Atlantis Betrayed

Fiona stared at Christophe in shock. “You’re here? You’re really here? All these weeks later?”

“It was illusion, mi amara. I have been here the same length of time, and it has been only hours, not weeks.”

She shook her head, disbelief written plainly on her face. He hated the thought that she’d been alone and afraid, and that she’d believed he hadn’t come for her. Perhaps that he wouldn’t come for her.

Yet another black mark against Gideon.

“She wouldn’t eat or drink while you were unconscious, at least not anything that Maeve herself didn’t give her,” the Fae said sullenly. “You warned her well, Atlantean. But now that I have you and the Siren, Fiona’s resistance shall soon fall, as well.”

Christophe drank in the sight of her. His soul opened up all the way and invited her to be part of him for now and forever. A small stillness in her movements gave him reason to hope she had felt it.

“Willingly spoken, Atlantean. Or else I have a special treat for you.” He clapped his hands and several enthralled shifters, bunched together, carried a heavy object into the room.

“A very special treat, Christophe of Atlantis. Do what I ask, or I’ll put you in the box that I know you love so well.”

Gideon waved his arm, and the shifters moved aside. When the last shifter had cleared his line of sight, something inside Christophe shattered and broke.

Again.

It was the exact box from his childhood. Impossible, but true. He was immediately four years old again, wanting to beg, knowing it would do no good.

Finally begging, anyway, because he was unable to do other.

He clamped his lips together against the howl that threatened to break free and forced his mind to regroup, again. Forced his will to strengthen, again. For Fiona.

Gideon threw his head back and laughed, long and loud.

Christophe vowed to kill him just for that laugh. The rest of his reasons would be merely icing on the cake of his vengeance. That laugh, in the face of his parents’ murder and a little boy’s torture, was judge, jury, and executioner.

“You’re going to die for this,” he said softly.

“I find I must have you climb in the box simply for my amusement,” Gideon replied, a horrible smile spreading across his face. “Now, I think.”

Suddenly, the Fae was standing behind Fiona and holding a silver knife to her throat. “Or I kill her.”

“The mother of your future children?” Christophe was proud his voice didn’t shake or waver.

Gideon shrugged. “I can find another. But you—your pain and terror is so delicious. Just like your parents’ life force, all those years ago. I must have yours. Get in the box.”

Fiona cried out, and a thin trail of blood trickled down her neck. “Don’t do it, Christophe. Don’t let him break you. He’ll kill me anyway. Just get out now. Save yourself.”

Christophe looked at the box, and he looked back at Gideon. And then he smiled. “I’ll climb in your damn box as many times as you like. Or I’ll show you how to work this pretty gem.” He held up the Siren. “I won’t do both, and I won’t do either until you let her go.”

Gideon threw Fiona on the bed. “I don’t care about her. Just show me how to use the jewel. The full power, as you willingly promised, Atlantean.”

“The full power, Fae,” Christophe said. He held the Siren up in the air, calling on Poseidon for aid. He pushed his battered, aching mind to focus harder than it ever had before and pull more power than he had ever channeled.

“Full power,” he shouted. “For Atlantis!”

He pushed. With everything he had and everything he was, he pushed power through the aquamarine and focused every ounce of his own magic and the magic of the gem to do exactly what it had been created to do, but with a little tweak of his own. Christophe did what he had willingly promised to do.

He used the full power of the Siren to enthrall a Fae prince.

Chapter 39

The air swirled with shadows, and suddenly Fiona leapt from the bed and raced across the room to stand between Gideon and Christophe. From the air itself, the shadows wavered and re-formed into the image of Justice’s sword, which she held in arms trembling with its weight.

“Come near him and I’ll kill you myself,” she told the Fae, her voice quiet and deadly. “He is mine and I won’t give him up so easily.”

Christophe stared at the sword, wondering if the blow to his head had damaged his mind. “How did you —”

“I took a chance and shadowed it, hoping the magic door to Fae Wonderland would recognize me as part Fae and let me in carrying it,” Fiona said. “Remember when I talked to Justice? I borrowed it and hid it under my coat.”

“I can’t believe he let you touch his precious sword.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this now,” she snapped.

She was right. He called to power every element he could touch, and sent fire and water and earth and air soaring through his body, through his magic, toward the Fae. Right now, he needed to verify that he really had enthralled Gideon.

Atlantean power met Fae power and question met answer. Christophe had succeeded in wielding the Siren correctly. Gideon na Feransel, prince of the Unseelie Court, was firmly in Christophe’s power.

“Maybe I should make him dance,” Christophe muttered.

“Maybe you should get on with it, so I can put this sword down.”

Christophe marveled at her courage and strength and was so humbled by her love that again, just for an instant, he felt that he could never deserve her. Then he looked at the hated box and back at Fiona, and he realized that they deserved each other.

“We’re better together than apart,” he said. “Isn’t that what love truly means?”

She almost dropped the sword. “I’m a little busy here for philosophical discussions. Come on, we have to get out of here before he hits us with some kind of Fae super whammy.”

Christophe carefully took the sword, placed it on the edge of the bed, and then pulled his protesting love into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

“There will be no whammy, super or otherwise. I have enthralled him with the gem he sought so hard to control.”

He watched the realization dawn on her face. “Willingly spoken. But all you promised was to show him the full power. Which you did, by ramming it down his throat.”

“Exactly.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“You can spend an eternity telling me,” he said seriously. “It will never be enough.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

She pointed to the box. “Destroy that damn thing.”

“Gladly.” He sent ball after ball of pure blue energy smashing into the hated box until it exploded into tiny shards of wood. Fiona and he watched from behind his energy shield as it burned and, after ensnaring the Fae in a web of glittering strands of power, he turned to his woman and kissed her senseless.

Declan burst into the room. “Hey, cut out the mushy stuff. Let’s get out of here. I feel waterlogged.”

Fiona rushed over to hug her brother, who hugged her back for a minute then squirmed out of her embrace.