He'd tried to step past his hateful aunt. "I don't want to fight with you, Tylie."
She'd shoved him back so forcefully that he'd been tempted to hit her, but he'd refrained. "Then leave, or I'll call the guards on you and have the arrest warrant I've already signed for you executed. And you should know, Galene Batur is now the prime commander of the armada and Talyn Batur has been promoted to lieutenant commander. I'm sure they'd just love to have you in their custody after what you did to them."
That threat had hit home. Out of his own stupid fear and jealousy, Jullien had only meant to intimidate and insult Talyn while Talyn had been assigned to his guard. But things had escalated fast and skidded out of control when Chrisen and Merrell had gotten involved, and Talyn had gone on a killing quest for their throats.
Jullien had arrested Talyn--with the intent to release the boy, after he'd been roughed up to teach him a lesson. But because of his personal hatred for Talyn's father, Merrell had seriously screwed Talyn over and marked him as a disinherited traitor before his brother Chrisen had broken Talyn's legs and shaved his head. The two of them had deported Talyn to Onoria and left him there to die.
To his eternal shame, Jullien had done nothing to stop it. Worse, he'd helped them to cover it up. Like a mindless idiot and too afraid to stand up to his older cousins who had already tried to kill him, too, Jullien had gone along with their plans for Talyn, hoping he could survive their treachery before he became their next victim.
If either Galene or Talyn ever laid hands on Jullien, they'd gut him for his part in what had happened. Just like Talyn had done to his cousins.
Talyn had brutally slaughtered both Merrell and Chrisen. Even though he'd faced them in the Ring that was supposed to house a fair fight, they hadn't stood a chance against the Andarion champion fighter.
And unlike Galene who ferociously protected her son, Jullien's mother wouldn't stop it from happening.
Jullien's second lesson in life had been that he was on his own. When the wolves came rushing for his throat, his family ran to save their own asses and left him locked outside with the wolves, to fend for himself.
He had no one at his back. His side or anywhere near him. Hell, he was lucky if they weren't throwing anchors on his body and tying raw meat to this throat.
But Tylie hadn't been through with him. She'd smiled coldly in his face with a gleam of sickening satisfaction in her white eyes. "You should also know that you've been removed from succession. You're no longer tahrs. Nykyrian is now the crowned prince and heir of Andaria and Triosa."
Those words had gutted him. Not because he'd been disinherited, he'd expected as much, but because his mother hadn't had the decency to tell him herself.
Or his father, either, for that matter. They'd done it without a single word to him.
He'd lifted his chin with as much pride as he could muster. Another thing his family had taught him early on was to never show how much pain his enemies wrung from him. Even when those enemies were close blood relatives. "I see. I'll just get my things, and--"
"There's nothing here for you. Why don't you do us all a favor and go? Don't you understand that the very sight of you sickens us? Or is that what you want? To cause us all as much pain as you can?"
No, that was the last thing he'd wanted.
As he'd turned to leave, Tylie had stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
What? His dignity? That, they'd shredded long ago. So he'd simply stared at her.
Aggravated, she'd frisked him until she dug out his link. "This is Andarion royal property. You're not entitled to it or anything else anymore." She'd stepped back and gestured at the guards. "Escort him from the premises and make sure his access is cleared from all accounts. He is not to return here again. For anything."
With that, they'd followed him all the way to the outer gates.
He could still hear the slamming of the doors behind him as Tylie had him locked out of the only home he'd ever known. Furious and past rational thought, he'd finally started back in, when Kelsei, Tylie's girlfriend, had shot him and driven him off the premises.
None of them had ever called him after that to see if he'd even survived the blaster wound. He wasn't even a passing afterthought to his own parents.
I'm nothing to anyone.
Rolling to his side, Jullien growled under his breath as he tried to forget everything in the past.
But he couldn't.
Every night, he went through this. Regret after regret. All the things he wished he could have done differently. All the ones he'd hurt that he shouldn't have.
He should have been a better son. But every time he'd ever tried to see his mother, he'd been shoved away. Either by Tylie or Galene, or one of the ever-revolving doctors who'd monitored his mother's health.
"Your presence upsets her. It's best for her delicate state if you just stay away from the tizirah."
"She doesn't want to see you, Jullien. She only wants Nykyrian. And you're not your brother."
Since he was five years old that was all he'd been told. And on the rare occasions he'd actually seen his mother, she'd looked past him or shoved him aside. "Have you seen Nykyrian? Where's your brother? I know he's here. Why are you keeping him from me? Nykyrian!" Then she would either attack him for daring to be alive while Nykyrian wasn't, or show him a picture of his brother that she wore over her heart.
Never his photo.
Only Nykyrian's.
Or worse, she'd mistake him for his uncle who'd tried to murder her when she was a girl, and go into hysterics where she'd try to kill him and they'd have to sedate her while he tried to make her understand that he wasn't Eadvard, and that he meant her no harm.
That he just wanted to love her.
Between his mother's insanity, his father's neglect, his aunt's cruelty, and his own insecurities and fears, his grandmother had gotten into his head and mind-fucked him to the point he hadn't known which end was up. Every which way Jullien had turned, he'd been used at best, abused at worst. If he ever made the mistake of trusting someone, they betrayed him or were murdered.
Or worse, they were psychotic ...
"I killed your brother. Don't think for one minute I won't kill you, too, if you don't do exactly as I say. You may be the only grandson I have, but you're not the last of the Anatole bloodline, and at least the others are full-blooded Andarions, not sniveling human byblows. You're weak and pathetic. Just like your worthless human father. A disgrace to our mighty Andarion lineage."
Cursing, Jullien got up from the bed and dressed again. There was no need to try and sleep. His demons were out in full force tonight, and they were flogging him. Guilt over what he'd done to his brother rode him hard.
Yes, he'd wanted Nykyrian dead as much as his grandmother had. His whole life had been made miserable because of him. But that wasn't Nykyrian's fault. Anymore than it was his.
Both of them had been screwed over by their family. Yet what he'd done to Nykyrian because of their grandmother and her hatred for the human race was unforgivable and he knew it.
I am my father's son.
More human than Andarion.
Leaving his new home, Jullien followed the alley back to the hangar and found a Tavali crewman. "Where's a bar?"
The Tavali curled his lip in repugnance of Jullien's ragged, outdated clothes before he answered with directions.
Thanking him, Jullien headed for it, determined to drown the demons in something potent.
It didn't take long to find the dive on the station. Apparently, it was a common destination for Tavali, as it was near the hangar, and crowded with humans and aliens, even at this hour.
Which was good for someone who didn't want to be noticed.
Jullien headed to the dimly lit bar in the rear corner and ordered a bottle of Tondarian A-Grade Hellfire--the strongest of their hard liquors and a small fortified beer to bomb it with. After he paid for it, he debated going back to his new home, but honestly, he didn't want be alone wit
With his spine to the wall, he poured a drink and knocked it back. As he set up the next round, a short orange-fleshed Oksanan approached him.
He gave Jullien a speculative once-over. "You come in on a crew?"
"Maybe."
"Tavali?"
Jullien hesitated. But he knew better than to claim citizenship. The Tavali would kill anyone who tried to pass themselves off as one of them. Their citizenship was something you earned, and you better be a full-standing member when you proclaimed it, or you wouldn't live for long. "No."
His beady eyes narrowed on Jullien's neck.
Too late, he realized he'd left his scarf behind so his evidence of hard drug use was plain to see. But at least he'd remembered his sunglasses.
"You interested in some Bliss?"
Jullien pulled his collar up, over his scars. "Can't afford it."
"We could work out a payment plan. First hit on me."
Yeah, that was the last thing he needed. And that wasn't what he'd meant. Even if he'd had the money, he couldn't afford to have his senses dulled with that. Not with the number of beings out to end him. "It's all right. I'll pass." He indicated his bottles with his glass. "This is all I need."
"You sure? What about a companion? I can hook you up with whatever you're craving." He snapped his fingers and an extremely attractive brunette walked over. "Delisa here has skills that are unrivaled."
She cut a salacious smile at Jullien. "Hi, handsome. Need some company?" Sidling over to him, she slid her hand down to cup him in a firm, soothing grip.
Jullien couldn't breathe as the blood rushed from his brain, straight to his groin. He almost came instantly. But he'd had enough of bored females who watched the time while they pleasured him with disinterested hands.
Pulling her palm away, he sighed regretfully. "Sorry, love. I'm sure you're very good at what you do, and you are extremely beautiful, but I don't feel like treating another sentient creature as a commodity to be bought and sold. I've got enough sin on my soul. I'm not looking to add anymore tonight."
"Pity." She walked away to find someone else.
The alien tsked. "If you change your mind, I'm always here. Ask for Rrisk."
Jullien saluted him with the bottle before he poured another drink.
"Have to say, I'm impressed. Not many males can turn Delisa away."
Jullien scowled at the deeply accented voice that spoke way too near to his back. How had the bastard gotten that close to him without his knowing it? Had he been an assassin, Jullien would be dead.
Unnerved, he studied the tall, dark-haired human. There was something about him that seemed familiar. As if they'd met before, but he couldn't peg him. And while he wore Tavali gear and Canting, there was an air of regal refinement that clung to him denoting a fellow aristocrat. Had they met on the street, in regular clothes, Jullien would assume him another prince.
The male held his hand out toward him. "Name's Tray. You are...?"
"Dagger." He shook the proffered hand.
"Join me for a drink?"
"Why?"
Tray laughed. "I have a private booth and you don't."
"Well, in that case..." Jullien picked up his bottles and followed him.
As soon as they were seated, a waitress came immediately with a glass of Tondarian ale and assorted snacks.
Jullien arched a brow. "Take it, you're here a lot."
"Yeah. I don't sleep much. You?"
Jullien knocked back a shot of his drink and sighed. "Sometimes I wrestle with my demons. Other times, we just snuggle."
Snorting, he pushed the bowls toward Jullien. "You look like you could use some food."
Jullien took a handful of nuts.
"So, given the demons comment, why did you pass on the drugs?"
Jullien watched the way Tray poured his drink. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."
"And that is?"
"Does anyone else here know that the high admiral of the Gorturnum Nation is a dethroned Trisani prince?"
CHAPTER 4
All friendliness died instantly on Trajen Scalera's face. For a moment, Jullien feared he'd crossed the line and was about to have his brain melted by the man's superhuman psionic powers.
But after a long minute, Trajen leaned back and narrowed his dark eyes on him. "How the hell do you know that?"
"Which part?"
"Start from the top."
"When we crossed to the booths, everyone skittered out of your way as if terrified of catching your attention, and no offense, you're no taller than I am, and not as muscular. And you're not the one who's fanged. Being more obviously Andarion, I'm the one who usually freaks the humans out." He jerked his chin toward the waitstaff. "Only one who's approached you was the waitress, who knew exactly what you wanted, and it's the really good and expensive shit--not this watered-down swill I'm drinking. And she didn't ask for payment on delivery, which means you're more important than the owner of this less than refined establishment."
Jullien spread his hands out to indicate the food between them. "The booth magically vacated for you the moment you appeared, and no one else went for it ... and not just any table. The only one that has a clear view of every entrance and exit from where you're sitting, which you check as much as I do. There are two guards on each door, who keep eye-balling me and deferring to you for any cues on what to do. Your uniform, while understated is custom and made from the best materials to be found. As are your weapons and boots. And while I don't know your Canting, I do know the Gorturnum flag when I see it. Something you're not afraid to openly flaunt. There are plenty of creatures in this bar for you to waste time with much better looking and far more entertaining than I am, yet you honed in on the one stray Ushara just dragged in and planted here to grill tonight. Put it together, it makes you head badass of the Gorturnum Nation, wanting to see if you should allow me to stay or jettison my sorry ass out the nearest airlock."
Trajen nodded with an irritated grimace. "Impressive. What makes you think I'm Trisani?"
"You don't have the typical eyes of one, which means you have mastered the absolute shit out of your powers and can camouflage all traces of your heritage--kudos on that, by the way. I don't even want to know what that cost you mentally and physically. But I'm guessing it's why the ancient Trisani word Thaumarturgus, or warlock, is stitched above your Canting. While you have buried the accent nicely, it slips every now and again on certain words and phrases. And like you, I'm a fallen prince. No matter how hard we try, we can't shake the mannerisms and decorum that were beaten in to us from the cradle. I swear to the gods, I think it's a genetic defect at times."
"Minsid hell. You always this astute?"
"You grow up with everyone around you plotting to set you up for embarrassment, punishment, or death, you learn fast to pay attention to small details."
"You must be hell at Squerin, then."
"Not really. I only played for the snacks."
Trajen laughed. "You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine."
He tilted his ale at Jullien. "As I said, you're a sharp one. And no. Only my VA knows who and what I am. It's something I suggest you keep to yourself."
"No worries. Keeping secrets is what I do best."
"And now it's your turn. I know you were a user and that you were tempted."
"True." Jullien reached for more nuts. "I had a moment when the Korilon whispered in my ear."
"And?"
"Luckily, I lost all hearing in that ear when my brother slapped me upside my head years ago. Didn't hear a thing."
Trajen snorted. "That's not an answer."
Jullien sighed. "Truth is, it took me too long to get away from it. I have no interest in going back down that dusty, dead-end road. I didn't like the gutter-hole where I ended up on it. Never really cared for waking up, covered in vomit anyway."
Nodding, Trajen folded his arms across his chest. "Tell you what ... Dagger. You stay clean and out of trouble, keep a good a record at work for the next year, and I'll sponsor you for citizenship candidacy."
That offer stunned him. "Don't fuck with me and make false promises."
"I'm not your grandmother, Andarion. I don't play those games with others. While I am not without my sins, insincerity isn't one of them. Like you said, we're fallen princes. I know what it's like to be without friend, family, or country. Hunted and alone. Hated and hurting. Checking every exit and entrance, knowing the next one through it could be an assassin who's gunning for me.... Sucks."
Jullien twisted the glass in his hand, as he debated Trajen's offer.
Not like he had a plethora of them to choose from.
Or any, really.
Trajen snorted. "You know I hear your thoughts, right?"
"Do you?"
"Yeah. You're wondering why I would care or even want to help you when no one ever has. Honestly? I have no idea. I don't really care. I just understand. A long time ago, a Tavali helped me out of a bad situation, and I still have no idea why he bothered to pull me out of the slag-mire when I wasn't worth it. But had he not done it, I'd be dead now. Either by my own hand or someone else's. You have him to thank for this, and yourself. Because as I sit here, looking at you, I keep thinking about him and what he did for me when a sane man would have walked away and left me to rot.... And the fact that you helped my VA when you had no reason to, and every reason to stay out of it. For that single selfless act, you bought yourself a chance to make something out of your life again."
Trajen manifested a Tavali Gorturnum cock badge from the thin air and pushed it toward Jullien. "The one thing about being Tavali, we are equal in our Nation. The only limits here are what you put on yourself. You rise and fall on your own merit and loyalty. No one else's. From this moment on, your slate is wiped clean. You have no past that matters. Anyone fucks with you, they answer to me. I'm not your grandmother. I don't work on hearsay or rumors. I will trust you until you give me a reason not to. Just don't abuse my trust, because I won't give you a second chance, and your life is what I will take when you break it. Understood?"
"Understood."
"You accept my terms?"
Jullien nodded. "Thank you."
Trajen inclined his head to him. "Don't thank me. Like I said, I'm paying forward a kindness that was once done for me. And you earned this by what you did for Vasili and Ushara. Keep making the right decisions and you'll go far in the Gorturnum Nation. Do wrong and I'll bury you."
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