Millie guffawed. “You go right ahead, but I’ve seen enough hardship in my life.” Standing, she paced to a small table littered with a mishmash of dishes. She selected a chipped ceramic coffee mug, but rather than coffee, she grabbed a green bottle and filled the cup with red wine, nearly to the brim. “The destruction wrought from a thousand relics, the tragedies of too many family keepsakes to count.” She sat down again, cradling the mug in both hands, and took a sip, eyeing Nova. “I don’t need to see what that helmet has seen.”

Nova tried not to think too much about the early days of the Age of Anarchy. The sacrifices that Ace had made in service to his vision. The people who had been killed, the devastation wrought on this city and the world as other prodigies followed his example.

She supposed she couldn’t blame Millie for not wanting to think about those things, either.

“Can you look at this, at least?” she said, holding out the bracelet again. “What is it? What is it made out of? Anything you can tell me might help.”

Millie squinted, but still her hands stayed around the mug. “That pretty bauble was not there the last time I saw this bracelet.” Her mouth quirked teasingly. “I’d almost forgotten about the boy I’d seen then, the one who fixed the clasp. Now that I recall his face…”

“I know,” said Nova, feeling heat rise up her neck. “It was Adrian Everhart, but I didn’t know it at the time. That’s just a coincidence.”

Millie chuckled. “Once you’ve seen as much history as I have, you won’t believe in coincidences anymore.” She took another drink of wine, this one almost a gulp, like she was fortifying herself.

She sighed and set the mug on the floor beside her chair.

Finally, she held out her palm.

With a twinge of nervousness, Nova dropped the bracelet into her hand.

Millie jolted upright. She glanced at Nova with surprise. It was a brief look, and without explanation, she cupped her other hand over the star and shut her eyes.

Nova watched with mounting curiosity as Millie’s features went through a series of transformations. Sometimes her brows would rocket upward, other times they would furrow deeply. Sometimes her lips would move as if she were speaking to herself, and sometimes she would laugh inexplicably or clench her teeth with concern.

Nova said nothing through it all. After the first minute, she pulled a rickety wooden chair from the room’s corner and sank down onto it, fingers drumming on her thighs.

Five full minutes passed before Millie’s eyes popped open, slightly unfocused. She seemed to be waking from a bewildering dream as she scanned the room.

“Well,” she said. “That answers one question at least.”

Nova leaned forward.

“You sense a connection between this bracelet and your uncle’s helmet because they are deeply connected. They were crafted from the same raw material, taken from the same source.”

Nova peered at Millie’s hands, still clasped around the star, shielding it from view. “And that material is what, exactly?”

Millie giggled. “The stuff of stars,” she whispered, almost mockingly, and Nova realized that she must have seen some of Nova’s conversation with Adrian as they discussed the impossible star in his jungle.

She bristled. She knew it wasn’t a star. Stars were suns, billions of light-years away.

This was a fancy marble.

But what was she supposed to call it?

“You seem skeptical,” said Millie. Cradling the bracelet in one hand, she bent down and picked up her wine with the other. “Tell me, Miss Artino. Are you familiar with the Monteith Theory of Prodigy Origin?”

Nova’s skepticism grew. “Let me think. Is that the one that says all prodigies are descendants of ancient gods? Or that we came here aboard alien spaceships? Or, no, no, that’s the one that has something to do with radioactive sludge, right?”

“Actually, Dr. Stephan Monteith was an astrophysicist who speculated that all prodigy abilities are the result of our physical systems reacting to a cocktail of biological chemicals and the stardust that lies dormant in our physical makeup.”

Nova snorted. “Stardust. Right. I’ll go with the sludge, myself.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge. I have traced the history of several prodigy artifacts back to the very star from which their mystical abilities seem to have originated.” Millie leaned forward. “Consider that every chemical in our world is formed from stars that long ago exploded. From the salt in our oceans to the cobalt in that teacup’s paint.”

“You can’t be named Nova and not know about supernovas,” Nova said, growing weary of this conversation. “Are you going to tell me about the bracelet or—”

“I am, if you care to listen.”

Nova bit the inside of her mouth.

“According to Monteith,” Millie continued, pausing to take another sip before going on, “the particles from one particularly powerful supernova reached our solar system many centuries ago. They came to our planet—an invisible invasion—settled upon our dirt and in our oceans, and took up space in the very air we breathe. These particles, this energy, would become the substance that your father could detect in our world. This raw energy is everywhere, but only visible to a lucky few.”

Finally something Nova could relate to. “The energy my father could see,” she said, scooting to the edge of her seat. “I saw it, too. Or, I think I did. When the star first attached itself to the bracelet. And again, once, when I put the helmet on. Like, beams of light, all around me.”

“Now, consider,” said Millie, “that this energy isn’t simply in the air. It is inside us. Every human being on this planet has trace amounts from this supernova inside of them, and that raw energy contains the potential for great power, but only if it’s awakened by a chemical reaction. That was Monteith’s theory. Everyone has the potential to become a prodigy, but for those who are not born with this inherent power already awakened, their powers will only reveal themselves in the face of great trauma. Monteith believed the chemicals released into the bloodstream during extreme duress create the conditions necessary to awaken our latent abilities.”

“Ooookay,” said Nova, trying to disguise her disbelief. “So a big star exploded, its tiny little particles crashed down to earth, and now we all have the potential to be superheroes? Sure. Great.” She pointed at Millie’s clasped hands. “What does this have to do with my bracelet? Are you telling me that this is the central core of that star that exploded or something?”

“Of course not. I’m only pointing out that your father gathered and used that raw energy, which is possibly the most powerful substance in our galaxy. He made the helmet, among other things, and he made this magnificent gem as well.” She opened her hands to reveal Nova’s bracelet.

Nova frowned. “No, no. My dad made the bracelet, but the gem was made by—”

“Adrian Everhart? Oh, I saw.”

Nova flushed self-consciously.

“The mural was remarkable, but no. How do I explain this?” Millie rubbed her thumb over the star. “As one of his final acts while still alive, your father made this bracelet, yes?”

“Right.”

“Well, the setting was not left empty because he ran out of time to complete it. In fact, he had already created the gem that was intended to fill the setting some months before, and hid it where he did not think anyone would ever find it.” Leaning forward, Millie pressed a finger against Nova’s heart. “He hid it inside of you.”

Nova blinked, once again sensing that she was being teased. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, not actually right here,” said Millie, tapping Nova’s chest again. “That just seemed more dramatic than the truth. It was actually stored at the base of your amygdala. Not as romantic, that, but … ah well. I’m sure your father had his reasons.”

Nova held up a hand. “You saw all this?”

With a chuckle, Millie held out the bracelet. Nova took it from her, cradling it in her fingers. “You came to me for answers, didn’t you?”

Nova rubbed her thumb over the surface of the star. It brightened at her touch.

“But … why? What did my father make it for? And why hide it inside of me?”

“We can only guess.” Millie rubbed her cheek, stretching her thin, pale skin with each press of her thin, pale fingers. Then she took another large draft of wine. “Perhaps it was intended to be a weapon, like the helmet.”

Nova chewed the inside of her cheek. It was possible. Her family had never had enough food when she was growing up, and with Evie getting bigger, things had been more desperate than ever. Another weapon crafted by David Artino would have been incredibly valuable. He could have sold it to the highest bidder.

But that didn’t seem right.

A faint memory came to Nova. The day her parents had been murdered, her father had said to her that he hoped the bracelet would put right some of the injuries he’d caused the world.

Still, what did that mean?

Nova’s fingers felt cold as she clasped the bracelet back onto her wrist, remembering the power the star had exhibited, imbuing the chromium spear with added strength. With the help of the star, she had destroyed an otherwise indestructible box.

If the star was supposed to be a weapon, what if her father had been making it for Ace, to be used against the Renegades? The Renegades had promised to protect her family from the Roaches, but a part of her had always wondered why her parents hadn’t gone to Ace and the Anarchists for protection instead. Maybe, even back then, her family knew that the Renegades couldn’t be trusted. Perhaps her father had made a weapon that was even stronger than the helmet.

A weapon that was strong enough to defeat even the invincible Captain Chromium.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ADRIAN HAD BARELY seen Nova since she’d been released from Cragmoor. His guilt over not believing her grew stronger every day, mingling with the fear that he might have ruined everything. He wanted things to go back to the way they’d been the night she fell asleep at his house. They had been comfortable in each other’s presence. He felt like he could tell her anything, and like he’d earned the same trust from her. He’d begun to think that he might even be falling in love with her.