Atlantis Betrayed

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.

“Are you safe? Maeve told me you were, but I didn’t believe her,” Fiona said, tears streaming down her face. “She—I can’t ever trust her again. They wouldn’t let me see you and I was so afraid.”

“I’m fine, Fee,” Declan said, blushing. “Tip-top. Let’s go, already. I marked the way out.”

“What a good idea,” a new voice said.

“Maeve. Where is Denal? Are you okay?” Fiona hesitated, but then started to go to her friend. Christophe held her back. Here, in this place, Maeve was not the woman Fiona had loved.

And yet the Fae princess’s face softened and she smiled. Maybe Christophe was wrong, but he still wasn’t taking the chance. Not with Fiona, not ever again.

“Only you would worry over my well-being, Fiona,” Maeve said. “So I will grant you another boon, neither repayment nor debt owed.”

With that, she waved a hand and Justice’s sword flew through the air and neatly beheaded Gideon. Fiona buried her face in Christophe’s shoulder in horror, but he inclined his head toward Maeve. “My thanks, my lady. That boon is one I happily accept, although I would have enjoyed doing it myself. Both for Fiona and for my parents.”

“Perhaps, for once, you do not have to be the dealer of death,” Maeve said. “Had you not rescued Fiona, he never would have given her up, and she is my friend, not a whore to be held captive as a sex slave,” she said, and the ice and thunder in her voice made him glad that he had not made her an enemy. On the floor, Gideon’s body and head dissolved into a fine sparkling dust and then vanished.

“He was rogue, my wicked, scheming brother,” she continued. “Running rampant, working out of the hierarchy in the Unseelie Court. A mere upstart trying to take over my line and curry favor with our queen, my lady mother.”

“So this is a family squabble,” Fiona said, raising her head. “All of this for that? I don’t believe it.”

“The world is in a state of unbalance since Anubisa, the vampire goddess, has been missing,” Maeve said. “The vampires are working on their own agendas. The gods are unhappy. Ragnarok is coming. Can’t you feel it, Atlantean? Do you really choose for your land to rise at a time so similar to the one that drove you beneath the waters?”

Christophe took a deep breath. “I hear the truth in your words. I may even agree with you in some part. But I have sworn an oath, and I must honor it. The Siren must be returned to Atlantis.”

“We of the Unseelie Court are not in opposition to your plans, Atlantean. We are fine allies to have, you will learn—or dangerous enemies. The Seelie Court will soon learn this, we hope, and our alliance will be completed. Now that Gideon is dead, that time may come sooner.”

“That I believe.”

Fiona shuddered. “I am so sorry, Maeve. I know your people are different, but to have to kill your own brother . . . I am so sorry.”

Maeve’s eyes glistened with something as she regarded her friend. Christophe would almost have sworn they were unshed tears. But she didn’t respond.

“Now what?” Christophe asked.

“I will study you and your methods through your warrior representative Denal for some while. Then we shall meet and determine what to do next. Strategy is like breath to the Fae, and we are more well-versed in . . . breathing . . . than most.”

Christophe bowed deeply. He could hear between her words to the truth beneath. Maeve would almost certainly be the next queen of the Unseelie Court. Now would be as good a time as any to begin an ambassadorial relationship.

Fiona took a few steps toward her old friend. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore, Your Highness.”

Maeve’s face lit up. “Call me your friend. That’s all I have ever asked.”

“I’m your friend, too. Always,” Fiona promised.

“And possibly a distant cousin,” Christophe murmured. “Seelie Court Fae. I wonder what Rhys na Garanwyn will have to say about that.”

“If he says anything unpleasant, please leave him to me,” Maeve said, her smile turning to something glittering and fearful.

“I will clear the Scarlet Ninja’s name,” Maeve continued. “Perhaps even make an extra donation to a few of your causes. Before the week is done, all shall know that the Scarlet Ninja saved England from a war.”

“Thank you, but I could only do that with a lot of help from Atlantis and from a Fae princess who used to borrow my lipstick,” Fiona said, smiling, but then she turned solemn. “The shifters he enthralled?”

“Already released. Please extend my apologies to the families of the ones he killed. We will extend monetary reparation, for what little that does to help. Lucinda, the alpha you rescued with your sacrifice, will heal.”

“How do you know—”

“I have my ways.” Maeve said. “How do you think I always knew where to find the hot guys in school?”

“The hot guys found you,” Fiona said, smiling a little. “Thank you for what you said about the shifters. I’ll tell Lucinda.”

Maeve laughed. “Never thank a Fae, or you will become beholden. You can send me more Chanel for a solstice gift to pay this small debt.”

With that, Maeve led them to the way out of the Summer Lands. In a short time, Fiona, Christophe, and Declan were standing on the steps outside of Fairsby Manor, dazed, as Hopkins and the Atlanteans rushed toward them. The sun shone brightly overhead. Christophe gave Justice his sword and the two exchanged nods.

“What in the name of all the gods happened to you?” Bastien demanded. “You were in there for more than two weeks.”

Declan blushed a fiery red. “Um—”

The Atlanteans stared at him, fascinated.

“Nymphs,” Christophe said dryly.

“Ohhhh. Nymphs,” Brennan said. “So will we be going back in around nine months from now on another rescue mission?”

“What?” Fiona rounded on her brother, but then her cheeks flamed red as she realized. “Oh. Ohhhhh.”

Declan hung his head, his cheeks as hot as his sister’s. “Trust me, sis. You don’t want to know the details.”

Justice bowed to Fiona. “My sword, my lady? Did it help?”

“Yes, Just holding it made me braver.”

“I doubt that’s even possible,” Christophe said.

“Can we go home now?” Declan asked. “I really need to go home now.”

“How about we go home now?” Christophe opened a portal, and this time it flared to brilliant life as soon as he called. Interesting, that.

“And never say the word nymph again?” Declan pleaded.

Christophe always claimed, later, that it was one of the others who started laughing first.