Hey guys! So this is an EXTREMELY short chapter, barely two and a half pages, but it leads into something quite serious that you'll find out more about in the next chapter. I decided to break the chapters up in order to build suspense. I hope you enjoy and please remember to review. I haven't received any for the last two chapters.

Thanks a bunch,

Amélie

Star-Crossed Lovers-Chapter Fifteen

Darien walked back to his room, thinking of Princess Serena. He knew from the moment he saw her that night at the ball that he would marry her some day. But, in the back of his mind, he had to question: did she love him? She hadn't said anything to the contrary, but she also hadn't said anything to confirm a "yes," either; and he hadn't missed her lack of commentary on the fact that Darien had saved his lips for her. She had not shared the same sentiments.

But, at the same time, they had only been seeing each other for about four months, so who was he to get concerned?

When he reached his door, he pulled out his key and turned the lock. He knew he had to get rid of his love-sick thoughts to be able to concentrate on his training this afternoon. He was training to be in the army, just like his guardians were, and as such, he had to know when it was appropriate to think of his heart and when it wasn't.

The room was quite dark for a time after sunrise, but it was not until he had made it passed the threshold of his room that he realized why. The curtains were shut. It was something he never did on his own, and Juanita was always one to leave at least that part of his room the way it was when she came to clean. But, he brushed it off. One of them must have forgotten to open them. He turned on the gas light and went straight to his closet to the find a more comfortable outfit to wear during training. As he would be moving around a lot, he didn't want to wear anything too heavy, and as this was mere practice, he hadn't the need to wear armor. He finally picked out a pair of black cotton pants and a simple red shirt. They would suffice.

He came out of his closet and began to change at his mirror when he heard a slight rustling behind him. It wasn't until he looked up and saw through the mirror what was there.

"Hello Darien."

He almost screamed.

Beryl was in his bed, covered only by a sheet, until she slithered out from underneath and revealed to him her completely nude body.

His first instinct was to put his hand over his eyes, which he did, but then he realized that he was being immature, acting much more like a little boy would than a man. He removed his hand and opened his eyes.

"Beryl!" he growled. "Put some clothes on and get out of my room before I call my guards and they arrest you!"

"Why?" the girl asked, mocking offense having been taken. She moved her hands across her breasts. "Surely, you like what you see?"

"Get out!" he shouted.

"But, Darien," she walked toward him slowly. "I can give you much more than she can. She's just a little girl, the spawn of the Devil, as my father tells me. Her wealth— her life—is worth nothing."

"Get out," he repeated through gritted teeth.

"Come on, Darien." She smiled slyly. "I love you."

"You love my status! You're nothing more than a con artist!" he shouted, wanting nothing more than to beat her with his bare hands. "I'll tell you once more. Get out!"

But, she wrapped the entirety of her naked body around his frame and thrust her lips on his. He had no choice but to perform an act of self-defense, and that was to wrap his hands around her throat. As soon as he did so, she released him and tried to scream, but his grip was far too strong. He threw her off of him and gave her a hard slap to the face, throwing her back onto the bed. He was breathing heavily, ready to do it once more if she tried again.

Instead, however, her eyes welled with anger, but knowing she was defeated, she grabbed the sheet from the bed, threw open the curtains of the window, and jumped off the balcony. Darien didn't care where she landed. He ran out of the room, calling for his guards. Nephlite, Jadeite, and Malachite came running down the hallway, along with Juanita.

"What is it, Your Highness?" the Spanish servant asked, her face full of concern.

"It was Beryl!" Darien shouted. "She was in my bed, naked. She forced herself on me, and I threw her off, but she ran out the window."

He brought them into the room and over to the balcony, but there was no sign of her. Either she was hiding somewhere in the bushes or the garden or she had ran away at lightning speed.

"I swear she was here!" He shouted again, feeling more enraged than ever. He wanted her brought to justice, that little bitch.

But, before anyone could say that they believed the Crown Prince, another scream was heard somewhere in the palace, causing everyone to make their way hurriedly to the stairs.

It was Zoicite, running up the staircase, her blonde hair undone and flowing behind her rapidly. It wasn't until she reached the top that Darien realized that her dress was torn.

"The Prince! The Prince!" she shouted.

"What happened, Zoicite?" Darien asked, so concerned that he had all but forgotten about Beryl. "Are you alright?"

"The Prince!" she repeated, her entire body racked and shaking with terrible sobs. "He—he had his way with me!"

Everyone knew what that meant and was silent, as there was nothing in the air but pure shock.

"What?" Malachite finally broke the ice. "What do you mean, Zoicite?"

"He raped me!" She shouted, tears streaming down her face. "The Prince raped me!"

Darien's mind was racing. He had known about Michael's feelings toward Zoicite, and he had guessed that it had been he who sent her the pansies and the poem yesterday, but he never would have imagined that Michael was capable of such a horrendous act...

Or was he?