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  Heat exploded over her face, especially when the others turned to look at her. "Sorry."

  Cyprian arched a curious brow.

  Ushara quickly looked away.

  But they remained quiet while Jullien fought off their attackers. When the fighting picked up, Ushara moved to take over communications for him.

  She'd done it so seamlessly that Jullien hadn't realized it until the fighting was over and he collided with her. Frowning, he cupped her chin in his palm.

  You are such a part of me. He sent the thought to her.

  She blushed before she kissed him.

  As soon as it was safe, they returned to base to regroup. Cyprian, Wynne, Trajen, and Jullien went to the conference room while Ushara led Thraix and Davel to her parents. Unira and Zellen took over the temporary relief aid for the rest of the Mavericks, with the help of Sheila and several other Tavali.

  Trajen shook his head as soon as they were secure. "So, someone is posing as us to set us against each other...."

  Cyprian crossed his arms over his chest. "Had I not been with you, Tavalian, I wouldn't have believed it."

  "Do you think it's The League?" Wynne asked. "They've been after us for a while now."

  Jullien sighed as he considered that. He met Cyprian's gaze. "Your father doesn't have a lot of friends there, that's for sure. However, I don't think The League would risk alienating an ally right now. Especially not one as powerful as the Probekeins, given that the Gourans are part of the Alliance. It'd be political suicide. Like it or not, the Probes are the Arhana System. You lose them, you lose Paradise City, Starken, and too many other resources The League needs right now for their team. If anything, I'd think Kyr would be kissing your asses to keep your father deliriously happy, and firmly attached to his hip."

  Cyprian sighed. "Then who?"

  "I have my suspicions, but I want confirmation before I say. Can you give me time to investigate it?"

  He nodded. "Right now, I just want to see to what remains of my people."

  His eyes sympathetic, Trajen stood. "I've got transports headed in that'll take you to your father's territory, or wherever you want to go. As well as volunteers to protect you until you're back on your feet."

  "I won't forget this. While we've never really been allies before, that changes after this." Cyprian held his hand out to Trajen. "You ever need us, say the word. We're there. So long as I have shelter and food, you have shelter and food." For a Maverick, that was the highest testament of friendship.

  "Thank you." Trajen shook his hand.

  Cyprian turned to Jullien. "And you ... you saved us." His gaze went to his wife. "From this day forward, you are family. You ever get tired of your Canting, call me. You'd make a fine Maverick."

  "Hey now," Trajen groused. "Poaching one of my best while I'm standing here? Really?"

  "Would you rather I poach him behind your back?"

  "Rather you not poach him at all."

  Jullien laughed. "No worries. The new wears off me real quick. Which is why I have to stay with Tray. He knows what an asshole I am."

  Cyprian snorted as Trajen opened the door and had Ushara's receptionist escort them back to the bay, where the rest of their people were awaiting transports.

  When Jullien started to leave, Trajen stopped him and closed the door. "Do you really think it's Nyran?"

  "Worse. I think it's Braxen Venik."

  "Explain."

  "Something Nyran and Varan said when all this started." Jullien turned on the wall monitor and pulled up the star chart for Venik's territory. The Ports were based in the same system as the Andarions. "I'm thinking Venik and my grandmother are working together to overthrow my mother and brother, and to come after you."

  "Jules..."

  "Yeah, I know. I'm accusing a HAP of treason. It's why I didn't say anything. I need evidence."

  "Yes, you do. Hard evidence, or it's your ass. And there won't be anything I can do to save it."

  "Trust me, I know. But think about it. Who else would impersonate you and me? Why bother? And to what end?" Jullien walked to the maps. "Unless they broke us and the Mavericks." He marked it on the monitor. "Then they'd control the largest shipping routes in all the Nine Worlds. Everyone would cow to them. They'd be invincible. Forget Justicale Cruel. They'd be the shit."

  Trajen narrowed his eyes on Jullien's notes. "They don't know I'm Trisani."

  "No. Nor do they know about Thraix."

  "And they think you're dead."

  Jullien nodded slowly. "Yeah, but they have some doubts."

  "Because you won't keep your damn fool head down."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he screwed his face up. "I'm a little stubborn. But anyway, I think it's why Nyran's been so bold. If his father's leading this..."

  "Makes sense." Trajen looked back at the monitor. "Too much, actually. Ven's always been in it for the profit, and for himself."

  "Yeah. He's an entitled bastard."

  "You know why, don't you?"

  Jullien shook his head.

  "C'mon, Jules. You're more intuitive than that. You know how assholes think. Especially entitled ones. What motivates them. Why do you think he's got the issues he has?"

  Scowling, he ran over in his mind what little he knew about the pirate bastard. "He's a hybrid. That screws with you, in and of itself."

  "And..."

  Jullien felt really stupid as he drew a total blank. "I got nothing."

  "Here, let me make this easy on you. His father was Serus of the Warring Blood Clan Venik."

  Gaping, Jullien stared at Trajen as he finally saw the point with crystal clarity. "You're shitting me."

  Trajen shook his head.

  Yeah, that was a name he knew well. Serus had been disowned by his mother when he broke pledge with his Andarion fiancee and married a human. But that wasn't the most shocking part. The shocking part was why Jullien knew their names.

  Serus had been a distant cousin of his.

  More to the point, Serus's mother had been born Alya of the Warring Blood Clan of Hauk.

  Which made Braxen Venik the second cousin of Fain Hauk. And put him firmly in the ranks of the single most prestigious military family on all of Andaria, and gave him royal blood.

  Shkyte ykel.

  "By that lovely expression on your face, I'm going to assume you got the relationship bingo." Trajen leaned down until he was eye level with him. "And now I'll screw you one better. His wife, Malys, is the cousin of Chayden Aniwaya's mother."

  "What?"

  "Yeah. Chayden's mother is the Qill queen, Sarra Denarii. Malys's mother is her aunt, Shea Denarii. That's why Brax has entitlement issues and believes himself royalty."

  Because he technically was.

  "Titana rael."

  Trajen nodded. "Yeah. You put four egomaniacs with serious entitlement issues together, and what do you get?"

  "Fun times for the rest of us."

  Trajen nodded slowly. "But it's all speculation."

  Jullien ground his teeth as his emotions churned and his anger rose. "You know we're not going to be able to stay out of this war."

  His stare turned brittle. "Your son is seventeen. The day I declare it, he'll be among the first to strap a blaster to his hips and sign on. Think long and hard before you drag me to that fence. Unlike you, I've been on a front line. Ask Bastien or Thraix about the nightmares you carry for the rest of your life. You think you had fun in prison as a prince? It's a birthday party compared to time spent as a POW when your parents are the commanders for the enemy, and they think you have information they can leverage. Or they can use you to get to them. And you don't want to know what happens when your government falls to someone not related to you."

  "I do know. And I know what it's like to take a life when you're too young to cope with the guilt of it. And I also know what they'll do to us if we don't stop them."

  Closing his eyes, Trajen ground his teeth. "I hate war, Jules. Everything to do with it."

  "And it takes two to make peace. When one side is determined for war, you have no choice but to fight back. If we don't fight now, they'll take Vasili anyway. I'd rather he have a chance for survival, than die on his knees, begging." Jullien clapped him on his back as tears and grief choked him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go help my wife and her family bury their daughters."

  Trajen flinched. "They're going to blame you for this."

  "I know that, too. But I'm not a coward. And maybe it is my fault. Petran said it in the beginning, and it's true--the history of my family is written in blood. Perhaps that's the real Anatole curse. Rather than carry a genetic defect, ours is that our bodies aren't diseased so much as our souls."

  Trajen watched as Jullien left him alone in the room with memories and premonitions he wished he could purge from his brain. He didn't know which ones were worse.

  Things that had already happened he couldn't change.

  Or the ones to come he couldn't stop.

  CHAPTER 35

  Jullien stood beside Ushara as she laid the small farewell bouquets in her sisters' memorial capsules. Unlike the funerals he'd grown up with, the Demurrists believed in celebrating the lives of the departed--in remembering only the good about them. They saw death as a new beginning where there was no pain or worries--where the departed soul was able to be reborn with a clean slate into a better life.

  It was only sad for those who were left behind, who had to live on without them.

  Honestly, he felt like shit.

  This was all because of Eriadne and Nyran. But for him and his family, Mary and Ryna would still be here, laughing and dancing among their sisters and brothers.

  "Don't." Trajen put his hand on Jullien's shoulder as Ushara went to hug her mother.

  "What?"

  "Blame yourself for this."

  Jullien looked at Thraix, who sat across from them, holding a sleeping Mira. "How can I not?"

  "If you weren't here, Jules, Vasili wouldn't be either. Neither would those twin girls or Thraix. And you don't want to know what would have happened to your eldest son. But I think you have a good idea what the slavers would have used him for."

  He winced involuntarily. "Why does it have to be a trade-off?"

  "I don't know, but you saved a lot of lives two days ago. Cyprian sent a message saying that they're temporarily settled with his father. They're still doing their own inquest, and they're sending over their second-in-command in a few days to help us with our investigation. He also wanted me to tell you that he and Wynne are planning on naming their daughter Julia Thraixia in honor of you and Thraix, for saving them."

  "That's not creepy at all."

  Viv came running up to him to tug at his sleeve. "Paka," she whispered. "Vivie gots to go bathroom!"

  Smiling at her, he picked her up. "Okay, nyba." He inclined his head to Trajen. "Small bladders wait for no one."

  As quickly and quietly as he could, Jullien took her out the side door to the temple restrooms so that she could attend her needs.

  Once she was finished, he helped her wash her hands in the sink.

  In her temple clothes, Viv stood on the edge of the steel counter and stared at their reflection in the mirror. She moved her face back and forth.

  Jullien assumed she was looking at her face paint and comparing it to his, especially since she pulled his glasses off to see his features more clearly.

  Until she spoke. "We look like you, Paka, don't we?"

  "But you're much prettier."

  She frowned. "Why are our eyes green? Everybody else's are white. But yours. Yours are red. Why is that?"

  Using his powers, he returned his to their non-stralen color. "Mine were the color of yours until I met your matarra."

  She gasped as she looked from the mirror to his face. Turning, Viv touched his cheek to examine his eyes more closely. "Your eyes change color, Paka?"

  "It's called stralen. Some Andarion males can do it."

  "Why?"

  "It means that we really love our families. That we will die to protect them."

  Tears welled in her eyes before she burst into tears. "We don't want you to die like Lyra Mary and Lyra Ryna, Paka!"

  "Shh, nyba." He pulled her into his arms and held her. "Don't get upset. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I'll be here for a long, long time."

  "Okay." She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her chubby hand. Then she pouted again and turned to look in the mirror. "So why we gots dark hair when nobody else does?"

  "Mine's really dark, too. I make it blond to blend in. But when I don't bleach it out, it looks just like yours."

  She put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his so that she could stare at their combined reflection in the mirror. "So Vivie and Mirie look just like their paka?"

  "Yes. But prettier, like their matarra."

  "Will the new baby look like us, too?"

  "I don't know. He might. But he could look like Vasili. Either way, we'll love him."

  Frowning, she turned back to face him and pulled at his hair as if trying to make it grow.

  He grinned at her frustration. "What are you doing?" he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  "Will you make your hair dark again so that you'll look like us?"

  "Would that make you happy?"

  She nodded vigorously. "Then we won't be the only ones with dark hair and fangs."

  "Okay, but I can't do it the same way I do my eyes. I'll have to darken it at home later tonight." Putting his glasses back on, he carried her outside and stopped as he saw a group of Wasturnum who didn't belong on their base. Trajen hadn't allowed any other Tavali Nation to dock here in years, so how they'd been granted landing permission, he had no idea. But someone's ass was going to be raw later over this.

  Hating the fact that it was hard to look intimidating while holding an adorable toddler, who'd left smudged lip prints on his cheek from her kisses, Jullien approached them with his sternest frown. "Can I help you?"

  "We need to see the VA."

  "She's paying her respects at a funeral right now. You'll understand that I have no intention of disturbing her. However, I'm the FA. And you are?"

  "Ambassador Ryn Dane. I'm here on official business. These are my adjutants. Utran Belakane and Zosia Viga."

  Jullien steeled himself to show no emotion whatsoever. Especially since he'd gone to school with Utran Belakane and knew that little bastard intimately.

  And this was definitely not him.

  Not to mention the short dark-haired shithead pretending to be Ryn was most decidedly not the smooth-talking, debonaire Caronese prince who would casually rip the throat out of this impostor and smile while he did it. As for the female, she might be Zosia Viga--he had no idea who that was, but given that the others were lying, he'd lay odds she was, too.

  The real question was why they were here masquerading as the Tavali ambassador and his running mates.

  And how the hell had they breached Trajen's security to get this close to Jullien's family?

  Until he knew, he wasn't going to give them any personal details about himself, or anything else. In fact, he planned to get them as far away from his family as he could.

  As fast as possible.

  "Pleased to meet you. If you'll give me one second..." He carried Viv to the temple door. "Mia?" he said gently so as not to alarm his daughter. "Find Mummy, okay? I need you to stay with her while I talk to these nice people. Can you do that for me?"

  "Okay, Paka."

  Jullien set her on her feet and watched as she ran down the aisle, straight to Ushara. He didn't move until he was sure she was in her mother's arms and he visually checked that Mira was still asleep with Thraix. Vasili sat with his grandparents. Unira was at the altar, giving her eulogy. Trajen sat with Davel, Dimitri, Jay, Ana, and Axl, surrounded by their children.

  Assured of their safety, he turned back to face the others, and used his powers to seal the temple doors behind him so that no one could get in to harm them. Likewise, he ran a check with his powers to make sure no one else had made an unauthorized landing. "Where were we?"

  "Official Tavali business." The Ryn impostor moved closer. "Any chance we could talk to the HAP?"

  "None whatsoever." Jullien gestured toward the main offices, and fell into his role of casual field admiral.

  One of the many his grandmother had taught him early in life--how to handle the most terrifying situation as if it were a routine walk down the hall. To let no one ever see him panic or sweat. He could control his heart rate and facial expressions better than any spy or actor. "If you'd like to follow me, I can show you to a conference room where we can be more comfortable, and you can tell me what this is about."

  "Ah, yes. I'm part of a special coalition that Nykyrian Quiakides has put together. Have you ever met the man?"

  "No." Jullien folded his hands behind his back and allowed the impostor to give him more information so that he could see what the male actually knew, and what he didn't. "You?"

  "Many times. He's quite the tactful politician. A real chip off his father."

  Yeah, not even a little. Other than their physical genetic similarities, his brother and father were polar extremes in every way. His father would grind his teeth and suffer his worst enemy for an interminable tea, then invite him back for dinner and allow him to screw his wife and daughter in his bed--all to keep the peace in his kingdom.

  As a former top League assassin, Nyk's philosophy was, Kill them all and let the gods sort them out. And that was just for inhaling his air space at the wrong time of day.

  His father believed everyone had a right to be heard, no matter what thought was in their head--unless you happened to be his son named Jullien. Then every thought in your mind was trivial, ill-conceived, and drug-induced.

  Nyk believed the wise spoke when they had something to say, an idiot when they had to say something. And if you were an idiot, you'd best keep your opinion to yourself.

  Especially if you were his brother named Jullien.

  Hmmm, they did have more in common than Jullien remembered.

  Pushing that thought aside, he scanned the bay as they walked through it to make sure there were no other ships docked without clearance. As far as he could tell, these three were the only ones on the station who didn't belong here.

  And there was only one unfamiliar ship in the bay. Regular class. Unremarkable.

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