Born of Legend (108 page)

She arched a brow at the former League assassin. It was a very peculiar comment coming from the mouth of a Phrixian warrior. As an extremely misogynistic race, they kept their females under strict lock and key—which was why Morra was so hostile to him. She was Schvardan, and apparently more than just the green skin differentiated her species from Saf's Naglfari Phrixian race.

Only Saf's brother Maris was immune from Morra's hatred of Naglfari males. And only because Morra loved and respected him, and had dubbed Maris an honorary Schvardan.

Supposedly, to protect them from all threats, the Naglfari females were banned from any dangerous activity, including military service. From what Ushara had been told, they weren't even allowed to leave their homes to visit a friend or family member without a male escort. And he
must
be her husband, father, brother, or son, or another
very
close blood relation. Any female found without an escort could be arrested.

So Saf's comment was highly unusual for his upbringing. “Why's that?” she asked him.

“Aside from the fact that you're some of the best trained soldiers I've ever had the honor of serving with, your females are voraciously protective of their team, and especially their males. I know you're not going to let anything get through you. And if it comes down to it, you'll go out fighting with everything you have. I respect your warrior's code.” He handed her his rifle. “Watch the kick on it. It's a Phrixian weapon, stronger than anything you've ever shot before. Think of it like a handheld ion cannon.”

Saf took a second to show her how to properly hold and fire it. “Just make sure you have it anchored at your shoulder when you shoot, or it'll break your collarbone.”

“Thank you.”

“Lützu.”

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
vörgäte.

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.