Father strides into the kitchen and we all sit a little straighter, lowering our voices from the decibel of a chaotic ruckus to rowdy military.
“Ah. There he is.” He beckons me with two large fingers. Everything about Father is large. Rigel Orion is the largest star there is. He’s also the roughest star. His idea of character building was taking his two young sons out into the middle of nowhere with nothing so we could learn to be resourceful. Atlanta loved it. I tolerated it, understanding the benefits, but have always preferred to be in a hot bath with my book rather than in the pouring rain trying to string together leaves for shelter.
I follow my father, who I assume wants to ream me out in private. That I’ll get privacy is something.
There’s a chorus of “ooooohs” from the triplets as Joshie complains that, “Now we’ll never get to hear the story!”
He’s damn right. If I have to tell Father in private, I’m not reliving the experience by telling them again. They’ll just have to suffer colorless secondhand information from Dad.
Father leads me to the garden on the rooftop. Unexpected. I thought for sure we’d go to his office. He stares off into the distance, overlooking the entirety of the Tauri Nebula with his hands clasped at his low back in what Atlanta and I used to call his drill sergeant stance. It’s the same form he takes when he’s calling drills and shouting orders.
But times like now, it’s how he thinks.
He turns to face me. He’s an old star. Old enough that his face has slight weathering etched over his cheeks and down his neck. Dad loves it. He says it makes him all the more handsome.
“I know you, Treyu. I believe you allowed the Centaurus to distract you.” He lets that hang in the air for a moment. “The Centaurus” is Zhang. Father and the Pleiadian king are frenemies. They have to find a way to get along, but they never agree and loathe one another.
Sometimes it borders on flirting, if I’m honest. The king goads my father by not abiding by the security orders set for him. Father doesn’t set anything outrageous, so either the king is monumentally ignorant or he’s trying to get Father’s attention. As much as I’d like to accuse the king of being stupid, I know he isn’t. Just an unbearably annoying brat. My father knows what to do with brats.
But that’s as far as I go with that line of thought. My parents have an open relationship that I don’t know the ins and outs of, nor do I want to.
“I also know how much you love children. There wasn’t a child there, plain and simple. You would have noticed a child as soon as you walked in no matter what was going on.”
“I didn’t check, sir,” I say, hanging my head. Gods, how irresponsible. For that alone, I’m looking forward to the punishment.
“I know. I saw the report. Something’s off about the whole thing. It’s not even well done. Sloppy. We’ll get this sorted. I won’t have you—or any of my children—marrying a fucking Centaurus. In a week’s time, this will all be a hilarious battle story and some good has come of it, my favorite is home.”
I beam from the inside out … in fact, I’m glowing on the inside. If it weren’t for this damn bracelet I’d glow on the outside too. “I don’t think you’re supposed to have a favorite, sir.”
“I believe I can do whatever I want, but I warn you, there’s competition.”
“Trinket?” He nods and the explosion of toys everywhere makes sense. “I don’t mind. He’s already hands down my favorite brother here.”
No one will replace Atlanta for me.
“I’m not doing a thing about the punishment. You’ll take that like an Orion and maybe you won’t allow Centauruses to distract you.”
“Yes, sir. I agree. It’s fair. I wouldn’t want you to pull strings for that.”
“Mhm,” he hums. “But for the rest of it, I’m not pulling strings either. We’re setting things right, is all.”
“Thank you for believing in me, sir.”
He lays a hand on my shoulder. “Always. Even when you’re being a hellion.” Father notices my new piece of purple jewelry and grips my wrist. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
I sigh. “Sir, it’s fine.” I know it can’t be easy having a child like me.
“It’s not okay if I say it’s not. We’ll get this resolved too.”
I don’t argue. Father would be one of my four I don’t argue with, in case it needs saying, but that one’s obvious.
“We’re having you a welcome home feast tonight. Best food in all the Nebuli and drinks aplenty. You up to it? I know you’re still recovering.”
“Am I up to it? Fuck yeah, sir.”
“Good.”
I’m one hundred percent certain that if Zhang were here, he’d say something stuffy and bossy like, “you’re a Centaurus now and Centauruses don’t drink.”
