Born of Legend (69 page)

“I know. There's a lot he doesn't mention. To anyone.”

She looked up at Trajen. “How could she be so cold?”

“I've no idea. Anymore than I understand how Jullien was able to remain even remotely sane in that palace with them clawing at him constantly. But you did great. They came here specifically to flush him out and kill him. You caught them completely off-guard. Now she doesn't know what to think. She's not sure if he's alive. Captured. Dead. Where he is. And the bit about his being a Samari … brilliant. She has no idea if you're trying to blackmail her or just set her down. If anyone else knows that Dagger is Jullien or that she fucked his grandfather … It was beautifully done. You put her in retreat, and that's not an easy thing to do.”

“She'll be back, though, won't she?”

“Yeah, and we have to go release the rampaging beast I caged. Something I'm not looking forward to.” He sighed heavily. “Maybe I should give you the key and take a vacation.”

She snorted at his fearful tone. “You're not a coward.”

“Normally. But I'm sure Jullien's a special kind of pissed off right now. I really don't want to face it, and I'm not completely sure just how much power that little bastard currently wields. Especially as pissed as he's going to be over what I did to him. Honestly, and between you and me? He scares me.”

She thought he was kidding until he took her to the room in his basement where Jullien had torn the whole thing asunder. It looked as if a hurricane had exploded inside it. The whole room was scorched and destroyed.

Literally.

Yet that wasn't the terrifying part.

What truly made her want to wet her pants and had Trajen turning the palest shade she'd ever seen on his face was the fact that Jullien had calmed down to a stoic level. In fact, she'd never seen him calmer as he greeted them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Yeah,
that
was horrifying.

She exchanged a panicked look with Trajen before she spoke to Jullien. “Are you all right?”

“Only because you are. That was an extremely reckless thing you did.”

“You're not angry?”

“Beyond furious.” Jullien wiped one regal finger against his bottom lip before he straightened his red-tinted glasses in what had to be the most aristocratic gesture she'd ever seen anyone make. “Am I free to go?” he asked Trajen.

“Depends. What are you planning?”

“After I give my wife her anniversary present, I'm going to deliver Varan's head and testicles to my grandmother, along with my best wishes for her most grueling and laborious death.”

“The minute you do that, they'll know you're alive. Right now, they're not sure. It gives you a tactical advantage. Why not make use of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. She's Yllam Orthodox. Just like your mother and lyra. What's more, she doesn't know you're stralen or that it's physically possible for you to carry that gene.”

Jullien scowled at Trajen. “I still don't follow your logic.”

“Bleach your hair, Jullien. You don't just look like your basha Eadvard. But for his darker coloring, your uncle was a dead ringer for
his
father—it's why Eriadne favored him above all her other children. Crazy as she is, she did actually love your grandfather. And with
your
lighter skin color and blond hair and those red eyes, you would be a clone of Edon Samari … haunt the bitch.”

Jullien fell silent as he considered that. It made sense. He didn't favor anyone else in his family, on either side—including his own twin brother. As a boy, he'd been bothered by that fact to distraction. The Anatole genes were unbelievably strong. Most of their family bore an uncanny similarity to one another. It was what had allowed Parisa to pass as a twin to his mother, even though they were first cousins.

Trajen gave him an evil, chilling smile. “They tortured you with the lie that you were your uncle's spirit come back to punish them for their crimes. Fine, then. Be Edon Samari's ghost and wreak your retribution. Go for Eriadne's throat. With the powers you have now … think about what you could do.”

Jullien laughed. “I don't know if I should be impressed or scared.”

A slow smile spread over Trajen's face. “Bit of both.”

“If you were a little cuter and less hairy, I'd actually kiss you for this.”

“And if I weren't stone sober, I might let you.”

Jullien held his hand out to him.

Trajen took it and pulled him in for a brotherly hug before he pounded him hard on the back.
“Te amo, fratrem meum.
”
Love you, my brother.

Jullien knew to savor words that came from Tray's heart. Words the man didn't say lightly and had rarely spoken to anyone in his lifetime. They were as foreign to the Trisani's tongue as they were to his. He tightened his grip in Trajen's hand and inclined his head to him.
“Et tu. Unus ex meis intimis. Animae plusquam dimidium meae.” And you. My friend, whom I dearly love. My second self.
In Trisani, that was the deepest avowal of friendship—their code of brotherhood that their warriors swore to in the rare times they went into battle for each other. It meant that they would kill or die for one another's safety. Which in a society that didn't believe in war or violence, meant a lot more than it did in his.

Ushara choked as she saw the tears in Trajen's eyes. “I'm going to make a Tris out of you yet, boy.”

“Not if I make you an Andarion first.”

Laughing, Trajen clapped him on the shoulder. Then the humor died on his face as he glanced around the room. “
Et per ego te Deum oro!
Clean this
minsid
hell up! I'm not the maid, and I'm not picking up after your brat-ass tantrum. What is wrong with you?”

Jullien snorted. “That is a long and mighty list of psychological problems that would keep us here all night. However, the short answer is you locked me in. You fucking knew better. You're lucky I didn't burn the entire station down. But for the fact my son sleeps here, and baby Nadya, and my wife and her family, I
was
tempted.”

Trajen growled at him. “Why do I like you, again?”

“I speak your language … raw anger and fluent sarcasm.”

His nose twitched. “Call the cleaning crew. Good thing I have one … or two dozen. Don't tell them you're an idiot. And don't forget to commit a couple of felonies with your League files. And suicide.”

“Already done. It's why I didn't take down the access panel or monitor in the midst of my earlier tantrum. And what stopped it. Once I realized what Ushara was doing with my family, I offed myself quite beautifully in Kyr's League database. Made it a particularly gory report that was filed with high command and is backlogged in League bureaucracy. Gave my kill to a lower-ranked assassin who died a few days later, fighting against a Sentella–Caronese Resistance joint Task Force so they can't do a verbal confirmation with him on my demise, and there won't be any video evidence for the kill, other than a single photo of unidentifiable remains and his fabricated sworn testimony that I wrote, since The League forbids
their
key assets from taping themselves when taking out political targets. Burns my ass that the bitch doesn't have to pay for it, though. I'd like to see her choke on a bounty that high. But what can you do?”

Trajen ruffled his hair. “Bleach your hair blond. Become her throbbing hemorrhoid.”

“There is that to look forward to.” He flashed his fangs at Trajen. “And on that note, I have something else I've been looking forward to for weeks now.” He took Ushara's hand. “If you'll excuse us?”

“Yeah, go on. She needs something to smile about. She's been flooding the station for weeks now. You've been setting fire to my rooms. I'm getting too old for this shit.” Grumbling, he vanished.

Ushara screwed her face up at Trajen's departure. “I have no idea what to make of your relationship with him. He is so different around you. I wish you could see him interact with others so that you could truly appreciate how much he really does like you. He's a strange combination of doting father and watchful big brother. He doesn't tolerate or speak to anyone else the way he does you.”

“Tray's always nice to you.”

“I'm his VA.”

“Maybe that's why he's nice to me.”

She shook her head. “He liked you from the moment he met you in the bar, and offered to adopt you as a Gort cock. And again, he doesn't do that. I've never known him to be so open with anyone. Ever. We have some members who have been here since before I was born he won't even speak to.”

Jullien shrugged. “I guess he has a fondness for assholes.” He traced the line of her brow before he kissed her. “I'm sorry our night was ruined.”

“I'm sorry I upset you.”

“
You
didn't. And neither did Trajen. Not really. My grandmother did. I meant what I said to you. I will never be angry at you for loving me and trying to protect me. Truly, I'm not used to anyone trying to save me from my stupidity, so it takes a few to realize that's what's going on. My thoughts don't automatically go there, as I'm too used to being thrown to the Ring, weaponless and naked.”

She flinched at a truth that made her ache for him. “But things are different now.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, cupping her cheek. “You've got to be patient with me as I acclimate to that.” And as he spoke, his eyes changed from red to green to white.

Ushara gasped. “Jullien?”

He grinned. “I have control of them now. Not the stralen itself. It remains intact. But I can camouflage the color, and do basic Trisani abilities. A limited amount of teleportation.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Not much, and it drains me horribly. I'm not able to fight after I do it.”

“Jules, that's amazing!”

He wrinkled his nose at her. “I owe it all to you.”

“How do you figure?”

He swallowed as he fingered her cheek and stared at her with an adoration that left her breathless. “I was done that day I met you, Shara. I'd completely relegated my soul to the gods. Made my peace with this world. I was just waiting for the Koriłon to come claim my rotten soul.” He brushed his hand through her hair as he let out a breathless laugh.

“While I sat dying, this boy came in so full of piss and life. Fire and venom. I could only imagine the glorious mother who had birthed a son so strong and willing to stand against them. I knew you had to be incredible to give him that kind of confidence while surrounded by his enemies, especially at his age. He didn't wear that mantle of hopeless, betrayed fatigue that cloaked me at his age. Vas was indomitable. And then there you were like Kadora herself, ready to slay me for threatening your child. You were the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. And as I fell, I was so grateful that my last sight in a life that had been filled with nothing but brutal ugliness and violence was one of perfect beauty and grace—that just once before I died, I finally got to see an act of unrestrained and pure, untainted love.”

“Jullien—”

He placed his finger over her lips to keep her from speaking. “You will always be my Darling star, Shara. Now that I have found you, not even death will keep me from you.” He put his hand into his pocket. “Close your eyes,
munatara.
”

She obeyed without question.

Chills rose along her skin as he placed a chain around her neck and his breath fell against her cheek. His fingers lingered there while he positioned the necklace to rest between her breasts. Then he placed the sweetest kiss to her lips. “Okay.”

Love for him warmed her as she opened her eyes and looked down to see a beautiful round filigree gold locket that held an ornate white flower in the center.

It was the Kadora's rose. Legends said that it bloomed in the center of her garden in the heart of Eweyne. And that on the day when the gods Kadora and Asukar had created the Andarion race to be the absolute embodiment of war to fight for them and to worship them, that the goddess of balance, Eri gazed upon their beauty and wept, and said that they were perfection except for one thing.

They lacked heart. Warriors cannot fight if they cannot love. For battles are not won through the strength of a soldier's hand. They are won by the determination of a warrior's devotion to those he values more than himself.

We fight not for ourselves. We fight for our families and we cannot fight for our gods if we do not know how to love them.

And so determined Eri went to the garden of her sister and plucked the leaves of her sister's favorite flower, knowing that within its sweet petals was a serum so potent, it would open the warriors' eyes to the beauty of Andaria, and that once they saw the beauty, it would open their hearts and fill them with its sweet nectar and allow them to love their homeworld.

One by one, they were given drink distilled from that perfect, pristine rose. And as they tasted its sacred, oil-infused water, their eyes were opened and transformed into the pure Andarion white that was unique to their race. Through those eyes, they saw the beauty that surrounded them and wept, and through those tears, they learned to love and to value their gods and each other above all else.

To this day, that rose was the Andarion symbol for justice and balance. Most of all, it stood for eternal love and was a promise from one partner to the other that they would lay down their life for them.

Ushara stared up at Jullien through teary eyes. “You are ever determined to reduce me to a blubbering basket case, aren't you?”

He winced as if she'd wounded him. “Never my intent,
mia.
I only want to make you as happy as you make me.”