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  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.

  CHAPTER 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, Gur 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."

  "And the ones who beat the hell out of me?"

  "And them. They go without saying."

  "Great." Sighing, he put his glasses back on. "Thinking right now when my brother gave me the option of answering his question or having my brains blown out, I chose poorly."

  "Stop whining." She pulled him to his feet.

  Jullien followed her to the door and braced himself for the warm reception he knew they were about to receive. Her parents, who were talking to Vas, fell silent as soon as they saw him.

  Her father's eyes bulged as his cheeks darkened with anger. "What's he doing here, dressed like that?"

  Ushara pulled Jullien out the door and locked it. "He's going with us to temple."

  Petran turned toward her mother. "Katira? Have words with your daughter. Now!"

  "Shara--"

  With her head held high, Ushara pulled Jullien by the arm and kept going. "I've no wish to be late, Matarra."

  Jullien looked back at her parents with an apologetic grimace.

  Petran glared at her mother. "I blame your side of the family for this."

  Rolling her eyes, she said nothing as she followed after them.

  Ushara rushed to catch up to her sisters who were walking together as a group with their husbands and children. Dressed identically to Ushara, Oxana screamed the instant she saw them together and drew her sister into a hug.

  Then she hugged Jullien and kissed his cheek. "Love the face! Altaan looks good on you." She took his hand and led him to the male who was carrying a small toddler girl dressed in a more modest version of her outfit. "Sparn ... this is Dagger. He's the one who repaired my ship for us."

  Sparn paused and shifted his daughter in his arms to shake Jullien's hand. "All blessings to you." He glanced around to the other three girls who were running between them. "As you can see, your help was deeply appreciated. Thank you so much."

  "My pleasure."

  Oxana brushed her hand through the hair of the infant girl in Sparn's arms. "This is our youngest, Olya." She pointed to the eldest. "Nadya, named for our yaya. Then the twins Iryna and Fena. Girls, say hi to Dagger."

  Nadya, who was probably four or five, pursed her lips at him. "Why do you have dark hair?"

  "Nadya!" Oxana snapped. "Don't be rude! Dagger isn't a Fyreblood."

  "But he gots fangs? Why he got dark hair and fangs?" She gasped and ran to her father.

  Jullien knelt down on one knee and held his hand out toward her. "I won't hurt you, Nadya. I promise."

  Eyes wide, she looked up at her mother for confirmation.

  "It's true, couriana. He's the one who saved your cousin Vasili."

  "Really?"

  Jullien nodded.

  She approached him slowly. He held his hand up for her inspection. "See. I'm harmless."

  After a few seconds, she laced her fingers with his and smiled. "Okay. I'll believe you if you carry me."

  Jullien laughed as Oxana groaned.

  "She's my con artist in training."

  Gathering her in his arms, Jullien stood. "It's my honor to carry her."

  "You say that now," Sparn grumbled. "But she's heavier than she appears."

  Nadya stuck her tongue out as she settled herself into Jullien's arms and grinned happily. "Look Yaya! Naddi gots a ride to temple!"

  "So you did, Naddicakes. So you did."

  Ushara smiled at the sight of Jullien carrying her niece while walking with Vasili. It did the strangest things to her breathing. And gave her a strange, weepy feeling inside.

  Mary snuck up behind her to grab her into a hug. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" she whispered in her ear. "And tell me ... how sexy is a male who carries a baby without complaint? Couldn't you just gobble that up with honey and biscuits?"

  "Would you stop?"

  "Can't stop. Not when it's something that fine." She made a purring noise.

  "We're heading to temple and you're being awful."

  "I need something to confess. And given that you had unlimited access to that hard, nice crowpyn I'm amazed you're walking straight."

  Grimacing at her sister's vulgarity, Ushara prayed that Jullien couldn't hear them. But the devilish grin he cast her a few minutes later over his shoulder said that Mary's voice carried plainly to his exceptional hearing.

  Great. That was all she needed.

  As they reached the doors to the temple arena, Ushara sobered. Especially when she caught the expression on her older sister's face as Daryna waited for them inside.

  It was chilling.

  And by that cold, sinister glower, she knew Ryna would have an earful for her as soon as she reached her. Though honestly, she had no idea what she'd done to upset her older sister. Was it because of Jullien?

  Ushara glanced around at all the Fyrebloods coming to temple and flinched at the large number. Before she faced her sister's wrath, they had to get through the temple gate and the high priestess who was waiting to greet them and bless them on their way in. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all.

  Suddenly, she felt sick.

  Her heart pounding, she returned her gaze to Jullien. If he had any fear or reservation about this, he didn't show a bit of it. Instead, he kept his spine straight, his head held high and acted as if this was where he should be. As if he had as much right to be here as anyone else.

  But boy, did he stand out with his darker coloring. There was no missing the fact that he was a darkheart in the midst of those who'd been brutally persecuted by generations of his predecessors.

  They're going to sacrifice him on the altar of my blatant stupidity ...

  As they neared the priestess, Jullien set Nadya down so that Oxana could take her hand and have her blessed. Then Jullien went up to the high priestess.

  "Greetings, blessed High Mother." He held his hands out, palms upward, as if he'd done this a thousand times and was a practicing Demurrist.

  She brushed them with her touch and marked them with her sacred oil, then looked up and froze as she saw his face and took in his Ixurian features.

  Ushara heard her father curse under his breath as she held hers, fearing that Jullien was about to be rudely thrown out or asked to leave.

  Or worse, set afire on the steps of their temple.

  Instead, the elder priestess smiled warmly at him as she cupped his hands in hers. "Welcome, drey. The gods truly smile upon you this day. I often speak of a warrior's courage, but seldom do I see such in reality. And I know it took a true Kadurr to walk unarmed and in peace to these temple doors, knowing the hatred you'd face here." Kissing his hand, she bowed before him. "I am humbled by your warrior's heart."

  Jullien returned the gesture and kissed each of her hands in turn. "I'm the one who's humbled by your gracious welcome, High Mother. And perhaps not so much courage as simple contentious stupidity."

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