In a lot of ways, the Nebuli is like Earth. Earth was modeled in its image after all, but some might consider the Nebuli less “technologically advanced” because we don’t run on computers. We have technology, it’s just different, quantum based. Some of the Earthian forms were outlawed here, like cell phones, because they interrupt the healing vibration.
Which is why I’m shocked to hell when Zhang produces my phone. I swear to the Gods. Even this here is the equivalent of squirrels invading North America. Someone will find it and reproduce it if they can pry it from my cold dead hands.
I light up, but not just metaphorically. I feel some of that star glow. It doesn’t make it to the outside of me—because of the damn bracelet—but it’s there, and I feel like me again.
“Zhang Centaurus, did you break the law for me?”
“Everything is disabled, except for your book app. It doesn’t leave this room, Treyu. I mean it.”
It’s still breaking the law.
“Is this to make up for distracting me enough that I’m in this mess in the first place? Because if so, this definitely buys you points, but you still have a long way to go.”
He huffs and searches the sky for mercy. Good because there’s none to be found from me.
I tap the screen, but it doesn’t light up. I press the “on” button but nothing happens. “Oh, um. The battery is dead.” There are no phone chargers on this planet or electrical outlets for that matter. Thank the Gods we have plumbing.
“Here.” Stars don’t need electricity. We are electricity. My source is just … shut down. Zhang uses his starness to bring my phone to life.
“Alright! Back in business.” I begin where I last left off. Poor Johnny was about to get his ass handed to him.Should have done your chores, Johnny, but I have been there and done that.
“Treyu, we need to talk about?—”
“Shhh. Reading area, Zhang. We do not speak to people in the reading area, or I’m going to use the last vestiges of my strength to disembowel you.”
He growls. “Okay, I see where I went wrong. I should not have given you that yet.”
“Shhh.” I know I’m pushing it. I want to see how far I can push him.
“I need air,” he says to the room, but I’ve stopped listening. Johnny’s daddy is pulling out the hairbrush. I should feel sorry for Johnny, but he’s a fictional character in a fictional book, so I don’t. This is top-quality spanking material, and I want to see him get his ass beat.
* * *
When I come up for air from reading and all my stew is gone, the guilt sets in. Okay, maybe I was a dick, but he said he knows how to deal with brats. I should have gotten at least half of what Johnny got. Doesn’t he care about me at all?
You’re still injured, Orion.Oh yeah. But then he should have taken away my phone or something.
But you were so happy when he gave it to you.Does he care about that? How could he? The nicest thing I’ve ever done for him was make him sandwiches. In several hundred years that’s literally it. He doesn’t have a single reason to be nice to me.
I pushed the whole “I was distracted” thing and it’s true, but all I’m really doing is being a fucking brat. I know I’m an adult with the ability to ignore Zhang at any time, but I tend to choose not to. He’s under my skin in a big way and I want him out.
Him being all nice needs to stop, and when he gets back, I’m going to tell him. Better yet, I’m not a prisoner here. It’s too late to leave the palace—too close to curfew—but I can stroll about the palace grounds as much as I’d like.
The mere act of throwing the covers off me hurts. Climbing off the bed hurts. Attempting to put clothes on hurts, and I get as far as taking off the pajamas and trying to slide pants on before I groan into the pillow. I lay there with one leg in the pants, one leg out, and my eyes closed, trying to wish myself away from here. That’s how he finds me.
“Gods, Treyu. What are you doing now?”
“Going for a walk,” I moan, but the very thought of walking sounds terrible. I’m too stubborn to give up now, though.Please save me from me.
“The only place you’re going is back to bed.”
He pulls the pants from my leg, and I don’t fight him. He finds the black pajama pants—the cozy ones—and tugs them up to my waist. “Did you bring more of that tea?”
“Unfortunately, the lightseer said you can’t have that one for another six hours, but I have something else for you. Get under the covers.”
I get under his red silk blankets. They’re heavenly. I live here now. In this bed. “Why are you being so nice to me? It’s fucking with my head, Zhang.”
He doesn’t answer. He guides me to sit so I can drink from the glass vial he puts to my lips. I guess it speaks to my trust in him—that I’m only just realizing is there—when I only drink and don’t question a thing.
