Born of Legend (83 page)

Dimitri froze. “Who?”

“Kirill's. We just got the call. The whole ship went up in flames, and Klavdii's blaming Jules.”

“What!”

Trajen held his hand up at Jullien's outburst. “Relax. I know you didn't do it. You haven't left your daughters or Ushara alone since the girls were born. We all know that. But Klav's in pain and not listening to reason right now. He just lost two daughters and two sons in less than a month for reasons no one can make sense of. He wants someone's balls, and yours are within easy reach.”

Dimitri winced. “I'm going to find my children and ground them.”

Trajen nodded in sympathy. “From here on out, no one but Gort gets in or out of this base. No foreign crew or other Tavali Nation is allowed to step foot in our bays without my express approval or invitation.”

Dimitri scowled at that. “Why?”

“To protect your sister and nieces. I'm not taking any chances on them. Or anyone else in our Nation. I'm tired of speaking at funerals.”

Jullien went cold. “Has there been a specific threat against Ushara?”

“Not per se, but it's suspicious that they've only hit Altaan crews—the two crews that you were recorded to have flown on, no less. You still have five months to go until you're up for your citizenship hazard. As soon as you pass, I'm fast-tracking you to captain, based on merit and previous service.”

Dimitri gaped. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. His Canting's already been designed and approved.”

That only angered Dimitri more. “What the hell is that? He gets captain, first thing?
With
Canting?”

“And
ship,
” Trajen added in an antagonistic tone.

Dimitri made a sound of total disgust.

Thrāix tsked at him. “Don't be hating, precious. You haven't seen his Canting.” He let out an evil, villainous snicker.

Jullien cringed in dread. “Oh dear gods, what have you jackals done to abuse my dignity now?”

Pulling out his link, Thrāix turned it on and skimmed through his photos until he held one up for Jullien to view. “Here you go, princess.”

Jullien sighed in irritation as Dimitri burst into laughter.

“Okay, I'm not jealous anymore. Cockroach Canting for a cockroach. Completely fitting. I approve wholeheartedly.”

Jullien glared at his brother-in-law. “Yeah, go ahead and laugh, asshole. We're all big and brave, till you realize that cockroach has wings and can fly.”

Dimitri sobered at the same time Thrāix and Trajen laughed.

“Hence my choice of your Canting,” Trajen said with a smirk. “I thought it apropos. And I knew if anyone could appreciate the ironic humor behind it, it would be
you,
Dagger Ixur. Bug up the ass of all your enemies.”

“And friends,” Thrāix added.

Jullien snorted.

“So when's your test?” Dimitri asked, changing the subject.

Trajen answered for him. “Day after his temple wedding ceremony.”

Dimitri arched a brow as he placed Viv in her crib. “Really?”

“Yeah. Ushara didn't want me busted and bruised until after we had the formal wedding.”

While Jullien wanted to be a full Tavali citizen, he wasn't looking forward to the cock hazard, which required him to take on three of their strongest Tavali warriors—chosen by their administer of hazard—in order to prove that he could defend himself and the Gorturnum Nation in battle. Like an Andarion Ring match, the cock hazard was a free-for-all where all three warriors would do their best to tear him to shreds and keep him out of their Nation. He could lose to one of them. But if he lost to two, it was over, and he'd have to wait a year to apply again for citizenship.

If he passed and was admitted to the Nation, he'd have to undergo an annual anniversary hazard to maintain his citizenship, but that would never be as difficult as the initial one. The anniversary hazards were single matches against a regular citizen who was also up for their anniversary hazard. Lasting for half an hour, those didn't require a winner. Only that you showed the AOH that you were both still physically fit for hand-to-hand combat and could hold your own in a fight. Of course, you had to last the entire half an hour, or you could have your citizenship suspended or lose rank.

When it came to maintaining their members, The Tavali didn't play. They took their oaths and combat very seriously.

Frowning at Jullien, Dimitri indicated the twins. “Didn't you two postpone your wedding a bit too long?”

Jullien held his hands up in surrender. “I had nothing to do with it. Your mother and yaya planned it all.”

“It's massive in size and scope. You'd think the tadara of Andaria was getting married.” Trajen made a sound of supreme annoyance. “Hence the excessive planning time, and another reason I'm locking down the base. I don't want anyone around to know what's going on here with two of my primary soldiers and family. There's too much unrest right now.”

Thrāix nodded in agreement. “We have bitter days ahead, my Tavali.
Styrian
's coming.”

Jullien was impressed that Thrāix knew that old Andarion phrase, given how little interaction he seemed to have with the other Andarions in the station. And the extremely dire meaning of it, because no Andarion used that phrase lightly. It basically meant to sac up and prepare for the bloodiest of wars.

Hell was coming, and with it, an army of its fiercest demons.

*   *   *

While the next few months flew by, and his daughters and Vas grew as quickly as everyone had warned him they would, Jullien learned exactly what Thrāix and Trajen had meant as The League and Sentella tensions heated up, and The Tavali got caught between them.

Worse, the Andarions were being dragged into the thick of their mess as Cairistiona sided with Nykyrian in every bad decision he made against The League and its prime commander, Kyr Zemin. His brother was letting his old personal League grudges with Zemin, and that of Darling Cruel and Kyr, get him and his Sentella into all kinds of wrong situations. And there was nothing Jullien could do to spare his brother his grotesque stupidity.

They overthrew me for this?

It was adding insult to injury. Because there was no way Jullien would have allowed the Andarions and Triosans to be dragged into the thick of the political tensions and mess that Nyk dove into willingly to back his friends.

Meanwhile, Eriadne and Nyran continued to make strikes against both his mother and Nykyrian as they sought any weakness they could exploit to their advantage and try to overthrow them. Since neither Nyk nor his mother knew them as well as Jullien did, they were helpless against them. And again, were being hammered by their combined forces.

It was a dangerous game Jullien played as he tried to do as Ushara had asked, and stay out of it, and at the same time, he kept waiting for them to find out he was still alive. Either his brother or his grandmother, as both sides would kill him over his past mistakes.

There were times when he swore he could feel the clock running out on them all.

And it wasn't just that his girls were getting bigger every day, and Vasili was turning into an adult before their very eyes. Everywhere they flew, there was civil unrest as The League grew bolder, and The Sentella more defiant against its power. Mostly because his brother was a reactionary idiot, in Jullien's opinion. But then, he wasn't exactly known for his calm, rational decisions either.

Perhaps he and Nyk were more alike than either wanted to admit.

Intergalactic war was inevitable. Jullien could feel it with every innate political chromosome he possessed. Ushara was feeling the burden of her position, which locked her into the base while Jullien flew missions under her command that took him deep into Porturnum and Sentella territory.Each hated the separation, but they had no choice.

They were Tavali. The only thing that kept Jullien remotely sane was the tech that allowed them to talk and be together, no matter where his duties took him.

And the knowledge that Thrāix was staying closer to the Gorturnum base, rather than returning to his isolated home, where a prolonged war would trap him with no supplies or allies. In fact, he'd moved into the condo next door to theirs after Lev decided he could no longer stand living that close to them.

And every time Jullien saw one of Kirill's or Gavin's siblings, parents, widows, or children, guilt stole more of his soul. He couldn't help feeling responsible for their deaths. It ate at him constantly.

Which heightened his fear for Ushara and their own children at home, and her fear for Jullien and his crew whenever they left for a job. Poor Thrāix would often get caught between Jullien and Ushara as she ordered him to fly with Jullien as part of his crew, and Jullien ordered him to stay at the base and watch over his family.

To which Thrāix would inevitably cock a brow and remind them, “Really, Andarions? You do know that I'm not Tavali, and I don't answer to either of you? So a little
please, Thrāix
will go a long way in swaying my opinion. As will Tondarion Fire or Jullien's ale cake. Now, who's buying my loyalty first?”

Together, Thrāix and Jullien kept an eye on Bastien and ran supplies to him on Oksana whenever they could. But those runs were sadly few and far between, as they required him to venture deep into enemy territory and risk running into his brother's forces.

If only Jullien could find a doctor with the ability to remove Bastien's tag, or a way to block his as easily as he'd managed to do his own. Though he'd had a few leads, he had yet to locate a surgeon whose skill-set he trusted enough not to kill or maim Bastien.

As a precaution to keep his family as safe as possible, Jullien remained blond and wore the clear contacts, which really screwed everyone up when they saw them with his fangs. Since there was only one Fyreblood family that carried the stralen gene and the Samaris had been virtually extinct for decades, no one—Andarion or otherwise—was used to seeing a blond, red-eyed Andarion.

The reactions of those who first noted his fangs and put them together with his eyes were hysterical. Most were nervous or dumbstruck. A few openly rude and insulting. The rest ran as if they'd met their devil incarnate. Especially since Jullien had dispensed of his former names entirely, and only Samari or Dagger Ixur marked any of his gear or official forms. People and Andarions acted as if he really were
the
Dagger Ixur summoned from the bowels of Tophet to take their souls.

His grandmother and her cronies believed him to be Edon Samari's ghost, haunting her from the grave. Something he used to his advantage whenever he could. It was nice to be the one doing the mind-fucking for once, and not receiving it.

For that matter, with the exception of their immediate family, along with Zellen, Thrāix, Trajen, and Jupiter, no one remembered Jullien had ever borne another name. Not even Chayden knew of his real birth name. As far as the universe was concerned or knew, Jullien had always been Jules Dagger Ixur Samari, son of Unira Samari. Fyreblood Andarion and Tavali pirate. Husband of Ushara Altaan Samari, and Trajen's active field admiral.

He now wore nothing other than Tavali battlegear at all times, and kept his grandfather's Warsword strapped across his back whenever he acted in any official capacity. With an outlaw swagger and predator's glare, there was no trace whatsoever of the royal Andarion tiziran he'd once been.

Jullien eton Anatole was officially dead and buried.

If he'd had any doubts about that fact, they were adequately laid to rest when he, Thrāix, Mary, and Oxana flew a humanitarian mission into Caronese territory through a League blockade, at Ryn Cruel's behest. They'd landed a few hours ago in the main hangar bay of the capital city to offload supplies for Darling's people, who were being hammered by The League.

Apparently, Darling had gone into some kind of suicidal rampage against The League and the CDS—the representatives of the Caronese people who hated Darling and resented the fact that though his uncle had been an unreasonable tyrant, Darling had murdered him in cold blood so that he could ascend the throne.

Personally, Jullien was glad that Darling had finally stood up to the brutal bastard who'd rivaled Eriadne for cruelty. While Darling was still a child, Arturo Cruel had killed Darling's father so that he could wrongfully seize power, and then Arturo had spent the next eighteen years terrorizing the entire Caronese royal family to the point that Darling had been left with no choice except to put Arturo out of all their miseries before he sent Darling and his siblings to their graves.

Sadly, The League didn't agree and had placed the Caronese Empire under martial law. Darling's people were in an uproar as The League arrested their delegates without trial and bombed the shit out of them. Anyone who could bypass League cruisers with supplies for the Caronese was being paid premium prices to bring them in, and while Ushara didn't like the fact Jullien was doing this, she couldn't argue the creds it was worth.

Nor the fact that her sisters were going to make the run with or without him. And they were much safer with Jullien and Thrāix flying cover for them than they were flying solo or with Davel or Axl as their point.

Yet that being said, he was more than ready to go home. He hadn't seen Ushara, Vas, or his girls in almost three weeks. At least, nowhere other than on his link feed. And every minute they were here, he ran the risk of being recognized by one of his brother's Sentella members or the Andarions who were swarming all around them so thick, he couldn't sneeze without contaminating eight of them. He'd had no idea when they landed just how many of his brother's people would be in this place. But they were crawling all over the bay, giving him hives.

It was why he'd kept his Tavali mask securely in place. Unfortunately, he had to lower it and expose his face to speak with the hangar staff. Otherwise, they might mistake him for one of the bandits who kept stealing their supplies and shoot him on sight.