Born of Legend (29 page)

It was why Jullien didn't complain about being judged or punished for the ills of his family. Why he accepted it as his due.

He'd committed his own sins and wrongs while trying to protect himself.

And he hated himself for it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced his thoughts away from the past. Away from the pain. He might have been a prince, but the whole time he'd lived in that palace, he'd lived like a feral animal, in constant survival mode. Striking out at everyone who ventured near him.

Let it go and breathe.

Jullien listened as they began to play a soft harp, electric piano, and drum, and watched as Ushara and the chorus danced and led them in song. Unlike the somber, depressing hymns he'd been taught, theirs were uplifting. They were about coming together and uniting. Standing together and defending each other. Being a family. And as they sang, Vasili hooked his arm through Jullien's.

A foreign warmth filled him, and before he could stop it, a forgotten dream sprang out the mental dungeon where he'd kept it locked down deep. It was the one where he was actually part of a real family.

He placed his hand over Vasili's and wished that he'd been lucky enough to have been the boy's father. It pissed him off that Vas's childhood had been tainted by such a tragic loss. The kid didn't deserve it, anymore than Ushara did. Jullien would never understand why hearts as gentle and kind as theirs had to be hurt. It just didn't seem right. He'd give anything if he could protect them and keep them safe from the universe.

A weird surge of protective possessiveness rose up inside him so fiercely that for a moment, he couldn't breathe. It was primal and raw. Overwhelming. He hadn't felt anything like this since the night he'd seen the guard strangling his mother. A furious need to make sure that no one and nothing came near what he loved.

Loved …

Jullien went cold as that random thought rattled around his three existing brain cells and iced every part of his being. As much as he wanted to deny it, the truth slapped him right in the face.

I love them.

Both Vasili and Ushara. The thought humbled him and he wasn't really sure what to do with it. Honestly, it scared him and made him want to run screaming for the nearest door. He'd never really loved anyone before. No one had allowed him to.

As the song finished and Jullien grappled with his rising panic, Vas grinned at him and sat down.

Knowing it would be bad form to run out on the service at this time like a screaming lunatic on an acid high, Jullien sat down, too, and forced himself to calm down.

He'd just begun to level out his panicked breathing when Kirill hissed and jumped beside him for an annoyed little bit of fluff who pounded on the male's beefy leg with her tiny fist until Kirill moved it aside to make room so that she could squeeze past him. With angry eyes, baby Nadya glared up at Kirill as she wiggled to the other side of his legs and then she smiled at Jullien and held her arms up toward him.

It took him a second to realize that the younger Nadya wanted him to pick her up again. “You want to sit with me?” he whispered.

She nodded eagerly.

Since her mother was in the very front chorus with Ushara, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was all right with her grandparents. When neither moved to murder him, he slowly scooped the little girl up and awkwardly perched her on the edge of his knee beside Vasili. She put one booted foot on Vasili's thigh, then leaned back against Jullien's chest and began sucking her thumb. Within a few minutes, she was sound asleep in his arms.

Completely at a loss, Jullien had no idea what to do. He'd never had a child fall asleep on him before. For that matter, he'd never really been around children. In a family that tended to eat its young before they grew into adults, they weren't in abundant supply.

So when it came time for the sacraments, he stayed in his seat with her and allowed the others to line up for the altar.

Instead of returning to her own seat in the chorus after she'd taken hers, Oxana came and sat beside him. “Sparn said that she'd escaped him by climbing under the pews. He thought she'd gone to my parents, but I panicked when I didn't see her with them for sacraments, and then Vas told me she was with you. Are you okay?”

“Fine. She's been asleep the whole time.”

“I can wake her.”

“You don't have to. I can carry her home, if you want. She's really not heavy.”

Nadya blinked and yawned. “Mama?”

“Right here, Naddicakes.”

Rubbing her eyes, she fell forward, into Oxana's arms. “Is temple over?”

“Almost.”

She frowned as she looked at Jullien. “Is Dagger my new basha?”

Laughing, she kissed her daughter's cheek. “No, honey, he's just Ushara's friend.”

“Okay, but I like him. He smells nice. Can we make him my basha anysways?”

Oxana was still laughing as they stood for the final prayer and dismissal.

As the males of Ushara's family attempted to swarm him again, the females took flank positions around him as a layer of protection. That stunned him completely. The fact that it included her mother and grandmother shocked him most of all.

“Go on with all of you,” her grandmother said, gently pushing the males back. “You can punch at him later. But let the boy alone for now. You've all growled at him enough for one morning.”

As the males stepped away and left, Nadya the elder turned around with a pointed stare that reminded Jullien of a royal interrogator about to begin a torture session. “And what is your lineage, Ixurian?”

Jullien refused to flinch or let her know how much that question stung. Since Andarions were matriarchal, her opinion mattered and she was asking him for his own mother's opinion where he was concerned.

His shoulder itched, reminding him all too well how little his family valued him. “I'm Outcast, Ger Tarra.”

“You weren't born without caste. What was it before you angered your mother and she slashed you from her lineage?”

“Does it matter?”

Her stare turned harsh and biting. “Depends on your intentions with my Ushara. What are they?”

“Yaya,” Ushara chided. “What are you doing?”

“You bring him to temple, with your son. I'm doing what is my right.” She faced Jullien with a ball-shriveling glare.

Ushara wanted to kill her family as she recognized the hurt in Jullien's eyes. It was subtle and unless you knew him as well as she did, you wouldn't recognize it.

To his credit, Jullien held his ground and didn't waver or show any weakness whatsoever, which was a good thing when dealing with her grandmother. If there was one thing Nadya Altaan hated, it was any kind of enervation in any creature. If she sniffed out vulnerability, she went for the throat of it.

It was what Chaz had despised most about her and it had kept them at odds the entire time Ushara had been married to him. The only reason he'd been allowed into the family at all was because they'd been pledged as small children. Years before her grandmother had discovered Chaz's dislike for fighting and weaponry.

Two things the prince had never shirked from.

When Jullien spoke, his voice was smooth and steady with its rich, noble accent. “My intentions toward her are extremely honorable, Ger Tarra. But I can give her nothing material as I have nothing left to give. That being said, I would gladly lay my life down to protect hers. And Vasili's. I would never allow anyone to do harm to either of them.”

“Are you Tavali?”

“I am not.”

“Then you need to go and find another female to shame. My
grastiya
is the vice admiral of this Nation and the well respected widow of a former admiral. I will not have her reputation tarnished by being linked to an Outcast comet slag such as you. Do you understand?”

He didn't so much as blink under the cruelty of those harsh words. But then, he'd heard worse from his own parents. “I understand, Ger Tarra. Forgive me for my dishonor to your family.”

Ushara gaped as he started away. “Jullien, you stay right here.” She gently took his hand in hers to keep him by her side. It was only then that she felt how rigid and tense he was. That she felt the slightest trembling in his touch.

Her grandmother glared at her.

Yet for the first time in her life, she defied their matriarch. “There are a few things he left out. He has nothing material to give because he traded his extremely valuable royal signet ring to pay for the repairs on Oxana's ship, and refused to take any repayment for the parts or labor. And in case you missed that first part, Yaya. His
royal
signet ring.”

Her grandmother curled her lip in disgust. “You dare to bring one of
them
before
me
.”

Ushara lifted her chin. “Depends. Are you going to slash my lineage, too?”

Jullien released her hand. “Shara, please. Don't fight with your family. Not over me. Stop before it's too late and you say something you can't take back.” He urged her toward her grandmother. “I can't stand being the wedge that divides you from them. Take it from someone whose entire family ate itself whole. It's not worth the trauma. Don't let my blood poison yours. I'll go.”

“But—”

“No,” he said, sharply, cutting her off. “Mend this with them before it's too late. You've no idea how rare and valuable your family ties are. You take for granted what the rest of us would sell our souls for and I won't let you sever something that no amount of money can replace.”

And with that, he was gone.

Tears welled in her eyes as she turned back toward her mother and grandmother who appeared far too satisfied with themselves.

“It's for the best.”

“For whose best, Mom?” she asked.

“Everyone's.”

But as Ushara saw the stricken expression on Vasili's face she knew better. It wasn't best for him. He wanted a father of his own so badly that it'd burned in her heart for years that she'd been unable to find a male tolerable before this.

And if she was honest, it definitely wasn't in her best interest.

Her grandmother frowned. “Would you really choose a darkheart over your family, Shara?”

She swallowed hard against the tears that choked her before she answered that with a question of her own. “Before you force me to that decision, Yaya, you might want to stop and think if you want to lose me and Vasili over your hatred of the Ixurians.”

 

C
HAPTER
9

Heartsick and weary, Jullien ran his hand along the outside panel of the
Stormbringer
. Though she was an older ship, she was a thing of absolute beauty and grace. Antique with fine, subtle lines. Unlike modern ships, she'd been custom designed by a master engineer. Not stamped out in a factory by cold mechas and drones. This one had a human touch to her. Someone had taken personal care with her construction, and left no detail overlooked.

“Should I leave you two alone?”

He scowled at the familiar voice. Turning his head, he was surprised to find the high priestess there in regular Tavali gear. Strange, the High Mother seemed much tinier now than she had in her temple garb. Her white blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun. With her entire face painted stark white over her already extremely pale skin, she still had the black Samari clan wings drawn around her white eyes, with streaks of gem blue bisecting the wings and her lips. Even as an elder female, she was strikingly beautiful and must have been incredibly breathtaking in her younger years. Yet the loveliest part of her was her compassion and kindness. The way she had of looking at others as if she actually cared about them—like a mother should look at the children she loved and cherished. Not that he had personal experience with that. He'd only seen that expression when other maternal beings had gazed at their young, or when his own mother glanced at his brother and Nykyrian's children.

He lowered his hand and approached her. “Can I help you, High Mother?”

Shifting the basket in her hands, she smiled warmly. “A
xetetic
would call this a coincidence.”

He snorted at the Demurrist term for a nonbeliever, or anyone not of their faith. “And what do you call it?”

“I'm more interested in what you think the odds are that you'd be working on my ship with such caring devotion?”

Jullien froze. “You own the
Stormbringer
?”

She ran her hand over the filigree design that wrapped around the underpanels. “I do and here I've been praying and praying for someone to get her back into service for me. Then lo and behold, I make my weekly check to see if my prayers are answered, and I find that someone has, indeed, finally accepted my repair request. I come to bring my generous benefactor a care basket, and thank them for their kindness, and it turns out to be … well,
you
. Again, what are the odds?”

As much as he'd like to believe in a higher power working magic behind the scenes to do good things for them, the delusion of a benevolent creature who gave a minsid damn about them belonged to small children and morons. His trust in such had died in childhood the day his grandmother had viciously told him she'd murdered his twin brother. “It's a random universe, High Mother. Weird shit happens without rhyme or reason every day.”

“So you say. I choose not to believe it. The gods work their will in their own good time, to benefit us all.” She held her basket out toward him. “I still wish for you to have this.”

“Thank you, but I can't accept it. I don't do this work for payment, but rather my own penance.” He sifted through the toolbox to find the right wrench for the access panel. “If anyone can understand that, I'm sure it's you.”