20. Artemis
ARTEMIS
My phone buzzing on the nightstand yanked me out of sleep.
I flailed for it, nearly knocking it to the floor. My heart raced, brain fog thick enough to qualify as a weather event. The cottage was dark and quiet.
I squinted at the screen.
Percy.
I sat straight up.
“Hello?” I croaked. “Percy? What’s going on?”
“It’s eleven here,” he said without preamble. “I didn’t want to wait.”
That did not help my heart rate.
“I sent you the photos,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face. “From the Writer’s Museum. Is this about that—”
“I didn’t expect them to be real.”
I cleared my throat. “Define real.”
The bedroom door opened, and Arthur stepped in. He was already dressed. He took one look at my face and the phone and sat down on the edge of the bed without asking, close enough that I could feel the mattress dip.
“Percy is calling,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Arthur said calmly. “And I believe I know why.”
I frowned at him, then put Percy back on speaker. “You’re on speaker. Arthur’s here.”
“Good,” Percy said. “Because I was about to sound unhinged. I recognized the era and region of the illustrations on the compass,” Percy said. “Not precisely. But enough to narrow it down. I sent images to a colleague.”
My stomach flipped. “You sent them to who?”
“To a scholar,” he said. “One of the few who works seriously in the… adjacent fields.” Percy made a strangled noise. “You know… the coocoocachu magic-is-real scholarly circles.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Percy said.
“Not going to believe what?” I demanded, because my brain was awake now and absolutely vibrating.
Arthur’s mouth twitched.
My phone chimed. Incoming FaceTime.
Percy sucked in a breath. “He wants to talk to us. Now.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered, already answering.
The screen filled with a man who looked like he had not slept properly since the Clinton administration. He had wild gray hair and glasses perched precariously low on his nose. The background appeared to be a study and possibly also a bunker.
He leaned toward the camera like we might escape.
“Hello,” he said brightly. “You have something that should not exist.”
I felt a grin split my face despite myself. “Hi. I’m Artemis. This is Arthur. And yes. That sounds about right.”
“You sent images of a compass,” he continued. “Except it’s not a compass. Not in the modern sense. It doesn’t point north or south.”
“Because those weren’t the important poles at the time it was created,” I said, the understanding clicking into place even as I spoke the words.
His eyes lit up. “Exactly.”
Arthur leaned forward. “Then what does it point to?”
The man smiled like someone who had waited his entire life for that question. “The heart of Atlantis.”
My brain short-circuited, then rebooted at double speed.
“That’s incredible,” I said.
“Yes,” the man said. “The Atlanteans didn’t think in terms of continents. They thought in terms of centers. The heart was what they considered the center of the world. Everything else radiated outward from it. That map you have isn’t wrong. It’s just… not oriented to our perceived reality.”
Arthur’s expression went razor-sharp. “And what does that have to do with missing ancestry? With dragon magic depleting?”
The man’s smile faded. “Because the heart wasn’t just a place. It was a source of something ancient and powerful. If something was bound there, or taken from there, or cut off… I’m not exactly sure, but following the compass is your best bet at finding out.”
Percy exhaled slowly.
My pulse roared in my ears. “Oh,” I whispered. “Oh, this is so cool!”
Startled, Arthur glanced at me.
“What?” I said, already gesturing with my free hand, thoughts flying. “Sure, it’s terrifying and possibly world-ending. But it’s so freaking incredible.”
The scholar beamed at me. “Yes. Exactly. You see it.”
“I see it,” I said faintly.
We talked and planned, tossed ideas back and forth. Percy filled in gaps. The scholar dropped names, theories, and references like candy. Arthur asked careful, precise questions that warmed my insides in that stupid, inconvenient way.
Somewhere between speculation and strategy, I realized something terrifying and exhilarating.
This wasn’t just a crazy, awesome adventure. We were standing at the edge of something enormous.
After we finally pieced together a rough plan, Arthur told them we needed to get some more sleep so we’d be rested for the journey ahead. His tone left no room for argument.
I knew he wasn’t planning on sleeping. That part was for me. He always did that. Framed things as practical when they were really protective. Quietly placing himself between me and whatever came next.
Arthur waited until the call ended before he spoke. “We need to get more sleep. We’ll think better once we’re rested.”
I nodded and let him guide me back under the covers, my body heavy now that the adrenaline had finally burned off.
The last thing I registered before sleep claimed me was the faint sound of movement in the cottage. The noise sounded purposeful, as if Arthur was making sure the world was still in order.
When I woke again, it was not to panic or buzzing phones or the sharp edge of urgency.
It was to the smell of food.
Butter. Coffee. Something savory layered with herbs. My stomach responded immediately, loud and unashamed.
I cracked one eye open.
Pale sunlight spilled through the cottage window, making everything look kinder than it probably deserved to be. The bed was warm. The air felt settled.
Then I saw the table through the open bedroom door.
Arthur had arranged breakfast to arrive. Containers neatly unpacked. Plates already set. Our bags were stacked by the door, our coats laid out. The compass sat on the table.
I pushed myself upright, hair a mess, brain still catching up.
“Good morning,” Arthur said when I walked in the kitchen.
“You ordered food,” I said, because stating obvious facts was how I oriented myself to reality.
“Yes,” he said. “You didn’t eat enough last night.”
I had eaten plenty, but I took the plate from him without arguing.
It was a ridiculously generous helping. Soft, glossy eggs, thick, warm bread. The fruit had been arranged to be appealing to the eye. It was more food than I could finish on a good day.
I stared at it, then at him. “You know I’m not a dragon.”
“I’m aware,” he said calmly. “Eat anyway.”
I did, because it was excellent. Possibly the best breakfast I had ever had. Or maybe my hunger went beyond food.
We ate side by side, unhurried.
Once my brain fully came online, he slid the compass closer.
“The first step is simple,” he said. “We follow this.”
“To the heart of Atlantis,” I murmured.
He nodded. “As close as it will allow.”
I took a sip of coffee and felt the day settle into place. Whatever waited for us out there, whatever truths or dangers or impossibilities lay ahead, we were moving toward them.
We were just finishing breakfast when Arthur’s phone rang.
The sound cut cleanly through the easy quiet we’d settled into, and I watched the shift happen in him immediately. His attention sharpened as he checked the screen. Whatever was on the other end was important.
“My cousin,” he said, almost absently, and answered before it could ring again. “Hadrian.”
That name slid into my awareness and stayed there.
“Hadrian,” Arthur said again, voice warm but controlled. “Yes. I’m here.”
I busied myself with my plate while listening. I shouldn’t have been listening, because it was none of my business. My brain, unfortunately, did not respect those boundaries.
“I know,” Arthur continued. “I did not expect to be gone this long either.”
A pause.
“Yes. I’m safe.”
I glanced up. He was pacing slowly now, phone pressed to his ear, free hand braced at his hip. He wasn’t uncomfortable, so the conversation didn’t worry him.
“I found something,” he said. “More than I hoped for, actually.”
I froze, fork halfway to my mouth.
He talked then, carefully but openly, giving the bare facts about everything that had happened, but he left out the parts where people tried to kill us. I noticed that immediately and filed it away under Protective Omission.
Arthur gave a genuine smile.
“Yes,” he said. “It may be a turning point.”
He listened, nodding slightly, then added, “We believe the artifact is a navigational instrument. Not for direction as we understand it, but for location. It points toward something ancient. A center.”
Another pause.
“I know,” he replied. “I was cautious as well. But the evidence is sound.”
My fingers tightened around my mug.
Hadrian must have said something encouraging, because Arthur’s shoulders eased and he released a quiet breath—relief.
“I intend to follow it,” Arthur continued. “Wherever it leads.” He shifted his stance, gaze steady, voice calm. “You don’t need to worry. Just keep an eye on things at home. On my mother especially.”
That landed with weight.
“There may be people who don't want this pursued,” Arthur added. “Be alert.”
I watched him closely then. He didn’t seem uncertain. He didn’t seem reckless either. He sounded like someone who had already committed.
“I don’t need assistance,” he said. “Not yet.”
The pause that followed stretched longer than the others.
“Yes,” Arthur said at last, more slowly. “I’ll keep you informed.”
He ended the call and turned back toward me with an easy smile.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Very,” he said. “He’s pleased. He believes we may be close to something meaningful.”
I hesitated, then said the thing that had been tightening behind my ribs. “Are you sure it’s safe to tell him where we’re going? And what you’re finding?”
He considered the question. “Yes,” he said finally. “Hadrian is family. He has always supported me. He would be considered a beta, in the traditional sense, though we don’t use terms like that.”
Always was a long time.
I nodded, because pushing more would sound accusatory, and I didn’t have evidence. Just pattern recognition. Just the quiet hum that sometimes warned me when a piece of the puzzle didn’t quite sit flush.
“Okay,” I said.
He studied me for a moment. “You’re not convinced.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I shrugged. “I’m very good at seeing connections that don’t matter and also very bad at ignoring the ones that do.”
His mouth curved. “I’ve learned to trust your instincts. Even when I don't yet understand them.”
That earned him a smile and I let go of my concern because Arthur had earned my trust in ways that mattered more than my unease.