But the form that made her sickest of all was the one his Triosan attorneys had filed on his behalf, requesting political asylum and protection from his father anywhere within the Triosan empire.
Anywhere. Even on one of their colonial outposts.
One word, in bold red letters from his father's personal royal office, carrying the emperor's royal seal.
Denied.
Tears stung her throat as she tried to imagine how badly that had to have burned for his father to refuse any semblance of safety. There were more denials from other family members in other empires, including Kirovar. Not one single aunt, uncle, or cousin would allow him shelter.
No one.
She scrolled back to the pictures of Jullien as a battered child and remembered what he'd said to her about his parents not being there, and how they had failed to raise him.
No, his family hadn't spared him a moment of their cruelty. From the looks of it, he'd been in the center of their backbiting madness, and their uncaring depravity had been his normal everyday routine and diet. An unprotected child left to fend for himself, while no one gave a single shit about him at all.
"Are you safe from harm, akam?"
No wonder he'd been so adamant to ensure Vasili's welfare before he passed out. Why he'd given the last cookie to her son, even while he starved. Because he knew the cost of it all. How much it hurt to be alone in the universe, without friend or family. With no one willing to look out for you when you had no one else who cared.
And in that moment, her mind was set.
"Jullien stays."
A solid tic started in Gavin's jaw. "Trajen will have a shit-fit when he hears of this. You'll be lucky if he doesn't strip your Canting over it."
"I'll deal with Trajen."
"And what are you going to do when that royal viper prick strikes us all down?"
"You're being ridiculous."
"Am I? The entire history of our race has been written in the blood feuds of the Anatole family. Their insatiable quest for power and their willingness to cut the throat of anyone who got in their way. They chased us at blasterpoint to the farthest corners of the universe and now you dare bring one of them into our last place of refuge? Forget Trajen, it'll be the Fyrebloods who skin you alive for it."
Now that ... that was a very real possibility.
And her own father would most likely be the one who led the lynch mob for her throat.
CHAPTER 3
"You don't have to be afraid of me, mi tana," Jullien said softly to the boy beside him. The kid was so nervous, he was practically shaking in his chair. He half expected him to wet his seat at any moment. "You know I'd never hurt you, right?"
Grimacing, Vasili scratched at his nose. "You're really gigantic. Are all darkhearts as big as you?"
Jullien cleared his throat at the innocent question. Darkheart was a nasty little dig against his breed that the humans had started using centuries ago. It stemmed from humanity's disdain and condemnation of Andarion culture. Because Andarions were a warrior species, they used to carve the hearts from their enemies and dry them out to keep as strung trophies for decoration in their homes and for their weapons. The process they used for it would turn the hearts black and leathery--hence the term darkhearts.
And once Eriadne had begun her Purging against the winged and blond Andarions, it became applied solely to his specific subspecies as a vile insult for them, meaning they were soulless and cruel.
However, the boy, unlike the others who used the term to demean his kind, meant no offense to him and Jullien didn't take any from it.
"I'm larger than a lot of Ixurianir, but there are some bigger than me. Yet that being said, none of us can breathe fire like the Pavakahir. So that gives you a distinct advantage over us, no matter how big we are."
Vasili gasped. "You know about that?"
"The blond hair gives you away."
"If you knew I was a Fyreblood, why did you help me? I thought all darkhearts hunted and killed us."
Jullien handed him the last bit of cookie Vas had dropped. "Can I let you in on a secret?"
"Sure."
"I have a fraternal twin brother. He has white-blond hair, just like yours." At the mere mention and thought of his brother, grief and guilt racked him so hard that for a moment, it stole his breath. God, how he regretted much of his life. But nothing as much as he regretted what he'd done to his brother.
Nyk alone was the one sin that forever haunted him.
The one sin he'd never forgive himself for.
Suppressing the past as best he could and hating himself with every breath he took, Jullien cleared his throat. "When I was a boy, I was awakened one night to the sounds of my mother screaming that my brother had been killed."
He blinked back the tears that always choked him whenever he remembered that godforsaken night that had shattered his childhood innocence and any semblance of safety he might have ever known.
"I cannot tell you the misery I felt in that moment. And I pray to the gods that you never know such pain, chizzi. I came into the world with my brother, and had never been alone in it, until then. When I saw you today, all I could think about was that you would have a mother at home as devastated as mine was that night. That your father would be inconsolable, and that your brother or sister would feel as lost as I did when I heard my mother screaming. And I knew that I couldn't leave your family as splintered as mine had been. Not if I could stop it."
"That's why you gave me your wallet to get home?"
He nodded. "I wanted to make sure you got back to your family."
"Thank you, Alteske."
Jullien playfully brushed his hand through the boy's hair as Vasili continued to insist on calling him Highness. "Dagger or Jullien. There's no tiziran here, Vas. Just a worn-out male who's fought a lot of battles."
He smiled up at him. "Jullien. Are you sure? 'Cause that seems rather disrespectful."
"It's not. Besides, you saved my life. If anyone owes respect, I owe it to you for being so noble and brave, given the odds against you. Unlike me, you weren't trained. There aren't many who would run back into danger to save another, especially at your age. You might only be a boy yet, Vas, but you have the heart of a warrior in you. Fearless. Mark my words, you will grow into a zumi to be reckoned with. I consider it my highest honor to have saved your life, for I know that you will go on to be a far better male than any I've ever known, and certainly far better than I could ever strive to be. So don't you ever think that one as noble as you could ever disrespect someone as lowly as I." He winked at him. "And I will never breathe fire, either."
Vas snorted. "I can't breathe fire yet." He screwed his face up in frustration. "I keep trying. Mum says I should be able to any day now. But it hasn't come in." He let out a fierce breath, then started coughing.
Jullien arched a brow at the wheezing sound. "Are you all right?"
Nodding, he yawned. "See? It's so irritating."
"Be patient, my young Fyreblood. I'm sure your mother's right."
Vasili tucked his legs under him and handed Jullien his link. "So, Alte--Jullien. Would you like to play a game? I have a bunch."
He smiled at the boy and his innocent enthusiasm. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been so open with a stranger. Royal treachery and court politics had never allowed for such. As far back as he could remember, everyone had wanted something from him--usually blood. And they'd all been quick to sell him out for favors. Every word spoken had to be carefully weighed and considered for double meanings and how it could be twisted and used against him for harm by those who pretended to be his friends. There had been entire weeks and months spent in mute silence because it'd been easier than risking the fall-out of self-serving cruelty and double-dealing bullshit.
No one in his past had ever been as pure of heart as this innocent child by his side. And it'd been a long time since anyone had actually wanted to be around him for no reason at all.
Come to think of
This was completely alien terrain for him. "Sure, Vas. What's your pleasure?"
Vasili turned his link on. "War!"
*
By the time they reached the Gorturnum Cyperian StarStation, Ushara was beginning to have major doubts about her decision to bring Jullien here. Maybe this was a bad idea. Gavin was right. A large percentage of The Tavali who came through Cyperian were Fyreblood Andarions and if they recognized Jullien, there would be hell to pay. Or at least the blood and hide of one high profile, extremely valuable Andarion tiziran who had a bounty on his head that would make anyone an instant millionaire.
There wasn't a single Fyreblood left who wouldn't gut him on sight.
Without question or hesitation.
But then, he wasn't exactly recognizable in his current state. His hazel eyes were the only thing that betrayed his birth status. Humans had eyes like his. Andarions had eyes like hers. White or silvery-white, usually with a rim of red. A handful of Andarion males had fully red eyes that were called stralen. But they were an extremely rare genetic abnormality. And she'd never heard of the Anatoles carrying that gene. Legend claimed there were only three bloodlines that had it.
Two darkheart lineages and one Fyreblood.
As she opened the door to the infirmary, she froze at the sight of Jullien and Vasili. Her son must have talked the tiziran into a gaming session, and at some point, the two of them had fallen asleep. The game continued on an infinite music loop while they lay cuddled side-by-side, sound asleep on the floor. Like two little, snuggly puppies. Or her brothers when they'd been ... then again, her brothers still did that whenever they got together, and they were full-grown with sons of their own.
What was it about males that they all innately napped in a nest?
She smiled as warmth rushed through her. They were adorable in that position. Hating to disturb them, she quietly closed the distance and gently nudged Vasili awake.
He opened his eyes with a gasp.
Jullien shot up and drew his blaster. It took him a second to realize she wasn't a threat. His breathing ragged, he clicked the release back into place and holstered his weapon. "Sorry." Grimacing, he pressed his hand to his wound and reclined with a deep hiss. "Are we at the station?"
"We are."
He scratched at his whiskered cheek in a gesture that was almost childlike and somehow endearing. With a gentle smile, he handed the link to Vasili. "Looks like you won, champ."
"Only 'cause you fell asleep in the middle of your level."
"Yeah, sorry about that. Next rematch, I promise I'll bring my best game."
"You're on." Vasili held his hand out.
After shaking it, Jullien rose to his feet and took a minute to pull a ragged scarf from his pocket. He wrapped it around his neck to disguise his identifiable scars, then covered his eyes with a pair of opaque sunglasses so that no one could tell they were human. Raking his hands through his hair, he smoothed it down and caught her looking at him. "You think I don't know about my eyes? They've been causing me grief since the moment I opened them at birth."
"I think they're a beautiful shade of green."
"For a human. Maybe. Sucks if you happen to have a set of Andarion fangs and height. And they seriously blow if you're trying to blend on Andaria." He pulled his jacket back and secured it so that he could reach his weapons should he need them. "When I first started this fun vacation, I had contacts to disguise them for awhile, but I couldn't afford to keep getting new ones. And couldn't find an optometrist willing to work with me off record. They always want to pull and post medical files. For that matter, I'd kill for the creds to buy a new pair of prescription glasses. I really miss being able to see clearly."
Ushara had the hardest time believing that. His mother and father were two of the richest beings alive, who controlled two of the wealthiest empires in the Nine Worlds. "Your parents really cut you off?"
"Don't know, honestly. Last time I tried to access my accounts, I was told they were frozen by the authorities--which would be my parents' governments, and before I could clear the building where I was staying, five assassins were on me. I barely got out alive. Decided it wasn't worth another try."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We all have problems. As my father said, I made my bed and since my favorite pastime was wallowing in my sheets, he hoped I enjoyed the ones I'd picked out.... For the record? They really chafe. Especially my tender places. And don't even ask about the super wedgie they give me when I walk."
She let out a short laugh. "How can you make light of it?"
He shrugged. "What good is crying? I tried it once. Made my throat sore and gave me a head cold. Pissed off my grandmother to no end who decided there was never any real reason to cry unless she personally gave me one. After that precious, life-altering ass-beating, I decided it was easier to hold it in."
Someone knocked on the door before they slid it open. "Admiral? Are you leaving?"
Ushara nodded at Letia. "We're right behind you." She turned back toward Jullien. Shabby elegance. She'd heard that term her entire life, but she'd never fully understood it.
Until now.
He was the epitome of the term. A luscious, evocative, walking contradiction. Ruggedly masculine and yet at the same time refined and educated. His smooth, lilting accent and perfectly chiseled features didn't mesh with his worn-out clothing.
Human eyes with Andarion features. Gallows, facetious humor, and charming mannerisms ...
"You ready?"
"Lead me to the flaying, mu tara."
Gods, she hoped he was still joking and not psychic. Taking Vasili's hand, she led them from the ship and into the landing bay. Luckily, it was the middle of night here so there weren't many about.
Of course, being pirates, activity would pick up in about another hour. Most of them tended to work in the wee hours of the morning. But it was still a bit early before her brethren did their best work.
She headed for the main office. There were only a handful of workers there. All lower-ranking Tavali who saluted her as she entered.
Ushara returned the gesture. "Where's the DCP?" Chief pits were the officers in charge of the hangars, and the independent maintenance crews who worked in them, and each shift had a designated CP who took responsibility while on duty.
A human female gestured toward the break room. "Gunnar's in back, taking his lunch."
Relieved it was the CP she liked best, Ushara headed there with Jullien and Vas in tow.
Large and friendly, Gunnar had gray hair and the build of a mountain. He was eating a sandwich and flipping through his reports as she entered. "Hey, Lady VA, glad you made it back with your evil spawn." Cocking his head, he eyed Jullien suspiciously. "Where'd you dig that up?"
"He saved Vasili. Appears he's really good in a fight and knows his way around ships and systems. So I offered him work in appreciation of services rendered."
Gunnar took a slow drink as he passed a less than flattering glower over Jullien's body. "You got a name, Andarion?"
"Dagger Ixur."
She was impressed with how fast and easy that alias rolled off Jullien's tongue. He must have been using it for a while. And again with the sarcasm given that the Dagger Ixur was also the name of an Andarion boogeyman said to have been caused by an Andarion goddess when her son broke her heart with his treachery against her.
Jullien truly possessed a morbid sense of humor and irony.
Gunnar wiped his mouth. "Experience?"
"Lots."
He rolled his eyes. "Recent?"
"Yes."
With an irritated expression, Gunnar let out a long suffering sigh. "You need to understand, boy, we got a rough crowd that comes through here. You screw up and they're likely to mount your head on the wall."
The CP passed her a droll stare, but didn't comment. "See that you don't fuck up. You ever worked on freighters?"
"Fighters mostly. Some EVs and AUs. An engine's an engine. If I can't figure it out, I can always do some research. They tell me that these little doodad symbol things represent letters that when you put them together, they make cohesive words and form complex sentences. Those sentences form comprehensible paragraphs that can then explain how those ships and engines work, and miraculously tell you all kinds of things you don't know. And that each one of those large, flying objects around us have these incredible items you can access called service manuals that will actually tell you how they operate, and how to repair them when they don't. It's all dark, soul-sucking magic, really."
Gunnar laughed. "Well hell, that makes you smarter than about half my crew. Welcome aboard. But stow that attitude, as it's likely to cause me to throw something heavy at your head. Report in tomorrow morning. I'll stick you on first rotation."
"Thanks, Gunnar."
He winked at Ushara. "For you, Admiral, anything."
She inclined her head to him. "Do you have any housing he can use in the meantime?"
He sucked his breath in sharply. "We got in a bunch of Stitches and Rogues not long after you left. They took up most of the available housing. All's I got left is slag quarters."
She cringed at the thought. Slag quarters were only slightly better than a jail cell.
"As long as it's a dry bed with nothing crawling in it, I can make do," Jullien said.
Gunnar got up and went to his main office where he kept the key cards. He came back a few minutes later and handed one to Jullien.
When he called for one of his assistants, Ushara stopped the girl.
"If she can take Vasili home, I'll show..." Ushara paused before she spoke the wrong name, "Dagger to his."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jullien didn't speak as Ushara led him through a rear door, out of the offices, and down a back, narrow corridor with a walk that he was pretty sure had been outlawed in a few systems. Most of all, he tried to focus on anything other than how perfectly shaped her ass was. How long it'd been since he last had a female touch him.
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