Born of Fire (51 page)

And when he did, he would kill them both.

On trembling legs, Shahara strode into the Overseer’s Trigon Court that was located in Central City on Gondara. Here was the highest bastion of law and order in the entire Ichidian Universe. This was where every law in their combined worlds was made and the only place one could be repealed or overturned. The Overseer was the high judge of a five-judge panel and her verdict on any case was final and supreme.

Not even The League could override one of her decisions. She was the voice of the law and she was the last hope Shahara had of freeing Syn from prison.

Centuries after The League had thrown off the chains of the warlord tyrant Emperor Justicale, their leaders had come together to ensure peace and law for everyone—to make sure that no other warlord ever proclaimed himself dictator again. They established the five judges and assigned them the task of seeking out injustice and crime on any planet.

As a seax, she was their soldier who was charged with finding injustices and reporting them, as well as bringing in any criminal wanted by the high court.

All seaxes had sworn to listen for tales of political corruption or human rights violations, investigate it,
and report their findings to the Overseer. Once they found their evidence, the Overseer’s court heard the testimony and passed judgment.

It was also the Overseer’s prerogative to review any case on any planet that seemed to be a miscarriage of justice and retry the case.

In their world, the Overseer was the most powerful person alive. And even though Shahara had never before met her, she was an integral part of the Overseer’s world.

With a confidence she didn’t feel, she approached the secretary’s desk.

A few years older than her, the man’s hair was already turning gray, giving him a distinguished appearance. He looked up from his work. “May I help you?”

Shahara lifted her chin. “I need to see the overseer.”

“Your name?”

“Seax Shahara Dagan.”

He checked his computer log. “I’m sorry, Seax Dagan. You don’t have an appointment, and the Mistress of Justice has a number of meetings this afternoon. I’m afraid I can’t squeeze you in today. Would you like to schedule an appointment for next week?”

Next week? Was he kidding?

Syn would be dead by then, and that was the one thing she could never allow.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He looked back down, dismissing her.

Fiercely determined, Shahara stepped around his desk and headed straight for the office behind him.

“Wait! You can’t go . . .”

The two guards who flanked the door went to grab her. Shahara sidestepped the first one and shoved him into the other, unbalancing them. Sliding herself into the office, she slammed the door shut in their faces.
She locked it tight while the secretary’s muffled voice continued to berate her from the other side.

Her entire body quivering in fear, she turned around slowly.

The office was rather barren given the amount of authority the Overseer was charged with. All it contained was two chairs set before a large, ornately carved desk. Flags from all the organized worlds and empires were set along the left wall, while an electronic map of all the planets, colonies, and outposts took up the opposite side of the room.

The place was huge, no doubt to intimidate all who entered. It certainly had that effect on her.

The Overseer stared at her from over her computer with a puzzled frown. “Excuse me,” she said in a gentle, yet haughty tone. “Just who are you and how did you get in here?”

Taking a deep breath for courage, Shahara forced herself to walk the long distance to the overseer’s desk. “I’m here to right a gross injustice, Mistress.”

Probably in her mid to late sixties, the Overseer still retained a face that could only be described as beautiful and serene.

As a young woman, she must have been stunning. As an older woman, she was dignified. “Everyone who walks through those doors has that claim.” She sighed wearily. “And I haven’t the time to listen to your story today. Make an appointment with my secretary and come back when it’s more convenient.”

More convenient? Shahara was aghast at her words. She couldn’t believe they came out of the mouth of the very person all the worlds depended on for fairness. “No time for justice?”

The woman laughed as she leaned forward on her
elbows, folded her hands together, and rested her chin on top of them. “To be so shocked by my words, you must be one of my seaxes.”

“Yes. I’m Seax Shahara Dagan.”

Her smile was patronizing, but contrite. “Well, Seax, justice takes time, and time is one luxury I don’t own.”

Those familiar words haunted her, tugging at her memory. As the Overseer turned away with a mannerism she was all too familiar with, a strange sense of déjà vu prickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

Now that she thought about it, she knew the exact curve of the Overseer’s jaw—a jaw she’d kissed numerous times. She knew the little dimple in the left cheek that had tormented her with devilish taunts and quips.

Drawing closer, Shahara noted that the Overseer’s eyes were as dark as space. If she’d had any doubt before that, that threw it out.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

The Overseer looked up, her face impatient. “You’re still here?”

Too stunned to think better of it, she blurted out, “
You’re his mother
. . .”

The Overseer lifted her brows and stared at her as if she were crazy. “I have no children.”

Shahara shook her head, knowing better. “Yes, you do. You have a son named Sheridan Digger Wade and you had a daughter named Talia. And if you don’t hear me out, I swear I’ll let everyone know exactly who you are and what you did to them.”

Panic sparked in the obsidian depths a moment before the Overseer could mask it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

More knocks pounded on the door. It sounded like they were using a battering ram. “Mistress?”

Shahara gave her no reprieve. “Are you sure you want them in here for this?”

The Overseer hesitated a moment longer before she pressed her intercom button. “I’m all right, Briun,” she told her secretary. “Just keep the guards outside until you hear from me.”

“Yes, Mistress of Justice.”

She looked back at Shahara, and this time Shahara noted she finally had the Overseer’s full attention. “Now what can I do for you, Seax . . . ?” She paused and closed her eyes. “Forgive me, I forgot your name.

“Dagan. Seax Shahara Dagan. I’m here to get a fair trial for your son.”

Disgust and hatred flashed deep in the woman’s gaze. She curled her lip. “Like father, like son. I’m sure whatever he’s accused of, he’s more than guilty of it.”

“No,” Shahara corrected. “Sheridan is a good, fair man. Nothing at all like his father.”

“I don’t believe you. Evilness like Indy possessed runs through the genes.”

“And half of his genes come from you, Mistress. Believe me. Sheridan has saved my life more than once when other people would have left me to die. He’s not his father’s son.” She hesitated before she added, “But he is yours.”

There was something in her gaze . . . like those words had chipped away some of her ice. “What is it you ask for him?”

“I was approached by Seax Traysen on your behalf. He asked me to escort Sheridan”—it was so odd to keep using that name, but she wanted to ram home his identity to the Overseer—“in order to gain proof of assassination and corruption on Ritadaria.”

“The Merjack case?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She glanced down at the miniature flags on her desk. “Did you find it?”

“Yes . . . with Sheridan’s help.”

She nodded. “Very good, Seax. Now, how does this relate to a new trial for a convicted felon? A felon I’m sure more than earned his sentence for treason and theft.”

Shahara wanted to choke the woman for the obstinacy she had—for the same obstinacy she’d given her only son. What would it take to make her see she was wrong?

What would it take to make Syn’s own mother at least
hear
his case?

Thinking, she scanned the certificates and honors lining the walls behind the Overseer. And as the dates of the Overseer’s commissions registered in her mind, she had an epiphany. “How long have you been the Overseer, Mistress of Justice? Twenty years?”

“Twenty-three to be precise. Why?”

Her stomach turned to stone with those words. It was just as she suspected. No wonder Syn had never come forward to clear his name.

It would have meant facing the woman who’d told him that if she ever laid eyes on him again, she’d have him imprisoned. It would have meant facing the woman who’d tried to kill him when he was an infant, and who had twice abandoned him to a world that hated him.

The harsh reality of that made her wince, but at least she finally understood why Syn had preferred to remain a criminal rather than clear his name.

Honestly, she couldn’t blame him for the decision.

“Do you realize, Mistress of Justice, that
your
son has been running from tracers and assassins for twenty-three years because he’d rather be killed by them than
ask anything from you? Even a fair trial, which is the very least of what he deserves?”

Shahara boldly looked the Overseer up and down, noting that she took her words in stride. “From the outer looks of him, he has far more of your genes in him than his father’s. But then, I guess maybe I’m wrong. Unlike you, Sheridan would never allow an innocent man to die without a hearing. He’d at least take the time to listen to the case before he condemned the person to a death he didn’t deserve. And he sure wouldn’t condemn someone for his own actions that they didn’t have any part in. He’s remarkably decent that way.”

She felt her eyes water as she thought about Syn and the son he continued to claim in spite of everything Mara and Paden had done to him. “You should also know that unlike you, he still provides for his son even though he’s not the biological father . . . and his ex-wife, like you, has tried repeatedly to kill him and arrest him, not for
his
crimes, but for those of his father.”

Poor Syn, to have been relegated to such cold-blooded bitches in his life.

“As a young man, he crawled out of the sewers you abandoned him in and went to med school on his own. He became a surgeon until a reporter exposed his past. Even then, he didn’t become his father. He built a shipping company and was leading a respectable life until I screwed him over.”

“What of Kiara Zamir? Did he not rape and murder her?”

“She’s alive and well, if you’ll bother to check. Sheridan was protecting her when her father threw a fit and, rather than give him the benefit of the doubt, called out for an execution. Syn’s only crime was not handing his best friend—the man who is in love with Kiara and
who still protects her—over to President Zamir. He would rather die than betray his friend. Again, not the actions of his father—but those of a decent man. And at this point, I have no idea where he learned his decency. It certainly wasn’t from his mother.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” the Overseer said, stopping her.

Shahara turned to face her.

“You have proof of his innocence?”

Crossing the floor to stand before the desk, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the chip. “This proves his innocence conclusively, as well as the guilt of the Merjacks.”

“You have reviewed the chip?”

“Yes, Mistress of Justice.”

The Overseer took it from her hand and placed it in an airtight container. Positioning it carefully before her, the Overseer studied the tiny chip that contained Syn’s entire future.

Shahara held her breath, praying for a miracle.

Finally the Overseer looked up at her. “I can get him a fair trial, but that’s all. If our court finds him guilty, then I’ll do nothing to stay his execution.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Very well. Where is he being held?”

“Ritadaria.”

She tilted the container so that the chip fell into one corner. “I’ll send an escort with you to have him transferred here for incarceration until his trial.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Silence fell between them. Shahara could tell the Overseer wanted to say something more, but doubt hovered in her eyes while she continued to study the chip. “Tell me something, Seax.”

“Yes?”

“Really, is he a decent man?”

“Yes, Mistress. I’ve never known a more noble one. He does you proud every day he lives.”

She smiled.

“And may I ask you a harsh question?”

“Why did I leave them?”

Shahara shook her head. “Why did you try to kill him when he was an infant?”

The color faded from her face. “What?”

“Digger told me that you tried to kill him when he was an infant.”

Her cheeks darkened with anger. “That’s a lie. Talia had wanted to bathe him and I let her. She’d allowed him to fall beneath the water and drown. I was the one who revived him, but Indy wouldn’t believe me. I
never
hurt my children.”

“But you left them.”

Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I had no choice. Indy would have killed me had I stayed. I kept hoping that I could convince my parents to take them in. After awhile, it just got easy to live without them.”

“And when he came to you when he was twelve?”

“He caught me by surprise and I didn’t know what to do. I would have lost everything I had if anyone ever learned that I had been married to Idirian Wade. I panicked when I saw Sheridan and overreacted. By the time I came to my senses, he was gone.”

Shahara shook her head. “You see how easy it is to be misjudged when you don’t have all the facts?”

“Don’t lecture me, child. You have no idea what I’ve been through over these years.”

“And you have no idea what
your
son has had to face alone because of what
you
did.”

The Overseer didn’t speak as those words hung between them. After a few seconds, she glanced up. “Do you know whatever became of his sister, Talia? Is she all right?”

Shahara swallowed at the desperate longing in the woman’s voice. “No, Mistress. Talia killed herself a long time ago to escape her father.”