Trinity Found: The Lost Daughter Of Angor Series - Book 1

by Settle Myer

  I lay my head on Julian’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. The slow and spaced-out thumps sync to my own, and that’s the moment I realize the anima mate has been completed. We're connected. For life. I should be terrified to have that commitment hang over my head. I'm only eighteen. Julian is my first love. My first partner. My first everything. Yet, the thought of him being by my side until the day I die eases my restless soul. Does he feel the same?

  But my father’s words about not finding my anima mate ring in my head. It can’t be true. Not after what Julian and I just did.

  “I asked my father about my birth time.”

  Julian draws in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

  “He said I was born at three, thirty-three in the morning. Is that what time you were born?”

  Julian’s face scrunches up. “That’s weird. I was born at eight, thirty-eight. That would mean...”

  “We’re not anima mates.”

  Despair and disbelief assault me head-on. The color in Julian's face disappears. He processes my words for a torturous minute before slipping out from under me. He moves so fast that I topple over, and my face smashes into the mattress. He slips on his boxers and disappears out of his room.

  “Julian?”

  I stand to follow, putting on my panties and stealing Julian’s black t-shirt. I leave his bedroom and stop in the hallway. He’s nowhere to be found. I sense him above me, and the loud thumps of his footsteps confirm he’s gone up to the attic. His dread is palpable, even from a floor above. My heart skips a beat. He's worried that we are not anima mates. Is he scared to lose me? Believe me, Julian. I am terrified as well. I follow his rage and round a corner to encounter a retractable ladder coming down from the attic.

  I find him frantically tearing through boxes stored in his attic, tossing them to the side one-by-one after not finding the item he’s searching for. The space is hot and cramped. Sweat starts dripping down Julian’s face as he crawls through on his hands and knees. He opens a box labeled expensive china then growls while sifting through the contents. He violently closes the flaps and cocks his hand back, ready to catapult that box to the other side of the room. Luckily, I'm right beside him, and I slap his hand away just in time.

  “Julian, stop.”

  He sits back on his heels and lowers his head, rubbing his face with his palms.

  “Tell me what you’re looking for. I will help.”

  “My birth certificate,” he says numbly, his entire body as tense as a stretched rubber band. He's ready to break at any moment. “It’s packed away up here somewhere. It will have all the answers.”

  “My father said he searched birth records, and nothing came up. He must have been wrong. I know we’re anima mates. Did you not feel our souls bonding?”

  “Then why would he say it?” Julian screams.

  My breath catches in my throat. The last time Julian raised his voice at me was in the car, driving away from the pizza shop attack. I thought Moody Julian was a thing of the past. The only Moody Julian I want around is the silly name in my phone.

  Julian reaches out for my hand, but I pull it back.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice strained. “I didn’t mean to yell. It's just... what if it’s true? What if I lose you to your real anima mate?”

  I sigh and crawl to where he kneels. I brush away a piece of matted hair on his forehead. “You won’t. Because I love you. Okay?”

  I place a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles against my mouth and nods.

  Julian moves on to another shelf of boxes and valuables. I find a stack of containers Julian hadn’t touched and start searching. We don’t speak, only focusing on tracking down his birth certificate. The cramped space is silent except for the sounds of shuffling paper, clinking glass and cardboard opening then closing. I finish my stack and join Julian at the storage shelves. He's gone through every single box jam-packed on each row.

  “Damnit!” Julian roars and punches a box, knocking it behind the case.

  I huff at the short-fused man, throwing up my arms and rolling my eyes. Hey, if he can be dramatic, so could I. I squeeze my tiny body in between the wall and storage shelves to pick up the abused box. That's when I spot a small black jewelry box decorated with red roses and green vines. It’s tucked away in a corner, hidden in shadows. If it weren’t for the spilled-out Halloween decorations from the box Julian knocked over, I would have never come across it.

  “Hey, Julian. I think I found something.”

  I pick up the box and sit down, cross-legged. Julian peeks his head around the side of the shelving then wedges himself past the tiny opening, barely fitting his tall and muscular body through. He sits across from me, and I hand him the box.

  He traces his finger across the design as if committing to his memory. A single tear drops and lands on the top.

  “Julian?” I whisper.

  He clears his throat and wipes his wet cheek. “This was my mother’s jewelry box.”

  He cracks it open, and inside are sparkling diamond bracelets, rings and necklaces in pinks, blues, purples, and bright white. A mesmerizing tune starts playing while a figurine wearing a red dress dances in circles. The song is unfamiliar to me; perhaps it’s a popular hymn or lullaby in Angor.

  Julian chuckles quietly. “She used to hum this song to me when I was young to get me to fall asleep.”

  I place my palm on top of Julian’s knuckles. He closes his eyes at my touch. Then he seems to snap out of it. His eyes pop open, and he slams the jewelry box shut, shoving it into my lap. He gets up on his knees and squeezes himself back out of the hidden space behind the storage case.

  I open the jewelry box to admire Julian’s late-mother's collection, trying on a couple of rings and bracelets before carefully placing them back. I'm about to close the lid when I notice a tear at the side. I tug on it gently, and the entire back plate comes off. I gasp, thinking I ruined his mother’s jewelry box. But I realize it’s a hidden compartment. Two pieces of folded paper fall out.

  “Julian!” I yell. “I found it!”

  Julian stumbles back through the narrow gap, nearly knocking the shelves to the ground in the process. I hand him the papers, and he collapses back to the ground next to me.

  He unfolds the birth certificate, his eyes shifting back and forth as they scan the words and numbers. His face contorts with anger, and he drops the paper in his lap.

  “It’s true.” He hands me the birth certificate. “I was born at eight thirty-eight.”

  I check the certificate, finding the birth time, and staring at it as if that would change anything. However, no matter how hard I focus on those numbers, the time remains the same. How is this possible? What Julian and I just experienced... My throat tightens. Oh, great. Here come the tears. One falls on the paper. I wipe it away, and the ink smudges. Wait a second. I rub my thumb on the ink some more until a different number appears.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  Julian looks up at me, and I hand him the paper.

  “I don’t understand,” he says.

  “Wasn’t there another piece of paper in the box?” I look around the floor and spot the second folded-up document. I hand it to Julian, and he opens it.

  “It’s a letter from my mother.” He swallows hard, likely pushing down a lump in his throat. He starts reading it out loud.

  My sweet Julian. If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer alive. You probably have a lot of questions. First, something I never told you that only your father and my sister knew: my virtue was sight. It’s a rare virtue to have, highly sought after, especially by those who would have imprisoned me and forced me to use it to their advantage.

  As you know, your father was one of Queen Shaylin’s bodyguards. The night before you were born, she came to me. I knew she would. She asked for my help. She was desperate. She wanted me to seek her future, to know how to protect her soon-to-be-born daughter. My vision revealed a loving family for Trinity. A firefighter and a teacher. I in
structed the Queen where to leave the baby to ensure her safety. Then I saw the Queen’s death at the hands of a kill pill. She was captured by Hyde’s rebels. I told her she would be tempted to try and save herself from death. I stressed how changing one thing, even one small detail, could cause a butterfly effect. It would make things worse.

  Julian flips the paper over to continue reading.

  Now, about your birth time. I informed the Queen that you would be her daughter’s anima mate. I explained the troubling vision I had of The Royal Guard taking you away and the King ordering my death. She urged me to forge the birth certificate before submitting it to the hall of records. I was lucky to have a home birth. No one would know you were the anima mate except your Aunt Kate, who was my midwife. The Queen told me to tell no one that she came to me for help. She said it was the only way to protect Trinity’s whereabouts and to keep you in my life.

  I also want to apologize for being a horrible mother to you. You have to understand... your father’s death, the devastating visions plaguing me every single day... it was all too much. I was so thankful Kate was able to raise you when I could not. Over the years, we tried every treatment available to lessen the impact of the visions. I wanted them gone altogether. It wasn’t until a few months before Kate died that we found a solution on the black market. A medicine that suppressed the virtue. What we didn’t know at the time was the effect of the medicine. Suppressing my virtue took a toll on my body. It ultimately led to my illness and death.

  I’m so sorry I never talked to you about this. Please know, everything I did in my past was to ensure you lived. To ensure you and Trinity had a future together. I love you with all my heart.

  -Mom

  Julian stares at the paper as if more words would begin appearing. He must have silently read over the letter at least five more times before looking up to me. His eyes are full of tears that drop, one-by-one down his cheek and onto his bare chest.

  “They were going to kill my mother,” he says, quietly.

  I close my eyes and nod.

  “Your father was going to kill my mother,” Julian repeats, his voice stern and full of resentment. “And after my father’s sacrifice? Protecting the Queen so you could live?”

  I pop open my eyes, and Julian glares at me with all the hate in the world. My stomach drops to my feet, my breath now hostage in my throat. His rage seeps into my veins, and I try to push it away. It's overpowering me to the point of suffocation. He's tapping into the virtues I gave him. And I'm terrified.

  “Julian, you’re hurting me!”

  A burst of energy explodes throughout the attic, knocking down storage shelves and boxes. The junk previously piled around us, now scattered around the edges of the tiny space. Julian stands, ducking underneath the low ceiling.

  “Please leave.”

  Tears fall down my face. My heart, crushed into a million pieces. Julian has never regarded me with such disgust. He despises me for the things my father was going to do in his mother’s vision. It was just a vision, though. It never happened. Of course, if she hadn’t had sight as a virtue, would she have been killed? Is my father a monster? Maybe the vision was a misunderstanding.

  I needed answers. Anything to convince Julian I am not at fault. I know, deep down, he understands I had nothing to do with either of my parents’ actions in the past. His anger is for them, and I’m caught in the middle. Yet, at this very moment, my presence is fueling his rage.

  I don’t say anything, only nod before making my way past him to climb down from the attic. I don’t look back. The moment I reach the bottom of the ladder, Julian lets out a guttural scream, followed by glass crashing to the ground and breaking.

  Chapter 16

  My feet seem to tread through quicksand as I walk through the hallways of the castle. My head throbs, my eyes sore from crying the entire ride back from Julian’s home. Poor Dallas didn’t know what to say to make an emotional teenage girl cheer up. And boy, did he try. He told me some of the worst dad jokes I’d ever heard. At one point, his voice irritated me so much, I threw him in speaking jail. He did not appreciate that one bit. But I didn’t care.

  I stare down at the light grey-swirled marble floors. They shine in the light from above. I peer up at the arched ceilings, a breathtaking gothic rib vault design extending the length of the castle interior. I love my new home’s classic and historic architecture combined with modern updates, including voice-activated lights and electronics. I stop at a table with a sleek black round device on top. It looks similar to an Amazon echo.

  I lean over to inspect it. I don’t see any buttons.

  “Alexa. Hey, Alexa.”

  Hmm. Nothing. I tap on the top of the box.

  “Alexaaa. Aaaleeexaaa!”

  “Your Grace?”

  A housekeeper with greying hair up in a tight bun stands off to my side. She holds a duster to her chest. Her wrinkles-encased eyes regard me like an escaped mental patient.

  “Oh, um. Sorry. Is this an echo? How do I get it to work? On Earth, we say ‘Hey, Alexa.’”

  She smiles, amused at my ignorance. “That is AVA. Automatic virtual assistant. Try saying ‘Hey AVA.’”

  The kind woman walks away. A little too quickly, I might add.

  “Hey, AVA, play a sad song.”

  “Playing Despacito by Earth artist Luis Fonsi featuring Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber.”

  “What? No, that’s not...”

  A guitar riff fills the quiet castle hallway. It’s louder than expected, and I jump nearly a mile high. I look around, hoping no one is witnessing my utter failure at working the Angor version of Amazon’s Alexa.

  “AVA, stop!”

  The music, thankfully, shuts off, and my heart can stop trying to burst out of my chest.

  I hustle my butt out of there and arrive at a three-story tall entrance hall. A wooden railing connects to the dark wooden staircase in the middle of the massive space. I lean against the oak and sigh, admiring the half-dozen golden candelabras hanging evenly across the vaulted ceiling. The dark grey stoned floor is partially covered with a vintage styled maroon carpet sporting a black lined motif.

  The beauty that surrounds me fails to cheer me up. I push myself away from the railing and trudge down the stairs. I'd never felt so much heartbreak in my lifetime. My body is weak as if all my love for Julian has been drained. Has the completion of the anima mate heightened my every emotion that is connected to Julian? Am I experiencing his pain as well as mine? Our future is in shambles, threatened by this secret held by his mother for eighteen years. More importantly, our love is being tested by the possibility my father had planned to have the mother of my anima mate killed. Why would he even think I'd be okay with that?

  “Wow, you look like shit!” a familiar voice calls out.

  I raise my head and spot Chanel, standing with a hand on her hip near the front of the grand entrance hall. She's sporting her usual badass warrior, leather attire, fitting tighter than a facelift on a Real Housewife of New York.

  My eyes widen like saucers as I run to her. She opens her strong arms, and I collapse into her hug. We rock where we stand, embraced like long lost sisters. She was my sister, at least that’s what I've decided. She rubs my back for a few more seconds before letting me go. She tilts up my chin with her pointer finger.

  “Why are your eyes red?”

  My lip starts to quiver. “Julian and I had a fight. We finally gave in... Never mind. It's a long story.”

  “Oh, honey.” Chanel gives me another long hug, moment when Reed and Chad walk in. Reed wears his usual black t-shirt and cargo pants. Chad is a bit dressed down in jeans and a blue NYPD shirt.

  “Turn back, Reed! There’s something emotional going on!” Chad jokes.

  Despite my world crumbling around me, I chuckle for the first time since leaving Julian’s house. I wipe my eyes dry, and Chanel releases me from the obligatory condolences.

  “Hi, Chad,” I say quietly, then wrap my arms around him. H
e holds up his hands like he’s never received a hug in his entire life before finally accepting my embrace. I let him go, and he rubs my head in that all too familiar sisterly assurance.

  Reed patiently waits. He holds his arms open, smiling like a fool as I walk towards him. He gives me the biggest, bear-approved hug I'd ever received.

  “We were worried about you. Glad to see you up and about,” Reed says, then frowns. “Though, there’s something wrong with your face right now.”

  I smile and lower my head. “I’m just sad about something. Nothing to worry about.”

  “She and Julian got into a fight,” Chanel blurts out.

  Reed’s jaw clenches, and he pounds his fist into his palm. “Where’s he at? I just want to have a talk.”

  I place my hand on Reed’s shoulder. “It’s fine, really. Besides, Julian has all my virtues. Remember? He’ll kick your ass.”

  Chanel and Chad giggle. Reed snarls at me but doesn’t say a word back because he knows I'm right.

  “What are you all doing here?”

  “Prep ahead of Hyde’s sentencing tomorrow,” Chanel says. “We all have to give statements ahead of the hearing.”

  I frown. “Oh. No one’s asked me to do that.”

  The group exchanges an uneasy look.

  “What?”

  “I doubt your father will let you. After Hyde’s obsession with finding you and wanting you dead, King Elijah will likely want you nowhere near him tomorrow,” Chad explains.

  I roll my eyes. “Doesn’t he realize I am an adult? And my virtues are powerful?”

  Chanel gives me a ‘bless your heart’ smile any Southern woman would be proud of. “They know that, Trinity. As for your virtues, yes, they are powerful. Do you have them in control yet? Not quite.”