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  No, they didn't clean the cages out between fights and what remained of the losers was barely identifiable in the dirt and sawdust that covered the floors.

  Bile rose in her throat. She shook her head to clear it before she gave in and undignified herself in public. "We've got to get him out of here before the next fight."

  A deafening roar went through the crowd.

  Davel cursed. "I think we're too late."

  Ushara watched in horror as a buzzer sounded and two fighters were literally slung into the cage from opposite doors. They rebounded off the electrified bars that sent green and blue sparks arcing out into the cheering crowd. And the instant she recognized the Andarion with red eyes, it ignited a fury within her that she'd only tasted one other time in her life.

  The day she'd gone after Chaz's brother.

  In that heartbeat, everything went dark and her sight dimmed....

  Davel stepped back in fear at the same time Trajen caught the expression on Ushara's face.

  "What do we do?" Davel asked him.

  Trajen had no idea. This was what he'd hoped to avoid and it was why he'd chosen Ushara as his VA. While Jullien's Samari lineage was the first among the Fyrebloods, Ushara's Altaan was the second. Unlike the other massive warrior tribes of Andaria, the Fyrebloods had always been extremely reclusive. They'd taken to the highest mountains to cluster in small family clans. Their numbers had intentionally been kept tiny in comparison to their darker counterparts on the ground. Mostly in an effort to keep the Ixurianir from noticing them and attacking them.

  Though they were as war-loving as the rest of their Andarion brethren, they were also every bit as honorable when it came to the rules of battle and conflict. The Fyrebloods knew they had a distinct advantage with their pyrokinetics, and so they'd avoided conflict with the Ixurianir, seeing it as dishonorable to battle those who couldn't defend against them. They turned to philosophy and became the teachers and priests of Andaria.

  Until technology arose that leveled the playing field and forced the different species to merge together again. As Andaria became civilized and their castes were set, the Fyrebloods, unlike the winged and Ixurianir Andarion clans, were barred from the noble and warrior ranks, and given to a caste below both groups. They weren't even allowed to fight in the First Plenum for a place in their ruling government or military.

  Something that hadn't set well with a group that believed themselves to be descended and birthed from the original gods of Andaria. So the Fyrebloods had become even more reclusive and withdrawn. Resentful. And that had led to more suspicion from the others who feared what the Fyrebloods might be plotting against them in seclusion.

  Until the inevitable happened and war broke out between the groups. Overwhelmed by sheer numbers and no match for the growing technology that could launch a targeted missile from a farther distance than their incendiary breath, the Fyrebloods were pushed into an even lower caste and their numbers reduced to near extinction levels.

  Those who possessed the stralen genes were the first to sacrifice themselves for the protection of their families. And they were the ones systematically targeted by the Ixurianir for execution.

  Then just as it seemed the Fyrebloods were done for, a miracle happened. A single Altaan warrior rose through the ranks to lead her people in rebellion against the Ixurianir. And she was the one who had been entrusted with the last Samari son--her own nephew. An infant whose mother, Zira, had died moments after his birth of the wounds she'd sustained in battle, fighting beside her sister warriors. Yvera Altaan was the one who'd taken that infant into hiding and raised him.

  It would be his son, Edon Samari who would be sent years later as an envoy to negotiate peace with their tadara, Eriadne eton Anatole. Renowned for his charm and wit, Edon won more than Eriadne's support.

  He, alone, had won her frigid heart.

  Even though she was already married, with children, Edon had set out to seduce her and had plotted against her husband. In true, ruthless fashion, he manipulated and vied for power, hoping to save the last of his race. His goal was to bring down the tadara and her consort who'd already purged the winged clans from Andaria.

  Wanting to save the Fyrebloods from another "Cleansing," he intended to murder Faran and replace him as tadar, then kill Eriadne and see his own children as the reigning monarchs of Andaria.

  That had been his plan.

  Until the unthinkable occurred. Somehow during his seduction of his queen, he became the one enchanted and lost his heart in the process. By the time she conceived his son, he was thoroughly in love with his enemy. So much so, that he could no longer bear the thought of causing her any harm.

  Edon knew then that his days were numbered.

  And so they were. As soon as her husband uncovered her scandal and learned that two of Eriadne's children had been fathered by another, he ended their affair in the most brutal of ways.

  It was a courtesy she returned to him tenfold, delivered to her husband by her own hand while he ate breakfast at her table.

  Only to learn that he hadn't been the one who'd uncovered the lie or the one who'd killed her lover. Rather, it'd been her own sister who'd murdered Edon.

  And so she'd handled that betrayal in true Anatole fashion.

  She'd gutted her sister by dinner.

  It was that kind of cold-blooded ruthlessness that had ended Trajen's family, too. While he despised bloodshed with every part of his being, he understood that there were times when it was a necessary part of life. A time when to preserve life you had to brutally take it.

  Some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. To save the body, the cancer had to be cut out.

  Trick was to know how to prune and how to surgically remove only the part that was bad. And to not damage the rest.

  That was where Ushara came in now.

  His powers were worthless here.

  Hers ...

  "Heads down!" Trajen shouted to her brother and sisters as Ushara's eyes turned as red as Jullien's. Fire shot from her hands up her arms and danced all over her body.

  No one could summon or control fire like a female Altaan Fyredancer. They were as dangerous as any stralen male.

  Patrons screamed and ran, as fire exploded all around them from Ushara's well-placed firebombs.

  With her head bent low, Ushara stalked toward the cage like the fiercest of predators. Trajen pulled out his blasters and took up point for her to cover her advance. Guards came running. Ushara blasted them with her fireshots before they could shoot her. Not even the electricity of the cage could slow her down when she reached the door.

  She wrenched it from the hinges with her bare hands and sent it flying with the same ease he'd used when he'd gone after the morons on his base. This was that mysterious "god-gene" that inhabited the Pavakahir females. It was as rare and unpredictable as stralen for the Ixurian male. Maybe one in five billion would be born with it.

  Probably fewer.

  To marry these two genes ...

  No one would ever attack his base and win, especially not with a Trisani at the helm.

  The Gorturnum were now as solid as any Tavali Nation ever created.

  Provided they got out of here alive tonight.

  Trajen fell in behind her and opened fire on the slags coming up from the hallway.

  Ushara ignored Trajen as she focused on the fighter in the cage who was still trying to kill Jullien. She blasted him away from her husband.

  "Jules!" She grabbed his arm.

  He spun on her with a growl so feral that she fully expected him to hit her. But he stayed his hand as his gaze focused on her features. Agony drew his brows into a stern frown as he stared down at her as if he wasn't sure she was real.

  "Keramon?" She recalled the fire from her hand before she reached up to cup his face.

  Jullien didn't seem to understand her.

  Suddenly, he snarled and fell to his knees, then started clawing at the collar on his neck. The other fighter moved in to attack again.

  Too late, she realized they had a neuroinhibitor around Jullien's throat they were using to control him and lock down his ability to protect himself. Ushara blasted the fighter away from them, then tried to rip the hinged collar from Jullien.

  It wouldn't budge.

  Shrieking in frustration, she let go of the collar and released as much fire into her hands as she could. She let it arc up, into the ceiling until it set off the fire extinguishers, which in turn released every alarm in the building and short-circuited their electrical systems.

  All of their electronics shorted out and went down, then everything went dark.

  "Trajen?"

  Finally, he was able to use his powers to release the collar from Jullien.

  It sprang free instantly.

  Coughing and wheezing, Jullien fell forward while she fireblasted more guards. They continued to shoot at them. Dodging the blasts, Ushara fried any and every one of the bastards dumb enough to get in her way and to try and stop them from leaving. She'd had enough of this. Anyone between them and the door was a crispy fritter.

  Davel helped Jullien up and put his arm around his shoulders so that they could quickly get him to their ship. But they had to blast their way back, every step.

  Not that she cared. She was more than willing for the payback, given the condition Jullien was in. Even Trajen seemed to be enjoying it.

  "I thought your race profaned violence," she reminded her boss.

  "Some days. Sadly for them, today isn't one of them. Today, I'm rolling around in it like an Andarion on holiday."

  Yes, he was.

  With her sisters covering their retreat, they made their way through the ensuing chaos left in their wake back to Oxana's ship.

  By the time they launched with Trajen at the helm, most of the Ladorian base had gone up in flames.

  Davel let out a low whistle as he helped her put Jullien down on an infirmary bed. "Well, we can all add arson to our League warrants. Thanks, sis."

  Rolling her eyes, she ignored him. "Get a blanket." She cupped Jullien's bruised and bloodied cheek while he lay on his side, facing the wall. He still hadn't spoken a single word to anyone. "Mituri? Can you hear me?"

  Jullien didn't respond at all. Rather, he continued to stare straight ahead, his breathing ragged and pain-filled.

  Davel covered him with the blanket. "I think he's in shock."

  She couldn't blame him for that. She'd be in shock to have survived that hellhole, too. "Can you take the helm from Trajen and send him back here?"

  "Sure." He left her alone with Jullien.

  Ushara knelt down until she was eye level with him. Stroking his cheek, she wanted to cry over what they'd done. He was like Vasili had been. Completely traumatized and comatose. Unresponsive.

  She glanced over her shoulder as the door opened.

  Trajen hesitated as he saw Jullien's condition.

  "Can you hear his thoughts?"

  "Yes."

  "Where is he?"

  Trajen let out a weary sigh. "Some place you don't want to know."

  Tears gathered in her eyes. "What can I do?"

  "You're doing it. He hears you, Shara. He's just not quite ready to face it all yet."

  She choked in a sympathetic sob as fury and pain racked her. Never had she wanted to hurt her family so much as she did right then. "Just so you know, I'm busting their Canting for this. I mean it. All of them. Even my father."

  "I won't argue," he said in a flat, even tone. "Whatever punishment you decree, I will back completely. Jullien was entrusted to them as a Tavali cock, and they betrayed him. You're not wrong. And he wasn't just crew. He was your blood family. Back in the day, the Snitches would be the first to demand their lives for this. This is exactly the kind of bullshit our Nation was created to protect us from. When we don our gear and board as crew, we are Tavali. We're supposed to be able to rely on each other, regardless of where we're born. Above all things. That's the sacred oath we all take. We don't betray our own. Not for any reason. Tavali stands together. No matter what. Blood for one. Blood for all."

  Tears blurred her vision. "Why do they hate him so much?"

  "You know why."

  "He didn't do anything. He wasn't even born when it happened!"

  "Doesn't matter. Hatred is a blind and deaf, unreasoning beast that doesn't stop to ask why it attacks. It simply slaughters everything in its path without mercy until there's nothing left to salvage. It rots us from the inside out and leaves nothing of the host but an empty hollow shell incapable of compassion. It's why you can't let it take root. Once it starts to grow, it's the hardest weed to prune. And just when you think you have it under control, it explodes and consumes you entirely. All it needs is one target, perfectly placed, and your soul is the price you pay for having courted that beast you thought you could keep caged. It's the one beast we should never dare feed."

  "Is this what happened to your family?"

  He shook his head. "Fear and ignorance, and lack of understanding more than hatred are what destroyed the Tris. They are an even deadlier beast, at times."

  Her heart aching, she stroked Jullien's cheek. "Can you heal him?"

  "Physically. Yes. Those wounds are always easy to repair. What they did to his soul, only the two of you can heal, and that will take time, patience, and a lot of understanding on your part."

  She winced. "He was just learning to trust."

  "I know."

  Tears blinded her. "Is there any hope for us, Trajen? Tell me the truth."

  He was silent for so long that she began to fear he'd left. But as she turned to find him still in the room, she saw his eyes glowing a faint orange in the dim light. "You and the Danes are the only beings in this entire universe I consider family, Shara. You know this. There are none I give a damn about or that I'd cross the street to avoid running over. If I didn't absolutely believe you could be happy with him, if I thought for one moment that he would harm you in any way, I'd cut his throat myself and bleed him out at my feet. But happiness is never a guarantee and the path to it isn't always an easy one. And the gods know you two are stubborn, and you both have the worst tendency to undermine yourselves. So who the hell knows what future, if any, any of us have?"

  With those words spoken, Trajen turned and left.

  Ushara choked on a sob, especially when the wounds and bruises on Jullien's body began to heal. "You hear that, Jules? You're going to be fine. You swore to me that you wouldn't break my heart. I'm holding you to that vow. And I swear to you that I will not leave you alone, ever again. No matter where you go or what happens, I will come for you and I will find you. Even if I have to traverse the bitterest flames of Tophet and battle the Korilon to steal Corela's thorny hammer to do it. You will not live another day alone in the darkness. I will be your Darling. And I will guide you home."

  But if he heard her, he gave no indication. In spite of what Trajen had said, he was still lifeless and cold. Vacant. A living corpse. It was as if their betrayal had killed something inside him and she didn't know if they'd ever be able to reach him again. He was in the same exact state Vas had been in when Chaz had died.

  It'd taken her years to get her son back.

  She'd been so lost trying to find her child. And Vas she'd known his whole life. She had no idea where to begin to find Jullien. All she knew was that her family and his captors had put him through absolute misery. While Trajen had healed his injuries from her sight, they were still implanted in her memory. Those animals had torn him apart in that cage. They'd fought him like the worst sort of mindless beast in death matches.

  For that, she'd never forgive her family. How could she?

  But right now, the most important thing was her husband.

  Leaning forward, she kissed his bruised cheek and whispered in his ear. "Come back to me, Jules. I need my smart-ass Ixurian to keep me grounded and make me laugh. I don't like who I am when you're not around."

  Still, he didn't move or speak. The only clue she had that he might have heard her was that his grip tightened on her hand, ever so slightly. "Follow me home, Jullien," she whispered. "If for no other reason, so that you can see me gut my entire family for you on our return. I promise, you don't want to miss the fireworks that will come when I bust my father's rank in your name."

  CHAPTER 15

  Once they were back at base, Davel and Mary helped Ushara walk Jullien off the ship while her other sisters locked everything down. His movements were so slow and stiff that it broke her heart. She hadn't seen him move like this since Silig and crew had attacked him on his arrival and it made her crave even more blood from her family.

  This was twice now they'd gone after him for no reason whatsoever.

  Enough was enough.

  On the dock, Sheila was waiting for them, along with Unira. Neither said a word of greeting, but Sheila threw herself against Jullien and held him close for several seconds as he returned her hug without comment. Patting him on the back, she gruffly cleared her throat and inclined her head to Ushara. "Good job, Admiral." Then she was gone.

  With a gentle hand, Unira cupped his bruised cheek and gave him a sad smile. "I'm glad to have you home, m'tana. We've all prayed for your safe return."

  A tic started in his jaw. His breathing turned ragged as if those words angered him. But he still didn't speak.

  Dropping her hand, the high priestess stepped aside, then she placed a comforting touch on Ushara's shoulder. "I have a gift for you later, sweetling. I'll stop by tomorrow with it."

  "Thank you, High Mother."

  As they started toward her condo, Jullien's eyes flared and he let out a low, fierce growl. Before Ushara realized what he was doing, he broke from them and headed across the bay with a determined, murderous stride. If anyone else had been around, she'd have feared for their life. But no one was here. So she had no idea what he had in mind until she saw what was in front of him.

  "Ah crap," she breathed.

  He was going for Kirill's ship.

  She started after him, but Davel stopped her. "Let him go."

  Was he serious? If Jullien harmed that ship, there would be Tophet to pay for it. "Are you out of your mind?"

  Davel shrugged. "Let him burn the motherfucker to the ground. They deserve it. Don't you agree?"

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