Born of Legend (22 page)

Jullien closed his eyes as Trajen spoke aloud exactly what he felt. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel alone in his hell. He didn't know what Trajen had done, nor did he care. He was in no position to ever judge the actions of anyone else. Good or bad.

Trajen's dark eyes narrowed on him as he continued speaking in his lyrical Trisani accent that he no longer tried to hide or diminish. “And you look around at the world that walks by in total ignorant apathy while your soul screams in a bitter agony so loud that you think how is it possible that no one else hears it? How can they not see the abject pain and misery that you live in all the time? For you, there is no quarter or solace. No refuge from this madness. But the truth is … they don't see it because we're all lost in our own private torment.”

Sadly, Jullien knew that for the truth it was. And he was as guilty of not seeing the pain of others as they were in ignoring his. Until now, he'd never been aware of it. It wasn't until Vasili had stumbled into his life that he'd ever seen another's pain for what it was.

And he wasn't sure why Vas had reached him and made him care. Something in that boy, that day, had opened his cold, dead heart and reached him. Since coming here, he'd been acutely aware of others in a way he'd never been before.

For the first time in his life, he really did care.

Still, Trajen gave voice to the exact emotions and truth inside Jullien as he continued to speak. “Life is nothing but a horror movie that we're all trying to survive as best we can while it does its best to leave us as bloody corpses lying hacked to pieces in shallow graves. Every single day is a new battle we face that leaves us weary soldiers, wondering what enemy lies beyond the next hill that might be a peaceful undertaking, or mined with unseen explosives waiting to rip us to shreds when we least expect it. And there comes a point where you find yourself standing on top of that hill after so many better beings than you have fallen, and you don't understand it. Why them and not you? They were pure, kind hearts and you are blackened and burned to the core of your rotten soul by your actions. So wasted and damaged. No wonder no one has ever loved you. And if no one could love you when you were shiny and new and unscarred and unsullied by the hell you've been through, how in the name of the gods could anyone possibly want you like
this
? Used up and ashamed, you're no longer even sure if you can love another when you can't even stand to look at your own reflection. You just want to crawl inside a hole and die because there's nothing left inside you now except that all-consuming pain and self-loathing. Yet you go on and on, and you don't know why you bother. Why you don't give up when it seems like every sign you pass says you should.”

“I really hate
you
right now, Trajen.”

He scoffed. “No, you don't. You hate yourself too much to have room inside your heart to hate anyone else and you know it.”

“Titana tu.”

“You're not my type, Andarion.… Besides, look around. You're still here. For whatever reason. Life isn't about finding answers. It doesn't make sense. Maybe it's not supposed to. It's just a random fucking universe determined to test us to our utmost abilities. And maybe that's its true purpose, after all. To help us see and find our real mettle. Because that's what it does. In those most dismal hours when we've been kicked in the throat and had our hearts ripped from our chests and our balls handed to us, when we're lying in the gutter with no more strength, we find out who and what we really are. Doesn't matter if you're born prince or pauper. Those trying times strip us to the core to show the universe, and us, what we're made of. You either get back up and into the Ring to fight another round, or you lie down and you let the buzzards have you.”

“I was always too stupid to quit.”

“No. You're not stupid. Maybe stubborn…”

Jullien snorted. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It's never easy. Those blows are staggering. And the hardest ones are always the ones we give to ourselves. The flogging shrill sounds of our consciences that never lets us forget the cost of our survival or the voices of those who hurt us most. No matter how hard we try, we cannot drown them in alcohol or purge them with drugs. They return as demonic spirits to torture us long after we've buried them and moved on.”

“Does it ever get easier?”

Trajen nodded. “But the relief you seek isn't at the bottom of that bottle in your hand or in the run of a drug line. And it damn sure isn't in the grave.” He jerked his chin to where Ushara waited below for them. “It's in the comfort of making those small connections with others. For they, alone, are what guide us home when we're lost. And there is no home without them. They are the only shelter a weary soul can ever hope to have.”

He sighed wearily before he took the bottle from Jullien's hand for another swig. “Let the past go,
merjani
. We have all hurt someone. Sometimes badly, by intent or by accident. With malice of forethought or neglect. You can't change the horrible things you did to survive. You can only change what you will do from this day forward.”

Jullien knew that was true. Still, it was much easier said than done. Especially on nights like this when the past was so haunting and vivid. So biting and raw.

Trajen pinned him with a fierce glower. But unlike the others, those eyes never judged him. And yet he saw Jullien more clearly than anyone ever had.

“Tahrs Jullien eton Anatole died a lonely death on Andaria four years ago. The male by my side today rose out of the ashes of that betrayal, reborn a fierce warrior. Stronger, leaner, smarter—”

“I wouldn't go
that
far.”

Trajen grinned. “You were never the male they thought you were and you know that. None of them ever saw the real you. You hid yourself from them to survive and stay sane. They underestimated you and that was their mistake. But now you have a chance to be the male you want to be. To be a male you can be proud of. To make the right choices and live the life you want to. And I've been watching you.”

“You pervert.”

Trajen smirked as he ignored the jab. “You haven't seen the consequences of your kindness.”

“Because I know how much I hurt the ones I should have protected.”

“You were a child then. And even so, you did save your mother's life. You're the only reason she lived. As for the other matter, you didn't know how to protect yourself, never mind how to protect your brother. You were right to be afraid, then. Had he been discovered, the results would have been disastrous for you both.”

Jullien flinched as his memories surged. If only he'd understood the consequences better.

For all of them.

Nykyrian wasn't supposed to have been arrested over his ring. School policy had called for his brother to be expelled for theft. Nothing more. But everything had blown out of control so fast—Merrell and Aksel Bredeh had seen to that. And once his father had gotten involved with the situation, Jullien had been terrified of what Aros and his grandmother would do to him once the lie was uncovered. Where his father was concerned, lying was a worse crime than stealing.

His father hated him enough. To learn that Jullien had told a lie against Nykyrian would have had nuclear fallout.

And it had. The only good to come of it was that his father's lapse of control on his temper had been so severe that it had caused his father to never beat him again. But their relationship had never recovered from that fateful day.

Ashamed of the lie Jullien had told everyone, and his own overreaction that had only ended when the medics had been called to resuscitate Jullien's dead body, Aros had all but banished him from Triosa.

They'd barely spoken since that day.

Dancer had no idea what he'd cost Jullien when he'd come forward with the truth. And not just with Jullien's father. Merrell and Chrisen had used that event to their advantage to gain favor and rewards, and Jullien had been hung out to dry with his grandmother.

The one thing about Andarions, they definitely believed in severe and extreme corporal punishment, especially when his grandmother thought herself embarrassed by her half-human grandson. Nyk had gotten away with only forty-eight hours of punishment and imprisonment.

Jullien hadn't been so lucky.

Not that it mattered. Afraid his grandmother would see Nyk and recognize him, Jullien had panicked and tried to get his brother thrown out of school, and had almost exposed them both with that fearful act of stupidity.

Truth be told, in the end, they'd both gotten off easy, given the bloody executions that could have befallen them and their mother.

But what burned him to this day was the fact that Nykyrian had been innocent. Rather than try to play a duplicitous game he sucked at, Jullien should have just left his brother alone and ignored him.

Gods, if he could just take it all back …

“But we can't,” Trajen whispered as he heard Jullien's thoughts. “Sometimes we are forced to build our futures over the rubble of our pasts. Yes, our foundations are shaky and cracked. But by weathering those storms, we've learned just how strong we are. And I don't see a shattered prince in front of me. I see a capable soldier I would be honored to have at my back in battle, and I don't say that lightly. Like you, my trust is hard won. And that boy you saved with what you thought was your dying breath? He was shattered, too. Vas was there when his father died. You want to know why Ushara defied my orders and risked her position here to shelter you? Why she has pissed off her entire family by not asking you to leave? Because you've somehow managed to reach her son when no one else has. For these last few years, Vasili has been a shadow of the boy you know him to be. No laughter. No curiosity. Just a wandering, lifeless ghost. Yet he seeks you out like a friend and a father. So tell me, Highness, how rotten a male can you really be if one so pure of heart sees only goodness inside you?”

“He's young.”

“And jaded well beyond his years. Believe me. He sees more than others credit. He's extremely talented in that regard.”

Jullien sat quietly as he considered Trajen's words. For some reason, they reminded him of an old passage he'd committed to memory during his studies. “Beware the soldier who seeks peace through war. The priest who finds comfort in tragedy, and those who can only love when the sun shines brightest.”

Trajen drew back as if he'd slapped him. “A male who quotes the
Book of Harmony
in ancient Pralortorian? Damn, Andarion. It's a rare thing for anyone to impress me.”

“Yeah, but I'm sure I screwed up the pronunciation.”

“Actually, you did a remarkable job. We don't roll our Rs, that's an Andarion thing, but the rest … you had to have gone to serious effort to pick that up.”

“Useless knowledge for cocktail parties.”

Trajen shook his head. “Yeah well, it's good to hear it again. Been a long time for me. Now, do I need to call a cleaning crew to mop up your blood and guts from the floor or are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

Jullien passed an ancient Trisani obscene gesture at him. “Great speech there, boss. Way to prop me back up.”

“You're Andarion. I hear a kick in the crotch works better for your species than a pat on the back.”

“Wouldn't know since kicks in the crotch are all I've ever had.”

Trajen stood and held his hand out to Jullien.

Jullien hesitated before he accepted it and allowed Trajen to pull him to his feet. “Still not sure I shouldn't take the shortest route down.”

“Would it make a difference if I said I'd miss you?”

Jullien let out a bitter, scoffing laugh. “I know that for the lie it is. Like you'd give a shit.”

Trajen jerked his chin toward Ushara. “She would.”

Jullien hesitated as he saw her in the pale dim emergency lights of the station. His breathing quickened against his will.

“Don't break her heart,” Trajen whispered. “She's not as solid as she pretends to be. But she's loyal to a fault and when she loves, it's with everything she has.”

He swallowed hard as he watched her shining in the darkness. She reminded him of the Trisani legends of its Darling–the guiding light ancient sailors used for navigation. There were a lot of legends and stories about it in their literature and religious texts. “Every soul is assigned its Darling upon its birth, and so we endeavor through our lives to find it. For it will always guide us home through the blackest storms. And when the final night comes and we take that last breath, it shall comfort us in eternity and remain forever by our side. Our one true Darling. The guiding light of my immortal soul.”

Trajen scowled at him. “Just how much Trisani have you studied?”

Jullien let out a bitter laugh. “Obviously a lot.”

“Yeah and I'm not the one you need to be quoting poetry to in the darkness. Unless you're trying to seduce
me
, and with enough Tondarion Fire, anything is possible.”

Jullien laughed. “Well, I can't get down until you move your giant, hulking ass out of my way.”

“Don't you get cheeky with me after I went to all this effort to save you or I might be tempted to toss you over.”

“You know that's not really motivating since I'm okay either way. I still haven't decided if I want to be a stain on the floor or not.”

“Then you'd be fine if I took some rec time with the admiral in your stead?”

A rush of fury cut through Jullien so fast and unexpectedly that he actually reached for Trajen and grabbed him. The only thing that kept them from falling was the Trisani's amazing ability to maintain his balance.

Ushara let out a sharp cry from below.

Trajen gave him a cocky grin. “I take it that you care?”