Born of Legend Read online

  "Thank you."

  "Lutzu."

  She arched her brow, amazed at his intellect. "You speak Andarion?"

  "A few basic words and phrases. Nothing too impressive." He winked at her.

  Ushara watched while Saf armed himself from their locker. It was odd to be walking into a fray with him. When they'd been on the Port StarStation, she was highly suspicious of the Naglfari male as she noted his quiet, subversive ways.

  Like Jullien, he kept secrets and was extremely wary and watchful. Lethally reserved around everyone.

  But the moment he came here with the others and realized that Jullien was Dagger Ixur, his entire demeanor had drastically changed. He'd looked from her to Darling and let out an ironic laugh. "You know who Dagger Ixur is, right?"

  Darling had shaken his head. "Should I?"

  "He's the one who gave me the League intel we used to locate Zarya when she was being held by Kyr."

  Gaping, Darling had stared at him for a moment as those words sank in. "You're shitting me?"

  "No. I have no idea how he got what I couldn't access, but we'd have never found her without him. No one could bypass Kyr's security. You know that. Yet, somehow, Dagger busted through it and gave it to me. More than that, he's the one who had the layout and codes for the prison, and the guard rotation schedules."

  Darling scowled at Ushara. "Why would he help me after the shit I've said to him in the past?"

  "I told you. Jules carries a lot of guilt about what he did to his brother and Dancer when they were in school. To what he allowed his cousins to do to Talyn Batur. And he knows how much you mean to them, and to Hermione, who's important to Trajen. In spite of what you think you know about him, he has a very tender heart and generous spirit. Every time his grandmother goes after one of your families, or anyone you care about, he feels honor-bound to stop her and protect them for you."

  She looked at them both before she also told them another fact about her husband. "You do know that after he got that intel for you, he was in that rescue battle with all of you, too, as one of the Tavali fighters?"

  "Bullshit!" Darling's emphatic contradiction offended her.

  Determined to serve him a giant piece of humble pie, she pulled up Jullien's pardon and shoved the link in his face. "This is the pardon you authorized for all Tavali who participated that day, is it not?"

  It was a race as to whose jaw had fallen faster--Darling's, Aros's, or Nykyrian's.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Saf had nodded. "I remember seeing him in the footage of that fight when Kyr made me review it with him afterward. Dagger Ixur has that distinctive bug Canting, and he was one of the few Gorturnum in the battle. You can't miss it. That's why I assumed he must have been working with Sentella to get the intel we used to free Zarya and Ture."

  Darling took her link to study it more closely. "He fought beside us and never said a word." He handed it to Nykyrian. "There were a lot of Tavali in that fight. But I don't remember him specifically. 'Course, I was a bit distracted by other things that day."

  Nykyrian appeared sick as he passed her link to his father. "Why didn't he say something?"

  "You would have shot him without hesitation or question," Ushara had said simply.

  Their father had winced as he returned her link. "I was at the station when they handed him his pardon. He'd have been right there, in front of me, and I didn't even recognize him. He must have been covered the whole time for me not to recognize my own son, but I don't remember seeing a Tavali who was shielded."

  "He would have had white-blond hair then. With a full beard and stralen eyes. A pierced left ear."

  "Stralen?" Nykyrian asked.

  She nodded.

  "Shit." He looked at Darling. "I remember him in our group. We bumped into each other.... I even commented on it at the time, because it was so unusual. When I asked his lineage, he told me Samari, so I didn't make the connection. I took him as a Fyreblood and let it go so as not to draw attention to him from the Ixurian Andarions." He cursed under his breath. "I can't believe that was my own twin and that I spoke to him, and didn't know it."

  Her thoughts returning to the present, Ushara paused while preparing for the next battle as she remembered the expression on their faces as they came to grips with the number of things Jullien had done for them that they'd never known about. It was only topped by the one on his mother's face after Ushara had turned Jullien's chips over to her that he'd recovered from Andaria, and his mother had viewed them. The ones that proved to all just who and what Dagger Ixur really was, and why Eriadne and his cousins wanted him dead so badly.

  For weeks now, they'd pooled their resources as tightly as they could to find him.

  But it was Saf and Fain, working together, who'd finally come through for her. As she'd first suspected when they evacuated Venik's Porturnum base, Saf was still talking to his brother, Kyr. Yet not for the reasons she'd feared.

  In spite of everything that had happened between them, Saf still loved his brother and wanted Kyr to surrender. He was playing double agent in an effort to try and capture Kyr rather than slaughter him as the other Sentella members wanted.

  Just as he'd been unable to turn on Maris at the whims of his family, Saf couldn't bring himself to turn on Kyr and execute him. He wanted the League prime commander deposed, but kept alive.

  He was loyal to his own detriment.

  And that was something she could respect. Something Saf had in common with the male she loved most.

  With that thought foremost in her mind, she reached for Jullien's Samari Warsword.

  "What are you doing?" Nykyrian asked the moment he saw her with it.

  "Jules made two oaths to me. The first that he'd never break my heart, and the second was that this couldn't end and he wouldn't be able to rest in peace until he drove his grandfather's sword through the heart of the bitch who'd betrayed you all, and mounted her head on the flag post of the Andarion palace. This fight began the day Eriadne declared war on the Pavakahir and drove us from our native soil. It won't end until a Samari son takes his vengeance for his velir."

  "Velir?" Chayden asked.

  Nykyrian answered for her. "The Andarion word for people. But since Andarions aren't people, they refuse to use a human term for their group."

  Chayden grinned at her. "I can respect that. So what word do you use for nation?"

  "Same as empire. Insara."

  "Insara," Chayden repeated. "Ah, that makes sense."

  Jory snorted as he finished arming himself. "How? And in what possible way does that make sense?"

  "Tadara and Tadar for empress and emperor? Insara for empire. That would make ara the root for territory, correct?"

  Nykyrian gaped at Chayden. "Indeed. I'm impressed. Most don't catch that."

  "Pakti. Although..." Chayden scowled at Ushara. "It does beg one question about the root of tara, Ger Tarra, and Matarra. Also territory?" He asked that as if afraid of offending her.

  Nykyrian laughed. "From the Andarion Hygitir evest Marvikriegir--a barbaric time in our history. Yes. Back when we viewed our females as our territory, or property." He passed an amused look to Ushara. "They have since taught us better."

  "Yes, we have." She smiled. "Now, let's pray Saf's information is correct and that Jules is still alive and being moved later today." She refused to believe what his ring said. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. The gods wouldn't do that to her again. "It's time to bring my husband home. And to keep the promise I made to him."

  Ryn Dane frowned at her. "What promise?"

  "That unlike his parents, I would never turn my back on him and leave him in the hands of his enemies to suffer. No matter where he was or how difficult the task, I would find him and I would bring him home."

  Fain buckled his holster around his thigh. "If anyone had ever, ever told me that I'd be flying out for the benefit of Jullien eton Anatole, I'd have punched them in the throat. Never mind the fact that I had to beat down half my Tavali Nation to get the information on his whereabouts. I've never known so many to keep a secret this tight before. And I thought I had a lot of folks who hated me.... Damn. No one wanted to see an Anatole go free."

  Ryn sighed. "I wish Fain were joking about the body count. Are any of the Veniks still talking to you?"

  "Kareem. Maybe Circe. I'm waiting for Brax to go after my Canting over the damage I've wrought."

  His expression deadly earnest, Ryn clapped him on the back. "We won't let that happen."

  "No, we won't," Ushara promised him. "You and Saf need anything, ever--just say the word." And with that, she led them for their ships.

  It was time to bring Jullien home.

  *

  Weak and in more pain than he'd ever been in before, Jullien pulled himself up by his trembling arms into the rickety desk chair. He glanced behind him at the crushed and bleeding bodies he'd left in his wake.

  Eriadne had broken her final pact. Instead of holding him and torturing him for her amusement, she should have killed him while she had the chance.

  Just as he should have killed her that night in her bedroom when he was a boy.

  Missed opportunities.

  But no more. Blinking his eyes, he tried to clear them so that he could operate the communications equipment in front of him. He had to warn The Tavali and Sentella to stay away from here.

  It was a trap.

  And just as he turned it on, someone snatched him from behind and jerked him out of his slumber, back into reality.

  Damn it!

  It'd been another dream.

  Not real.

  Jullien woke up to find himself still in his filthy cell, facedown on the harsh white tile floor. Still bound in chains, with his hands behind his back, and muzzled, wearing only his ragged and torn pants.

  Eriadne stood over him, tsking as she gave him a petulant smirk. "Having a nightmare, little Julie? You were always a pussy that way."

  He sneered at her, not that she could see it for the muzzle he wore. The nightmares didn't come to him during his sleep. Those had been solely reserved for his waking hours.

  Glaring at her, he wished he had the ability to curse her and tell her what he thought. But the muzzle and neuroinhibitor around his throat kept him from breathing fire or speaking a single sound. He couldn't even use his telepathy to push his thoughts to her. She'd made sure he was as helpless as he'd been all those years ago when he was a boy in her tender, loving care in the vorgate.

  She let out a tired sigh. "How so very disappointing. No one cares about you at all. Here, I thought surely one of those bastards would come to save you. But alas, not a one has shown in all this time. How utterly pathetic you are. Every bit as worthless and unwanted as you've been since the moment my daughter shat you out and refused you her tit to suckle. We should have left you to wither and die in your crib."

  Eriadne stepped back and gestured for the guards. "Take him. There's no need to delay his execution another minute."

  Saddest part?

  Jullien knew she was right. That must have been the source of his dream. His mind was trying to come up with a solid reason as to why no one had come for him. He wanted it to be his fault.

  Not theirs.

  It was easier to accept it if he were to blame because he'd told them to stay away, than to deal with the trauma that they, like his parents, had just gone on with their daily routine as if he didn't matter. Cleaned out his room, given away all his belongings, and forgotten he was ever a part of their lives.

  Just like his parents had done once Nykyrian returned. They hadn't even had the decency to tell him themselves that he'd been locked out of their lives.

  Locked out of his home.

  Banished and forgotten.

  So much for Ushara's promises that she would always find him. That, no matter what, they would track him down and bring him home.

  The bitter reality shattered his heart as he lost hope of ever seeing her again. Of ever hearing the voices of his daughters or son.

  I just wanted to matter to someone.

  One sentient being.

  But that only happened in fantasies. And for others who were born worthy.

  Not for contentious assholes no one gave a shit about, who'd fucked up their lives. From beginning to end.

  Face it, Jules. You used up all your chances. It was a wasted try. There was never any real hope for you.

  Closing his eyes, Jullien fought against the despair that overwhelmed him. To be fair, he'd told Ushara to stay out of this fight. He'd even destroyed his wedding ring to keep her safe from Eriadne's clutches so that his enemies couldn't use it to find her.

  It's what you wanted.

  Still, it stung.

  After Eriadne had dragged him out of WAR's reach and deep inside her new hiding hole so that no one would be able to help him or stop her from torturing him, it had become obvious that he wasn't going to be rescued--that his grandmother intended to keep him hidden in her lair until she'd had her fill of fun--Jullien had thought the kindest move would be to let his wife think it was over, rather than to drag it out indefinitely. The worst was always the not knowing.

  Hope was a cruel, vicious bitch. Better to stop it and let Ushara move on than to delay the inevitable.

  Now ...

  He just wished he could see her one last time. Touch her white-blond hair and smell its fresh, apple scent. Hear her laughter in his ear as he held her.

  Wincing, he tried to stand and walk as they literally dragged him from his cell, down the narrow hall, to a waiting transport. They roughly shoved him inside and slammed the doors before they headed off to take him to a new location.

  Their tactics surprised him. He'd assumed they'd kill him in his cell with no one to witness the deed and bury his body in an unmarked grave somewhere.

  Apparently, Eriadne had something else in mind.

  Strange ... she seldom wanted an audience for her crimes. But as they reached their destination, opened the doors, and jerked him out so that he saw the public display and waiting crowd, complete with full media coverage from all Nine Worlds, he fully understood his grandmother's final act of cruelty.

  Eriadne wasn't allowing him to die as one of her hated political enemies or rivals, or a warrior, or even a tiziran.

  She was giving him the death of a traitor on the same spot where she thought she'd murdered his mother.

  His throat would be cut over a basin, and he'd be left to bleed out in public for everyone to witness his last choking breaths. No priest to pray over his corpse. No chance for his soul to find peace, whatsoever.

  Not that any Yllam priest would give him last or burial rights anyway, since he bore a Demurrist emblem on his chest. They'd even refused to bring him prayer beads while Eriadne held him in his cell.

  Even his prayer band Nadya had made for his birthday had been vindictively cut from his wrist and burned.

  Just breathe. A few minutes more, and this whole damn miserable life will finally be over.

  Swallowing hard, Jullien conjured an image of Ushara with his girls and son. That was the only comfort he wanted, and it was the one thing they couldn't take from him.

  His guards led him up the stairs of a makeshift platform that had been placed over the ruins of the palace, and shoved him down on his knees in front of the basin. When Jullien started to fight, they quickly used the chains to secure his arms to the basin's stand, and pulled him forward so that he was forced to lean over it at an awkward angle.

  If only he wasn't wearing the damn inhibitor, he'd be able to free himself and beat them all down....

  The huge executioner came forward to hold his head down by his hair while the crowd cheered and chanted for his slow, painful death.

  His grandmother's senior advisor cleared his throat, then read the charges against him for the reporters and crowd. "Jullien eton Anatole, for crimes and treason against Andaria, her tadara and radix, your own blood lineage and family, for betraying your sacred duties and honor, and turning against all you have known, you have been stripped of your titles and are condemned to die. May the gods take no mercy upon you or your rotten soul."

  He inclined his head to the executioner, who cupped Jullien's muzzled chin in his gloved hand.

  At peace with his violent death, Jullien waited to feel the bite of the blade against his throat. He held perfectly still, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him cower or beg.

  He expected the executioner to be rough. So when the male caressed his cheek with a loving touch, then sliced him, he was stunned.

  Doubly stunned when a minute went by and he was still alive and coherent.

  What the hell?

  Scowling, he looked up at the hooded figure to stare into a pair of beautiful, familiar silvery-white eyes. Not to mention, that wasn't an overweight belly he'd felt against his shoulder.

  Rather a very pregnant one.

  Ushara!

  Her eyes filled with warmth and love, she smiled down at him. "I told you I'd never leave you alone again. You're not the only one who keeps your promises, Jules Samari."

  It took him another minute to realize she'd sliced through his muzzle and not his flesh. And that she wasn't here alone. Trajen and Thraix used their powers to free his hands and snap the neuroinhibitor from his neck.

  With a strength he'd never known, he rose to his feet and pulled her against him. "Urtui aebre gevyly frag, mu sojara."

  She placed her hand over his heart and smiled up at him. "Haefre m'ixuri." Forever my darkheart.

  Tears gathered in his eyes until she pressed something cold and metallic into his palm.

  His grandfather's Warsword.

  "It's time to finish this." Ushara pulled her blasters out and opened fire on his enemies to cover him. "Your grandmother's on my right. Trajen and Thraix have cleared you a path to her seat. She's all yours, baby. Get her!"

  He hesitated to leave her side, until he saw that she wasn't alone. Nyk, Dancer, Chayden, Fain, Ryn, Darling, Syn, Jayne, Saf, Maris, Galene, Shahara, Nero, Talyn, Caillen, Davel, and Jory were there to cover her for him.

  Nykyrian inclined his head. "We've got Ushara for you, little brother. Nothing's getting through us."

  More grateful than mere words could ever express, Jullien saluted him before he turned and cut through the guards who came forward to block his path. Like an unstoppable storm, he tore a swath through them, with one single goal....

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