telling Max off when he needed to. It felt weird now to remember his former self holding back, trying to keep hold of proper protocol. And his speech had been so formal. It was just weird.

"Michael?"

Michael was so lost in thought, and Maria's voice had been so quiet, that he almost didn't hear her. "Yeah?"

Maria was quiet for a moment. His thoughts started drifting and he was startled when she spoke again. "What did you mean? Back on Earth."

Michael tried to remember what he'd said, but the night they were taken felt like weeks ago, instead of hours, and he was coming up blank. "What are you talking about?"

Maria sighed, sounding impatient. "Don't play dumb."

Michael rolled over, also getting impatient. "I'm not playing dumb. I don't know what you're talking about."

Maria sat up again, bending her knees and resting her arms on top of them. "Right before we were taken I said that my friends said I should leave you, and you said 'maybe you should.'" She looked behind herself at him. "What was that?"

Michael sat up again and then shrugged. "I don't know. It was a joke." He didn't feel like explaining himself now, especially since it was all a moot point now that they were stuck on Antar for who knew how long.

"It didn't sound like a joke."

"Can we just talk about this later? Sometime when it's not the middle of the night on another planet?"

"Do you want me to break up with you?"

Michael sighed, exasperated. "Yeah. You know what? That's exactly it. I stayed on Earth, moved to Brazil, and bought a restaurant with you because I don't want to be with you."

Maria made a noise of disgust. "Then what did you mean?"

Michael threw up his hands. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Well it had to mean something."

"Yeah, it meant quit nagging me about getting married!"

Maria recoiled in shock and Michael immediately regretted his outburst. He tried to soften his tone. "Look, Maria – "

Maria lay back down on her side, facing away from him. "You're right. We should talk about this another time." He could see her shoulder's shaking, but when he laid a hand on them, she shrugged him off. "Just leave me alone." He heard her sniff and sighed, lying back down and also turning his back on her. Dealing with memories of his former life and helping to lead a rebellion to save a planet was enough without having to deal with his problems on Earth at the same time. He tried to feel some sort of compassion, but at the moment the only thing he could think was how he could relate to Rath's feelings at his unwanted betrothal.

Max woke up suddenly, disoriented. He sat up and looked around, several seconds passing before he remembered where he was and what had happened. He looked over at Liz, hoping he hadn't woken her, and saw her lying on her stomach, hair spread across her pillow, fast asleep. He sighed and lay back down slowly, staring at the ceiling.

He had dreamed about Tess – that is, Queen Ava. It was the moment they had met. He had had flashes of the memory before, but never this vivid. He had dreamt everything about the moment in great detail, from the way the light had hit her hair – white blonde and curly, just like the Tess he had known - to how he had felt when he first saw her. It was strange, because she hadn't looked like Tess as Max remembered her – blonde hair aside - but it had felt like her…except there was an innocent nature about Ava that Tess had never had, even when she had been pretending innocence. Though he didn't often like to give Tess leeway for the crimes she had committed on Earth, there was no denying that she had lived a more difficult life than she would have as Ava. Tess had spent a great deal of her time on Earth fighting for her right to live. Max supposed that would have stripped anyone of their more innocent nature.

He tried to remember more about the dream – or memory – but felt some of the details start to fade a bit. He could still recall what she looked like, her skin a much paler shade of green than Arrin's, and how he felt, but other details, like the landscape around them, was starting to fade. He thought how he had felt the moment he had first seen her and felt his heart skip.

He frowned, turning his head to look at Liz guiltily. He knew it was just part of the memory, the projection of how he – Zan – had felt at that time, but it still felt like he was betraying Liz somehow.

I didn't know Liz then, he told himself. Liz wasn't born. I wasn't even on the same planet. But his justifications, no matter how true, didn't help him feel any less guilty. He lay back down, looking at the ceiling, and thinking of something he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years. Tess. His greatest regret.

Meeting Tess had been nothing like meeting Ava. Max hadn't felt his heart flip, hadn't even realized who Tess was. Though it pained him to admit it, he had eventually felt a pull towards her, but a part of him had always wondered if he had only been drawn to the idea of he and Tess because of Liz's (false) betrayal with Kyle. Though it had occurred to him, in some sort of abstract way, that his pull to Tess might be due to their former life, he had never really given it much credence. It had just seemed too weird to think about. Even though he had had a few memories of Antar, they had been vague. Now, however, he was starting to wonder if whatever pull he had felt towards Tess really had been because they had once been in love in another life. Max had only ever loved Liz, so when he had initially found out that he had married someone else in a former life, he had simply assumed that whatever love he had felt for Ava didn't compare to what he felt for Liz.

He wasn't so sure now, and that bothered him. A lot.

He looked over at Liz, watching her sleep peacefully, and shook his head to himself. Whatever he had felt, as Zan, for Ava was in the past. It didn't matter anymore, especially since, even if he had still loved Tess, she was dead.

The more important thing to wonder about was what he was going to do here. It was pretty obvious that Arrin expected him to be some great leader – to be whatever he had been before. But Max didn't know anything about how to lead a rebellion. On occasion, while in their self-imposed exile to Canada – though it had never felt like exile – he had studied information about different wars and battles on Earth. He hadn't really expected to need the knowledge, as he had never really believed they'd every return to Antar, but at some point it had occurred to him that learning about war could be useful. He had started with more modern history and worked his way backwards to ancient history, which he supposed was a little backwards. But he as he had gone through history, he had decided that techniques used by ancient empires were more likely to be of use than modern warfare techniques. Unfortunately most ancient history had very little specific details, unless you counted stories like that of the Trojan Horse, and somehow Max didn't think that kind of information would be valuable here.

Even if he did, by some miracle, manage to win this fight against Kivar, he knew nothing about leading a planet. Anyone watching the news could see that it was hard enough to lead a country, and that usually there were plenty who felt you did it wrong and had no problem publically voicing that opinion. He had had enough problems leading a group of six. Even on the rare occasions that everyone had kept their mouth shut about some decision he had made that they hadn't liked, he had seen the disappointment or disagreement on their faces. Frankly, the thought of trying to lead an entire planet scared him.

Max wanted to ask Arrin what sort of leader he had been as Zan, but he was afraid of the answer. Whatever else he had been, he had not been a king who gave freedom to everyone. In the amount of time he had been king, it would seem he had done little to nothing to resolve the mounting tensions with the so-called Ruby Antarians. Had he also been racist? Had he ascribed to the same beliefs as his father and grandfather? And if he had, how would he be able to convince anyone that it didn't matter to him now?

And, perhaps the most disturbing thought to cross his mind, what if he didn't want to be a part of this rebellion. He and Liz had a life in Canada. Even if they weren't free to see their families, they had started on the road to forming their own. What if he couldn't give all that up? Or worse, what if he said yes, and then Liz, or Michael, or any of them ended up dead? How could he live with himself?

But then he thought of all the people suffering on this planet, under the brutal thumb of Kivar and wondered if Liz, or Michael, or any of them would be able to respect him if he refused to help. Would he even be able to respect himself?

Were these his choices? Potential death for his friends and family or assured death for the people of Antar? How was he supposed to choose?

Vilandra padded lightly down one of the minor palace hallways, shoes in hand, trying to make as little noise as possible. It had become increasingly difficult to find plausible excuses for her frequent trips outside the palace. She heard a noise behind her and turned her head to look as she rounded a corner, smacking into someone with such force that she was knocked off her feet.

From the ground across from her, a familiar voice began yelling. "Watch where you're going-"

When he recognized her, Rath sucked in a breath and then bowed his head. "Forgive me, Princess. It was entirely my fault." He quickly stood to his feet and held out a hand to help her up.

As she stood up, Vilandra tried to retain her composure, furiously trying to think of a place she could have been going and a reason why she wasn't wearing her shoes. "I believe I was the one not looking where she was going, Rath."

She expected him to deny her fault, but instead he merely nodded slightly, looking uncomfortably past her. She paused for a moment, wondering at his sudden awkwardness. He had loved her since they were children, she knew, but he had never been awkward around her.

He cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, Princess, but…" he paused as if trying to think of a reason to leave her.

She couldn't believe her luck and eagerly waved him on. "Obviously you were in a hurry to be somewhere. Don't let me keep you. I am uninjured." Rath wasted no time leaving, merely bowing once and then walking quickly away from her.

As he walked away, Vilandra looked around, wondering if it was even still possible for her to get out of the palace unnoticed. In an amazing stroke of luck, it appeared that the hallway was still deserted. She walked quickly to a side door, usually reserved for servants, opening it slowly and hoping that she hadn't missed the changing of the guards, which was her only opportunity to sneak out. Seeing that the guards were indeed preoccupied, she quickly slipped on her shoes, pulled a scarf over her hair and walked quickly towards the entrance to the avenue. It was chaos in the streets, for which she was grateful as it would only make her temporary escape go unnoticed.

She walked quickly, counting the streets, making the eleventh left and the fourth right, coming to a stop at the seventh sand colored building on the right. She looked around to make sure she hadn't been followed and then slipped into the tiny alley between the buildings. It was barely large enough for her to fit, but there was a doorway halfway down. She knocked three times, waited, and then knocked four more. The door opened and Vilandra stepped inside, walking quickly to the back room. As she entered, she saw that the meeting had already started. She quickly took a seat in the back.

A Ruby Antarian, with hair so light it was nearly white, was speaking vehemently at the front. "Just because he orders his troops not to kill does not mean that Zan has any more respect for us than his father or grandfather! He claims he doesn't want bloodshed, and yet he does nothing to lighten our suppression!" Several members of the small crowd yelled out their support, while everyone else nodded their agreement. Vilandra watched Kivar speak, feeling proud of his ability to rally people. In the few short months that she had been attending these meetings, their numbers had grown from no more than twenty, to nearly one thousand. The only reason their numbers were so few tonight was due to the great number of them that had been detained by Zan's army earlier that afternoon.

Kivar pointed towards Vilandra. "Even the king's own sister does not abide her brother's complacency."

What is he doing? she thought. She had told Kivar several times she wished to remain anonymous. If it got out that she had been attending these meetings, she would end up with a permanent guard posted outside her bedroom door.

Several members of the small audience turned around to look at her in a mixture of surprise and mistrust. She looked down, hoping that maybe they would think Kivar was pulling a trick.

"Dear Vilandra," Kivar said, "Please come up and share your feelings on this matter."

Vilandra's head snapped up in surprise. She gave him a pleading look, begging him not to continue.

"Oh, don't be shy." He held his arms wide. "We are all part of the same cause here."

Kivar cocked his head to the side, his onyx colored eyes challenging. What game was he playing? Vilandra was just about to get up and walk away when he spoke again.

"Unless, of course, you are too ashamed of your cause to speak out against your brother."

Vilandra narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. How dare he? Kivar knew that Vilandra had joined his cause long before most of the people here. It was true that she had initially sought him out in defiance of her father and his crushing thumb of disapproval and dictation of her life – she had seen Kivar giving a speech to the people as her family's caravan had driven by – but over time his cause of equality had become as dear to her heart as to his.

She clenched her scarf in her hands as she stood up, lifting her chin and walking to the front, ignoring the whispers as she passed by. When she got there, she glared at Kivar before turning around to face the crowd.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kivar. Why should I be ashamed of our quest for equality? Because I am a royal?" She gave him her own look of challenge, but rather than irk him, a smile played at his mouth. He was enjoying this and it only incensed her further. She turned back to the crowd. "Or perhaps you think I cannot possibly value the cause because I am Emerald." She paused a moment to glance around at the crowd. "Perhaps you think I know nothing of oppression, that I merely live a life of pure luxury." She raised her voice. "Then you are mistaken! I am every bit as oppressed as any one of you! I may be Emerald, but I am not free to make my own choices. I have spent my life having my every choice dictated by my father. I am not free to come and go as I please. Even to be here, I had to sneak out the side door, and should it become known that I'm attending meetings such as these, I would become a prisoner of the palace, at best, or executed as a traitor to the king, should he so choose." Though it was unlikely that her brother would have her executed, she felt it best to remind them of the potential consequences of letting it become known that she had been attending these meetings. "So despite the color of my skin, I share your cause. I believe that all Antarians, regardless of whether they are Ruby or Emerald should have the ability to work as they choose, be schooled as they choose, or," she glanced over at Kivar, "marry as they choose, and I am willing to sacrifice anything to see that this dream becomes a reality."

Though she loved her brother, and though she knew that he did not share the same prejudices that their father and grandfather had, Vilandra also knew that changing the laws were not something he was keen on doing. Before their father had died she and Zan had been close, and Vilandra had frequently shared her frustrations at being little better than a slave in the eyes of their father. Zan had always seemed sympathetic, and she had, perhaps foolishly, assumed that when he became king, he would begin enacting the changes she had suggested. But it had been several months now since their father's passing and his ascension to the throne, and thus far the only thing Zan had done was marry Ava. Their father hadn't wanted them to marry due to "an unfortunate connection." Ava's parents had had a Ruby daughter, who had of course been given immediately into the care of adoptive Ruby parents, and their father had not wanted to risk "tainting" the royal line. Zan had somehow felt that by marrying Ava, he was taking a step towards equality, but as Ava was herself an Emerald Antarian, it had done very little to settle the rising tension. Vilandra hoped that when she finally told Zan her intentions to marry Kivar, he would understand that it was of political advantage to allow her to do so. She hoped she could make him see that a so-called marriage alliance between herself and Kivar would be a show of good faith that her brother intended to enact change. The fact that she loved Kivar would merely fortunate and would no doubt help reinforce the idea that the new generation of royals did not restrict their love based on color.

Vilandra was startled out of her reverie by applause. She had nearly forgotten that she was standing in front of a crowd. Kivar walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was still angry at him, and resisted the urge to shrug it off.

"Very well put," Kivar said. He raised his voice. "Even the king's own sister suffers suppression under his reign!"

Vilandra looked over at Kivar, frowning. That wasn't what she had said. She had said she suffered under her father, not her brother.

"We cannot stand by and let another generation of Antarians suffer the bigotry of an uncaring monarchy!" There was a shout of agreement. "Starting tonight, we set our focus on sights on large scale change!" More shouts joined the first. Kivar grabbed Vilandra's hand and raise it up. "And it begins and ends with Vilandra!"

Vilandra turned her head sharply, surprised by this turn of events. Kivar continued speaking, encouraging everyone to come back the next evening to learn of their assignments, hopefully with the return of a few of the detainees.

As the crowd was dispersing, Vilandra glared at Kivar and ripped her hand away from his, walking quickly to toward the front of the building. She could hear Kivar following her, knew what he was expecting, but she was in no mood. She was far too angry. After she rounded a corner, out of sight of the dispersing crowd, Kivar grabbed her arm, whipping her around and pinning her to a wall. He was dipping his head to kiss her when she pushed him roughly away.

"How dare you!" she hissed angrily, ducking around him and glaring.

She saw a flash of anger in Kivar's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a look of ennui as he crossed his arms and lazily leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry, Princess, have I done something to upset you?"

Vilandra fought to keep her temper in check. She knew he was baiting her by calling her Princess. "I can't believe you called me out like that!" she continued. "You know I have no wish to have my presence in this rebellion widely known. And what did you mean by making me a part of your so-called plan without even telling me?"

Kivar looked away, as if he was bored, and then rolled his eyes back to her, a challenging look in them. "Are you so embarrassed to be a part of our cause? Does it worry you that we might lose and your precious brother might actually force you to leave your luxurious lifestyle when we marry?"

Before she thought it through, Vilandra raised her hand to slap Kivar. But before she could make contact, his hand whipped out grabbed her wrist. She raised her other hand to slap him, but he caught that one too, spinning her around and pressing her back against the wall. She struggled to get away, but his hands were holding her arms firmly against the wall at her sides.

"Let go of me," she said between her teeth.

Kivar moved his head towards hers, stopping when his nose was nearly touching hers, desire burning in his eyes. "No," he said quietly. Vilandra felt the familiar racing in her heart as he closed gap, pressing his lips against hers.

Isabel's eyes shot open, her heart racing. She swallowed heard, feeling short of breath.

"Bad dream?"

She jumped, startled, and looked to her left, where Kyle was lying next to her. She held his gaze a moment, unsure how to answer.

She shook her head. "No…Not a bad dream."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry again for the delay. I had another fic I was writing and was doing some beta work. But both those projects are done, so now this fic has my complete attention. Thanks again! Reviews are appreciated. :)