Born of Legend (110 page)

“So where does this leave us?” Nykyrian asked with a frown.

Jullien looked around at The Sentella and in particular the War Hauk family. Shame darkened his eyes, especially when he met Talyn's red gaze. “Familiar strangers. I know there's no reparation for what I've done. Against any of you. Or for what I've taken.
Sorry
will never cover the scars I gouged out of your souls. Believe me, I know and understand the hatred I earned. We are what we've always been … dysfunctional.”

“Maybe in time…”

He scoffed at his brother's kindness. “We're not saints, Nyk. We're warriors. Means I don't have to like you to fight to the death for you. If you ever need extra firepower, I'm always one unanswered call away.”

Nyk laughed. “Ditto.”

With a bashful grin, Jullien scratched his chin with his thumb. “Ah hell, who knows? Maybe someday our kids can grow up to be friends. I think that's the best any of us can hope for. In the meantime, just pretend I died that night in the restaurant. You really owe me nothing. You already put me through a wall and kicked my ass. That's all I deserve and what I earned.”

Nykyrian had the decency to look embarrassed. “Are you really happy?”

“More than I have a right to be.” Jullien cradled Ushara's hand in his. “It took me a while, and a lot of well-earned ass-beatings, but what I finally had to learn was that happiness isn't something someone gives you, and it isn't something you find or buy. It's something you make. Something you sometimes have to work hard for. It comes from within, not without.”

He kissed Ushara's palm. “And by the gods, having earned it now and being lucky enough to finally have it in my life, I'll be fucking damned if I ever let anyone take it from me again.”

Nyk inclined his head to them. “All right, I shall leave you to it. But I am going to reconfirm the report that Jullien eton Anatole is dead and make damn sure that the Kill-Warrant is canceled. For good, this time. And I will file a death certificate for that name—just to be safe. The Sentella will purge your prints and DNA from all records and databases, and I will personally make sure that your accounts and holdings are transferred by way of inheritance to Jullien's maternal cousin, Dagger Samari.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because they're yours by right of birth. You and your children, and wife should have what you're entitled to. And when you and your children are ready, if they want to join Andarion society, I'll make sure they enter as full tizirani and tizirahie. Same for Triosa. It's only fair. The Anatoles put us both through hell. Besides, you need every cred you can lay hands to for therapy. Trust me, I know.”

Snorting, Jullien used his powers to retrieve the second Warsword from the ground where he'd dropped it. He handed it to his brother.

Nyk scowled at it.

“It's yours. I took it from Eriadne's body. Make sure your mother returns it to the Anatole family vault once you rebuild the palace. And don't worry, it's not the one I took her head with.” He gestured at the Samari Warsword that was now strapped across his back, over Trajen's jacket. “I used mine for that honor.”

Ushara's breath caught as it dawned on her that this was the first time he didn't claim Cairistiona as his own mother.

His brother hesitated at the realization that this was the Anatole family Warsword. “You could have seized the throne of Andaria with this.”

“Never wanted your throne,
drey.
Damn sure don't want the drama or nightmare that comes with it.” He draped his arm over Ushara and held her close. “I have everything I need right here.”

Nykyrian hugged them both. “I wish you both well, and all the blessings of the gods.”

“You, too, brother. You, too.”

As Nyk walked away, Dancer came up to Jullien. For several long seconds, they stood without speaking.

“You really tried to save me when the pod crashed that day in school?”

“Check the hospital records, Dancer. I was admitted an hour after you were. Chrisen and Merrell overdosed me out of fear that I would tell on them. My grandmother told your parents it was from the injuries I sustained from the crash, but the hospital records show the truth. Plus I have the scars where they held me in place. I didn't want you hurt. They wanted Fain punished and under control. You were just their unfortunate victim that day. And for that, I'm eternally sorry.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You were a kid. Same as me. What would you have done? Your mother wasn't about to cross my grandmother. Endine would have cut Fain's throat herself,
and
yours to curry royal favor. And you wouldn't have believed me back then, anyway. We were both children against a vindictive tadara and your bitch of a mother. There was nothing to be done.”

Fain let out a tired breath as he joined them. “I've hated you for so long that it pains me to admit how right you are.”

Jullien looked past him to his son Talyn. “You've got much better reasons to hate me, Hauk.”

He stiffened as Talyn and his mother drew near and waited for the famed Ring fighter to knock his head off. It was what he fully deserved for what they'd done to the kid.

Instead, Talyn glanced to Ushara, then back to Jullien. “You're in luck, asshole. As a former lack-Vest, I've never been in the position that I could afford to hold on to grudges. Besides, I'd be dead right now had you not sent Ushara and Trajen to the Port StarStation. As much as I'd like to hate you for that little stint in prison I had, I keep thinking back to Trajen pulling that wall off me and my paka.” He held his hand out to Jullien. “Thank you for that.”

Still, Jullien hesitated. “You're not going to sucker-punch me, now, are you?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I'd just shoot you. Be easier than risking a hand injury on your hard head.”

Laughing, Jullien took his hand.

“But … I have to say this. I do hate you for another reason.”

Jullien arched a brow as he searched his mind. For the life of him, he couldn't think of anything else Talyn could possibly hold against him. “That is?”

“Cutting the bitch's head off. I wanted that kill. Damn you for it.”

He laughed. “It's all right. I wanted Merrell and Chrisen, and you got those honors. Any idea how much I hated you for
that
?”

Talyn snorted. “You didn't miss much. One pissed on me. The other barfed.”

Jullien rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like the cousins I knew and loathed so well.”

Ushara stiffened as Galene stepped forward, and she waited to see what the female would do. As an Andarion mother, she well understood Galene's animosity for Jullien. However, she wasn't about to allow Galene to harm her husband.

Not for any reason.

If she so much as scowled at him, they were about to throw-down.

Jullien's grip tightened on her hand, but other than that, he gave no indication of his reservation.

Finally, Galene spoke. “I never once considered how cruel it was for you to see Talyn being held so often and loved on by your mother while we banned you from her presence. I keep thinking back to how many times I found you lurking in the shadows outside her door, day and night. And I'd yell at you for it. My only thought was how upset Cairie would be to find you there, and how hard she'd be to calm down, thinking you were Eadvard come to harm her. Not once did I consider the fact that you were just a child needing someone's lap to sit on, too. And that you were only there, trying to seek some modicum of affection from anyone you could find. And instead of kindness, all you found was more insults and cruelty. I'm sorry, Jullien.”

Jullien glanced to Talyn. “That doesn't excuse what I let happen to Talyn, when I knew better. Worse, I kept his whereabouts from you and hid what they'd done. I'm damned for that one act alone, and I know it. It's why I made sure WAR approved him for admission to their group after Jayne freed him from Onoria, and I saw the way Eriadne and Chrisen intended to keep going for his throat. I knew WAR would protect him from their treachery. But don't worry. I won't darken your doorways ever again and remind you of what I did.”

Galene smiled at him. “I don't know, Jullien. Had you not darkened our doorway, both Fain
and
Talyn would be dead now. Thank you for saving their lives.” She stepped forward and kissed his cheek.

“Aw!” Chayden said as he sidled up to Jullien's side. “Can I kiss your cheek, too?”

Jullien scoffed and shoved him back. “Something is so profoundly wrong with you.” He glanced around. “Where have you and Jory been, anyway?”

“Do not ask questions you do not want answered, my brother. Remember, ninety percent of survival in this life is plausible deniability. Especially when you're as high-ranking in the command food chain as
you
are.”

“Now you're scaring me.”

“Good.” Chayden flashed a devilish grin.

Nykyrian gave the orders for everyone to pack up and head back to the Cyperian base.

Ushara took Jullien's hand. “Ready to go home?”

That question brought a lump to his throat as he handed her his Samari Warsword. “More than you'll ever know.”

*   *   *

“Thrāix Sparda?”

As they headed for their ships to return, Thrāix cut an irritated grimace to Trajen at the sound of the familiar voice that belonged to the very person they'd both been avoiding this entire adventure.

Steeling his emotions, and in particular his anger, he turned to face Nero Scalera—Trajen's older brother, who was one of Nykyrian's best friends and a member of The Sentella.

Bastard hadn't changed much since the day they'd fled the Chillers hunting them. Just looked more like their mother.

More like Julia.

A lot older and more haunted.

Same dark blond hair. Same steel-blue eyes that could sear a soul to its bitter core. Eyes that were shaped and colored identically to Darling Cruel's—the only thing that marked Darling as their first cousin.

And it was those eyes that made it hardest of all for Thrāix to look at Nero, as they reminded him of everything that had been brutally ripped from him.

Nero's breathing turned ragged. “I thought you were dead.”

Thrāix shrugged. “We endured.”

“We?”

“He married Julia,” Trajen said dryly.

Nero gaped. “When?”

“Before she was murdered.” Thrāix's tone was frigid.

Without a word, Trajen continued on to the ships, leaving Thrāix with Nero.
Thanks, asshole.

Nero let out a tired sigh. “You hate me as much as my brother does?”

“Don't take it personally. I hate every minsid body. You're really not special.”

Nero laughed at his surly tone. “Did anyone else survive?”

“Not that we know.”

Nero winced. “Why didn't my brother come to me after he escaped?”

“Same reason I lived alone for decades. In order to survive our hell, we were forced to go Thaumarturgus. You don't
ever
want to know what that cost us. The price we continue to pay for it. There's a reason our powers don't drain like yours. Why we can do things you and Hadrian can't imagine, including gift powers to others. Tray lives in constant anguish, Nero. Mental and physical. You can't even begin to fathom it.”

Nero choked on his own pain, which swelled inside him over those words. That pain reached out to Thrāix as he realized just how much the man wanted his family whole.

Damn it.

Nero wasn't an enemy. Like it or not, he was family, and that was something the Scaleras were frightfully short on. And as much as Trajen wanted to deny he was one of them, his connection to their blood was what had him protecting Darling, even when he didn't want to. And since he was related to Darling's mother and not his father, Trajen might not share blood with the Danes, but he still protected them because they were dear to Darling.

“I love my brothers, Thrāix, and I loved Julia. I would have given my life for hers. And I would still give it for Trajen. Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“Can you leave your ship docked here?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

Nero scowled. “What are we doing?”

“Something that is going to seriously wreck Trajen's day. Probably get my ass kicked. But since we rescued Jules, we're in luck. We have the one Andarion on board his ship who can back Trajen down. So let's go have some fun at his expense, I say.”

*   *   *

Kyr Zemin, the prime commander of The League, went cold as he watched the latest report from Andaria. And he saw the images coming through.

Especially the one of Eriadne's head hanging from a flagpole that currently contained an Alliance flag with a Tavali, Sentella, and Andarion one below it.

And a League flag that bore an obscenity along with the name of one former Andarion prince he intended to hunt down and skewer.

His breathing ragged, he saw red. And it wasn't just the uniform he was wearing. Picking up his link, he called his second-in-command.

“How the hell did we lose Andaria?” he growled without preamble.

“The Sentella, sir. They came in without warning. They were led by the former tahrs himself.”

“And no one picked up anything? Like, say, an entire fucking Sentella attack fleet flying through our airspace?”

“No, sir.”

“Useless!” Kyr cut the transmission as his anger roiled through every part of his being.

Choking on it, he pulled out the single photograph he had of his wife and daughter. His one and only tie to them.

It was so old and tattered—like his withered heart and soul.

Even now, he could hear the sounds of Nisa screaming in his ear as she was murdered, calling out to him on his link to help her.