Starcrossed

by Brenda Hiatt

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Author's Note

  STARCROSSED

  Copyright © 2014 Brenda Hiatt

  Electronic edition

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the events or the characters in this story and actual events or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN: 1940618037

  ISBN-13: 978-1-940618-03-6

  DEDICATION

  For everyone who has wished upon a star.

  CHAPTER 1

  Rigel (RY-jel): a star in the constellation Orion

  “Here, boy, hang this up.” Allister Adair tosses his cashmere coat at me and continues talking on his cell while my parents just stand politely by.

  My expression has to show what I think of the jerk, but since he’s not looking, it doesn’t much matter. Still, my mom gives me a tiny frown and shake of her head. I turn away and take the stupid coat to the hall closet.

  This is Allister’s third visit since September, when he found out about M—Princess Emileia to Allister and his cronies, Marsha Truitt to all the regular humans in town.

  Of course, I’m the one who found her in the first place, but Allister never gives me any credit for that. No, it’s clear he’d rather anyone but me had met her first. Like that would have kept M and me from forming our soul-deep bond. The bond Allister claims he doesn’t believe in . . . but still blames me for.

  “—better not to, just yet. We don’t want to bias anything,” he’s saying into his phone when I come back. “Yes. Later, then.” He hangs up and finally turns to greet my parents, who are just, you know, letting him stay in our house. For free. Whenever he wants.

  “Council business,” he tells them without apologizing. “I hope I haven’t kept dinner waiting?”

  “Not at all.” My mom sounds perfectly pleasant, though I can tell by the way she holds her mouth that she’s a little pissed. “Why don’t you and Van go into the dining room and I’ll have it on the table in a couple of minutes. Rigel, suppose you help me in the kitchen?”

  I follow her, just as glad not to spend any extra time around Allister.

  “Why do you let him—?” I whisper as soon as he seems out of earshot, but she immediately shushes me.

  “Not now, Rigel. Here. Take these into the dining room.” She hands me a basket of dinner rolls and the butter dish.

  Allister glances up when I come in, the first time today he’s looked directly at me.

  “I presume the Princess is well, or you would have told me immediately. Have you seen her recently?”

  “M—er, the Princess is fine. I saw her in school yesterday.” And this afternoon, after her Saturday Taekwondo class, but Allister doesn’t need to know that. He’s already glowering at my slip.

  “I’ve told you before, boy, not to use that vulgar nickname. It’s disrespectful.”

  My dad opens his mouth and for a second I think he’s going to defend me, but then he closes it again.

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s what everyone calls her at school. Since, y’know, nobody there knows she’s a princess.”

  Allister keeps frowning at me for a second, like he doesn’t believe me or something—which is just nuts, since he has to know what I said is true. Then Dad finally speaks up.

  “It’s true, Allister, that all of her friends call her that. It’s not a pet name of Rigel’s, as you seem to think.”

  “Hm. Well.” Allister pulls his gaze away from me and looks a little more cheerful. “Soon it won’t matter anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” I demand. “What won’t matter?”

  “This little infatuation of yours,” he says, “which I’ve warned you all along is ill-fated.”

  “Why? If you’re going to try sending her away again—“

  He looks almost genuinely startled. “No, no, of course not. She made her wishes on that point quite clear. Never mind, boy. Forget I said anything.”

  “Go see if your mother needs more help in the kitchen,” Dad tells me before I can ask more questions. “She won’t want these rolls to get cold before everything else is ready.”

  I leave them, but not before catching the smug expression on Allister’s face. An expression I suspect doesn’t bode well for me—or for M.

  CHAPTER 2

  Emileia (em-i-LAY-ah): current Banfriansa (Princess); sole heir to the Nuathan monarchy

  For early November in north-central Indiana, it was a glorious day—bright sunshine, an impossibly blue sky and just chilly enough for a light jacket. Of course, it was even more glorious for me because I was walking hand in hand with the most wonderful guy in the world. Even after two months together, I still couldn’t believe Rigel Stuart—Jewel High’s star quarterback and the most gorgeous guy I’d ever met—was my boyfriend. No, not just my boyfriend. My soulmate.

  “What do you think, M? Too cool for ice cream today?” Rigel asked, slowing in front of Dream Cream, one of our favorite places in tiny downtown Jewel.

  I gazed up at him, savoring his flawless profile and rich, mesmerizing voice. “Ice cream sounds good. We may not have many more days like this before winter.”

  “Good point.” He opened the screen door for me, then the solid one with the store’s name etched on the glass.

  We headed for the counter, already perusing the hand-painted sign on the wall above, when I heard a gasp off to my right and simultaneously felt a familiar twinge. I instinctively glanced that way, to find two middle-aged women I’d never seen before staring at me, their mouths twin Os of amazement.

  “Is it?” one whispered to the other, who nodded furiously.

  “It is! Get your camera!”

  Rigel and I both froze, then turned quickly back to the door.

  “I just remembered, I left my bag at Glitterby’s,” I said, for the benefit of old Mrs. Posner at the counter, who was watching us all with a distinctly curious gleam in her eyes.

  We left the shop and turned back up Diamond Street toward the artisan jewelry store I’d mentioned, only to hear rapid footsteps behind us.

  “Wait!” one of the women called. “We just wanted to—“

  Rigel rounded on them s
o quickly it startled me nearly as much as it did them. “Quiet! Are you crazy?” he demanded in a fierce whisper.

  Rocking back on their heels, they gaped at him, then glanced at each other, their faces reddening.

  “We’re sorry,” said the woman with the camera. “We didn’t mean to cause a stir. But please, if I could just get one photo of the Princess?”

  “Nobody is looking,” the other woman said, peering up and down the street with such exaggerated caution, she was likely to draw attention just from that.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “Just be quick, okay?”

  They exchanged ecstatic smiles, then took turns with the camera, each taking the other’s picture as she stood next to me.

  “Do you suppose—?” one asked then, holding the camera out to Rigel.

  “No,” he snapped. “That’s enough. People are starting to stare. What are your names?”

  They both reddened again. “Gladys and Orana Pickerell,” one of them practically gasped in answer. “But please don’t report us or . . . or anything. We didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” I said with a quick frown at Rigel. “But please, don’t do anything else to attract attention. And, uh, have a nice day.”

  Nodding and thanking me profusely, they backed away, then turned and hurried off down the street, whispering excitedly to each other.

  “Well, that was awkward,” I murmured.

  Rigel took my hand again, which helped to ground me after that brush with the bizarre. “Yeah. And they should know better. They all should. You okay?”

  I nodded, though I was still slightly freaked. About three weeks ago, word had gone out to all the transplanted Martian colonists here on Earth that their long-lost Princess—me—had been found alive. Since then, some had started making pilgrimages to Jewel to gawk at me. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

  As recently as September, I was a complete nobody, possibly the most average, boring high school sophomore ever. So imagine my shock to learn that I’d been born in an underground colony on Mars, smuggled to Earth as a baby, then orphaned—twice—to be raised by people who still had no clue about my origins.

  I hadn’t yet come to terms with the idea that I was some kind of secret celebrity to thousands of people I hadn’t even known existed until all those stunning revelations. Plus, I still felt kind of skittish around Martians other than Rigel and his family, since a bunch of them had tried to kill me just last month.

  Even though it had now been two months since I’d learned my true identity, I still didn’t feel anything like a princess. Probably because nobody in Jewel, apart from Rigel and his family, had the first inkling of the truth. My own family—my Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie, that is—definitely didn’t treat me like royalty. Quite the opposite.

  Which reminded me.

  “I won’t be able to stay out very long this afternoon,” I told Rigel. “I have laundry duty now that Aunt Theresa is working some evenings at the florist shop. I meant to get to it over the weekend, but . . .” I shrugged.

  Now that football season had ended, leaving Rigel’s afternoons free, we spent that extra time together in town more days than not. He wasn’t allowed to come to my house unless my aunt or uncle were home, and I felt weird going to his place all the time—plus my aunt didn’t like it.

  “That’s okay.” He gave my hand a delicious squeeze. “I have to get home early, too. Allister is visiting again.”

  I grimaced. “This is, like, his third visit, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Rigel looked disgusted, too. “At least he’s hasn’t asked to see you again—yet.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors.” I’d seen Allister Adair twice over the last month and both times had left a definite bad taste in my mouth.

  For one thing, it was creepy the way he always watched me, like he was just waiting for me to screw up. He was the head dude on Earth of the Martian Royals—which, as far as I’d been able to figure out, was like their conservative party—so he seemed to think it was his job to make sure I acted like a Sovereign. Which I clearly didn’t, not having been trained up to it. Like I cared.

  For another thing, he’d once tried to force me to leave Jewel, Indiana—and Rigel—so he and his cronies could “keep me safe,” which meant hiding me away in some Martian compound in Montana. I’d avoided that, but I didn’t trust him not to come up with some other excuse to spirit me away in the dead of night.

  Worst of all, he always made it crystal clear he totally did not approve of Rigel and me dating. I hoped he wouldn’t still be around for Rigel’s sixteenth birthday party, a week from Saturday.

  “So, you still want that ice cream?” I asked, refusing to worry about it when I could be enjoying Rigel and one of the last nice days of the year.

  “How was laundry duty?” Rigel asked on the way to our first class the next morning.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t remind me. Four loads—and my aunt still got pissed because I put jeans and towels in together. How was your evening with Allister?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a pain, but Grandfather gets in tomorrow night. That usually helps a little.”

  Shim, Rigel’s grandfather, seemed to be the only person Allister Adair ever deferred to, even though Shim wasn’t a Royal like Allister. Maybe because Shim was the oldest Martian on Earth. Shim intimidated the heck out of me, too, but I liked him a lot and trusted him completely. The fact that he’d saved my life last month had something to do with that, along with him running interference with Allister.

  A minute later I took my seat in Geometry next to Debbi Andrews.

  “Hey, did you hear there’s a new transfer?” she asked.

  Petite and blond, Deb was my second-best friend after Brianna Morrison, though lately it seemed like the two of them were closer to each other than to me. Not that I could blame them, between the time I spent with Rigel and all the secrets I couldn’t tell them.

  “Really? Two in one semester must be a record.” I grinned over at Rigel, who’d been the new kid at the start of the school year. “Boy or girl?”

  “Boy. I haven’t seen him yet. I think he’s a junior or senior. Natalie said—”

  The teacher cleared his throat then and Deb had to shut up. I was sure I’d hear more later, from Bri if not from Deb. New students were a huge deal at our little rural school.

  Sure enough, the new guy was the first thing Bri talked about when we met up with her in the lunchroom a couple hours later.

  “Hey, Rigel, looks like you’re off the hook for the basketball team.” Bri had been pestering Rigel for days to try out, egged on by her father, who was on the coaching staff. “This new guy, Sean, is just what our sucky team needs, according to my dad.”

  “Sean?” Deb asked eagerly. “So that’s his name?”

  I glanced at Rigel, who looked more relieved than curious. I, meanwhile, was having a mild deja vu moment, remembering when Bri had been all excited about the wonderful new quarterback we were getting—Rigel.

  “Yeah, Sean O’Gara,” Bri told Deb.

  “So, is it true he’s from Ireland? That’s what Natalie told me this morning.”

  Bri nodded, her long, dark curls bouncing. “That’s what Dad said, too. I didn’t even know they played basketball in Ireland! But apparently it’s huge there.”

  “Ireland? Really?” I glanced at Rigel again, remembering something he’d told me a while back, and saw he looked a little more interested.

  “Yeah, he and his family just moved here last— Ooh, that must be him!” Bri broke off to point.

  Of course, we all looked. The new guy was definitely tall enough to play basketball, maybe three or four inches taller than Rigel. He was fair bordering on pale, with bright, copper-colored hair. Very good looking, though of course he couldn’t compete with Rigel in that department. Who could?

  “Let’s go say hi,” Bri suggested, already heading his way. “You know, welcome him to Jewel.”

  It looked to me like plent
y of people—mainly girls—were already doing just that. Again I was reminded of Rigel’s first day, especially when I saw Trina Squires—cheerleader, flirt and bitch extraordinaire—saunter up to to the newcomer. Rigel and I followed Bri and Deb, since it seemed the nice thing to do. We were maybe halfway across the lunchroom when both of us stopped cold to stare at each other.

  “Do you—?” Rigel asked.

  I nodded. “I feel it, too.” It was the brath—the weird, almost electric vibe Martians sense when other Martians are nearby. Like what I’d felt from those two tourist women yesterday.

  Sean O’Gara was one of us.

  CHAPTER 3

  brath: Martian "vibe" detectable by other Martians

  By unspoken agreement (Rigel and I were getting better and better at that as our special bond strengthened), both of us slowed our approach to this new Martian in our midst. I was trying not to panic, but couldn’t help remembering that the last Martian who’d shown up unannounced at our school had wanted to kill me.

  Who was this guy, really, and why was he here?

  We were close enough now that I could see the scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His smile seemed open and friendly and he didn’t look more than seventeen or eighteen. According to Rigel and his parents, even though Martians typically lived at least twice as long as “normal” humans, aging didn’t slow until full adulthood. So maybe he really was just a teenager. Or maybe—

  “Come on,” Rigel murmured, cutting into my mental babbling. “Might as well make nice since it’s too late to hide.”

  It didn’t help to know he was worried, too.

  Even as a sophomore, Rigel had enough social status as quarterback to make the crowd part before him. As Rigel’s girlfriend, I had enough that people grudgingly let me through, too. A moment later Rigel was face to face with the newcomer, oh-so-casually shielding me as he stuck out his hand.