Born of Legend

  That had been the only thing that had allowed him to survive his childhood in this hell.

  Putting it out of his mind, he went down the hall to the warden's office to look for a way to contact Ushara and the others to let them know they hadn't died in the bombing.

  Luckily, the rusted-out door was unlocked and still capable of opening.

  Thraix followed him inside the spartan office. "You okay?"

  "You know the answer. Not like you can't read my mind." Not that it wasn't really obvious, given the way he was slamming objects around like a two-year-old while he searched for something they could use.

  He was deeply hurt and pissed.

  Mostly pissed that he was allowing his birth family to continue to hurt him. He didn't want those people back inside his head. He'd spent too many years purging them, and it wasn't fair that they were here and dredging this shit up again. All he'd wanted to do was even a score he felt he needed to by saving Nyk's kids and wife, and get out before anything reopened old mental damage.

  Too late now.

  No good deed goes unpunished.

  He should have known the gods would screw him over somehow. They always did.

  With a grimace at the filthy desk, Jullien pulled the scarf from around his neck and used it to clean off the decades of dust and decay. Sitting in the chair, he let out a frustrated breath before he began working on the communications equipment. Given how many years it'd been left sitting up, unused, it actually didn't look too bad. "I think we can get this back online. It's older than shit, but--"

  "You're a minsid genius. I have all faith in you."

  "Feeling pretty stupid right now for getting everyone into this. You were right. I shouldn't have come. Damn sure shouldn't have dragged the rest of you from your families. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "You were thinking about your brother ... like you always do."

  "Yeah, but I should have been thinking about my brothers who have stood at my back and not the one who doesn't give a shit about me. Blood doesn't always make family."

  "True, but it's hard to break that bond. Like it or not, so long as they're alive, there's always a part of you tied to them by those genes. It's hard to let it go."

  "Yeah, but maybe it's time I finally did."

  *

  Darling swallowed hard as he took in the prison cell that had clearly been reserved for Jullien. He wasn't sure what part of it sickened him more. Having been kept in a similar situation on Caron before he'd found the courage to rise up and kill his uncle over it, he felt for Jullien more than he would have ever thought possible.

  Meanwhile, they'd all thought Jullien the spoiled, pampered Andarion heir. Of all people, Darling should have known that you couldn't tell what was really happening in someone's life or home by simply looking at them. He'd spent years living complicated lies and keeping silent secrets from even his closest friends.

  And you damn sure couldn't tell what was in someone's heart or head. How could they have misjudged Jullien so badly? He felt like shit over it.

  He met Shahara's haunted gaze as she saw the busted drawers of barbaric torture devices and restraints they'd used on Jullien. "Did you know about any of this?"

  She shook her head. "I hauled him in for warrants a few times. Now that I think back on it, I should have suspected something was up. He was always getting into trouble away from home, and then trying to bribe me to keep him in lockup on Gondara and not transfer him back to Andaria. I stupidly thought it was because he didn't want to be embarrassed by their media."

  Cairistiona picked up the bloodstained pillow that chronicled her child's silent nightmares. She wouldn't even look at the restraints. "There's no blanket in here?"

  Darling shook his head.

  A tear fell down Aros's cheek as he ran his hand over the gouged-out marks in the wall where Jullien had chronicled his name and days, trying to stay sane. The depth of them told just how frustrated and angry the boy had been. "All the times he begged to come stay with me because he didn't want to be here, and I coldly turned him down.... Told him to suck it up and act like a man."

  Tylie let out a bitter, angry laugh. "You? You don't want to know the cruel things I've said to him. How many times I blamed him for Nykyrian being gone and for Cairie's condition. I had no idea he was in this kind of pain. He never said anything."

  "We didn't listen," Cairie whispered. "He was acting out, trying to get our attention. And we ignored him, utterly." She swallowed hard as she met her sister's gaze. "And I have a bad feeling that he was the mysterious War Hauk who saved us from those assassins when Kiara was pregnant with the twins."

  Tylie winced. "Had he been coming out from down here that day ... it makes sense. Dear gods, Cairie. What have we done to him?"

  Sick to his stomach, Darling left the cell to find that Jullien had returned. He was outside in the larger area with Kiara and her twin sons, who'd been crying nonstop with their two older brothers since they'd been awakened and rushed to flee with their nurse and big sister.

  Jullien smiled patiently at the dark-haired twins, who were dressed in matching footed pajamas. "You're what? Four?"

  With his curly hair tousled around his head, Taryn nodded and sniffed.

  "I have twin daughters who are almost the same exact age you are. Want to see them?"

  Sniffing, too, and rubbing his eyes, Tiernan sat forward. "You do?"

  "I do." Jullien pulled his link out and turned it on. "They're named Mira and Viv."

  Tiernan gasped. "They look like us!"

  "I know, right? What's your name?"

  "I'm Tiernan, and this is my brother Taryn."

  "Taryn? That's the name of my Mira's favorite doll."

  Taryn finally stopped crying. "It is?"

  "Yeah, she's holding him in her picture. See?"

  Taryn smiled at the picture.

  "And you know what else? My girls and my son are what we Tavali call Fetchyns. Have you ever heard that term?"

  They, and their brothers Adron and Jayce, who'd crawled closer to listen, shook their heads.

  "Fetchyns are young honorary Tavali. And I'm a field admiral, which means that I'm the third highest-ranking member of my Nation. And your aunt Ushara and uncle Trajen are the vice admiral and high admiral of the Gorturnum Nation. That means they're my bosses. And that gives me the authority to swear you in as Fetchyn Tavalians, so I can make you pirates, too. Would you like that?"

  They sucked their breaths in excitedly.

  "Really?" Taryn clapped his hands together. "I can be a pirate?"

  "Yes, you can. But ... here's the thing. Pirates don't cry. And you'll have to stay strong to watch over your mother, brothers, and sisters. You think you can do that?"

  Taryn glanced to Shahara's son, Devyn, who was still upset that his mecha unit had been smashed when a wall came down on it, and then to his brothers. "Yes! Dev? You want to be a Tavali Fetchyn, too?"

  Devyn shook his head. "No, I'm a Dagan smuggler. We don't play with Tavali."

  Jullien laughed. "Well ... sometimes you do. We've been known to fly with the Dagans quite a few times, right, Kasen?"

  "He's right," his aunt concurred. "We do rely on them sometimes. They can be really important to us on our missions. And they've saved our hides a few times--like tonight."

  Jullien turned back to his nephews. "So are you in?"

  "We're in!" they shouted in unison.

  "Okay." Jullien held his hand out. "Put your hands on mine. And repeat after me.... Tavali is an honor that comes with obligation. Hem me never."

  The boys repeated it.

  "United in purpose. United by bond. Forever Tavali." Jullien waited until they'd responded with those words. "Very good, my Fetchyns. It's my solemn honor to welcome you in as official Tavali youth citizens." He pulled the patches from his sleeves and pinned one to Taryn's shirt first. "This is my personal Canting that only I have so that all The Tavali know when they see it who I am and what Nation I belong to. When yo
u wear it, they will all know that you are my Fetchyn and that if they dare touch you or harm you in any way, they will have to answer to me."

  Davel snorted. "Yeah, and there ain't nobody who wants to be on the bad side of Dagger's temper. Ever. Believe you me. Your uncle makes the baddest of bad flinch."

  Taryn scowled at Jullien's flag. "It looks like a bug."

  Jullien grinned. "Yeah, it kind of does. Tells you what my boss thinks of me most days." He winked at his nephew. "I'm just a big old bug up his butt, irritating him."

  They burst out laughing.

  Jullien ruffled Taryn's hair. "My call sign is Dagger Ixur. But you, I dub Demonax."

  "Demonax?"

  Jullien nodded. "He was the son of Nemesis, and one of the fiercest of the Kadurr. Fearless in battle." Next, he pinned his Canting to Tiernan. "And you I shall call Daktyloi."

  He screwed his face up. "Daktyloi? Why? Is he the twin of cool-sounding name?"

  "No. Daktyloi was the first armed warrior created by the gods to guard their infant son from their enemies who wanted to eat him. His job was to create a frenzied dance with his shield and sword whenever the baby cried so as to drown the sounds out and keep him hidden. And to fight to the death to protect the baby should he be found."

  Tiernan's whole face lit up as Jullien pinned the patch to his nightshirt. "Thank you for giving me my own! Nobody ever does that. Sometimes I think I'm just Taryn's spare part."

  "You're very welcome. And I know what you mean. I felt the same way when I was a kid, with your paka. It's hard to be the younger twin. And my Viv complains about that with her older sister. So we always make sure she knows that she's not." He turned to Jayce, who appeared around six years old.

  "Can I just have the patch 'cause it's cool? I'm going to grow up and be an assassin like my dad was."

  "You're not going to grow up and be an assassin," Kiara said sharply. "I don't know why you keep saying that. It is never going to happen."

  Laughing, Jullien motioned for Davel to give up his patches for the kids. "Sure."

  When he went to give one to Adron, who was about two years older, the boy leaned in to whisper, "Same here. I'm going to be an assassin, too."

  "Gotcha." Jullien pinned it to his arm.

  But it was Taryn who was the most infatuated with his patch. He ran over to Ture and his infant son. "Look, Uncle Ture! Will you let Terek be on my crew when he's big?"

  "I don't know, Terry. I'd rather he stay in my kitchen with me and be a chef. But if it's what he wants ... sure."

  Of course, for now, all Terek could do was teethe on the patch.

  Kiara met Jullien's gaze. "Thank you for calming them down, and giving them something else to focus on."

  "No problem."

  She jerked her chin toward his link. "May I see your daughters?"

  Jullien hesitated. He wasn't sure why, other than Kiara had never been particularly interested in anything other than putting as much space as she could between them--as quickly as possible. And this was as personal to him as showing someone the most naked part of his body or soul. Mainly because his family was the part of him that left him vulnerable and weak. They were the key to his utter destruction.

  But they were also his greatest strength and the only thing in life he took pride in. In a lifetime marked with wrong decisions and mistakes, they were the only thing he'd ever done right.

  So he glanced at the photo and smiled at their beautiful faces before he held it out to her. It was a picture of them with Ushara and Vasili from a few weeks ago.

  Kiara looked down and gasped as if she'd half expected him to have been lying about having a family. "Your wife's currently pregnant?"

  He nodded.

  "And the boy in the photograph?"

  "Our son, Vasili."

  "They're beautiful, Jullien."

  "Thank you." He slid the link into his pocket, then stood. "We have some communications up. The good news is ... we're alive."

  "But your palace is gravel."

  He grimaced at his best friend. "Thank you, Thraix. Way to spread sunshine over the landscape."

  Completely unabashed, Thraix shrugged. "I did not want to be here. Let's not lose sight of that one fact. I was drafted into this against my common sense and better judgment."

  Jullien cleared his throat. "Everyone in this room has officially been declared dead."

  They collectively gasped.

  Jullien quickly tried to reassure all of them. "That's actually good news. Because you're not dead."

  "Yet."

  "Thraix!" Jullien snapped. "Act like a Tris. They're not going to die."

  "Unless I shoot them."

  "You, go stand in a corner until I finish." He gave him a droll stare, unsure what had gotten into him. While Thraix was never the most optimistic to have around, he wasn't normally quite this cantankerous. "Anyway ... we need to contact Nyk and the Alliance, and let them know our status before Nyk and The Sentella do something profoundly stupid to retaliate in their grief. And yes, Desideria, that was directed primarily at your husband."

  Kasen cleared her throat. "Hey! I take exception with that. Caillen is also my brother."

  "And mine," Shahara added.

  "I wouldn't claim that moron," Davel said under his breath.

  Jullien agreed, but didn't comment on that. Instead, he spoke to his Tavali group so that they would understand the dynamics and importance of the people in the room with them. "Desideria's brother is also our family member and friend, Psycho Bunny. And we don't need Chayden on a suicide run. We have enough trouble with him when his head's on straight. Ture's husband and the father of his baby is Maris Xans-Sulle, the Phrixian prince."

  Dimitri let out a low whistle. "Well, that explains why The League made this attack. What the hell were all you idiots thinking by being together in one place?"

  "That we were in a palace with an army," Darling said dryly.

  "And how did that work for you, punkin'?" Thraix answered in an equally sarcastic tone. "Ever want to be schooled on the history of that stupidity, talk to my boy, Dr. Dagger, here." He jerked his chin to Jullien. "You should read his dissertations on the fall of the Trisani Empire and the rise and fall of your own ancestor Justicale Cruel. While y'all might not think much of what you raised, Jules has one of the keenest political minds ever born."

  "Anyway," Jullien said again, trying to keep them on the topic at hand. "We have a narrow window to get a message out before it will be detected by Eriadne or The League. Thraix? I need you to toss your shirt to me, real fast, so I can make a video to send to Shara, and she won't see me bloody and panic. I don't want to throw her into labor. We'll let them know we're alive, and then we'll work on getting out of here."

  Thraix pulled his shirt off.

  Because he'd been married to Ushara for so long and she had never really reacted to his body, and her mother and Trajen had been treating his wounds for the last few years, Jullien had forgotten just how badly scarred he was.

  Until he exposed his torso.

  "Holy mother of the gods." His mother covered her mouth with her hand.

  Tylie retched while his father stared at him in absolute horror.

  Sighing from the hurt and shame, Jullien exchanged shirts with Thraix.

  His mother approached him with her eyes mirroring her sickened horror, but Jullien didn't want to see it. He stepped away from her to tuck his shirt in.

  "What caused all that?"

  He glanced at her. "You're my mother. Of all beings, you should know."

  "I didn't mark you Outcast."

  "Sure you did, Matarra," he said in a flat, emotionless tone. "The day you allowed your priests to refuse my exordiom, and then when you removed me from the royal family and had my name stricken from the Anatole lineage, and a kill warrant issued for my life. Is that not the very definition of Outcast?"

  With those words spoken, he put his helmet on and handed his link to Thraix to record.

  Thraix gave him
an arch stare. "Helmet? Really?"

  "Bite it and hit record." Jullien patted his pockets. "No, wait!" Then he remembered Thraix wasn't really Tavali and didn't have patches on his gear, so he was fine. Ushara wouldn't realize he had on someone else's clothes. "Never mind. We're good."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah. Let's do this."

  But the minute he started to speak, he realized that Thraix had been right. The helmet was a stupid idea. Not that he was ever going to admit that to the Tris.

  He'd been thinking to keep his identity a secret from Nyk. But that wasn't going to work. His brother would have to know who Jullien was in order to cooperate with Shara and Trajen. Otherwise, he'd go off half-cocked and get himself killed.

  Shit.

  Fine. Whatever. He pulled the skull-decorated blast helmet from his head to expose his thick black hair and whiskered face. Gods, I hope I don't have any blood on my skin. Shara would die if she thought he'd been hurt in any way.

  He should have checked. But it was too late.

  Clearing his throat, he made sure to keep his eyes green so that no one in the Alliance would learn his secret. Or worse, his enemies might discover it and use it against them.

  "Greetings, brother. I know I'm the last creature you want to see right now, but I had to let you know that everyone's safe, and that I'm sorry I couldn't forewarn you about The League attack on the palace. By the time I found out what Nyran and Eriadne had planned, there wasn't enough time to call you or Matarra, and I wasn't sure either of you'd even believe me. I didn't know who else to trust. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I came myself to secure them."

  Jullien took his link from Thraix and panned it around to show his brother and the rest of The Sentella that their families were fine and unscathed, and in no danger whatsoever. Hopefully, that would be enough for them to not go after The Tavali or The League, or do anything else radically stupid.

  Kind of asking a lot, but they had to trust in a miracle for this.

  First, Jullien went to their parents, who stood together beside Tylie and her partner, Kelsei.

  His mother smiled at the camera. "Mi tana, breathe easy. Jullien literally pulled us out minutes before everything went up in flames. We owe him our lives. I love you. Have no fear for us."

  Aros inclined his head. "She's right. We're all fine." Their father stepped back to show Nyk's kids, who were complaining about the toys that had been left behind, and Thia, who grumbled about a broken nail and not having a hairbrush. She was extremely distraught he dared film her in such a state.