Born of Legend (18 page)

He tried to pull away again.

“Jullien?”

He finally met her gaze. His eyes were empty except for the anguish that seemed to be branded so deep in his soul that it held a permanent place there. “I traded my ring for them.”

She was aghast at him. “What? Why?”

Shrugging, he blushed again. “Your sister has a family to support. I don't.”

“But that ring—”

“It never did anyone any good. Trust me on that. Hell, I don't even know why I kept it.”

“Admiral?”

Jullien finally managed to pull away from her grasp.

Ushara turned as Gunnar called for her again.

“You're needed at command.”

“Coming.”

Jullien had vanished so fast, she didn't even see where he went. There was no sign of him anywhere. How a male that size could vanish so completely and soundlessly, she'd never understand. He was more skillful than a League assassin.

Frustrated, she cursed under her breath. With no choice, she headed back to her office. But with every step she took, she kept wondering about him. Why would he help the very ones who despised him so?

Then again, it was sadly all he knew. Unlike her, he'd never had anywhere he really belonged. No group that accepted him. Neither human nor Andarion, he stood out among both races. Shunned, ridiculed, and hated by both.

The mean-spirited tabloids had taught her that he hadn't exaggerated in the least.

Prince Potbelly. The Rotund Royal. Jumbo Jullien …

They would all wet their pants to see him now. Lean and ripped. Even in ragged clothing, he was edible and irresistible. There wasn't a female anywhere who wouldn't slit her own mother's throat for a piece of that delectable ass, with or without a noble lineage attached to it.

And sadly, the tabloids had only given him peace from their viciousness after he'd been disinherited. With one last volley of cruelty, they'd run headline after headline extolling his brother's rise as heir and Jullien's fall from grace.

Tahrs Jullien Banished to Obscurity! All Hail Tahrs Nykyrian! Huzzah!
Photos of Nykyrian's coronation had been run alongside those of Jullien's arrest mugshots where they'd overlaid the word
Exiled
or
Outcast
over his face. Or worse, they simply put an
X
over Jullien's image.

No wonder he'd traded his ring. In retrospect, why
had
he kept it?

If she lived to be a thousand years old, she'd never understand how his parents could have thrown him away, and not called to see if he was all right. Just once. Weren't they the least bit curious about what had become of their own son? If he was even alive?

It just didn't make sense to her that no one in his family cared for him. At all.

And that broke her heart completely.

*   *   *

Jullien let out a tired sigh as he finished working on the small freighter. He double-checked the coolant to make sure the tanks were filled to capacity and ran the last of the diagnostics. While the system tested the protocols, he wiped down the panels and polished them.

But his mind wasn't really on that. Rather, his thoughts were on things he knew better than to dream about. On a particular long-legged, curvaceous Fyreblood who warmed him when she shouldn't.

Angry at his wayward thoughts, he locked down the ship and took the command module back to the drop site. Unlike the other volunteers, he didn't personally hand it off to the owner. Honestly, he didn't want any kind of gratitude or acknowledgment for his services.

That wasn't why he did this. He did it for those in need, not for his own ego. He didn't deserve anything out of helping others. Rather he was trying to make amends for the ills he'd done in the past.

For all the wrongs his family had done to this universe.

So he quietly slid the module into the reclamation slot and vanished before anyone saw him. Then he grabbed another charity assignment from the listing wall and faded into the shadows.

Your grandmother would shit to see you now.

She'd disdained charity of any sort. To her, mercy was weakness. Compassion an even graver sin to be purged and punished.

Only power and discipline mattered. Unchallenged authority.

It was better to be feared than loved. And in that regard, she'd achieved her nirvana—for she was the most feared of any female ever born.

He definitely couldn't have hated her any more if he tried. It was why after she'd fled Andaria during the riots and taken refuge on the Porturnun Station that he'd gleefully hand-fed Parisa her location and had allowed his cousin to lead his grandmother's enemies straight to her there so that they could apprehend the lethal bitch and put his mother in power before his grandmother had killed her. It'd been the only way to guarantee his mother's safety.

Talyn Batur might hate him, but he and his mother, Galene, and the rest of WAR would have never succeeded in bringing Jullien's grandmother down and securing his cousins in jail had Jullien not covertly helped them to overthrow his grandmother's regime.

The Andarion rebel organization, WAR, had no idea that their key informant over the years—Dagger Ixur—was really Jullien eton Anatole, and that much of the sensitive information they'd relied upon to use against the aristocracy was gathered by his access codes. For that matter, he'd been instrumental in distracting his grandmother so that his mother and aunt could flee Andaria before the real coup had started, and his grandmother slaughtered them rather than see them on the throne in her stead. He was the sole reason his aunt and mother were still alive. The only reason his grandmother had kept his mother drugged instead of killing her outright as she'd done the rest of her family.

But Tylie would die before she gave him credit for anything. He'd risked his very life to cover their escape and allow them to reach his father's territory before all hell had broken loose on Andaria and the rioting started.

Instead of being grateful and realizing that he'd put his neck in a noose for them, what had they done?

They'd mocked him that day in the embassy after they'd met his brother for the first time.

In all the betrayals and beatings he'd suffered at the hands of his grandmother and cousins, nothing had cut deeper than his mother's own harsh words against him.

His mother hadn't slashed his heart.

She'd ripped it from his chest and fed it to him.

“Did you see him, Tylie? My beautiful Nykyrian is the noblest of males!”

“Indeed. He's an honor to our blood. Unlike Jullien. I shall never understand how the two of them were born together.”

“It's not Jullien's fault that he has the soul of the Koriłon. Oh, he gives me the shivers. I cannot bear to look at him for fear of what he might do next. I swear I see Eadvard staring at me through those cold eyes. It makes my flesh crawl every time he comes near me. I just … he's disgusting!”

“
You, sister
?
I'm the one who's had to suffer his vile presence the most over the years. Every time he opens his mouth, I want to slap it shut. You've no idea how happy I'll be to sign his exile papers and have him finally disinherited. I vote we shove him on Onoria and let the convicts there have their way with his fat, sullen ass. Not that they would. We'd have to bribe them with pardons to touch him.”

His mother had actually laughed at his aunt's suggestion.
“Don't tempt me, little sister…”

Jullien hadn't stayed to hear any more of their plans for his future. He'd been horrified and mocked enough.

Up until then, he'd been on the fence about helping Aksel take Kiara as a pawn to be used against his brother. But after their brutal words against him, he'd realized that if he didn't at least try, he would be cast out of both empires without any home at all, and no means to provide for himself—thanks to his parents, and his grandmother's heart-warming care.

While granted it was selfish, he'd felt as if they'd left him with absolutely no choice. They'd taken everything from him, and he'd had enough of it. He wasn't going to stand by and be left with nothing.

Not after all he'd been put through by them. The last thing he'd wanted was to see Nykyrian waltz in as the beloved son and replace him in his parents' callous, dead hearts and shove him aside like the garbage they proclaimed him.

And why not? They were already doing it.

His father's senate had moved earlier that year to have his distant human cousin named as the Triosan heir. And his father hadn't fought their decision.

“It's for the best, Jullien. That way your loyalties won't be split between the two empires. And you won't feel the pressures of being divided, which is more than you can handle emotionally. Trust me. I'm deeply concerned about your immaturity and sullen disposition. The way you're prone to withdraw during any conflict, rather than engage. You're just not ready for the kinds of responsibility it takes to rule, or the pressures of maintaining your composure under pressure. Really, it's in your best interest, and that of the Triosans and Andarions. You'll see. Not to mention, you don't know enough about humans or the history of my empire to rule it effectively.”

Something completely untrue. Jullien held his doctorate in comparative political science with a primary focus on the history of Triosa and Trisa, and had done his doctoral thesis on the comparison of the fall of Justicale Cruel with the collapse of the Trisani Empire. Not that his father had ever bothered to spend five minutes alone with him to learn that.

And Jullien had never been withdrawn or distracted—nor did he lack composure under pressure. For six years, he'd been enrolled in the hardest university in the Nine Worlds and been focused on his research, and knee-deep in learning eight dialects of a dead language, plus Caronese, while dodging his grandmother's hysterics, his mother's insanity, and five separate attempts on his life—two of which had been nearly fatal.

Meanwhile his apathetic father who couldn't be bothered to take his son's calls, had no idea that Jullien had ever graduated with honors from North Eris University, first in his class, as that took place during the entire year his father's parents had maliciously banned Jullien from Triosa because Jullien had refused to file down his Andarion fangs to please them—after they'd mocked him during one formal state dinner where his Andarion dental features had “embarrassed”
them
.

And his reward for surviving such glorious years of nut-wrenching endeavors?

Not the usual graduation ceremony and accolades most received for attaining such impressive goals.

No, not for Tahrs Jullien.

He'd been forbidden to attend his graduation—in fact, the entire event for that year had been cancelled by royal decree, as well as all degrees that were supposed to be handed out, and all students expelled on his behalf, for violating ethical code, thus guaranteeing that they would hate him forever.

Then Eriadne, in a fit of stellar rage, had destroyed all his school records once she realized his degree was in a human field of study. Worse? She'd executed his advisor and entire doctoral committee for daring to confer his degree on him.

So all his hard work and years of study were negated in the throes of one epic Eriadne bitch-sized tantrum. At the end of which, he'd been violently seized and imprisoned for a solid year, that included his twenty-second birthday, in her special hell-pit underground chambers that she reserved for those she hated most.

To say he'd emerged “a little sullen” from that precious experience was tantamount to likening a supernova to a pin light.

As for withdrawn … that stemmed from his respect of the fact that he was an Andarion and his father's people were human. The gravitational differences between Andaria and Triosa left him so much stronger that he was terrified of touching a Triosan lest he accidentally snap their delicate bones like a toothpick. With a hair-trigger temper, he didn't dare risk losing it around his father's race so he avoided any situation that could unintentionally ignite it.

Even as a boy, he'd stood as tall as most human men, and outweighed them by over a hundred pounds.

And once the Triosan senate decision had been made against Jullien's inheritance, his father had been in total agreement to let it stand in perpetuity. It was why Jullien had made so many trips there that last year. He'd been trying to make them reconsider, because he knew that Merrell and Chrisen were doing their best to overthrow him on Andaria, and that it was just a matter of time before they either succeeded.

Or killed him.

He'd felt that noose tightening every day, until he could barely breathe from it. Then to hear the mother he'd spent his entire childhood trying to protect, plotting with his aunt against him to gleefully toss him to the wolves to be slaughtered …

Or violated …

Jullien had wanted blood from all of them.

He was her son as much as Nykyrian.

Yet neither of his parents had ever once looked at him as anything more than a tiresome burden. An unwanted obligation.

So yeah. He'd gone a bit bat-shit crazy on them all.

The unfortunate part was that Nykyrian had been caught up in the crossfire of his fury as Jullien went against his parents and struck back at them out of a lifetime of justified anger and hatred.

And that was what haunted him most about the entire ordeal. His brother, alone, had been innocent. Nykyrian had never gone after Jullien.

Not until that night in the restaurant when Jullien had committed an unprovoked, unforgivable act against Nyk's wife when he'd allowed Aksel to take her.

Nyk had never deserved any of it. In that moment of desolate pain and rage, Jullien had crossed the line he swore he never would and become his grandmother. He had used an innocent woman and his own brother to strike at his parents.