Born of Fire

Her smile was patronizing, but contrite. “Well, seax, justice takes time, and time is one luxury I don’t own.”


Those familiar words haunted her, tugging at her memory. As the overseer turned away with a mannerism she was all too familiar with, a strange sense of déjà vu prickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

Now that she thought about it, she knew the exact curve of the overseer’s jaw—a jaw she’d kissed numerous times. She knew the little dimple in the left cheek that had tormented her with devilish taunts and quips.

Drawing closer, Shahara noted that the overseer’s eyes were as dark as space. If she’d had any doubt before that, that threw it out.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

The overseer looked up, her face impatient. “You’re still here?”

Too stunned to think better of it, she blurted out, “You’re his mother . . .”

The overseer lifted her brows and stared at her as if she were crazy. “I have no children.”

Shahara shook her head, knowing better. “Yes, you do. You have a son named Sheridan Digger Wade and you had a daughter named Talia. And if you don’t hear me out, I swear I’ll let everyone know exactly who you are and what you did to them.”

Panic sparked in the obsidian depths a moment before the overseer could mask it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

More knocks pounded on the door. It sounded like they were using a battering ram. “Mistress?”

Shahara gave her no reprieve. “Are you sure you want them in here for this?”

The overseer hesitated a moment longer before she pressed her intercom button. “I’m all right, Briun,” she told her secretary. “Just keep the guards outside until you hear from me.”

“Yes, Mistress of Justice.”

She looked back at Shahara, and this time Shahara noted she finally had the overseer’s full attention. “Now what can I do for you, Seax . . . ?” She paused and closed her eyes. “Forgive me, I forgot your name.

“Dagan. Seax Shahara Dagan. I’m here to get a fair trial for your son.”

Disgust and hatred flashed deep in the woman’s gaze. She curled her lip. “Like father, like son. I’m sure whatever he’s accused of, he’s more than guilty of it.”

“No,” Shahara corrected. “Sheridan is a good, fair man. Nothing at all like his father.”

“I don’t believe you. Evilness like Indy possessed runs through the genes.”

“And half of his genes come from you, Mistress. Believe me. Sheridan has saved my life more than once when other people would have left me to die. He’s not his father’s son.” She hesitated before she added, “But he is yours.”

There was something in her gaze . . . like those words had chipped away some of her ice. “What is it you ask for him?”

“I was approached by Seax Traysen on your behalf. He asked me to escort Sheridan”—it was so odd to keep using that name, but she wanted to ram home his identity to the overseer—“in order to gain proof of assassination and corruption on Ritadaria.”

“The Merjack case?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She glanced down at the miniature flags on her desk. “Did you find it?”

“Yes . . . with Sheridan’s help.”

She nodded. “Very good, seax. Now how does this relate to a new trial for a convicted felon? A felon I’m sure more than earned his sentence for treason and theft.”

Shahara wanted to choke the woman for the obstinacy she had—for the same obstinacy she’d given her only son. What would it take to make her see she was wrong?

What would it take to make Syn’s own mother at least hear his case?

Thinking, she scanned the certificates and honors lining the walls behind the overseer. And as the dates of the overseer’s commissions registered in her mind, she had an epiphany. “How long have you been the overseer, Mistress of Justice? Twenty years?”

“Twenty-three to be precise. Why?”

Her stomach turned to stone with those words. It was just as she suspected. No wonder Syn had never come forward to clear his name.

It would have meant facing the woman who’d told him that if she ever laid eyes on him again, she’d have him imprisoned. It would have meant facing the woman who’d tried to kill him when he was an infant, and who had twice abandoned him to a world that hated him.

The harsh reality of that made her wince, but at least she finally understood why Syn had preferred to remain a criminal rather than clear his name.

Honestly, she couldn’t blame him for the decision.