Being a princess, especially one of Xerian descent, meant a lot of expectations were placed on the young. To be poised, cool, and collected, always in control. Which roughly translated, according to Earth standards, being what was called "uptight" and "frigid," even "ice-cold."

At first, Talia hadn't understood the negative connotations those spat words by the Earth boys she'd turned down had, only recognizing it was probably nothing good. At first, it hadn't bothered her because she was a princess, first and foremost, and her mission to save her kingdom, to save all her friends' kingdoms, came first.

Until it did. Painfully like an open wound that had become infected, the sickness spreading.

She'd pretend like she didn't see the faces of shift, expressions souring, gazes hardening when someone would whisper in their ear at the occasional party Auriana and Iris corralled her into going to. She'd ignore the twinge that raced beneath her chest, close to her heart, when boys and girls approached her friends, friendly and easy-going, completely ostracizing her. She'd turned her head the other way when the whispers reached her, calling her rude and nasty, spiteful, holier-than-thou and pretended like it hadn't cut her to the bone.

It was easy to pretend until Mephisto struck the nerve with a red-hot poker.

The battle was the usual, Auriana and Iris teaming to throw Praxina off her game, which left Talia facing Mephisto on her own. While he was powerful, especially when his emotions ran high, Talia had years of training under her belt, hand-to-hand combat with the most renowned tutors in Xeris.

Mephisto backed away from her defensive strikes, yelping between mad-man ramblings that, honestly, didn't make much sense to her. He was the clumsier of the twins, stumbling over his feet in his haste as she pushed him back time and time again, each of his crystal offensive attacks obliterated with her double-ended staff.

"Oh, come on!" he shrieked, voice cracking through several octaves, as he went sprawling across the arena floor in a tumble of cape. "This isn't fair! You're like—like a robot!"

Like a robot.

Anger flooded her, white-hot and so intense her hands tremble where they curled around her staff. Blood roared in her ears, damn near drowned out the sounds of the battle around her.

So what if she was steadfast and not easily swayed? So what if she knew where her priorities lay? So what if she didn't shower every person she ever met with emotion like Auriana and Iris? What was so wrong with being reserved? With keeping a level head and being calm? That was her only crime, it seemed—of not being sweet and likeable like her friends. And for that she was deemed less than, a problem, a machine.

Her pounding heartbeat drummed in her chest as she tightened her jaw until the muscles hurt. She stared at him, watched the blood drain out of his already pale face until he closely resembled bone china, shook herself out of her haze. Tried to but it didn't seem to work, the anger rising higher and higher until it was a wave she couldn't hope to survive. Until her vision went red with it.

"So I'm a robot, huh?"

She didn't even recognize the hurt, angry voice as her, so full of the emotions everyone kept saying she lacked. As if that was an awful thing for a warrior. Emotions made one liable to mistakes, made it easy to slip up and get yourself or others hurt. Or worse, and she didn't want to think of that.

"T-Talia, I didn't—"

"So I'm frigid. I'm cold. I'm a robot," she sneered, watched in satisfaction, with pleasure, as horror dawned across his face. Two spots of high color stuck out on his colorless face, but he stayed silently. A wise move, a smart decision, a first for him no doubt though.

Talia smelled the charge of her magic in the air before she felt it crackling along her senses like starbursts exploding, hissing and spitting, just as angry as she was. The hair on the back of her neck stood as she inhaled it, tasted its bitterness in the back of her throat.

"You know, you're just like the rest."

She twisted her staff in her hand, flicked it around and around until it became a blur, and savored the uncertainty in his eyes. Very pretty, that shade of green, but it looked even prettier with fear in them.

"Like the—the rest?" he squeaked.

"Every other boy I've met. Xerian, Voltan, Ephedian, Earth," she snapped, breaking off the words with a snap of her jaw, and leveled the end of her staff against his chest. "All the same." Even though she fought to keep it from her voice, pain bled through, colored her words. "Every single one. You want an Auriana, light of the party, spontaneous. Iris, the dream girl, considerate, sweet. And me?"

A low laugh as she advanced, pushing the end of her staff deeper and deeper still into his chest until he was forced to lay flat on his back.

"My crime is not being like them." Her lip curled in a sneer. "Not being sweet, not being spontaneous. Well, I'm me, and I will always be me, and I will not change to suit the fragile egos of everyone around me. Rearranging myself to be what they think I should be."

There was only silence as her words sank in, and the beat of her heart drummed in her ears. Loud enough it covered the sound of her angry breathing and her friends fighting Praxina and—

Mephisto's expression stopped her thoughts, the roar of blood in her eardrums, her heart. The fear in his face melted into something softer, pitying almost. His eyes returned to their normal size but with a new contemplative glitter to them like he was sizing her up, contemplating her.

"Good," he said finally, his voice so low she barely heard it past the sounds of crystal shattering and Praxina shrieking.

More than low, it was tinged with something she'd guess was…pride? What did he have to proud of? Working for a tyrannical monster? Getting his ass handed to him on a crystal platter? Praxina quickly losing her own battle? Or, worse, was it the fact he'd made Talia slip up, lose control?

The idea of him insulting her and then being happy when she reacted set her teeth on edge, her muscles tight. She squeezed her staff until her fingertips ached and the permanent callouses on her palms throbbed.

And then realization washed over her, quick and sharp enough to prickle her scalp, curl her toes. He meant—Did he mean her? What she'd said about not changing for anyone?

A twinge of warmth raced close to her heart, a blooming sensation she ignored.

"Ironic considering you just insulted me," she pointed out as an unexpected blast on Praxina's side blew back her hair, burned her eyes, stung her sinuses. Her attention wavered for a second, but it was all Mephisto needed apparently because she darted back just in time to miss a nasty hit from his spell.

At least he had the good grace to look sheepish. Unfortunately, it made him look boyish too, and her heart skipped in her chest.

His nostrils flared as he rubbed at his chest, the spot where her staff had pressed, and her belly cramped at the idea of him hurt. Hurt by her.

His shoulders dropping with his angry exhale, he sighed, "Look, Talia, I—"

"Look out!"

Auriana's bellow made Talia turn, catch sight of the jagged crystals barreling straight for them, backpedal. But she wasn't fast enough.

A hand caught her arm, yanking her forcefully off her feet, and all she heard where the screams of her friends and Praxina, the force of the blast shaking the arena, ringing her ears and fuzzing her head.

As the smoke cleared, Talia realized who had grabbed her. Mephisto. And now they were tangled together like pups, her face pushed into his chest, his arms solid bands around her lower back.

Heat crept along the back of her neck beneath her hair, into her cheeks, as she became aware of how tightly her hands had twisted in his shirt. Her fingers were numb with it. And how—how good he smelled, earthen and sharp like spiced Xerin cider. Like cloves.

"Talia!" Iris cried out.

She lifted her head and squinted past the dying smoke. "I'm okay!" she called before she turned her attention back to Mephisto. Stupid, stupid Mephisto, who'd insulted her in the same breath he was proud of her, who'd protected her, of all things.

"Phew! That was a close one."

Being this close to him, she felt his chest rumble with his relieved voice as he spoke, his heart steadily pounding against her ear like the crash of ocean waves, rhythmic.

Speaking of hearts, hers was pounding like a drum in her chest, her body needling with painful, acute awareness of every inch of him touching her. It was the closest she'd ever been with a boy, and it had to be him!

"Talia, look—I'm—I'm sorry, okay? I…" His voice was soft as silk, tight with something that suspiciously seemed to like regret. But this was Mephisto; he never felt regret for anything! "I shouldn't have said that you were like a robot."

His arm relaxed, loose enough she could pull away had she wanted to. But not yet.

"You know, I admire your determination. Your steadfastness. Oh, you look surprised now but I'm being—being serious. For once." A dry laugh as she unhooked each finger from the thick fabric of his shirt, but he didn't seem to even notice. "You're strong and you won't change who you are for anyone. It's admirable."

Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears as she eased back, shivering at the sudden lack of heat, lack of his body against her. She clenched her jaw against the urge to close the space.

"Admirable," she repeated, her voice icy as she fought to cobble her composure back together. Fought to string together a coherent sentence, let alone a thought that wasn't what just happened?

"Mephisto! We're leaving!"

Praxina's angry shriek knocked away the last of Talia's disorientation, her dizziness, and she shoved to her feet as Mephisto scrabbled to his. A brief moment, her watching him, him looking as though he had much more to say, more to add.

Then he vanished on the spot, a vortex of dark green magic that smelled just like him.

"Talia! Are you okay?"

For once, Talia didn't cringe at the feeling of Auriana's strong arms around her, didn't hear the speed-of-light babbling, just stared at the spot Mephisto had been.

"Talia?"

Iris calming, melodic voice tugged her back to reality, a hand on Talia's shoulder.

"Is everything okay? I—I saw how angry you got at whatever Mephisto said." There was a crease in her freckled forehead, a pucker between her brows, as she stared.

Auriana nodded, her ponytail swishing back and forth with the force of her nod. "Yeah! It was really scary. I don't think I've ever seen you get angry like that—except when we lost Izira's medallion!" Then she fell silent, worry tightening her sun-browned face, her lips furled against her teeth.

"I'm fine," Talia said, forcing a smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. "I just…Let's just go home."

Auriana hesitated for a second before relaxing, but Iris was…harder, staring Talia down for several minutes, her gaze knowing, before she turned away too.

Mephisto's words haunted her, taunted, echoed in every thought as she caught up to her friends, as she ate dinner, as she let the long day's stress melt away in a piping-hot bath.

I admire your determination, he'd said, and it wasn't exactly a confession but her heart didn't cared. It still beat frantically behind her ribcage, throwing itself at a pounding rhythm.

Capturing a handful of lavender-scented bubbles, Talia let a small smile curl her lips.