Zellen saluted her. "Admiral, our guests would like access to some of our personnel files."
"To what purpose?"
The Andarion, who did indeed look a lot like Jullien's cousin Merrell, eyed her suspiciously and didn't identify himself past his Canting and the name on his uniform. "We have a runaway slag we're tracking. We have reason to believe he might be seeking refuge here."
"Give me his name, and I'll look and see."
"He might be using an alias."
"I can search for that, as well."
The Andarion didn't back off in the least. "We need to do facial cog."
Nice try ... But the unstoppable wind had just met the immovable object. She wasn't about to hand over her husband to anyone.
Ushara arched her brow with the same haughty disdain. "I can scan for photos."
"We don't want to trouble you."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "But you already have interrupted my dinner. So why not hand over what you need, and let me get started on your trace?"
An angry tic started in his jaw as he narrowed his white gaze on her name. "Altaan? You're a winged military caste, are you not?"
She didn't dignify that with a response. Mostly because it was a sore, sticking point with her family that they alone held that distinction. Of all the lineages on Andaria, her father's sole branch was the only one that was both Pavakahir and Murakhiran--Fyreblood and winged--two of the strongest and rarest bloodlines. And they had been chased from the military and "cleansed" from Andarion soil by the tadara herself.
Anole rudely picked up a strand of her blond hair from her shoulder and curled his lip at it. "You're hybrid?"
In that moment, she was so grateful Jullien wasn't here. For that insult alone, he would have gutted his cousin.
There were only a handful of crimes an Andarion male viewed as worse than having another male touch his spouse. In their society, it was viewed as a felony, and Jullien would be within all legal rights to kill his cousin for such an offense.
Glaring at him, she snatched her hair out of his grasp. "Anole? You're a branch of the royal family, aren't you? Second cousin of the tadara?"
"Yes, he is. How clever of you to know that ... Or perhaps someone told you?"
Ushara's blood went cold at the sound of Eriadne's voice. Holy gods ... It tested every shred of sanity she had not to react to the female's presence in her hangar. No wonder Trajen had sent Jullien out of here.
It would have been an absolute bloodbath.
With a deep breath for strength and patience, she turned to face the one creature she wanted to kill most in this universe. And it took every single piece of restraint she'd been born with not to shoot the bitch on sight.
Complete and utter shock riveted her, and that alone kept her from reacting--and probably saved her life. While she knew Andarions aged much slower than humans, she also knew the tadara was at least a hundred years old, if not over. But the female in front of her didn't look a day older than fifty, if that. In fact, her caramel skin was virtually flawless and smooth. There was barely a wrinkle or pore on it.
She was stunningly beautiful still. High cheekbones were set against a regal, patrician face with perfectly arched black brows that contrasted sharply with her white Andarion eyes. Her long black hair had been braided with a gold band and fell over one shoulder to her tiny waist. With a cool aloofness, she commanded attention and respect.
Eriadne arched a brow at Ushara. "You don't bow to your tadara?"
Ushara lifted her chin defiantly. "If I were in the presence of her, I would. But I'm not an Andarion citizen nor do I see any tadara here."
That had the desired effect. It pissed her off. Her nostrils flaring, bloodlust darkened her eyes. "You're playing with fire, kikatalla."
Little girl? Really?
Refusing to be intimidated or belittled by such a ridiculous ploy, she offered Eriadne a cool smile. "I'm told I do that well."
Eriadne wasn't amused. "You remind me of someone, but I can't remember who..." Her gaze fell to Ushara's stomach. "You're with child?"
"I am."
"Your husband must be proud."
"He was very much so."
"Was?"
Ushara allowed her eyes to tear up. "We're Tavali. He was taken by The League two months ago. They executed him."
Eriadne narrowed her eyes speculatively. "You're sure about that?"
"Given the warrant for his life ... quite positive. After all, they're not known for hesitation or mercy. I'm sure that's something you can appreciate."
Eriadne snapped her head back as if she'd been slapped. "You're rather cheeky, aren't you?"
Ushara shrugged. "Since I hold the second-highest-ranking position in my Nation, it's a bene that comes with my seat."
Eriadne grimaced in distaste before she glanced to Anole. "Would it be amiss of me if I inquire about the name of your husband, Admiral? I should like to add him to my prayers."
"We're Demurrists here. But if you still feel the need, by all means. It was Dagger ... Samari."
Eriadne paled. "Samari? I thought them all extinct."
"You were misinformed."
"You lie!" Varan stepped forward. "Jullien's your husband! Admit it. We know he's here. That you're harboring the slimy little bastard!"
Eriadne held her hand up to silence him.
Ushara passed a smug sneer to Varan. "Feel free to check my marriage records, as well as the records of my children. They're all public. My husband's name is clearly registered. He was the captain of the Stormbringer." She pulled out her link and accessed the documents for them. "As you can see, his paternal lineage and name are filed. As is his mother's. My husband's paternal bloodline was confirmed at the time of our marriage through DNA as Samari Pavakahiri, and his maternal is registered as Altaan Pavakakiri, not the Nykyrian-Anatole Ixurian bloodlines, which I believe Tiziran Jullien's would be, is that not right?"
Fury darkened Eriadne's eyes as she reviewed the documentation that had to be her worst nightmare, as it publicly called her a liar.
And a faithless whore.
"Yes, that is correct. My grandsons are of the Nykyrian-Anatole lineages, and they are Ixurian. We have no Fyreblood within our noble house."
"Then my husband obviously never had anything in common with your family. My Dagger was born a proud Fyreblood."
Varan gaped while Eriadne continued to glare a murderous line through Ushara. "You're playing a dangerous game. Be warned."
"I'm not playing a game at all. Games are for amusement, and there's nothing amusing when someone's life is at stake. But then, perhaps that's your problem. You never understood the difference between games and reality."
Hissing, Eriadne took a step toward her before she caught her composure and stopped. "You don't want to push me."
"And I'm Tavali Pavakihira," Ushara said, holding her ground and refusing to back down. "You don't want to threaten or challenge me. More than that, I'm a mother who loves her young, and unlike you, I will kill anyone and anything who dares to threaten what I love."
Eriadne laughed coldly. "That's the trick ... though, isn't it? I hope what you love always returns it to you, and doesn't betray you as mine did me. There is no more bitter a pill than to birth your own destruction."
She started for her ship, then paused to look back at Ushara. "Oh, and if perchance you do happen upon my grandson one day while he slithers about in hiding, tell Jullien that Ives sends his best to him and can't wait to spend more time alone with him. I, for one, can't wait to reunite them."
And with that, she gathered her men and left.
As soon as she was out of sight, Ushara scowled at Trajen. "What in the Nine Worlds was that about?"
"Cold-blooded viciousness."
"Meaning?"
Trajen appeared sick to his stomach before he answered in a low tone that was barely audible. "Jullien told you about her private vorgate?"
"That she'd lock him into for various things. Yes
He gave her a hard stare. "You're not naive, Ushara. You know what happens to boys in prison, especially to a prince whose family is as hated as his.... Ives was one of his more malicious abusers."
Her stomach heaved. She ran as fast as she could for the nearest bathroom and barely made it before her stomach emptied itself.
Shaking and weak, Ushara couldn't breathe as her anger and horror wrapped themselves around her heart and made her sick to her stomach. Tears for Jullien filled her eyes as she tried to calm down. But it was hard, given the imagined nightmares that played through her mind.
Her poor Jules ...
What she imagined, he had to live with.
Trajen followed her and handed her a cool cloth when she finally stopped retching. "Sorry. I shouldn't have sprung that on you so callously. I'm as upset as you are. That was wrong of me."
She held the cloth to the back of her neck and flushed the commode. "He never talks about it."
"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."
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