by Settle Myer
“We’re right here,” Julian says, nonchalant.
The guards lean over and peek underneath the table with dumbfounded looks plastered on their faces.
We crawl out from hiding and stand awkwardly to the side of the table. I clear my throat. “I lost a contact, and Julian was helping me...”
“Yeah, we were looking for her contact,” Julian offers. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and avoids everyone’s humorous gaze.
“Sure, a contact,” Officer Lions says, smiling like a fool.
“We’d totally believe that if Royals weren’t blessed with perfect eyesight,” Chanel adds, finally lowering her massive machete now that there isn’t any danger.
“Kinda seems like it was anima mate-” Officer Martinez begins.
“It was nothing!” Julian barks, cutting her off. The smiles disappear off the faces of the soldiers.
Oh really? Nothing? That’s not what I felt. I huff and stomp out of the dining room. My anger at Julian’s words ignites tears at the back of my throat. But I won’t let them fall. It’s time for me to push past my introverted and self-conscious shield. I built that shield to protect me from a world I didn’t belong to. To protect me from forming bonds with people I had no intention to love or care for, except the Parks and my two friends, Chance and Xoe. They are the only ones I let through.
I slam the door to the master bedroom and find my bag, digging out my toothbrush and toothpaste to get ready for bed. I am the lost daughter of Angor, a future Queen with powers that could kill. Yet, here I am getting upset over a stupid boy? A boy who is my protector and shouldn’t be kissing me. Then why did the kiss feel so right? My fingers graze the plastic bag with my belongings the police found after the mugging: my necklace, apartment keys, and purse. I fish out my necklace and put it on, then trudge into the bathroom.
I hear Julian come into the room as I’m finishing brushing my teeth. I peel off my jeans, cursing that I don’t have any pajama pants to sleep in. Thankfully, my t-shirt is big enough to cover most of my ass. I open the door to the bathroom and Julian stands at the edge of the bed. His shoulders are hunched, and his hands shoved in his pants’ pockets. Then, he notices I am sans pants, and his eyes widen like an owl.
“Where are your pants?” he says, blushing and immediately turning so his back is to me.
“I have no pajamas, and I’m not sleeping in jeans.” I put my hands on my hips. “We’re both adults here. You can turn around.”
He peeks over his shoulder like I’d be naked suddenly before slowly facing me again. His mouth is in a fine line. I hate his stupid face right now. The image of me slapping Julian plays out in my thoughts, and next thing I know, Julian’s head whips to one side, and he brings his hand up to his cheek.
“Ow! What was that for?” he cries.
I shrug. “It was nothing.” I return my toothbrush and toothpaste to my bag, zip it up then throw it on the floor.
“Look, Trinity. I’m sorry. What I said-”
“What does aneema maw-tay mean?” I draw out the sounds to make sure I say it correctly. I pull the covers back on the bed to crawl in, crossing my arms as the blood drains from Julian’s face.
“It’s uh-”
The word soulmate flashes before my eyes. A word that Julian was thinking at that very moment. Mind reading. Another virtue making an appearance.
“We’re soulmates?” I ask in a whisper.
“Did you just read my mind?”
“Are we? Soulmates?”
Julian sits down at the end of the bed, far away from me. “I don’t know. I suspect.”
I wait for him to say more, but he lowers his head.
“Explain,” I command.
“On Angor, two people who are born on the same day of the same year at the same time, down to the second are destined to be together. Anima mate. The King and Queen, your parents, were soul mates.”
Julian shifts uncomfortably and refuses to look me in the eyes.
“And you believe we are?”
He plays with a frayed string on the comforter. “The kiss and the lights... the magic that surrounds anima mates is intense and gets stronger the longer potential mates are together. Not to mention we were born on the same day, same year. We just don’t know the time. The King refuses to reveal it.”
“Why?”
“It could be used against you.”
“How?”
“If I am your anima mate, and we... you know...”
“No. What?”
“Have sex.” Julian’s cheeks redden. “Then we are forever bonded. I will know where you are at all times. I could be tortured by the rebels to find you. Or they could threaten my death to pull you from hiding.”
I hold up my hands because there’s only one clear solution. “Okay, no big deal. We won’t have sex. It’ll be fine.”
Julian’s face twists with uncertainty.
“What? Why does your face look like that?”
“I’m afraid that will be easier said than done. The anima mate bond will do everything in its power to bring us together.”
Great. Just great.
Chapter 5
Finding out I basically have a mystical arranged marriage to a brooding teenage guardian is the last thing I need stressing me out right now. At this rate, I’ll be getting grey hairs and wrinkles by the time I turn twenty-one. If I’m still alive. I swish around my soggy Rice Krispies with a spoon while scowling at Julian, who sits on the other side of the massive marble top kitchen island. He’s paying no attention to me as he sips on his coffee and reads the paper. What a dork. I mean, I’m a nerd. I like reading comic books; I like watching Anime and cosplaying at Comic-Cons. But Julian is one of those, newspaper reading, watching documentaries about how dirt is made, boring. Does he even know how to have fun?
Julian takes a drink from his coffee mug, and I mentally tip the cup slightly, so it spills onto his white t-shirt.
“Mota veen!” he yells and rushes to the sink to dab water on the stain.
I giggle and cover my mouth, and Julian looks over his shoulder.
“Trinity,” he warns.
“What does mota veen mean?”
He focuses on scrubbing away the coffee. “It’s a curse word in our world. It’s the same as saying goddamn it.”
“There’s an entire different language on Angor?”
“Gora is a dead language. Only scholars and show-offs like Julian speak it,” Reed says, walking in to throw away his empty paper plate.
“We have all the languages Earth has and more from the many different worlds we have discovered,” Officer Martinez adds, entering right behind Reed to refill her coffee mug.
Julian rolls his eyes. “I only use Gora to alter minds and curse. Come on! It’s sexy.”
I raise an eyebrow, and Julian’s cheeks paint pink. He diverts his eyes quickly and pours himself more coffee to replace what I spilled on him. He takes his mug along with the newspaper to the living room, sitting in a chair facing away from me.
“Not sexy,” Officer Martinez laughs. She returns to the dining room, where the team of protectors and guardians stuff their faces with pancakes, bacon, biscuits, and gravy. The hefty group’s appetite is impressive. I notice a few guards slip handfuls of granola bars, bananas, and oranges into backpacks, likely in the event that we cannot stop for food.
Chanel, Reed, and Officer Lions crowd around a breakfast nook to the side of the kitchen. Chanel rocks her typical warrior outfit of tight-fitting leather, revealing plenty of cleavage. She leans over, pointing at locations on a map. Officer Lions’ eyes keep darting between Chanel’s boobs and where her finger lands. His face turns red every time Chanel says his name, which is Chad. Perhaps I should start calling him that. He’s no longer an NYPD officer. Same with Officer Martinez. Her first name is Rosie and she was sent, along with Chad, to Earth five years ago to join the NYPD as a way to monitor strange calls in hopes of finding me. Well, it worked. Guess that earned them a spot on m
y protection team.
Reed is decked out in a tight black t-shirt and black cargo pants. He stands, arms crossed, nodding at every word Chanel speaks. Chanel mentioned she’s the team leader. Turns out, she’s considered a General in Angor, Reed is a Colonel. Chad, Rosie, and the other four guards have no rank. I also found out Julian has absolutely no rank over the rest of the team, which surprises me since he always acts like he’s the boss.
A ringtone plays out, and I instinctively reach for the counter where I’d typically set my phone. I frown as my hand grazes the cool and sleek surface.
“Your Majesty,” Chanel says, holding the phone to her ear. “Yes, your Majesty. She’s right here.”
She walks away from the table to where I sit at the kitchen island and offers me the phone. My heart skips a beat, and I hold my breath. It’s my biological father. THE freaking King! I’m so nervous. I’ve been dreaming about this my entire life, playing out the scenario multiple times about how I thought it would go. Yet, now that it’s finally happening, my father literally on the phone, I freeze up? Chanel pushes the phone closer to me, basically shoving into my hand.
I bring it up to my ear, shakily, and whisper. “Hello.”
“Trinity,” a booming voice sounds off from the device. “It’s so good to finally hear your voice. How are you holding up? General Hart tells me you’ve overcome so much in the past twenty-four hours. I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through.”
My eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out who General Hart is. Perhaps, it’s the rush of anxiety from hearing my father’s voice for the first time. I finally put two and two together that Hart is Chanel’s last name.
“Yes, sir. Er, your Majesty. Um, dad? I’m good. Well, not good. I’m adapting?”
A hearty laughter fills my ear. “You’re as restive as your mother was. She’d get so skittish at the tiniest of inconveniences. Yet, in times of bravery, she’d push her trepidation aside and rule the day.”
I exhale slowly, letting his words about my mother sink in. I am desperate to learn any story, any tiny detail, down to the way she cut her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Was PB&J her favorite like me? Maybe her go-to sandwich was ham. Did she cut it diagonal? In half? Leave it whole?
“I wish I could have met her,” I say quietly. Then shake off my sorrow. “I am excited to meet you, though.”
My father doesn’t say anything at first, and I worry the connection has been lost. I hear a sniffle, then a tear-ridden voice. “I’ve been waiting my entire life to hold you in my arms once more. To see your beautiful smiling face. I’m so sorry I cannot be there with the team to bring you home. Please know, they will keep you safe.”
I nod, wiping tears dripping down to my nose. My voice catches in my throat. Say something. Anything.
The King clears his throat. “I will see you soon. I love you, Trinity.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond, as if my nerves would have let me. I take the phone away from my ear and hand it back to Chanel. The room is quiet. The team stands around, arms crossed. Their faces solemn and lost as to what to say to an emotionally unhinged teenage girl. Julian stands as if ready to cast his calming spell, but I shake my head at him.
My anguish is suddenly replaced with a tinge of panic. It nips at the back of my throat. The hairs on my arms and back of my neck rise straight up. I stand.
“Something’s about to happen,” I say urgently. My voice, hoarse from the constant assault of tears. The time to absorb the overwhelming flood of emotions from my father’s call has passed.
Reed, Chanel, and Julian jump into action, surrounding me like a fort. That’s when one of the guards, Lucian, rushes in through the front door.
“Rebels. Spotted in the town over,” he says, out of breath.
The protectors scramble, packing up their belongings and taking them to the two SUVs. Julian disappears, emerging just a few minutes later with our stuff from the master bedroom. He tosses me my bag and escorts me to the backseat of the same Audi that brought us to the Jersey Shore. He buckles me in, like a child who doesn’t know how. Falon gets behind the wheel, Chanel in the front passenger seat, and Chad climbs into the very back seat. Julian buckles up beside me.
Rosie, Reed, Lucian, Calum, and Skyler pile in in the other SUV parked beside us. They flash the headlights, and Falon takes off, the wheels squealing like we’ve just robbed a bank and taking off with the goods.
I try not to panic, but adrenaline courses through everyone’s veins in the car, and it’s palpable. My hand is drawn to the rectangle box of my necklace. I trace the outline of the box first before moving to the etching of my name. Then I hold it in my balled-up hand until my frayed nerves relax. It’s my strange little calming ritual that I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. That’s why I was surprised to feel the box moving, tickling my skin.
I slowly open my fingers and hold the boxed pendant out in my palm. It starts opening. I gasp.
Julian glances over my way, doing a double-take. Chanel twists around in her seat, her eyes widening as a tiny screen emerges from the opened box laid out on my hand. Chad leans in from the backseat, his mouth dropped wide open.
“It’s a message in a box. I haven’t seen one of these in forever. The technology is old now, so it’s rarely used,” Chanel whispers.
A video plays.
“Trinity. My name is Shaylin de Reux, and I am your birth mother.”
A breathtakingly beautiful young woman appears. She’s nearly my twin, with long dirty-blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. And she’s terrified. A dim light shines off the tears welling in her haunting green doe eyes.
“If you see this message, it means you are finally eighteen years of age. Happy birthday, my love.”
My throat tightens, and I cover my mouth. There’s something unsettling about seeing your doppelgänger. All my life, I never had anyone who looked like me. And, now, this woman who has my nose, my dimples, my eyes, stares back at me.
“It also means I am no longer alive. You probably have a lot of questions. Especially about the inundation of powers you just received. I can only hope your father has found you by now and explained everything about the world you come from. Or maybe you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
She looks over her shoulder, the camera or phone or whatever she’s recording herself on tilts down, and I see a newborn baby in her arms, bundled in blankets and asleep. The camera moves back to her face, and tears are streaming down her round cheeks.
“I’m about to leave you at a fire station in Harlem. I want you to know, this was the hardest decision of my life. But I knew we’d never be safe together. I made sure to leave a piece of me with you. The necklace with your name on it and the book, A Little Princess.” She smiles wryly, and I shiver. I’ve seen that same smirk in photos of myself. It’s eerie how similar we are. “At the end of this message, there will be a phone number. Call it. But only if you have not been found. They will not know who you are, so you must mention my name. They are a trusted friend and can lead you back to your father.”
Shaylin looks down at baby me. Her lip quivers, and more tears fall down her face.
“I love you, Trinity. Find your way home. Be safe.”
The video ends with the phone number my mother mentioned. Obviously, I don’t need to call it since the Royal Guard found me. However, I’m curious as to who this trusted friend of hers is. How much did they know? I’m assuming nothing since my mother worked so hard to keep me safe.
The necklace morphs back into the tiny black box. I hold it in my hand, which shakes uncontrollably, so I close it into a fist and clutch it to my chest.
“I’ve had this necklace all my life. Why is it opening just now?”
“Your mother likely scheduled it to open after you turned eighteen. Only opening to your touch,” Chanel says quietly.
My free hand finds Julian’s, and I weave my fingers with his. He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even ask why I’m holdin
g his hand. He actually rubs my palm with his thumb, and I close my eyes, focusing on breathing. Slow and steady. Julian’s touch is just as calming, if not more than when I hold the necklace.
The SUV quiets, likely taking in the last words their Queen spoke before her untimely death. Chad sits back in his seat and takes out his phone to play a game. Chanel turns back around to keep her eyes scanning the road while Falon drives. The highway is somewhat packed, likely because it’s the weekend. Cars pass full of families heading to the beach. A convertible with four laughing women, decked out in sundresses cruises by. I wondered if they’re heading to a mall to go shopping. Never in my life had I enjoyed shopping, yet every part of me wants to join those women on their girls’ trip.
“Where are we heading now?” I ask Chanel.
“Another safe house. In Virginia.”
“Wow. I’ve never even been out of the tri-state area.”
“Heck yeah! Road trip!” Chad hollers from the back seat. He holds up a hand, waiting for me to give him a high-five. I do, laughing at the man child and that goofy smiling face.
“So, what’s the plan then? Hop around to safe houses, trying to avoid Hyde? What happens if we run out of safe houses?”
“The Angorian soldiers tracking Hyde are close. They will either kill him or capture him and take him back to Angor for trial,” Julian says, staring out the window like he’d just broke up with the girl he’d been dating all summer. “And we will not run out of safe houses. We have dozens upon dozens.”
“What happens if they catch up to us?” I ask softly. My heart starts racing at the thought.
“They will not,” he replies, squeezing my palm, once again hitting that addicting button he pushes to bring my anxiety down. Perhaps, he’s able to do that because of the anima mate thing.
“Julian?” I begin. He doesn’t glance my way, still keeping his eyes on the lookout for rebels. “Something that’s been bugging me... If we’re anima mates, then why would the King send you to protect me. Wouldn’t he want you as far away from me as possible?”
