Born of Legend (50 page)

Jullien's eyes watered, forcing him to blink quickly as unshed tears choked him. This was the first time in his life he'd truly felt like part of a family. He couldn't even begin to describe what it meant to him that they were willing to make this stand on his behalf.

And when her sisters moved in to stand at his back and touch him …

An unfamiliar warmth spread through his entire body. With it came the rage and hatred he knew all too well—that furious need to shove back whenever he was pushed.

“You dare question the honor of my family and especially the word of
mu Ger Tarra
Samari?” Jullien challenged the group.

His gaze never leaving the bastard who'd first spoken, Jullien gently lifted Ushara's hand from his stomach to place a kiss in her palm. Then he removed his glasses and handed them to her.

As soon as they saw the color, those around him gasped and shrank back.

Yeah, bitches, you better run …

With his fury mounting, Jullien stepped away from the Altaans so as not to hurt them, and let the powers he'd been working on with Unira for the last two months rip through him. Fire shot down his arms and to his hands. Something as a male Fyreblood he shouldn't be able to do, but apparently stralen wasn't the only mutation his father's screwed-up genetic donation had caused.

He let the fireballs fly out straight to the one who'd spoken.

Opening his mouth, he spewed his fiery venom at them. One thing about the Samaris, they didn't just breathe fire, they controlled it better than any of the other bloodlines. It was what had always made them the deadliest of the Fyrebloods and why they were the first among the Pavakahir lineages.

Several members of the crowd screamed and ran. Others stood completely still as they realized who and what he really was.

Dampening his fire, Jullien cornered the one who'd been rudest and dragged him toward Ushara. He forced the prick to kneel on the ground in front of her. “Apologize to
mu Ger Tarra
Samari and her family.”

“M-m-my apologies.”

“And mu matarra.”

“Forgive me, High Mother.”

Jullien finally released him. “Any other questions you have about the veracity of my lineage?”

“N-n-no, Gůr Tana.”

“Good. By the way, you should never,
ever
overestimate my affection for Androkyn in general or any particular desire I have to preserve your individual lives.”

Petran let out a long, weary sigh as he shook his head.

Ushara laughed. “Well, Paka, he is a work in progress. And we've come a long way. He didn't shoot or kill anyone, this time.”

“Only because you made him leave the blasters at home,” Davel said under his breath.

Her grandfather snorted. “Don't be so hard on the boy. They wanted to see him make fire. He gave them what they asked for. I got no problem with it.”

Her maternal grandfather, Carak, clapped a hand on Jullien's shoulder. “Proud of you,
tana
. It does my old heart good to see such spirit. Reminds me of my own
Koriłon-be-damned
fire-in-the-gut I had at your age. I was a bastard soul on its way to Tophet myself until the day Katira's mother tamed me. You think we were hard on
you
? You should have seen the way her father and brothers reacted when she brought me home the first time.”

Katira gasped. “You
never
told me any of this.”

“Not something a father tells his daughter. I didn't want you to take up the challenge. And it worked. You picked a male with a quiet, peaceful disposition for your husband.”

Petran stiffened. “Why do I feel suddenly insulted?”

Laughing, Carak popped him so hard on the back, he stumbled forward. “You've been the perfect balm for my Katira. There's no other son I'd want for her.” He jerked his chin at Jullien. “But I'm glad to see a Kadurr back in our bloodline. Keeps things interesting, eh, Vidarri?”

Jullien scowled as Vidarri and Carak walked off together, commiserating about the good old days. He glanced down at Ushara. “Did your grandfathers just admit to actually liking me?”

“I think they did.”

“This has got to be a sign of the Ormadum. I can't leave tomorrow. You're going to need me for the End Times.”

“Oh my God … Jules! Really? We're back to this fight already?” Ushara rolled her eyes at him. “Am I going to have to bash you on the head, knock you unconscious, and carry you on board?”

“Probably. You'll need a lot of help, though. I weigh a shit-ton. I also suggest Trajen. He's the only one here large enough to beat my ass with impunity.”

Laughing, she kissed his surly lips until he smiled again. As the crowd dispersed and the music returned, he slowly began to relax and enjoy the rest of the night.

By the end of it, the young males and females who'd been confirmed came together for a final dance and to show off their fire skills.

Jullien wrapped his arms around Ushara's shoulders and held her as they watched Vasili.

In two parallel lines, the group stood, facing each other. Vasili slid an eager glance toward them as he pulled his Þinsan-boll—a sacred, elaborately embroidered thick ribbon that held a large ball at each end—from his neck. As they'd been confirmed earlier, each of the balls had been dipped in blessed oils for the ceremony, then Unira had placed the ribbon around their necks.

Starting at opposite ends, each of them used their incendiary breath to light the balls so that they could begin swinging them by their ribbons in a beautiful, choreographed dance.

Ushara tilted her head back so that she could watch Jullien's face. “You don't have anything like this for your confirmations, do you?”

“No. Ours are much more somber events. With candles that we light through more conventional means.”

She caressed his forearms while they watched their son. “Are you ready to join our world completely and leave behind everything you grew up with?”

He glanced down at her. “I told you, Shara, I had no life before I met you. Nyk should have gutted me the night I betrayed his wife into the hands of his enemy. It would have been the kindest thing he could have done for me back then. But I'm grateful that he showed restraint and mercy when he had no reason to do so. And for what I have now, I owe him a debt that I can never repay.”

Jullien buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath to savor the sweetest scent he'd ever known. “This life you've given me … my greatest fear is waking up and finding it all a dream. As far as I'm concerned, I am Dagger Samari, Gůr Tana to Ushara of the Pavakahira Nyth Altaan, paran of her incredible and honorable son, Vasili Davers. This is the only life I want, and I will fight the Koriłon himself and all his
kybyks
to keep it. So there's nothing for me to leave behind.”

Ushara bit her lip to keep from crying as her love for him overwhelmed her. She started to tell him about the baby, then caught herself. He would never leave with Davel if he found out. She knew that with every part of her being.

He's going to be furious if you don't.

She laid her hand against his whiskered cheek and savored the rough texture of it. “I love you, Jules.”

“Love you more.”

Smiling, she watched as Vasili finished his dance and extinguished his Þinsan-boll in the fyreboll near the altar, then hung it up with the others. Unira blessed them each and passed them to their families.

Ushara sent Vasili on ahead with her parents so that she and Jullien could remain behind.

Once everyone was gone and the temple closed, Unira turned to Jullien. “You didn't want anyone else here to witness your exordium?”

He shook his head. “No one else knows I haven't received it. Not exactly something I brag about since it shows a genuine lack of regard for me on the part of my birth family.”

“That is an indictment against them,
tana
. Not you.”

He leaned down to whisper to Unira. “Doesn't feel that way, High Mother.”

Shaking her head, she gently pinched his ear. “Come, we can do this quickly in my office, and then you can go home to finish celebrating Vasili's Confirmation.”

Unira led them toward the small alcove that was one of the few enclosed areas in the temple compound. Her office was small and opened into a larger dressing room and antechamber. The antechamber held the door to the confessional area and a larger, extremely ornate room for private infant exordioms.

This had always been one of Ushara's favorite places in the Gorturnum station. The paneling had gold inlaid over the carvings and filigree, and it highlighted the historical paintings that chronicled the birth of the Fyrebloods as the descendants of the gods. She'd been here many times for the exordioms of her family, and soon she'd be here again to present their child for his or her first blessing.

Biting her lip, she couldn't resist caressing her stomach as she watched Jullien glance around the unfamiliar space.

In the shape of an elongated octagon, the room held a basin in the center and curtain recess at the far end where the priestess's small altar was placed between two columns that held up an ornate arch.

“Remove your jacket and shirt while I prepare the sacrament.”

Jullien obeyed quietly and handed his clothes and his scarf and glasses to Ushara to hold. She was grateful that his back was to Unira. Because when the priestess turned around and saw the multitude of scars on his body, the horrified expression on her face would have cut him deeply.

It took the priestess a moment to regain her composure before she rejoined them.

With an uneasy smile, she placed a small stool in front of the basin for him to kneel on.

His stare empty, Jullien hesitated. “We don't have to do this.”

Unira frowned. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell you are after seeing…” His gaze went to his scarred chest and arms. And especially his wrists that bore out the harsh tragedies of his past.

Sheepishly, he reached for his shirt in Ushara's hands. “It's okay. I accepted the fact that your gods abandoned me a long time ago.” When he started to pull his shirt over his head, Unira stopped him.

“I don't have reservations about this, Jullien. I only weep at the trials the gods have put you through, and can't help wondering why.”

“Obviously, I chafe their asses.”

Unira tsked at him. “You shouldn't blaspheme here.”

“Is it blasphemy to speak an obvious truth?” he asked honestly.

She took his shirt and handed it back to Ushara. “Kneel, child. Benediction has been wrongfully withheld from you for far too long.”

Jullien let out a long sigh. “Here's hoping I don't burst into flames.”

Unira laughed so hard, she had to step back for a moment to catch her breath.

After a few minutes, she returned to brush her hand through his cropped hair that was only just starting to grow back as she began the prayers of invocation, benediction, and blessing. She tilted his head forward, across the basin, and poured the water and oils over his head.

Once finished, she wiped and dried his hair with her sacred cloth and kissed each cheek and his forehead. “There, child. You didn't burst into flames, and since you are definitely past the age of consent, if you wish to sign the registry, I can go ahead and confirm you.”

“Sure.”

Unira handed him a regular towel before she folded and tucked away the sacred cloth and pulled out the registry that Vasili had signed earlier.

Jullien paused. “Shara?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Did you see how Vas signed this?”

He stepped back for her to look at it.

Ushara let out a small gasp in surprise, then smiled. “I think it's sweet.”

“It doesn't bother you?”

She rubbed his arm before she kissed his cheek. “Not at all. Are you okay with it?”

“Of course.” He towel dried his hair. “I just didn't want it to upset you.”

“I'm actually happy that he thinks of you as his father. He was so young when Chaz died that he doesn't really recall him. It's time that he had a paka to claim.”

Smiling, Jullien signed just below Vasili, then put his shirt and jacket on while Ushara took a picture of the registry. “What are you doing?”

“I want a photo of it to show my parents. They'll think it's sweet, too.”

Jullien wasn't so sure about that. Seeing their grandson using his new Samari surname might incite them to riot against him again. It definitely would make Chaz's parents want his head on a pike if they ever saw it.

Unira handed him his own copy of their holy book, the
Gæst Hælend
that she'd already had imprinted with his name on the cover. “I thought you'd prefer J.D. Samari on it since I've noticed that's what you've been using on official documents.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She patted his hand and gave him a small box. “The gods' blessings to you both. I won't keep you any longer. I know you have a party to attend.
Cald mitta
.”

“
Mitta, Matarra.
Thank you, again.” Jullien kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” Ushara repeated before she gave her a hug. “For everything.”

Unira patted her back kindly. “Good luck,” she whispered before she released her.

Ushara reached up to clean some of the smeared paint from beneath Jullien's eye. The exordiom had removed almost all of it from his face so that practically none of the Samari crest was left. She tweaked his nose playfully. “Now that you're a sanctified Demurrist, you have to marry me at temple. Full ceremony.”

He draped his arm over her shoulders as they headed for her parents' home where everyone was gathered for Vas's party. “You know you'll be stuck with me after that. Demurrists don't believe in divorces from sanctified temple marriages.”