Atlantis Rising Page 20

  She screamed. “Get out of my head! It’s all lies. You are going to marry . . . what’s her name?”

  “I don’t—”

  She snarled in his face, driven to jealous anguish beyond anything she’d thought she had in her. “Tell me her name!”

  Conlan dropped her arms, released her. Shoulders slumping, he looked her right in the eyes. “I don’t know her name. We’ve never met.”

  She fell backward, mouth falling open. “What? I don’t understand. Why—”

  “Why, indeed?” Conlan said, visibly drawing power into his body. His skin glowed with a faint blue-green iridescence and the flame was back in his eyes. “If I’m fit to be the king, then I should act as king, should I not?”

  With that, he took Riley’s hands in his and looked back over his shoulder at Alaric, who’d never left the room. “As king, I should have the right to choose. Because the ancient breeding program has been the way of the Seven Isles since the beginning does not mean it must continue as such.”

  Conlan looked at Riley, who sat, tears still streaming down her face, wondering what he was talking about.

  Wondering why she cared.

  Though she told herself she hated him, she could see the royalty in him, even kneeling on the floor. A position that would have rendered any other man subservient did nothing to diminish the kingliness in him.

  The command.

  She tried to breathe through the weight pressing on her chest—through the knot lodged inside her throat.

  His next words knocked any remaining breath out of her. “I, Conlan of Atlantis, high prince of the Seven Isles, therefore decree that the ceremony of mate-choosing shall no longer apply to any who do not wish it. And I renounce it. As king, I will choose for myself.”

  The gasps from behind her were louder this time, and her own echoed them. Alaric went dead white and clutched the edge of the table with both hands. Riley noticed it all only on the periphery of her senses; Conlan’s face filled her vision.

  She couldn’t form a single word.

  He stood, drawing her up with him, and put one arm around her waist. “I make my choice now. I choose her. I choose Riley Elisabeth Dawson, aknasha, human, to be my lady wife and queen.”

  He turned to Riley, joy fierce in his gaze. “If she will have me.”

  Before Riley could say a word, Alaric cut in. “No, you do not. You renounce nothing. Or else you doom Atlantis and the human world to a second Cataclysm.”

  Alaric smiled bitterly at her, then swung his gaze back to Conlan. “And your human will die.”

  As if to echo his proclamation of doom, the crashing sound of thunder ripped through the room and a lightning bolt of energy smashed into Alaric.

  Conlan gasped and dove on reflex across the room toward Alaric as another bolt of energy scorched through the air at the priest.

  “What in the nine hells?” he shouted, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  The pure green burst of fire smashed into Alaric dead center. The priest lit up as though electrified, arms jerking like some demonically possessed marionette.

  Conlan heard Riley screaming behind him, but he was trapped in the elemental current driving through the air and into Alaric.

  It lasted for hours, or for mere seconds. There was no way to tell. Time suspended itself on the cusp of energy gone rampant.

  Then, as suddenly as it had come, the paralyzing beam of power vanished. Ven and Justice ran into the room, shouting, as Conlan leapt forward and caught Alaric as he fell.

  He lay the unconscious form of the priest on the table and turned, breathing harshly, to help Riley.

  She stood, trapped, between Ven and Justice, who each held one of her arms and whose grim expressions signaled a major need to hurt somebody.

  Conlan was all over that idea.

  He started toward Riley. “Take your hand off her or the next thing you’ll feel will be my boot up your ass,” he snarled at his brother.

  “Yeah? And what exactly are you protecting? The woman—the empath who had the power to shut you down on the beach and now took Alaric out?”

  Riley gasped. “What? Are you kidding? How could I do that?”

  Denal spoke up from the hallway. “Lady Riley would never—”

  Bastien cut him off. “Shut up, boy. This is a matter beyond your knowledge.”

  Conlan’s steps faltered. He knew her. He’d been inside her soul, godsdamn it. But, it was true that she’d been so furious, and then Alaric—

  “What are you thinking?” she cried out. “Why are you looking at me like that? You can’t possibly think that I—”

  A hoarse voice from behind Conlan cut into her plea. “She is telling the truth, Conlan. She had nothing to do with this.”

  Conlan swung around to see Alaric pulling himself to a sitting position on the table, face drawn and pale. “That was a sign from the Trident. It is ready to be found.”

  The breath left Conlan in a rush, relief nearly making him dizzy. “Riley, I—”

  “No,” she said, voice devoid of any feeling. “You can keep your pretty speeches. You’ve just proven that I’m nothing to you.”

  She pulled her arm free of Ven and, head held high, turned to leave the room. At the doorway, she stopped and spoke without looking at him. “I can feel Reisen again. If I can help you locate him, I will. For Quinn’s sake. For the rebellion.”

  Conlan tried to reach her emotions, but—worse by far than the locked shields—all he encountered in her mind was desolation.

  “And stay out of my mind, Conlan. We’re through.”

  Denal looked around at all of them, dared to speak. “What do we do now?”

  Alaric answered. “Now we wait for another surge, so that I can locate the Trident.”

  Bastien slammed his fist into the wall. “And then we go open a can of whup ass on the House of Mycenae.”

  Conlan stood there with his guts bleeding on the floor, and the woman who’d caused it walked down the hall and out of his life. He bared his teeth in a snarl. “Exactly right, Bastien.

  “Exactly right.”

  Anubisa lifted her head from the limp and bloody form of Barrabas’s pathetic excuse for a general and hissed. The disturbance in the elements had blown through her mind like a clean wind driving the acrid stink of death off a battlefield.

  She despised clean winds.

  It was time to put Barrabas to work.

  Chapter 26

  Riley sat on the couch in the games room, emptiness washing through her, an island of quiet in the midst of the rushing preparations for battle. She and Alaric had spent the entire day working together to try to locate Reisen and the Trident. She’d intermittently received frustratingly brief connections to their emotions, even as the Trident played a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the priest.

  Finally, with the sunset, the flashes of power had become more powerful. Alaric had been able to track them, and the stronger emotional broadcasting she was feeling from Reisen and his warriors had helped triangulate a location.

  Now, it was all about waiting. She was unable to process so many frantic emotional ups and downs, so she’d decided to quit trying.

  After she’d steadfastly ignored Conlan all afternoon, he’d finally gone away to help prepare to hunt down Reisen and the Trident.

  She’d help them find their Trident they needed so badly, and then she’d never have to deal with any of these bastards again.

  She nearly reached out to touch Conlan’s mind before she caught herself and slammed her mental shields shut.

  The Trident. Yeah, the thing that he needed so badly, so he could go become the king and marry his precious queen. Well, bully for him. The look of doubt on his face when Ven had accused her of harming Alaric was something she’d never forget.

  Could never forgive. He’d been inside her—mind and body—inside her heart. But he’d still doubted her.

  Thank God she’d never told him that she loved him.

  “Not that I do,”
she muttered bitterly. “Fleeting moment of lust-induced insanity, right?”

  A shard of pain lodged somewhere deep in her chest twinged a protest at the thought, but she crushed it.

  Ruthlessly.

  Just like he’d been. Ruthless. Crushing her stupid fantasies of finally finding someone who would understand who she really was—and love her. Not abandon her.

  “Riley?”

  Great. Now she was even imagining his voice. She squeezed her eyes closed more tightly and ignored the wetness that pooled on her lashes.

  A finger stroked her cheek, and her eyes flew open. She hadn’t conjured him. He was here.

  He knelt in front of her, took her hands in spite of her attempt to avoid his grasp. The room was suddenly empty, too. No warriors, no weapons. Just the two of them.

  And the pain.

  “Riley, you can’t let a second of doubt destroy what we found between us,” he said. “Alaric and his doomsaying can rot in the nine hells, for all I care. I need you.”

  Even with her shields clamped shut on her emotions and blocking his, she could see the anguish in his face. The lines bracketing his mouth seemed to have deepened a decade’s worth in the space of the past half hour.

  She probably didn’t look so hot herself.

  Not that she cared. She closed her eyes again, determined to shut him out.

  Weakening when she felt his breath on her face—felt his kiss on her forehead.

  “I’ve only survived for five hundred years by never trusting anyone, Riley. Never believing in anyone. Never loving anyone.”

  She opened her eyes, needing to see his face.

  Then she opened her shields, needing to feel his heart.

  Both told her the same thing. Conlan—this proud warrior—was humbling himself before her. Desperate for her forgiveness.

  The pain in his eyes rivaled anything she’d felt in his memories from the time of Anubisa’s torture. And suddenly she couldn’t bear it.

  Couldn’t bear to be the one who caused him pain.

  “Conlan, I—”

  The sound of boots striding down the hallway interrupted her. It was Ven, and he had his battle face on.

  “Alaric says we go now. The Trident is screaming inside his head, and there’s a new level of power to it.” He stared down at Conlan and Riley, clearly not happy with what he saw, but didn’t say another word. Just turned on his heel and stalked off.

  “I have to go now, mi amara aknasha.”

  “I know. Be safe.”

  “You will be here when I return?” Conlan’s voice was fierce, desperation making it hoarse. “We can work this out then. Promise me.”

  “Yes. I promise. Now go. The quicker you go, the quicker you’ll come back.”

  He crushed her to him in a fierce hug, then claimed her lips with a searing kiss. “I’ll leave Denal and Brennan to stand guard with you. Stay safe for me, Riley. I need you to be safe.”

  Moments later, he was gone, the front door slamming behind him. She sank down on the couch, wondering if he would survive the confrontation with his enemy.

  Wondering how she could survive if he did not.

  Reisen stared with no little satisfaction at the blue-robed, kneeling forms of the twenty members of the Platoist Society who had come to offer their service and their worship to a prince of Atlantis.

  Not yet high prince, but that would come.

  The main floor of the warehouse made a perfect impromptu meeting place. He stood on a wooden pallet, the table before him bare but for one cloth-wrapped bundle. Candles lit the table, though floodlights were on in the building.

  Soon the Trident would light up the night.

  He put one hand in his jacket pocket, fondled the gem contained there. Now was the time for a little display of power.

  “Rise and watch the fulfillment of the prophecy,” he shouted. “Watch the first step in the Warriors of Poseidon taking their rightful place among the society of earth again.”

  He gently pushed the folds of fabric away from the object they’d all come to see, and lifted the gleaming golden Trident high above his head. “The Trident of Poseidon! Instrument of power for the ruler of Atlantis for untold millennia!”

  Roaring cheers shook the walls and stamping feet thundered through the echoing cavern of the room. “Atlantis! Atlantis! Atlantis!”

  Reisen pulled the emerald from his pocket and lowered the Trident to eye level. Closing his eyes briefly, he uttered a brief prayer.

  “Poseidon, Father of Water,

  “Lord of elements, avatar of justice for all Atlanteans,

  “Hear our plea, feel our need.

  “Restore Atlantis to its former glory.

  “Hear our plea, feel our need.”

  He opened his eyes and, before he could think about the horrible death that awaited him if he’d guessed wrong, plunged the emerald into the uppermost of the seven empty openings on the staff of the Trident.

  Power surged as soon as the emerald snapped into place, sizzling through the Trident and nearly burning his hand. He clenched his fist even more tightly around the staff, thundering out his joy and triumph with everyone else.

  Blinding green and silver light shot out from the Trident and lit the darkened room with the intensity of the desert sun at noon. The elements themselves answered the siren call of the Trident and wind whipped into a frenzy around him, raising the cloaks and hair of the humans.

  Ribbons of water surged into the room from the walls, from the ceiling, from rusty pipes that hadn’t carried water for many years. They twirled and twisted around the room, dancing with the light, waltzing in a sparkling display of power.

  The power, oh, the power. Reisen’s voice was nearly gone, his throat raw, but he continued to shout out his victory.

  Atlantis will be mine, and these weak humans will fall soon after. Once again, the world will tremble at our footsteps.

  At my footsteps.

  “I am Reisen of Atlantis, and I decree that it will be so.”

  The Trident spiked a surge of blistering heat through his hand at the words, and he laughed even as it burned his flesh.

  Laughed at the pain.

  Began to plan for the battle.

  Chapter 27

  “May I sit with you?” Denal hovered at the doorway, looking a lot like a gunslinger from the Old West. In addition to the daggers strapped to his thighs, a complicated series of leather straps hung in some kind of double holster across his chest.

  “Going to the O.K. Corral?” Riley asked, mustering up a smile.

  His eyebrows drew together. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. It’s a Wild West thing, probably before your time. Not that anything is before your time, practically. Oh, forget it.”

  He strode to the window. Moved the blinds aside to peer out. “Brennan is taking first outside watch. We don’t really expect any problems. Nobody knows where we are.”

  “That’s what Reisen and his bunch thought. What if they have an empath on hand, too?”

  She watched his eyes widen as horror slid across his face. “We never thought of that! But, but Alaric said you are the first in ten thousand years to be aknasha.”

  She stood, paced. “Right. And then there’s my sister. And who knows how many more that you’ve all missed in your arrogance?”

  “Do you know of more such as yourself and Lady Quinn?”

  Lady Quinn. How she’d laugh at the sound of that.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t. Riley didn’t really know this new Quinn. The one who led werewolves into battle.

  She opened her mind. Sent her emotions out into the night, seeking for her sister.

  Felt nothing. As if Quinn really had died in that bloody forest. Or shut her out, once again. Hiding the things she’d done and the person she’d become.

  She saddened at the thought.

  “Lady Riley?”

  She blinked. Focused on his face. “No. No, I have never met anyone other than Quinn who
can send and pick up on emotion the way we do. I think my mother may have had the talent. Something about my memories of her . . .”

  Closing her eyes, she sent her senses down a different path. Seeking the second person who’d moved into her heart and staked out a camping spot.

  Conlan.

  She felt his reaction; the blues and golds of warmth and caring flooded her.

  Riley? You have need of me?

  No. I . . . no. Be safe. Find your Trident and return quickly. Please.

  His amusement shimmered through her, touched strongly with relief. Even at a distance, you order me about. We must discuss this penchant you have for disrespect toward royalty.

  Hey, I’m part of a democracy, buddy. We kicked one royal ass for our freedom, don’t think we can’t do it again.

  Before he could respond to her teasing, the connection between them wavered. Ice shot through her veins.

  Conlan?

  I’m fine. Need to—need to focus. See you soon.

  And his mental barriers slammed shut, throwing her forcibly out of their emotional bond.

  Denal stood in front of her, fists clenched on the hilts of his daggers. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s nothing. I hope it’s nothing.” She sank down on the couch. “Now what do we do?”

  “We wait,” he said, grim. “Though I should be fighting with the rest of the Seven to recover the Trident.”

  He was so young. Young enough to be angry when left out of a battle and bloodshed.

  Or maybe it was the male in him, not the youth.

  She smiled, rueful. “I’m sorry you drew babysitting duty.”

  It took him a beat. “What—oh, no. I am honored to serve and protect you, my lady. It is merely—”

  “Don’t worry about it. If I had a couple of those daggers and knew how to use them, I’d want to be in on the action, too, I guess. At least helping to protect—”