Atlantis Betrayed Page 18

  “He’s not my best friend,” Christophe said.

  She let her head fall back on the chair and started laughing. “Right. Because that’s the important part of what I just said.”

  “Is one of your new books in here?”

  “You want to read? Now?”

  He just stared at her, clenching his jaw, and not in a good way, so she sighed and pointed to the bookshelves. “Bottom shelf on the left. It would be bad form to display my books like some sort of trophy, of course.”

  “Hopkins?”

  “Are you kidding? Hopkins would hang framed posters of all my covers in the foyer if I’d let him. That was a classic grandfather-ism, always going on and on about bad form. He’s probably rolling over in his grave to think I’m anything as common as a children’s book author.”

  He came up with a copy of The Forest Fairies and flipped through the pages as he walked over to her. Then he dropped the open book into her lap.

  “There. On the right.”

  She glanced down at the painting she knew so well, then back at him, puzzled. “Yes? What about it?”

  “What does he say? To the human child?”

  She looked again, but she knew. She knew. She recited it from memory, not needing to see the words on the page. “Oh, no. Oh, no. He says, ‘Come and play with me for a while, fair one.’”

  “Yes, he does. And an assent, willingly spoken, means that your friend the Fae princess can do whatever she wants with Denal, for as long as she wants to do it.” His face was grim, promising retribution and death.

  Fiona shivered. “But she’s my friend,” she protested. “We can surely get him back.”

  “Yes, maybe. But who knows how many years will have passed for him? Time does not pass the same in Silverglen as it does here or in Atlantis. We Atlanteans do live a very long time, but it is nothing to the Fae. He could be a very, very old man by the time we see him again, even if she returns him to us tomorrow.”

  “What can we do?” She was the type to take charge, but she didn’t know how to combat Fae tricks. Especially since only yesterday she hadn’t even known that the Fae really existed.

  “We go to Atlantis. I need to report in, and we need a way to fight on more than one front.” He bent his head for several seconds and then looked up at her, his eyes burning pools of green. “If only the damn portal would respond to me. I don’t understand why it won’t.”

  Before she could reply, a shimmering oval of light appeared in the middle of the room, immediately in front of Christophe. He jumped back, giving it room to expand and lengthen.

  Fiona slowly stood up and circled the apparition, not coming within five feet of it until she was close enough to take Christophe’s hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Welcome to Atlantis,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. He pulled her forward, and together they stepped into the portal and fell through into a shimmering, cascading tunnel of light.

  Chapter 24

  Atlantis

  Fiona called on every single ounce of manners, decorum, and British stiff upper lip she possessed to keep from allowing her jaw to hang open like some sort of unfortunate fish. Like, for example, the thirty-foot-long fish swimming by just outside the dome.

  The dome that was quite clearly underneath the ocean.

  The dome of Atlantis.

  Christophe grinned and put his arm around her, which was actually quite welcome since her knees were a bit wobbly from the journey through the magic portal.

  “So, Alice and the rabbit hole had nothing on this. Did you ever bring Lewis Carroll down here?”

  “Not that I know of, but it would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” He laughed. “Which one of the guards would be Tweedle Dum?”

  One of the guards, standing by the glowing portal, which was absolutely enormous on this side, put a hand on his sword. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, so he was probably five hundred. “Watch it, my friend. I still owe you for that fur-brained lummox comment.”

  Christophe shrugged. “I call it like I see it. Plus there were a few pints of ale involved. I’m not sure I can be held responsible for what I said.”

  The second guard, an older man with graying hair and a beard, threw back his head and laughed. “As I recall it, Christophe, you challenged every man in the place to darts and beat them all soundly.”

  “Except for me,” the first guard said, grinning.

  “Really?” Fiona said dryly. “There’s something you’re not good at?”

  “Oh, please, my lady, don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is,” the older man said, groaning. “It won’t fit under the dome before much longer.”

  Christophe tossed an energy sphere in his left hand. “You know, I can crush you like a bug, Marcus.”

  “Not till you take Alaric up on his offer and join the priesthood,” Marcus replied, unruffled. “Until then I can whip your youngling behind with a trick or two.”

  “The priesthood?” Fiona stared at Christophe. “When were you going to tell me that?”

  “Um, look at the fish!” Christophe pointed to the fish she’d seen earlier, or one of its mates. He suddenly looked a bit like Declan had when she’d caught him filching the biscuits before his tea. She put on her best stern big sister expression and he twitched a little.

  “No time to discuss this now,” he said, taking her arm. “Must get to the palace and report in.”

  He started walking, pulling her along, and then cast a dark glance back over his shoulder. “Marcus, I won’t forget this.”

  The elaborate sound of a fake yawn floated through the air and Fiona had to stifle a laugh. “Marcus doesn’t sound very afraid of you.”

  He kicked a white glossy stone on the path and then grinned. “Yeah. It’s so hard to get good help these days.”

  “We’re in Atlantis.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I mean, we’re in Atlantis.” She finally remembered to look up and leaned her head back as far as she could to stare into a cloudless, sunny sky.

  “It’s sunny.”

  “Usually is.”

  “No, you don’t seem to understand what I’m saying.” She clutched his arm and stopped walking. “We’re in Atlantis and we’re underneath a dome underneath the ocean, and it’s sunny.”

  He bent down and kissed her so thoroughly that her fingers were somehow twined in his hair by the time he stopped.

  “That was lovely, but it doesn’t speak to the question,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath.

  “What question? Was there a question in there?”

  She gestured around them with a sweep of her arm. “Every bit of this is a question. I’m going to be asking questions for hours. No, days. Years, maybe. This is amazing.”

  “Is this where I say ‘I told you so’ and you agree I’m the most wonderful man you’ve ever known?” He kissed her again.

  “No, definitely not. There should be no ‘I told you so’ between us, ever,” she decided. “However, you are quite wonderful. Now, where is that palace?”

  She started walking again, only noticing after about ten steps that he wasn’t with her. She turned and he still stood in place as if frozen, staring at her with the oddest expression on his face.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yes.” He caught up to her, and they walked down the path into a fantasy.

  Everything, everywhere she looked, was impossible. Far too fantastical to be real. Even the trees and flowers in the garden were unlike anything she’d ever seen before, as if she’d stepped into the most secret imaginings of a master horticulturalist or possibly a Dr. Seuss book. Sweeps of vivid purples from an insane version of the color chart complemented shades of green from all ranges of the spectrum. Every color she’d ever seen and many she couldn’t conceive of existing in nature—they were all represented in a fabulous palette that somehow, in some crazy way, was absolutely beautiful together.

  And the scents . . . oh, the scents. Human
perfume makers would go mad trying to take it all in. Each section of the garden carried its own distinctive bouquet of fragrance, shading from light to intense. By the time they reached the palace itself, she was nearly drunk just on the pure sensation of it all. Sight, scent, touch—for of course she’d had to touch and feel the petals on the blossoms, the rough or smooth bark on various trees—it all overwhelmed her until she believed she’d be completely unsurprised to see a white rabbit consulting its pocket watch at any corner.

  “How can you ever bear to leave it? I would never spend a minute indoors if I lived here,” she whispered, not wanting even the sound of her own voice to disturb the moment. “I have to set a book here. My fingers are itching for my paints. Oh, the children are going to love it. If there were only a way to bring these fragrances to the pages of a book.”

  He looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s pretty.”

  “Pretty? Are you kidding? This is the most glorious garden I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of gardens. Even the queen’s gardens at Buckingham Palace.”

  He laughed. “Well, if you think about it, this is a queen’s garden, too. Or at least a high princess, soon to be queen. Atlantis is a lot older than England, too.”

  “I don’t want to meet her, Christophe. I’m dressed like—like—”

  “A lot like me, actually,” a friendly female voice said from behind them.

  Fiona turned to find a smiling woman with vivid reddish-gold hair walking toward them. She, like Fiona, was dressed simply in trousers and top. The woman held out her hand and Fiona shook it.

  “Hey, Christophe, I thought you were in London. Oh, which I guess would explain the British accent of your friend.”

  Christophe bowed. “Princess Riley, this is Lady Fiona Campbell of Scotland by way of London.”

  Fiona wanted to crawl in a hole and pull the dirt in over top of her. “Oh, Your Highness, I’m sorry. I’m so pleased to meet you.” She bowed her head a little, since curtseying would look ridiculous.

  The princess laughed. “No bowing, no Your Highness- ing, please. Just Riley. It is a true pleasure to meet you.” Her dark blue eyes were glowing, not with magic but with simple joy.

  “Truly a pleasure. You are most welcome,” Riley said, her voice slowing. She turned to Christophe. “Really? Finally? Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

  Fiona watched in utter shock as the high princess of Atlantis jumped across the space separating her from Christophe and threw her arms around him. “I knew it. I knew it, I knew it. Underneath that surly exterior, I knew there was a heart beating.”

  “Yes,” Christophe said, raising one eyebrow and tentatively patting the princess on her back. “My heart grew three sizes today.”

  Riley pulled away and punched his arm lightly. “Funny guy. I have to quit letting Ven raid my Christmas video collection. You are all taking over my best lines.”

  She put her hand on Fiona’s arm. “Let’s go find something to eat and have a long chat, shall we?”

  Fiona stared back at Christophe, but he just grinned and held out his hands, helpless against Hurricane Riley. So Fiona did the last thing she ever, in her lifetime, could have imagined doing. She went to have lunch with the princess of Atlantis.

  Christophe watched as Riley herded Fiona off toward the terrace, probably to stuff her with food and pump her for information. Riley was aknasha, and with her Gift of emotional empathy she had clearly picked up on his feelings for Fiona. Maybe now she could explain them to him. He felt like his insides were tangled up into knots of razor wire mixed with flowering vine. Every moment he spent with Fiona made him want to be with her more, but danger haunted his footsteps. Danger and violence. She’d already seen too much of it. He’d thought his heart would explode out of his chest when he saw what had happened to that vamp and realized that she must be the one holding the blessed water.

  “Can’t stay with her. Can’t leave her. Where does that leave me?”

  He felt Alaric’s presence before the priest appeared, and he weighed the odds of getting away. Slim to not a chance in the nine hells, he figured.

  “You do not have the Siren,” the priest said even before he’d fully transformed into his corporeal shape. “And yet you have returned. With another human. Perhaps we can open a nature preserve for humans?”

  “You are dangerously close to sedition, my friend,” Prince Conlan growled, appearing next to Alaric.

  The two of them were getting far too good at popping in and out. Made a man feel spied on. Christophe stood his ground, but bowed to his prince.

  “Really? You’re bowing to me when there’s nobody here to see it? Are you feeling okay?” Conlan reached up a hand as if to brush Christophe’s forehead.

  “Bad habits must be wearing off on me,” Christophe muttered, ducking.

  “Bad habits? More bad habits? You’re already a walking cornucopia of bad habits. One more might send you into the abyss, screaming,” Alaric said.

  “I’m the horn of the goat who suckled Zeus?” Christophe tilted his head. “I’ve been called worse, I guess.”

  “Nice. Greek mythology for ten points, ding, ding, ding,” Conlan called out. “Next up, hot human women for twenty.”

  “Your wife might not appreciate you calling another woman hot, Your Highness,” Christophe pointed out.

  “Your Highness me again and I’ll kick your ass. Also, last week she told me not to release Liam on unsuspecting women because he is, and I quote, ‘hot enough to blister paint.’ Don’t worry about me and Riley, Christophe. We’re doing just fine.” The prince’s wicked grin left Christophe in little doubt of that, but it was all far, far beside the point.

  “Not that talking about women isn’t fun, guys, but I have news and it’s all bad.”

  “The Siren?” Alaric’s eyes glowed a hot metallic green. “Tell me the Siren isn’t in the hands of the vampires.”

  “I’d love to tell you that, but I can’t. I don’t know where it is, yet. And I can go one worse. Denal willingly went to the Summer Lands with a Fae princess.”

  “What?” Conlan smacked his hand against the trunk of a tree. “Our alliance with Rhys na Garanwyn is supposed to prevent this. I’m going to have his arrogant ass on a platter for this one.”

  “Leaving aside the truly nasty visual that creates, you can leave na Garanwyn out of this. Maeve na Feransel is Unseelie Court.”

  Dead silence. Alaric looked at Conlan. Conlan looked at Alaric. They both looked at him. Just when Christophe started to sweat, Conlan finally spoke.

  “I think we’d better go inside and call Ven. We’re going to need to do some planning.”

  “Fiona deserves to be in on it,” Christophe said. “She has a stake in this, too.”

  “What are you talking about? What stake could a human female possibly have in one of the missing gems of Poseidon’s Trident?” Alaric made no secret of his belief that only the Atlantean priesthood had a claim on the sea god’s most precious object of power.

  “It’s kind of complicated,” Christophe said. “But she’s secretly a ninja, both vamps and Fae may want to hurt her, and the Unseelie princess who invited Denal to play? She’s Fiona’s best friend.”

  The priest and the prince both froze and stared at him for several long seconds.

  “Yes,” Conlan said finally. “We most definitely want to talk to your Fiona.”

  Alaric raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for Christophe to deny that she was his Fiona. When he didn’t, the priest sighed. “And so another one, as Princess Riley would say, bites the dust.”

  Chapter 25

  Atlantis, the palace war room, half an hour later

  Fiona swallowed past the lump of awe that seemed to have permanently settled in her throat. First she’d had fruit and juice with the princess of Atlantis, who offered her the use of the palace gardens for her next book any time she wanted, so long as she promised to autograph a book for Prince Aidan.

  Then Christophe had come to
find her, told her she was needed at a war council, and she’d walked through the palace—a classic concept of mythology turned historical fact. Now she was sitting at a scarred wooden table that was probably older than Scotland. Surrounded by unbelievably gorgeous men who were all cut from the same genetic cloth as Christophe. Tall, dark-haired, and muscular. High cheekbones and sensual mouths. Men to make women sit up and notice.

  They were almost as devastatingly attractive as Christophe. She only hoped devastating wasn’t the operative word.

  “Shall I make the introductions?” Riley briefly rested a hand on Fiona’s shoulder before taking a seat on the other side of the table. Without waiting for a response, she began, pointing to the various people as she named them. “Everyone, this is Lady Fiona Campbell, currently of Campbell Manor, Coggeshall. She also has a secret identity, but I think I’ll let her tell you about that.”

  Fiona flushed, wondering why in the world she’d revealed her secrets so easily to Riley. There was something about the princess, though, that invited confidence.

  “This is my husband, Conlan.” A tall man with a distinct air of command bowed to Fiona.

  “Your Highness.” She tried to rise from her chair, which wasn’t that easy with Christophe holding her hand, but Conlan shook his head.

  “Please don’t. We’re pretty informal here, as you’ll soon notice. Please call me Conlan, Lady Fiona.”

  “Just Fiona, please.”

  “This is Ven,” Riley continued. “My partner in crime in the love of B movies. He’s also Conlan’s brother.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Ven said, his eyes lit up with definite amusement. “Especially with Christophe.”

  Christophe narrowed his eyes but didn’t release her hand.

  “We spend way too much time in here, by the way,” Ven grumbled. “I’m leaving after this to join Erin in Seattle at her witch’s coven meeting.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened until she was afraid they’d pop out of her head as Ven described what Erin was doing with her coven. Very powerful magic designed to aid the human rebels, from what she could glean from his brief description.