Born of Defiance (51 page)

Venik glanced to Ryn. “While I hate to lose my alliance with the Andarion tadara, Eriadne's
maybe
isn't worth angering your mother or splitting the Tavalis into another bloody clan war. Which is a sure thing if I start killing those under Dane Canting, especially her only son.… Tread in peace, little brother. Give your mother my best.” He called off his men and left Eriadne to them.

Talyn scowled as Venik walked away as if nothing had happened. He handed Eriadne over to Ryn before he moved to check on Qory and Morra. “How's he doing?”

“I've got the bleeding stopped. I just need the damn medics to get here!”

They arrived a few seconds later.

Talyn stepped back while they tended Qory. There were several bodies in the room of beings who'd been caught in the blast. He whispered a prayer for their souls.

But those words scattered as he realized that one of the bodies was Parisa's.

Damn. Venik was right. Eriadne hadn't even shed a tear over her own niece, or even thought about her. At all.

Hell, even Talyn felt a twinge of guilt for the part he'd played in putting Parisa here. He couldn't fathom how the former tadara could be so cold.

Not that it mattered.

As he started to tell the medics to take Qory to Andaria, his link buzzed. “Commander Batur.”

“T-T-Talyn?”

His stomach shrank at the terror in Felicia's voice. “Baby? What is it?”

“Awww, how sweet and touching.”

Talyn reached out to brace himself against the wall as his entire world tilted. It was Chrisen. “What are you doing with her?”

“What do you think? And if you ever want to see her alive again, I suggest you cut the throat of the tadara, and return my mother to Andaria. You will back my mother in her rise to power or I'm going to record the sounds of your female screaming your name for help as I skin her alive.”

Talyn couldn't breathe as those words sank in and horrified him. He had no doubt they'd carry out that threat.

But Parisa was dead.…

Everything turned hazy. A metallic bitterness stung his tongue as his ears became warm and buzzed. His back burned like fire. It was the same frightening sensation he'd had as a small child whenever his emotions had spun out of control.

Why he'd had to learn to control them very early in life. To let no one ever push his buttons. To keep every part of himself leashed at all times.

Now …

The beast inside him craved blood.

“Don't you touch her! You hear me, Anatole? If she so much as stubs her toe in your custody, there will be no hole in hell you can find small enough that I won't come for you and drag you screaming from it.”

“You don't scare me, lack-Vest. You have two hours to show my mother taking the throne. After that … this ezul Terronova bitch won't be so pretty to look at.”

Morra froze as Talyn made the sound of a rabid animal. Worried about him, she started to reach out to touch his arm. He threw his head back and let out a savage roar. It was so deep and raw, she felt it through her entire body.

All movement stopped instantly.

His breathing ragged, Talyn turned toward her. His eyes glowed a fierce red that was made more sinister by the snarl on his handsome face. An instant later, massive black wings unfurled from his back.

Holy shit.

He spread them wide.

“What the hell,” she breathed.

Falling away from Talyn, Ryn passed a shocked gape to Morra. “Anyone else know Andarions had wings?”

“You're all supposed to be dead!” Eriadne snarled. “I made sure of it.”

Talyn laughed malevolently in the former queen's face. “You missed one, bitch.”

During the “purging” of the Winged races, Eriadne had tested, by law, every member of those lineages to see who held the recessive gene. If the test came back positive, the Winged carrier had been executed. Every familial member. But because his mother's family was medical, the Baturs had found a way to fool the test and save themselves.

Now, Talyn was one of the extremely rare Winged gene carriers left on Andaria. It was why his mother had taught him well to control his emotions and keep his wings concealed.

No matter what.

This was the first time he'd ever publicly shown them, and the first time they'd been out since he turned eight and his mother had threatened to surgically remove them if she ever saw them again.

It was also how he'd known that he and Jayne were related by blood. The day he'd first seen her wings, while staying with her and Hadrian, he'd learned that she was not only part Andarion, but that her Andarion grandmother had been the younger sister of his mother's grandmother, who'd fled Andaria to avoid the purging.

They
were
family.

Talyn closed the distance between him and Eriadne. “Just so you know, that was Chrisen. He wants me to cut your throat and return his mother to Andaria to be proclaimed tadara in your stead. If I fail to do so, he's going to kill my female.” He pulled out his tactical knife, and ran his fingertip along the black blade. “The first half of his terms are acceptable to me.”

He stepped toward her.

“Wait!” Eriadne fought against Ryn's hold. “Spare me, and I can tell you how to get your female back.”

“You have three seconds before I trim your lineage.”

“The same way I tricked Nykyrian.” Eriadne glanced down to Parisa's body. “She and Cairistiona are almost identical in looks. Put my daughter on the throne and he won't know the difference. I promise you. It'll give you time to find your female and save her.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Eriadne lifted her chin. “Because my blood turned on me. If Chrisen wants me dead, I won't rest until I stand over his rotting corpse.”

That
Talyn fully believed. He also knew that Chrisen would never release Felicia. That slimy bastard had a plan and it didn't include allowing Talyn to live to seek his own revenge. Nor would he suffer Felicia to go free after what her father and brother had done to them.

Sometimes it's better to bed down with the devil than the devil's handmaiden
. The old Andarion proverb played through his mind.

His fury barely leashed, he moved to stand over Parisa's body. Eriadne was right. She bore a frightening resemblance to Cairistiona.

Talyn watched as they carried Qory away on an air stretcher and Morra followed in his wake. Rage pounded through him. So many had already been lost in this fight.

Even more injured.

It was time for it to stop.

He shoved Eriadne back toward Ryn. “Do you have a brig on your ship?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep her in it. Knock her out if you have to.”

As Talyn started to leave, Ryn's voice stopped him. “I also have a fighter. It'll get you home a lot quicker than a ship. It's yours if you want it.”

Never had Talyn been more tempted to kiss a man. “Thank you.”

Ryn inclined his head in kinship before he led the way to the bay where his ship was docked.

It took Talyn only a few minutes to get into the fighter and acclimate to the controls and unfamiliar language. Basically, they all ran alike. So long as you knew where the key controls were, you were relatively safe.

At least he hoped that was true.

Talyn launched and headed home. After he set his coordinates, he called his mother to make sure she was still all right in the midst of this chaos.

“Oh thank the gods!” His mother wept. “We heard the command center had been overrun and taken by loyalists. I was terrified you were there.”

“What happened, Matarra?”

“Ironically, the same plan you had for Parisa. Once they heard she'd been set free, a group of loyalists decided to follow the lead and break in to release Chrisen and Merrell from their cells.”

Talyn cursed himself for his stupid plan. He'd never dreamed that another group would play copycat. “What happened to Lorens?”

“He was badly wounded when…” Her voice trailed off as if she'd caught some slip. “He's in surgery.”

“I know they have Felicia. Chrisen already called me.”

“I'm so sorry, baby.”

“Do we have their locations?”

“No. They removed their chips. We have no way of finding them.”

Talyn felt his back tingling again. Forcing himself to stay calm and control his wings, he focused on what needed to be done. “Is Cairistiona sober and alert?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“It's a bad time, Talyn. Nykyrian was almost fatally wounded while extracting his wife from his enemies. He's in surgery, too. And the prognosis isn't good. They don't expect him to survive the surgery.”

While he could appreciate that, Nykyrian wasn't the most important thing to
him
. “It's to save Felicia, Mom. Please don't make me bury her.”

“What do you need?”

“A miracle.”

*   *   *

After the loyalists had retaken the command center and Lorens had been seriously wounded, the remaining WAR soldiers had withdrawn to Anatole Base, where the majority of weapons and ships were kept. Talyn headed straight there. His plan was to mount a two-soldier mission, just him and Ryn, to get Felicia back.

The last thing he'd expected was the mass of troops who surrounded his fighter the moment he surrendered controls to the tech op on landing. Since his engines were locked down, there was nothing he could do.

He was completely at their mercy.

Disgusted at his luck, he opened the canopy and descended to the waiting mob he was sure would take him into custody.

They didn't. Rather they stood back to allow a colonel, who was a few years older than him, to approach Talyn.

The colonel saluted him.

Talyn returned it as he cast his gaze around the others, watching for any sudden moves.

“What are your orders, Commander?”

Talyn blinked twice as those words registered. He was tempted to look behind him to see if someone else was there. But actually, it made sense. With Lorens in surgery, he was their XO.

Yeah, that screwed with his head, too. He was the youngest commander in Andarion history, and that responsibility settled on his shoulders like a gravity-dense planet.

Finally recovering from the initial shock of their respect, Talyn cleared his throat. “I need stat reports.”

“The command center is still in Anatole hands. We have strike teams in position and snipers on the surrounding rooftops. If they step one foot out, we're ending lineages.”

Talyn considered that as he led the colonel toward his new office. “Shoot to stun or wound. Let's not kill anyone for being an idiot. Or for being loyal, even if it is to a fractured crown.” Honestly, had Chrisen not made this personal, Talyn wasn't sure which side he'd have been fighting for. “But if it's Chrisen or Merrell, I give full pardon to anyone who puts them in a grave.”

The colonel relayed Talyn's orders before he returned to his updates. “We still have no bearings on the escaped tizirani, other than Jullien, who is in Triosan custody. The other two pulled their tracers out before they ran.”

“Do we know who released them?”

“From video feeds, yes. We have the names of several traitors.”

“Has anyone checked to see if
their
tracers are working?”

A light of respect shined in the colonel's eyes. “No, sir. But we will now.” Colonel Tievel issued that order, as well.

When Talyn reached Chrisen's former office, the majors on duty opened the door for him. A weird, uneasy feeling danced up his spine as he entered, not for discipline this time, but for command.

It was the first time in months that he'd entered this office without a sick lump of dread in his stomach. And the weight of his new position and responsibility hit him hard. In the past, only his life had been on the line.

Now …

He held the life of every soldier who believed in Tylie and Saren in his hands. The lives of his mother and Felicia. Of Tylie and Cairistiona.

The future of the
entire
Andarion empire. It was all up to him.

Don't fuck this up
.

Gods, when I said I wanted my life to change, this was not what I meant.
He ran his thumb around the finger that held his homage to Felicia, and let an image of her in his mind soothe his trepidations.

Had he caused all this by daring to defy the gods and take something for his own? Was this his punishment for trying to be happy?

No, he refused to believe that. Just as he refused to believe he would never see Felicia again.

You're no longer alone.
He glanced around at the soldiers who were standing by his side.

Everything he'd ever wanted was on the line now. Even his life.

I won't go back.

He'd fought too hard to get here. No slimy little whoreson was going to take his life or his female from him. Not without a brutal fight.

And brutal fights were what Talyn Batur specialized in.
Bring it, bitch. With everything you have.

The only thing different was that this time, he wasn't fighting for respect or rank. He wasn't fighting for himself.

He fought for the only thing that currently mattered in his backwards, screwed-up life.

Felicia.

And he was going to end this. Once and for all.

*   *   *

Felicia wanted to cower and cry as she struggled futilely against the chains that held her to her chair. Before Talyn, she wouldn't have hesitated to fall apart and beg Chrisen for mercy. But one of the two things she'd learned from Talyn was how to keep her head up in the face of those out to harm her. She would never allow them to take her power from her and make her weak.

They weren't worth it.

The other was that she wasn't alone in this universe. There were Andarions out there who stood up for victims. Andarions who wouldn't let evil win.