Page 59 of Starborn Husbands
He mashes his teeth. “No.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, I see. I’m a prisoner now?” I leave out that being a prisoner—in this exact scenario, not like I was the other night when I was legit locked in a dungeon—is hot as fuck.
“No, it’s just … fine. I’m coming with you, though.”
“Don’t you have princely shit to do?”
“Not until after the wedding. I’ve been given time to be with you.”
I want to be an asshole and tell him he’s not welcome at my family home. But now I can’t bring myself to because I won’t be able to stand the hurt puppy look on his face. Everything’s ruined.
“Fine.”
He races to get dressed, knowing I’ve got him on the clock. “You remember the protocol for out there, yeah? Or do you need a refresher?”
I remember. I’ve lived most of my life here. Only one hundred on Earth give or take a few extended visits. “Yes.”
“You can’t give me one ‘yes, sir’ to demonstrate?”
“Is that an order?”
He shoves too violently into his jacket. “No.”
“Then you’ll have to wait.” I know how to be a perfect fucking boy. Looks like I have new ways to torture my dear husband-to-be. “Maybe you’ll learn that it doesn’t pay to do nice things for people.”
“Maybe, but I don’t feel regretful.” He’s glowing. Just a bit. “Okay, let’s go. I hope they have enough to feed me.”
“Isn’t it my job to make sure you get fed?”
“Exactly what I’m afraid of.”
* * *
Zhang has been to my family home plenty, but not as my fiancé. Dad’s pissed at me, but he doesn’t say. I gave him zero warning, but it’s not like I had any myself, and texting doesn’t exist here. Not my fault. My brothers are at the table, bickering over nothing. Father is steadily eating his breakfast, eyeing what he’d call “The Centaurus”. He’s not a fan of the marriage, but he’s less a fan of me dying, so he’s coping with it.
“Sorry to barge in, Dad. I didn’t know Sir would have the morning off.” I glance to see how he’s affected by that. Bet he gets off on being called “Sir”.
I can’t tell if he’s stunned by the moniker or surprised that I remembered what I’m supposed to do, but something akin to impressed plays out on his face.
“Blech. I’m never getting married,” Joshie says.
“You’re getting married eventually, young man,” Father says. “But you have a long while before you need to worry about it.”
Marriage is a big deal in the Nebuli.
“It’s called a ‘com’, sweetheart, and if you don’t use it before you bring your royal fiancé next time, he’ll get to see me take the wooden spoon to your bare ass.”
Heat creeps across my neck. “Noted, sir.”
“Good. Welcome, Your Highness. Treyu will fix you a plate.” Dad’s pretty blue robes whip as they flow past my face. The poised way he holds his head makes his high cheekbones appear sharper. I might have to beg his forgiveness later.
“That would be nice, Mr. Orion. Please call me Zhang—that goes for all of you—in this informal setting.”
It will be awesome when my brothers have to call me “your highness”. In fact … “I hereby decree everyone under the age of seven hundred shall refer to me as Prince Treyu or your highness—don’t care which, but if it’s not one or the other I’ll have no choice but to off with your head. Trinket is exempt.”
I snag a biscuit on my way by to make Zhang’s plate.
“Fuck you, Prince Treyu. How’s that?” Jericho says.
