Heart of Atlantis

“Hidden scrolls?” Alaric was interested in spite of himself. “Behind which statue?”

“The one of Poseidon, ah, enjoying himself. With himself,” Keely said, blushing scarlet.

Alaric nodded. “Ah, yes. The Elders must have had a sense of humor, back then.”

“Or the statue was later moved in front of the niche, who cares, get on with it,” Ven urged.

“It was actually a narrative history sealed inside a case with a copy of a proclamation,” Keely said. “The librarians verified my translation, and they’re making a copy for you, Alaric, and another for the Elders and—”

“What did it say?” Quinn cut in, unable to bear it for one moment longer.

Keely blinked and then grinned. “Sorry. Scientist’s curse, we blather on. Anyway, here’s the headline: after Nereus almost destroyed Atlantis and everyone in it, the Elders proclaimed, on behalf of Poseidon, that every high priest from that time on must swear a vow of celibacy, in order to decrease their power. That way, nobody could ever be as powerful as Nereus again and thereby endanger Atlantis.”

Everybody in the room started talking at once, but Alaric ignored them all and stared steadily at Quinn. She looked back at him, and she didn’t look happy, either.

“So it’s all a lie,” Conlan said. “You don’t need to keep to that stupid vow.”

“I feel like we should not be discussing such personal matters about Alaric,” Riley said, and Alaric nodded at the princess, appreciating that at least one person respected his privacy.

Quinn’s voice cut through the general chatter. “It doesn’t matter. What a few scrolls might say, what Keely might have felt—none of it matters. This was how long ago?”

“Nereus was high priest around eight thousand years ago, give or take,” Conlan said.

“Exactly. Even if that’s true, your insane dictator of a sea god has had thousands of years to turn it into a real rule. There is every likelihood—and a pretty damn good probability, I’d say—that breaking the vow today does exactly what the Elders say it does. Alaric would lose his magic and his ability to protect you just when you need him most.”

Alaric sat silent as the woman he loved stated his own innermost thoughts. Until Poseidon said otherwise, he was forced to believe the truth as the Elders had told it. And Poseidon—his “insane dictator of a sea god”—wasn’t talking.

“Thank you all for your impassioned analysis of my sex life,” he finally said, ice coating every syllable. “Now I would ask that we get back to discussing how to capture or kill this Ptolemy impostor and retrieve Poseidon’s Pride before, all the gods forbid, Anubisa gets her undead hands on it.”

The room subsided into silence and general noises of agreement.

Riley stood up and took her sister’s hand. “No. Not tonight. Quinn has been through too much in too short of a time, and she needs a good night’s sleep. We can discuss battle plans, and which of us are off to put our lives in danger this time, in the morning over a good breakfast.”

Alaric rose and bowed to Riley, but he felt the wildness growing within him at the thought that anyone, even her sister, would take Quinn away from him.

“With all due respect, Princess, Quinn will stay with me tonight.”

Quinn’s eyes flashed. “Here we are, full circle, at the point where people are making decisions for me. Guess what? Quinn will do whatever Quinn damn well pleases, or Quinn will shoot somebody.”

She pulled out her Glock and pointed it at the floor, an edge of violence in her eyes.

Riley held up her hands, palms out, and grinned. “It’s not like I could ever tell you what to do. Why would I start now? What do you want, my darling sister?”

She glanced at Alaric. Considered. Decided. “I’ll visit Poseidon’s temple with Alaric. I’ve wanted to see it for a long time, and I’m too wound up to sleep now.”

She whirled around and snapped at Alaric when he dared to smile. “And then you’ll take me back to Riley, so I can get some uninterrupted sleep, without flying monkeys or tornados or anything else attacking me. Plus, I want to cuddle my nephew some more. He may be the only male I’ve ever met who isn’t an arrogant ass.”

“Give him time,” Conlan advised, grinning. “It runs in the genes, or so my lovely wife tells me.”

Riley just laughed. “Okay—temple, bath, bed, baby, breakfast, in that order. All discussions of impostors and danger are hereby officially on hold.”

She hugged Quinn. “When you run with this crowd, you learn to take respite where you can find it. There’s always another crisis.”

Quinn blinked rapidly against the tears Alaric could tell she was battling, and he clenched his fists as he fought his powerful need to go to her and offer comfort. She wouldn’t welcome it; she’d hate being made to feel weak in front of so many. But he could help in another way.

He took her hand before she could stop him, and the electricity that shot between them just at the touch of his fingers on hers reminded him of their kisses on that beach. His body clenched, hardening just from that slight touch, and she gasped. It was a tiny sound and probably none but he heard it, but it was enough to set his pulse racing. The uncharacteristically vulnerable look in her eyes called to every protective instinct he possessed, and he leaned down toward her.

“At least we know there won’t be flying monkeys,” he said softly.

She started laughing. “Lead on. Let’s see this temple and get to the group singing, already.”

This time, it was Alaric who laughed out loud. As he led the way out of the room, he glanced back over his shoulder and realized that every single person in the room was staring at him, mouth hanging open in shock.

“He laughed,” Ven said. “Did you hear that? He actually laughed.”

Alaric all but dragged Quinn down the hall to get away from them.

“I laugh,” he muttered defensively.

“The occasional evil mwah ha ha doesn’t count,” Quinn said, grinning up at him.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed again.

Damn it.

Chapter 13

Quinn climbed the steps and entered the imposing but somehow delicate building, all graceful arches and curves, and reflected that it was entirely unexpected.

“From everything I hear about Poseidon, I picture him as a self-indulgent thug. Seems odd that his temple is so graceful.”

Alaric laughed, but a white-robed man with a face like a bulldog’s gave her a scandalized look as he scurried by, muttering something in that liquid language that had to be Atlantean.

Quinn stared after him, bemused. “What was that? ‘Blasphemy, you blasphemer’ kind of thing?”

“He’s sure Poseidon will strike you dead at any moment and wants to be out of the line of fire.” Alaric’s deep voice was rich with amusement, and a shiver tingled its way up her spine from the sound.

“Man up,” she told bulldog guy, making sure that the fleeing coward didn’t hear her. Her mother would have had her guts for garters for disrespecting someone else’s religion. Of course, it wasn’t the religion she didn’t respect. It was the selfish god at its heart.

They walked from the foyer into a giant, high-ceilinged room bathed in soft light. The walls were marble, inset with jade, amethysts, and other precious stones that Quinn didn’t recognize. She wasn’t exactly a jewelry kind of girl, though, so it wasn’t surprising.

Tall green plants flourished in every corner, and long, low upholstered benches were scattered about the space, beckoning the occupants to rest, reflect, or simply be. She looked around the room for a long time in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility almost in spite of herself.

“Well, it seems like a place where you could commune with the gods quite happily,” she finally said diplomatically.

“Poseidon is not a peaceful, communing kind of god,” Alaric replied. “When he wants me, it is usually for something involving gaining power, jockeying for power, negotiating for power, or—”

“Yeah, I get it,” she cut in. “Those old gods are still bloodthirsty and power-hungry?”

“Some things never change. He does his best to protect his children.”