A race that was virtually extinct, which was why the mere idea that these three might be part of that rare breed hadn’t entered Bastien’s mind. He’d never thought to ever meet one in real life. Possessed of unbelievable psionic powers, they were more myth than reality.
But there was no legend to the fierce power that held him in an iron grip he couldn’t escape. Worse? The force on his neck was about to snap it in half.
“Wait!” the bearded Tavali shouted as he held a hand out toward the one who must be holding Bastien up.
“For what?” the Trisani sneered. “A fucking invitation?”
The other Tavali smirked with a reckless disregard for the Trisani’s life-and-death abilities. “Set him down.”
Growling low in his throat, the Trisani obeyed. “A living enemy makes for a dead you.”
Bastien had to agree with that logic as he hit the ground hard enough to rattle his bones and what little sense he’d managed to hang on to.
The Tavali gave the Trisani an amused stare. “I see you’ve been reading theBook of Harmonyagain.”
“Fuck you, Andarion,” he snarled under his breath.
Those words stunned Bastien.
Andarion? With blond hair?
How?
Bastien scowled. Every Andarion he’d ever seen had been dark-haired, dark-skinned, with eerie white eyes. And while the woman with them had the traditional Andarion eyes, the bastard standing between them appeared human, except for his enormous size.
Yet unlike the woman, his eyes were covered by dark red-tinted glasses. Bastien had assumed them human in color, not Andarion.
He snorted at the Trisani, who obviously was not his brother, Bastien realized, even though they fought as if they were. “And another lovely quote from your peaceful scripture.”
Bastien glanced to the older woman. “Who are you people?”
“We’re just passing through.” The Andarion shrugged his survival pack off his back. He held it out toward Bastien. “Let us look for what we came after—has nothing to do with you—then you can grab a shower on our ship. I’ll leave you with some clothes, food, and water.”
In that moment, as their gazes met through those dark glasses the male wore, Bastien had a sneaking suspicion.
No…
Couldn’t be Jullien.
This Tavali was too fit and trim.
Too sober.
And yet, last Bastien had heard before his own parents had been killed, Jullien had been disinherited by both his mother and father. Thrown out of their empires during a bloody coup on Andaria that preceded the one on Kirovar by only a few months. Jullien’s brother, who’d been presumed dead before Bastien’s birth, had been found alive, and with his return, Jullien had lost everything.
That had been four years ago.
A lot could happen in four years. He ought to know. His life had skidded to absolute hell in a matter of weeks.
Still, it was hard to think that this might be Julie. Bastien raked him with a suspicious glare. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you look like you could use it.”
Yeah, no one else would bother. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. People only helped when they had a reason to.
Bastien narrowed his gaze on those hazel eyes he was now sure belonged to his cousin. “Do I know you?”
“No.”
