Page 160 of Starborn Husbands
“My life is one farfetched soup. No idea is off the table. I would like to see those records.”
“Let’s do it now. I’m going to ask the guardian staff to have an extra poke around the palace. Get dressed, in more than just my jacket this time, brat.”
* * *
The Hall of Records is a large building on the palace grounds. It has some of the tallest pillars in all the Nebuli and the stone walls are covered with hieroglyphs. It also channels large masses of energy, allowing access to information on a whim. It’s the equivalent of having the internet at your fingertips, but without the chaotic mess of including everyone’s opinion all the time. Just information.
Zhang opens the record of my crime, since I can’t without access to my star. He digs into the ether and asks for what we need.
A vision of the little girl who supposedly died on my watch appears. She’s got black hair and the most adorable button nose. There’s something familiar about her.
“Oh, shit,” Merrick says. “Get him out of here.”
“What the fuck, Mair?”
But Zhang grabs me because apparently they’re Team Treyu now, and tugs me back. Only, I caught what they wanted to hide from me.
Anya November.
My mother.
Something else stirs beneath my skin, and it’s distinctly different from the happy light that loves to chase after Zhang. It wants to burst me apart. Wrap around my essence. Take over.
It would give you so much power, Treyu.
My heart beats a frazzled rhythm, and the power inside me expands, ready to free itself.
Zhang forcefully plasters me to him. “Treyu, no!”
What’s he…? Oh, I’m glowing, but I’m still wearing the bracelet that’s supposed to be suppressing my powers, so like before, he assumes I’m dying.
“Not on our watch,” Merrick says, catching Zhang’s unspoken thoughts. His fingers press to my temple, and my limbs slacken. My glow shuts off like a human lightbulb. I try to reach for that power again, but it’s gone, chased back into the deepest parts of me.
Zhang breathes relief, kissing my crown, holding my flaccid body steady. “Fuck, Starfleet. Stop trying to leave me so soon. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Wasn’t trying to,” I slur. Fucking angel juice. I don’t know how to tell him what I was feeling just now. “M’fine, Sir.”
He laughs. “Was that obedience juice?” he asks Merrick.
“No. But it makes him high and erases his filter.”
“High as fuck,” I correct him. “But, hey, I like calling you Sir, babe. Ha! Sir Babe.” I nuzzle my head into his chest, happy to be high on Mair’s angel shit.
Zhang laughs. “And I love it when you call me Sir.”
“As much as I’d hate to interrupt this touching moment, I’d say this confirms you had no hope, darling,” Merrick says. “The Guild and Heaven wanted what they wanted, and we were all used as pawns. This version of Anya died on Earth of cholera in eighteen fifty-two, in one of the many universes. They knew that. The good news is, you could request they reopen this case, the bad news is, you’d be declined.”
“This is beyond any of us,” Zhang agrees.
I nod. “The creepy version of Luella was right. It was never about the girl.”
It’s about different groups with their own agenda. The Guild wants me dead, gone, or controlled, they don’t care which. Heaven wants me as their weapon.
Wait. Unless … shit. “Mercury did this. He’s been trying to get me to see this body,” I say, fiddling with the lapels of Zhang’s jacket. None of my words come out as serious as I intend them. I’m too fucking relaxed.
“The guy that snuck up on Atlanta in the Forum,” Zhang says.
“You, think?”
