Chapter Eleven
TALIK
“I am not in the mood to play nice today,” Talik told the intruder without moving. Lying on the cool floor in total darkness, in a bid to stop the rosy fingers of dawn from entering his allocated guest room, he could pretend he hadn’t forgotten what day it was.
Pretend he didn’t need to add that particular sin to his many faults. Like never saying goodbye to Sidra. He’d been too intoxicated and out of his mind to attend her funeral procession.
After the bet, once he had the energy to drag himself back to his room, the first thing he had done was pour himself a more than healthy amount of whiskey and left the bottle uncapped next to it.
Yet he could not bring himself to drink it—had just stared at it for an hour before he moved to the floor. And he had been there ever since.
Expensive designer black boots moved into his line of sight. Dante. He continued to stare at the inside of his eyelids, hoping the older Atlantean would take the hint.
He wasn’t that lucky.
Dante walked toward the nearest chair and settled in. He picked up the drink and took a sip, nodding in approval, despite the early hour.
“Today is not a good day.” Talik pushed. An understatement if there ever was one. Today was not only a harsh reminder that he’d failed as a father but also failed as a consort when Khalida needed him most. He’d walked away because he couldn’t see past his own pain.
“It never is.”
Talik lifted his arm off his face, pushing himself up on his elbows. Usually, he was too drunk to notice anyone around him. “You know what today is?”
Dante raised an eyebrow, not deigning to answer the question.
Blinking, Talik tried to think about the previous years. And through the alcohol-filled memories, he tried to recall a time when he was truly alone. But nothing came to mind. Dante, Kade, or Idris always found a reason to be around him, despite the sour mood he was in.
“Khalida is your cousin.”
Dante took another sip of the whiskey. “As she likes to remind me, but only when it suits her.”
Talik sighed. Maybe confessing his sins would alleviate some of the emotions he was drowning in. It worked for the humans. He glanced at Dante. But that would normally require the recipient to have some understanding of emotions. Cold and colder wasn’t exactly helpful. “I fucked up.”
The silence between them grew.
Talik swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
If he had been paying more attention to the date, he wouldn’t have suggested the bet.
But there was no way he would have predicted what she was going to demand.
It had triggered something deep within him, reacting on instinct rather than logic.
He stared at the sandstone wall, his room was plain compared to most, focusing on a small imperfection as he gathered his thoughts.
It was not something he was proud of or anything he could change.
In the darkness, Dante’s eyes glowed an unnaturally bright green, almost luminescent. Talik shut his eyes, but that didn’t stop Dante’s gaze from searing into him.
“I forgot. Khalida remembered,” Talik said.
The day was burned into his memories and his flesh, and no matter how far he tried to run from it, it was always with him. It was the only day he ever questioned why he’d won the so-called genetic lottery and inherited the Atlantean genes from some forgotten ancestor.
Today was the first time since he’d left, all those centuries before, that he was back in Egypt. On the land where Sidra was buried. A place that he had long been denied entrance to. “I forgot the day and then made a wager I shouldn’t have.”
“And I assume you won?” Dante asked.
What was it like to go through the world without having to feel?
Without the ability to experience guilt?
But he knew that wasn’t true. Dante, like most Atlantean aristocrats, was an expert at pretending he was ice cold.
Even though there were days, even decades, he was positive Dante hadn’t been pretending.
Despite Talik’s years around the Atlantean elite, he had never quite learned the skill. He always blamed his human genetics.
“Have you talked to Khalida?”
Talik looked at the ceiling, suddenly interested in everything else.
“No.” And he wasn’t ready to. He was too much of a coward. Over the years, the pain had dulled, but there was still a deep ache within the fading memories when he thought about Sidra. No matter how much he tried to hold on, every passing year he forgot another small part of her.
Talik turned to face Dante. Wallowing in the past and self-pity would not get him anywhere. “But that is not why you are here. And don’t give me the checking up on me excuse.”
“It isn’t an excuse.”
Perhaps it wasn’t. But Dante had been distracted lately.
A certain Atlantean-human hybrid with flame-like eyes was keeping him preoccupied.
And Talik wasn’t so far gone down his rabbit hole that he couldn’t do his job.
Work would keep him occupied. That way, he didn’t need to look too closely at himself.
He could work with Khalida—they were professionals.
He needed to remember to keep his hands off her.
Which shouldn’t prove hard, if the last look she gave him was anything to go by.
The digital clock on his wall flashed. They weren’t leaving until tomorrow, and that was plenty of time to rebuild the playboy persona back up and pretend he didn’t have a care in the world.
An armor he was well accustomed to wearing, but it was an armor that was beginning to not fit anymore. “Have you interrogated Idris?”
A glimmer of darkness entered Dante’s gaze. “Half riddles and nothing coherent.”
The thought of spending the day in darkness and drinking himself into oblivion had lost its appeal, but the thought of channeling all his self-loathing toward someone else worked well with the mood he found himself in. “I will pay him a visit
***
KHALIDA
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Meraki asked as she settled into her chair opposite Khalida.
The room was tucked into a corner of the Arx and had been forgotten by most inhabitants.
From the outside, it resembled a small sewing space.
The pale pink walls, once a vibrant red, had been left to the ravages of time.
It held only a small dark wooden table that wobbled if they placed anything bigger than an empty glass on it and four rickety chairs.
Bright blue crystals lined the sandstone-colored ceiling like twinkling stars.
In the corner, the remnants of burned incense, myrrh, lingered in the air.
“And you are asking as...”
Meraki didn’t hesitate. “As your friend.”
Khalida sighed. She really didn’t want to get into the details with herself, let alone Meraki, but she owed the younger Atlantean an explanation. “We need a representative to go from House Azaes.”
Meraki shook her head. The copper curls bounced in the air. “I am not arguing with that. My question is, does it need to be you?”
Khalida opened her mouth and shut it. Suddenly, the room felt tiny and dark despite the oversized window that overlooked the desert.
The bet with Talik was one aspect, but it wasn’t the only reason she wanted to go.
Somewhere deep inside her, a minuscule, forgotten part knew that this presented an opportunity to say farewell.
And to move on. A smaller part, whimsical in nature, wondered what if. “No. But it should be me.”
“Why?”
Khalida should have known that Meraki would demand an actual explanation.
Out of all the immortals, Meraki was considered an outsider.
She hadn’t grown up wanting to serve as an immortal, instead she had fallen into it because she had no choice.
Despite her general dislike for aristocrats and the Atlantean elite, she was Khalida’s most trusted member and confidante.
The immortal had no qualms telling Khalida exactly what she thought.
It was simultaneously annoying and refreshing.
“Your history will influence your decisions. Even if you don’t mean it to.”
Meraki was right, but it wouldn’t sway Khalida. She had made up her mind.
“Mer,” Khalida softly said. “I need to go.”
Understanding dawned in Meraki’s copper eyes. “Give me the word and even Dante’s elite guards won’t be able to locate Talik’s body. I am sure Lord Azaes will not object.”
Khalida laughed, the sound energized her. This was her family. “I have a task for you while I am gone.”
She leaned forward.
“I need you to find a way into the vault.”
“The vault that is only opened once every five hundred years and is otherwise sealed shut?” Meraki whistled. “And on top of that has guards watching it every single second of the day and CCTV.”
“You don’t think you are up to it?"
Meraki smiled. “Sealed doors never stopped me before.”