"Dammit! Viv! Leave Mom alone! What did I tell you!"
Ushara made record time for her condition rushing to the door. "Vasili! What have I told you about your language? And in front of your sisters, no less!"
"Sorry, Matarra. She got off the chain while I was trying to keep Mira from climbing the walls. Literally. I swear to the gods there has to be a spider in someone's DNA. And I am never having kids if it's yours."
As if to prove her older brother's point, the little girl shot between her mother's legs and ran full speed toward Nykyrian. She skidded to a halt by his side and stared up at him, bug-eyed and slack-jawed. Then she looked at Fain, Dancer, Galene, and Talyn in turn.
"Are you going to kill me?" she breathed at Galene.
"No," Galene gasped as she knelt in front of the child. "Why would you ask that?"
"'Cause...'cause that's what all Andarions do to Fyrebloods. You kill us 'cause you don't like us and what we can do, and ... and Paka says we gots to be extra careful 'cause bad Andarions hate him even more than they hate us. Are you bad Andarions who are going to kill my paka?"
With an indulgent smile, Ushara returned to brush her hand through her daughter's dark hair. "No, Viv. They're good Andarions. This is Prime Commander Batur." She took her daughter's hand and led her to Nykyrian. "And this one is your uncle that your paka has spoken of so many times."
Viv scowled at him. "But you don't look like my paka's twin. You look more like a Fyreblood. Are you one of us?"
Nykyrian scowled, then caught himself, as he must have realized how terrifying that expression would be to a small child. "No, I'm not a Fyreblood." They, like the winged flying clans Galene was descended from, were a very rare, pale-skinned, blond breed of Andarion that could actually breathe fire. At one time they had been revered as gods on Andaria. And as such, Eriadne had viewed them as a threat to her power and had ordered all members of their race hunted down and executed--just as she'd done the winged clans. It had been a brutal time in Andarion history known as the Purging Years. Another reason no one wanted Eriadne back on the throne.
After kneeling down, Nykyrian held his hand out for his niece to shake in greeting. "I'm your paka's fraternal twin. Not identical." He met Ushara's gaze. "You really married my brother? Willingly?"
Laughing at his dry tone, she nodded as she gently took her daughter from the room and handed her off to her brother.
Vasili looked much more like his mother. Tall and blond, with white eyes and fangs. But he was older than Nykyrian expected. Probably around eighteen.
He scooped Viv up in his arms and left them.
Closing the door, Ushara faced Nykyrian. "Jullien's not the same boy you knew. And I'm very sorry for what he did to you and your wife. Believe me when I say that Jullien is scarred by it, too. More than you'll ever know."
"It's not just what he did to Kiara," Dancer said bitterly as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.
Galene nodded. "I'm in agreement with that. I'm not too sure I won't shoot him in the head should our paths ever cross again."
Ushara sighed sadly. "I know. There are no secrets between us. My husband has much to atone for. But I would remind you all that there is no one here without a sordid past, and enemies aplenty who would level horrid tales about you as well." She turned to Nykyrian. "Especially you, Tahrs. You were a trained League assassin. The best who has ever lived. How many innocent souls stain your hands?"
"What I did, I did to survive."
"Yeah," Dancer chimed in. "And that goes for the rest of us. We didn't grow up in palaces, surrounded by guards who were willing to lay down their lives for our protection. With our every whim catered to."
She laughed bitterly. "No? What of Darling Cruel? Is he not a prince?" Then she glanced at Saf and Maris. "As well as the ambassador and his brother?"
They exchanged shamed looks at that. All of them knew the horrors that had come with Darling's noble lineage. As bad as their pasts were, they paled in comparison to the hell he'd been through.
And Maris's had been no better.
Ushara approached Nykyrian slowly. "Your grandmother told Jullien that she had you killed, and that if he didn't fall in line with her will, he would follow you to the grave, and that no one would mourn his passing. No one. He was only six at the time. When your mother learned of your death, and Jullien went to comfort her, do you know what she said to him? 'My precious Nykyrian is dead--he was my entire hope for this empire. Why couldn't it have been you who died?'"
Nykyrian winced.
Ushara ground her teeth as she swept a look over them all. "From the moment your mother crawled inside her grief over losing you, Jullien was an abandoned orphan left to find his own way, with no one there for him. Your father was so busy trying to save your mother from the drugs your grandmother was feeding her that for years he ignored Jullien completely. So Jullien was left alone to deal with a brutal grandmother who had coldly murdered her entire family, including her husband, children, siblings, and their children, as well as anyone else she viewed as a threat to her power. And while Tylie always adored you and your mother, she bitterly despised and belittled Jullien. Why? Because he happens to physically favor her brother who tried to murder her ... as if he could help that. From the moment of his birth, everyone around him plotted his assassination. By the time he was twelve, nine attempts had been made on his life. Three of them by his cousin Merrell. But no one would ever believe him, and he couldn't prove it. When Jullien was ten and tired of being threatened and living in a constant state of fear that his own family was going to kill him, he begged your father to let him live on Triosa with him, and do you know what your father said?"
Nykyrian paled. "I can't imagine."
"'I don't have time to fight with your grandmother for your custody. It's not worth the battle or upset. Besides, you won't be any more welcomed on Triosa than you are on Andaria. As you know, my parents don't want you here and it would be awkward for you to live with us full time. You're much better off on Andaria where you kind of blend in with the population.'" Ushara let out a bitter laugh. "You probably don't remember your paternal grandparents since they died before you returned to Triosa. Count yourself lucky in that regard. How I wish Jullien had been spared their bitter cruelty."
Her eyes flared with rage as she swept her gaze around the room. "All of you mocked him for his obesity, but the only comfort he ever had was from an old Andarion cook he'd sneak off to see, and while she wasn't kind to him, she wasn't hostile either. His words ... she tolerated me with a semblance of compassion. And when your grandmother found out about it, she had her executed for making Jullien weak and unattractive."
Dancer growled low in his throat. "That still doesn't excuse what he did to us in school."
She turned on him. "Jullien didn't crash your pod, Dancer. Chrisen did. When Jullien started back inside to save you, Chrisen grabbed and held him so hard that he still bears the scars from it. It's what they argued over. And while that accident damaged you, it saved your life. Merrell and Chrisen had planned to kill you when you joined the armada, just as they'd done your brother Keris. It was why Jullien hacked your League files and disqualified you for military service. It wasn't just because of your sister-in-law. And he picked on you around them because had he ever truly befriended you, War Hauk, they would have murdered you instantly ... as they did every friend he tried to make, and both the females he'd been pledged to. Dear gods, by the time he was exiled from Andaria, he was afraid to even sleep with a female for fear of what they might do to her. And don't think for one minute, they spared him from their cruelty. Like your mother, he was drugged most of the time he lived at the palace. You all assumed he chose that lifestyle, but he didn't."
She turned toward Nykyrian. "As for the stolen ring incident when you were in school together, he was trying to save both your lives. Had your grandmother discovered you were alive then, she'd have executed you both. Merrell and Chrisen were already plotting how to murder y
Nykyrian folded his arms over his chest as he glared at her. "And handing my wife over to my enemies?"
"Your adopotive brother, you mean? The man who was the stepfather of your daughter and an old friend of Jullien's? Aksel went to him and promised Jullien that he wouldn't harm Kiara. He'd sworn that he was only going to use her to get you out of the way and that she would be released unharmed. Jullien never meant for her to be hurt. And yes, Jullien did want you dead--just as you wanted him dead. He's not proud of that, but when you returned and your mother and father threw him aside for you, he felt like he'd lost what little he had. Need I remind you, it was your picture, alone, your mother wore over her heart. Not Jullien's. Your mother, your aunt, and your father turned on him when you came back, as if he was the one who'd sent you away. And your grandmother made it quite clear to him that if he didn't get rid of you, she'd kill you both."
"And assaulting Talyn?"
Fain arched a brow at Galene as instantaneous rage tore through him. "What was that?"
Galene nodded slowly as she gestured toward the mark on their son's neck. "When Talyn was assigned to his personal guard, Jullien had him branded a traitor, scarred as an Outcast, and thrown into prison. They broke both his legs and left him for dead on Onoria." Angry tears glistened in her eyes. "My baby was barely twenty years old and had never done anything to Jullien."
Ushara swallowed hard. "I know, Commander. I know. Merrell and Chrisen played on Jullien's insecurities and jealousy where his mother was concerned. She doted on you and Talyn, to the exclusion of her own son. And it cut Jullien to the root of his heart. Sadly, the whole horrible event started as a stupid prank Jullien was put up to by Merrell, that got way out of hand and quickly escalated to an extremely regrettable level. Merrell was the one who scarred and branded Talyn, not Jullien. And yes, I know it doesn't excuse it. Jullien knows it can't be forgiven. It's why he's intentionally stayed away from all of you for years now. He understands that his presence is nothing more than a bitter reminder of a past all of you are better off not remembering. And that you deserve to live without him around to steal even the smallest bit of happiness from your lives. He doesn't expect you to forgive him or even tolerate him. We accept the fact that we will never be a part of your family, that by his own actions, he lost that right long ago. But for now, you need him to keep them safe so that you can do what you have to, to ensure all your futures. All he wants is for you to understand that you can trust him. That he will die before he allows any harm to come to your families. We wouldn't have entrusted our children to you, nor would we have talked Trajen into joining the Alliance in this war if we weren't behind you and your cause one hundred and ten percent."
Suddenly, there was pounding on the door, followed by a shrill scream. "No! Let me go! They could be hurting her! Mama! Mama! Ma-ma!"
Ushara rushed to the door to open it and stop the hysterical screaming. An identical copy of Viv fell into her arms. "I'm okay, bobkin. No one's hurting me."
The little girl clung to her mother as she passed a belligerent glare at the rest of them. "Don't you hurt my mommy! I mean it!"
Nykyrian closed the distance between them and held his hand out to the girl. "No one here would ever harm you or your family."
"Not true for your paka," Caillen said under his breath. "His throat, we'd cut."
Chayden slapped him in the stomach hard enough that it made Caillen grunt in response.
Nykyrian passed a glare at him before he turned back to the girl. "I'm your uncle, Nykyrian. You're what? Five?"
"Almost."
He pulled out his link and turned it on, then scrolled through it and held it toward her. "I have twin sons who are your age. Would you like to see your cousins?"
Forgetting her fear, she left her mother's arms to look at his pictures. "They look like us."
"They do," he said gently. "They're named Tiernan and Taryn."
She smiled. "My favorite doll is Taryn! My name's Mira and ... and my sister's Vivi. And ... and ... I have a mean brother named Visi."
With the grimace that was Nykyrian's version of a smile, he pulled the girl into his arms and gave her a hug. "Nice to meet you, Mira."
Ushara took her hand. "Now will you go and play while I take care of some things?"
"Okay. Sorry, Mama."
"It's fine, my heart. But Mama has some important things to do." She kissed Mira's cheek before she gently guided her out of the room.
Nykyrian rose to his feet, then turned toward Galene. "All right, Commander. We put you in charge for a reason. My brother has given us a rare opportunity."
She nodded. "We will take full tactical advantage of it."
*
As they left Ushara's ship, Scythian Nights, they met Ryn and his mother, who were leading a small, regal group of Wasturnum toward them.
Fain couldn't help smiling as he noted how markedly different Ryn's group was from Venik's Porturnum, and even the Gorturnum group they'd just left. But then each Nation of the Tavali tended to draw a certain caliber of individual to it. And everything from their style of ship to their Canting, names, markings, flightsuits, and battlesuits tended to reflect those various personalities.
The Septurnum, like Chayden, were their in-your-face, annoying gutter rats--an almost psychotic lot who sought the more questionable jobs that others passed on. If there was danger to be had, they were the suicide jockeys who wanted to embrace it with both arms, and cock out. They were the Tavali troublemakers who lacked all semblance of self-preservation. And if a Tavali was running afoul of someone's laws, and in particular The League's, you could lay odds they owed tithe to Gadgehe Hinto.
Venik's Porturnum were much more cautious, as a rule, and very paranoid because of the enemies they gleefully toyed with. They tended to be double-dealers, con artists, and fast-talkers. Always plotting something and out to make a quick cred. You had to watch your back with them, and were never quite sure where you stood. If you gambled with the Porturnum, you'd best count all your fingers when you left the table, 'cause you'd probably be missing one.
Maybe two.
Next were the Gorturnum--the original Nation that all the Tavali had evolved from. And as such, they were held with a certain reverence by the other pirate Nations. But that being said, their members were mysterious and extremely antisocial. So much so that their motto claimed they played hard to get along with. Like mythical phantoms, they moved swiftly and silently through the galaxies. In and out, quicker than anyone could blink. If you needed something done fast and with no witnesses left alive, you contracted with them. While others sought fame, the Gorturnum kept to themselves to an almost psychotic level.
Out of all the Tavali, they were the most loyal and secretive to their order.
And then there were the regal blue-bloods ... the Wasturnum. Dignified. Honorable. They lived by Tavalian Code and Council, and brooked no slackers. Their members bled decorum and refinement, and yet there was also a barbarian undertone that said they could and would cut your throat while smiling in your face. That dichotomy was actually extremely unsettling. Like sitting down to have dinner with a lion, and you were never quite certain if you were going to eat with him or become part of his dinner should you say the wrong thing.
Or use the wrong piece of cutlery.
Even so, Fain had a lot of respect for the Wasturnum. As a rule, they operated aboveboard and you didn't have to constantly stand with your back against the wall for fear of a cheap shot.
And they were led by the infamous Hermione Dane. The ruler of their United Tavali Nations.
It'd been a long time since Fain had last seen her, yet eerily, she never seemed to age a single day. She was still youthful and seductive. Lethally graceful and elegant. As the supreme admiral of the Universal Tavali Council, she was their version of a queen. But it wasn't a position she'd inherited. All of the ruling Tavali positions were earned by deed, combat, service, and honor, and they were held by maintaining those, and could be taken away at any time.
By one mistake or challenge.
Citizenship, names, and Canting were honors that all members of their Nations held in sacred trust. You didn't violate Tavali Code. Not if you wanted to live.
Fain struck his Tavali salute and bowed his head respectfully to one of the few political leaders he truly revered. "My Lady Grand Empress and Supreme Admiral."
Her golden eyes were bloodshot from the tears she visibly struggled to hold back. To pay further tribute to the passing of Darling Cruel and his family, the white stripes of their black leather Wasturnum battlesuits had been electronically dulled to a dim gray--a Wasturnum custom of mourning, along with the red ribbon that was tied around their sleeve Canting.
For her and Ryn, the ribbons held a memento of Darling's that was special to them. Hermione's was a lock of red hair she must have kept from Darling's first haircut--another Wasturnum tradition. Ryn's ribbon held the ring from an explosive device marked with Darling's Sentella insignia. Darling's signature FU that he'd always left for the League prime commander to make Kyr lose his mind.
Fain was amused by Ryn's choice, and he recognized it for what it was. Not just a memento of Ryn's beloved brother, but a promise of vengeance against Kyr for daring to take Darling's life. While Ryn and Darling hadn't always gotten along, and though they were only united in blood by their father's lineage, they were forever brothers.
And they would kill or die for one another, without question.
Likewise, Hermione couldn't have been more upset had she been Darling's birth mother. Ever elegant and regal, with her cape slung casually over one shoulder, she was fiercely defiant and a creature of absolute power. Her long, dark red hair was braided down her back and she kept one hand casually draped over the blaster on her left hip.
"Commander Hauk." She bowed her head in greeting. "It's a pleasure to see you again." She placed a kiss to Fain's cheek. Then she grabbed Nykyrian into a motherly hug and choked on a sob. "I'm so sorry for your loss and ours. I can't believe Darling's gone."
-->