Born of Legend (27 page)

It was a symbol of unrequited love or that which was unattainable.

And it was always given by the one who held the lower caste standing, and offered humbly to the one they deemed themselves unworthy of having—which was why her initial was on the front right and his hidden in the back, on the left.

Tears choked her as she cradled it in her hand.

“Admiral?”

Ushara cleared her throat. “Sorry. Did you see who brought this?”

“Brought what? No one's been in your office.”

Leave it to Jullien. Her phantom prince. “Nothing.” She held her hand out for the water and took it.

Ushara fastened the bracelet to her wrist and watched the way the light played in the red crystal. Her gaze fell from it to the picture on her desk of Vasili and Chaz that had been taken just days before Chaz's death. They were laughing and waving at her. It was the last time she'd seen that untainted happiness in her son's eyes.

Until today.

Why did he respond to Jullien the way he did? It made no logical sense.

“Admiral?”

She looked up at Zellen's voice to find him standing in her doorway. “Yes?”

He came forward with his link and handed it to her. “Your brother Dimitri just sent this over and he wanted me to make sure you saw it immediately. I told him I'd put it in your hand myself.”

His ominous tone was terrifying. She clicked the news report and waited for the file to load.

A reporter stood outside the Overseer's Trigon Court on Gondara. “While details are currently sketchy, the reports are confirmed that it was the Outcast Andarion prince Jullien eton Anatole who raped and robbed the victim last night. In response to this latest heinous move, The League has increased the warrant on his life and updated the charges. We've been trying to get a statement from Anatole's parents, but neither the Andarion tadara nor Triosan emperor will comment publicly. The most we have is a statement from the Triosan ambassador who assures everyone that they will not harbor any fugitive from League justice and that Anatole has no landing privileges or haven within their empire. Likewise, the Andarion ambassador has confirmed that Anatole was officially Outcast from their society and holds no rank or protection under Andarion law.”

Disgusted, Ushara turned it off and returned it to Zellen. “Jullien didn't do that.”

“Doesn't matter. Someone is out there, using his name and upping the bounty on his life. They're trying to flush him out.”

Yes, they were.

Meanwhile, his parents most likely believed that bullshit. “Send out two sifters and see what they can learn about this. I want to know as much as they can dig up.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't like to see anyone framed for something they didn't do. And if it was this easy to pin this on him, doesn't it make you wonder about the rest of what he's charged with?”

Zellen shrugged. “He's an aristo. Who cares?”

“I care and I'm your CO. You're under orders. I suggest you follow them.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

As soon as he was gone, Ushara pulled up the updated warrant on Jullien.
Twenty-five million creds.

Her head spun at the exorbitant amount. She'd never seen a bounty
that
high. What had they done? Taken up a collection?

Worse? Her well-meaning sisters had shaved off his beard. Now, there was no mistaking his features. Anyone who saw him would know instantly he was the Andarion prince.

They might as well have painted a neon target on his forehead and marked it “hey, shoot here!”

Her heart racing, she left to tell Jullien the wonderful news before he learned it in the most fatal way possible.

 

C
HAPTER
8

Jullien knocked on the door, then grimaced as he tugged nervously at his jacket. He'd forgotten how much nice clothes itched. Then he shrugged his shoulders, trying to alleviate the sudden irritant there. It literally felt like his skin was crawling.

Even more annoying, his chin was burning and itching like a mother as he tried to let some of his beard grow back.
Gah, I think I'm allergic to bathing.

Honestly, it was a psychosomatic overreaction to anything that reminded him of his royal duties. He knew it. But understanding the cause and living with the consequences were two entirely different things.

And why was it taking Ushara so long to answer the door?

Had they left him? He checked the time. He was a little early …

Jullien knocked again.

Vasili opened the door, wearing an ornate red jacket that was trimmed in black and gold. His face had been painted and his white hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. He gave Jullien a wide grin that exposed his fangs. “Sorry it took me so long. I was trying to get the lines straight.”

“No problem. I was afraid I'd gotten the time wrong.”

Closing the door, Vasili frowned at the items in Jullien's hand. “What's that?”

“I didn't know if you used them or not. It's what we're required to have for temple entrance in Eris. But since you're looking at them like foreign objects, I assume they're unnecessary here.”

He cocked his head to study them. “But what are they?”

“Prayer beads and a prayer wheel. Asukarian cap.”

Vasili bit his lip. “May I touch them?”

“Sure.” He handed them to the boy.

“What do you do with the beads?”

Jullien showed him. “You lace the chain through your fingers like this, and use the beads to count your prayers while you go through them. The wheel helps keep track of the prayer order and reminds you of where you are in the annual cycle so that you're honoring the proper god for the season.”

“And why do you wear a hat?

Jullien smiled. “Warriors pride themselves on their braids. To cover them is an act of humility. You're showing the god Asukar that you are humble before him and his pantheon by covering them in his temple, and that you are a willing subject to the dictates of the gods.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“But you don't do that in your temple?”

Vasili shook his head. “Do you paint your faces on Andaria?”

“We do. However, given the history of the Fyrebloods and Andaria, I didn't think it prudent to walk into your temple bearing the marks of an Anatole or Nykyrian lineage on my face. While I have definite suicidal tendencies, I can think of far less painful and quicker ways to end my life. Like funneling liquid drain cleaner.”

Ushara paused as she came out of her room and heard the tail end of Jullien's words to her son. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the two of them.

Holy gods …

This was the first time she'd seen Jullien truly dressed in finery. And he was absolutely stunning. He must have returned to the store her sisters had taken him to for clothes and purchased his new outfit for temple. While she'd seen suits like that worn by other males, they'd never done the justice to them that Jullien did. The black shirt and slacks hugged his ripped body as if they'd been tailor-made and cut exclusively for him. Likewise the dark red jacket he'd chosen was well-cut and understated. Nowhere near as fancy as most males wore for temple and yet it didn't need to be. Something about how he wore it made it debonair and highly fashionable. Especially with the plain black knit scarf that was wrapped and twisted around his neck with a shabby chic, casual style.

Wearing a pair of dark red-tinted, black-framed glasses, he didn't even look like the same individual. His features seemed more rigid and chiseled. More elegant and noble. High fashion and urbane. He held himself straighter, as if by putting on those clothes his royal training had kicked into gear and it was as innate to him as breathing. While his regal mannerisms were evident at times normally, they were currently on high display right now.

Yeah, she could easily see the royal, arrogant prick in him and yet because she knew his other side so intimately, and because of the kindness he was showing Vasili, she still found him utterly charming and adorable.

And when he glanced her way, and stumbled over his words, then lost his composure entirely, he become totally lovable again.

That
was definitely her Jules.

Smiling, she headed to him and kissed his whiskered cheek. “Hi, handsome.”

Jullien couldn't breathe as he felt her lips on his skin. Her breath against his ear. Chills tore through him and left his brain malfunctioning. Worse, it left him so hard and aching for her that he couldn't think straight.

And what she was wearing
really
didn't help his situation in the least. “Is that normal temple fashion?”

The smile on her face only worsened his condition. “Is it not what they wear on Andaria?”

“No. If it were, I assure you, I'd be the most faithful follower of all time. And would have
never
missed temple a day in my life.”

Vasili snorted at him. “Do you mind? That is my matarra, you know? And I'm standing right here.”

“Sorry, Vas.” Still, Jullien couldn't take his eyes off her skimpy outfit.

While the skirt was long, it was made of a light silk that hung in brown, green, and maroon panels from a leather and feather low-riding belt. One that left glimpses of her upper thigh and hip exposed. Her top was nothing more than an elaborate bra embellished with jewels that fell down in waves over her stomach. Around her neck was a feather and beaded neckpiece in the shape of a bird that had a trailing sheer white cape in the back that attached at her wrists by beaded cuffs. Her hair had been braided and coiled into an elaborate fall from the crown of her head that was embellished with an ornate white beaded and feathered headpiece that covered her ears. Beadwork framed her painted face with chains and beads that crested over her forehead.

He toyed with the beads that hung to the side of her face. “You are beautiful.”

She smiled warmly. “Thank you.” Then she held her arm up to show him that she was wearing the bracelet he'd left for her. “And thank you for my gift.”

Now it was his turn to turn bashful again.

Wrinkling her nose, she jerked her chin toward the stool behind him. “Now take a seat, and I'll paint your face for you. And don't look so worried, Gůr Tana. Sadly, it'll mean a cut in your caste, but as you said, we can't have an Anatole marching into temple without bloodshed. So today you'll have to go in as a lowly Altaan.”

His hazel gaze burned into her with fury and snapped vivid brownish-green fire. “There is nothing lowly about the Fyreblood Clan Altaan or Davers. It is you who honors me by allowing my putrid skin to sully the reputations of your noble clans.”

Tears choked her at his indignant tone. He meant every bit of that. It was truly heartfelt. And she hadn't even known that he'd learned the clan name of her husband. She'd never told him that Chaz had been a Davers.

Before she could stop herself, she kissed him.

“Oh, I'm out.” Vas headed for the back of the condo.

Laughing, Ushara pulled away from Jullien. “Sorry,
mi courani!
Come back! I promise we'll behave.”

Vasili returned, but he gave them both a stink eye as he did so. “You better.”

Removing his glasses, Jullien closed his eyes, and held himself perfectly still while Ushara began painting her clan symbols across his face to match the ones on hers and Vasili's.

“The glasses are new,” she said as she worked. “They're darker than the ones you were wearing when we met.”

“These are prescription. I'd forgotten how much I missed seeing straight.”

She blew across his forehead to help the paint dry. “Really?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. “Yeah. Up close it's hard. And because I'm hybrid, I have spectral problems with color distortion. Gives me massive headaches at times.”

“Is that why they're tinted red?” She returned to painting.

He nodded. “It helps a lot. I'm also sensitive to UV, especially with artificial light.”

“Can they not fix it with surgery?”

“They don't know how. 'Cause they're not sure what it is. Benefits of being a hybrid life form—there aren't enough others like me to understand it. As soon as the word
hybrid
ever left a doctor's lips my grandmother stopped listening and walked away. Her philosophy was always that I could suffer with it as punishment for not dying at birth.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “Wasn't that big a deal until the last few years when I couldn't get replacements for broken lenses. Luckily, when assassins attack up close, they're large enough I don't need clear vision to find them.”

She rolled her eyes at his humor. “So you're fine at a distance, then?”

“Yes. I only have trouble close up and with small print.”

“How have you been programming?”

“I know how to blow the screens up. Have you see the size of my giant font, baby?”

She staggered back, laughing at the way he said that. “You're such a mess.”

Someone knocked on their door.

“I'll get it.” Vasili jumped from his stool.

“You ready to meet the whole Altaan clan?”

He actually blanched. “What?”

“You didn't realize that part of this when you agreed to it, did you?”

“
All
of them?” he choked.

She gave a solemn nod. “But don't panic. Don't get overwhelmed. Stick to me and Vas. We'll protect you.”

“So how many Altaans are we talking?”

She shrugged as she added more paint to his face. “With in-laws … seventy-two.”

“Holy
shkyte
!” He gaped. “Seventy-two? Please tell me you're screwing with me.”

Ushara shook her head. “But it's okay. They may not all be in port. I'm just preparing you, in case. The only one really to avoid is Dimitri. He's got the biggest problem with Ixurians.”