“I don’t think he’s partnered with anyone, Nyk. He’s in bad shape. Been alone and scrounging for a long time. Trust me, I know the signs.” He’d been a gutter rat himself and lived among the sewers, barely surviving until Nyk had saved his life.
Nykyrian rubbed at his neck. “Still … my father said that the evidence against Bastien was substantial. Aside from eyewitness testimony, he was found covered in my aunt’s blood. His prints all over the murder weapon.”
“You gotta know he didn’t do it, though. No one would have shot up his family and stayed there, waiting to be arrested for it. He’s not that stupid. If he were, he’d have never survived on his own.”
Nykyrian crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re right. The testimony came from his uncle who inherited the throne in his stead. And his ex-wife, who got a divorce and Bastien’s property, money, and titles out of it.”
“Follow the creds.” Syn sucked his breath in sharply. “Um, yeah … he definitely didn’t do it.” Having been accused in a corrupt legal system, Syn knew a setup when he heard one. “They framed that boy.”
“My father refuses to believe it, though.”
“Why?” Syn was aghast.
“He knew them all. Said Bastien was a spoiled brat who needed a good ass-beating most days.”
Syn scoffed. “I live in fear of what he’d have said about us, back in the day.”
“So you do trust Bastien, then?”
Syn shrugged. “Trust is a stretch. Like you, I have serious mental issues with that whole concept. But Hauk did, and Bastien got him out of there, even though he had nothing to gain, really.”
Nyk nodded slowly as he continued to think it over. “Keep an eye on him and let me know when he wakes up.”
*
Bastien came awake with a start in a cold, sterile room. For a moment, he was terrified as he thought himself back in League custody. With a curse, he sat up and started to rip the IV and monitors off.
Then he saw Aros in the corner, eyeing him as if he were filth.
Bastien’s heart retreated from his throat as he remembered what had happened. That he was in Sentella custody. Not League. He was technically safe. But given the way his uncle was staring at him, that state might not be a lasting one.
“You’ve no idea how much it angers me that they removed your death sentence from you, boy.”
Scowling, Bastien tried to understand what Aros meant. “I thought you begged the Overseer for clemency in my case?”
Aros screwed his face up as if the very thought nauseated him. “I would never have done such. I wanted to see you hung for what you did to my sister and her family.”
Yeah, ’cause they weren’t his family, too.
Bastien glared at him. “Then why did you send the petition to Alia Mureaux on my behalf?”
“I never sent anything to her about you.”
Bastien’s jaw went slack as he realized what had happened.
Jullien. There was no other explanation. That little bastard loved to forge paperwork. He was the only one who’d have had the skill, knowledge and balls to pretend to be his father, and to send that in without the Triosan emperor knowing, and no one else in the Trigon Court realizing it was a forgery.
He was also the only one who’d never bought into the lies. Not once.
Leave it to Julie. But then, that was how he was. Never sought credit for any good deed, because if he was ever caught doing one, it was met with extreme suspicion from everyone around him. So he kept to the dark recesses where he couldn’t be seen—a shadow dweller like Bastien.
Pet hate, indeed …
Forget Syn. Jullien was the only man he wanted to kiss right now.
But since he wasn’t here, he pinned a gimlet stare on Aros. “If you think me guilty, why are you here, Uncle?”
With a grim expression, Aros stood up. “I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you personally that I hope you get exactly what you deserve.”
Those words fell like blows against his soul. Gut punches he could have done without. So much for being home.
Yet that was okay. They also fueled his own fury and determination. Because the one thing about Bastien Cabarro, he was a scrappy son of a bitch and nothing motivated him more than condemnation and obstacles.
Over. Under. Around or through. There was always a way to get what you wanted. To get what you needed.
Let no one stand in your way, son. Especially not yourself.
His father’s favorite saying.
The need for vengeance, and to make them all eat their unjust convictions against him, swelled inside him. Rising from the bed, Bastien slowly peeled the monitors off.
Then he pulled out the IV.
“For your sake, Uncle, you better pray that I don’t. Because if I do get what I deserve, I will be emperor of the Kirovarian empire. And when I am, your crown is the first one I’m coming after.…” He raked a repugnant stare down his body. “Funny, really, I only came back for the head of one uncle, but after this … two heads mounted on my wall will be all the sweeter.”
CHAPTER 9