13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter 13
P erhaps you are more Atlantean than you think.
The voice was quickly followed by Lilian’s. Do not trust the Atlanteans. They will use you to get what they want and discard you.
Dante was no different. For most of her life, she’d maintained her distance from Atlanteans—their general dislike of hybrids had been painfully drummed into her at their every encounter. Even when she worked side by side with them. Her damn eyes made her an outcast. Except for Chay. He treated her as an academic equal. Until the incident. She’d thought they were friends. Unfortunately, Atlanteans weren’t the only culprits. It was just as bad with some humans.
Dante wasn’t different, he just needed her. And once he got what he wanted, she would be back to being the hybrid archaeologist who no one wanted to employ. Unless she found the tomb.
Rieka pushed the thought away. She needed to focus on the here and now. Four days to find the tomb was all she had, and the clock was already ticking.
The perimeter of the Arx dwarfed the surrounding sand dunes. The farthest turret gave the illusion that the Arx touched the light blue sky. Like everything their species did, it was larger than life. Out here she understood where the crusaders had gotten their inspiration for their desert castles. Hands in her pockets, she leisurely surveyed the room, kicking the nonexistent dirt into the air.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed through the great hall and bounced off the light sandstone blocks. Cinnamon, and the light, woody-floral scent of blue lotus permeated the air. The sun shone through the stained-glass window, casting the empty room alight with blues and purples. A dark hooded figure stood central to the window; a black flowing cloak billowed behind it, the hint of the tip of a sword peeked through. The image suited a medieval church rather than an empty hall that was a glorified waiting room. It reminded her of a grim reaper or Khalida. The woman was the scariest Atlantean Rieka had ever encountered.
Dante’s words continued to taunt her. Rieka sighed. She’d stopped dreaming of waking up with Atlantean senses or gifts the day after her mother died. Near immortality hadn’t saved Lilian Sinha. But Dante had struck a chord she thought she had outgrown. It was all she had been able to think about on the two-hour journey in the patrol vehicle to the fortress.
She was one step closer to understanding what had driven her mom to search for the tomb. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Dante was the same as her, trying to fulfill a lost familial legacy, but that was the end of their similarities. They belonged to two different worlds. It wasn’t something that she was easily going to forget. Rieka sure as hell wasn’t still thinking about how he felt pressed up close to her, thighs touching during the trip to the Arx, or how her stomach backflipped when his arm brushed against her, the touch sending her pulse into overdrive.
Dante Delacroix had gotten under her skin, and she didn’t know why or how.
Her cell phone vibrated. A photo of Rory and her daughter appeared. Rieka bit back a smile.
Rory: Are you still alive?
Rieka snorted as she texted back: And if I’m not?
Rory: I am now the owner of your entire romance book collection.
She laughed out loud. Rory was more than welcome to the sizable library of paperback novels she’d amassed over the last decade. There was something about happily ever after Rieka had never quite outgrown nor wanted to. Even if reality was nowhere close to it.
Rieka: Did you know Delacroix was related to the House Azaes?
Three dots appeared instantly. Rory must be bored.
Rory: The elite are all related to each other. It’s incestuous. Aren’t you an expert in their history?
Rieka could hear Rory’s long-suffering sigh and the associated dramatic eye roll. Rory only ever remembered her Italian heritage when it suited her.
Rieka: Ancient Atlantean history. If it’s less than eight thousand years old, it’s too recent for me.
Rory: Semantics. Do me a favor. Stay out of tunnels. I will call in a couple of days.
Tunnels? It must have something to do with the investigation she was working on. Rory would explain it when she was ready. Rieka put away the cell. Despite the distance between them, there was a level of comfort knowing that someone knew she was still alive. And where she was.
She pressed herself against the warm window to see how far down the cliff went. It was at least a hundred feet drop onto sharpened, glass-jagged rocks. Someone had wanted to keep something out of the fortress. Or in. The outer wall was fifty feet away from her, but the deep gouges were hard to miss. They littered the wall and looked like claw marks. Something a big cat would have made.
Rieka sighed. She was done waiting. Instead, she strode toward a large wooden door and quietly turned the silver handle, her eyes half-closed in anticipation. She opened them. The intricate detail of the handle had imprinted in her palm, but nothing happened. It didn’t budge—no matter how hard she turned it. That wouldn’t stop her.
The lock was old school, nothing fancy or tech-based. A small win, and one that she could take advantage of. She pulled two bobby pins from her hair. It had been years since she had used this particular skill set. It took a few tries, but muscle memory took over.
Click.
Rieka smiled. She hadn’t lost her touch. She tugged at the straps on her shoulder, then she casually strolled out without a backward glance. Waiting in a locked room by herself was not her idea of fun. At least Dante had feigned a protest when Khalida escorted her into the chamber, clearly a power play more than anything else. Not that it made any difference. Nor had he chosen to wait with her. Annoying Atlanteans. So much for being Dante’s guest.
The corridor was darker than the hall, smaller, and if she reached out and spread her arms, she could touch both sides. The little light penetrating the hallway was seeping through small stained-glass windows that edged the top of the ten-foot wall. There was scarcely enough light for her to make out the detailed inscriptions on the wall.
She glanced around. Left or right?
A subtle cough echoed, breaking the silence. Her shoulders slumped as she turned toward the sound. A tall figure carelessly leaned against the wall at the end of the corridor. Talik.
“You need to wait until they clear you to have access to the palace,” Talik said as he walked over to her.
“I waited,” Rieka muttered. Credit to the Atlanteans, they could all rock tailored suits. “Plus, you were about to give me access.”
Talik raised a perfect black eyebrow. His obsidian eyes gave nothing away. He looked hot as fuck in his three-piece suit. And she could appreciate his masculine beauty, but there was no electrical charge or butterflies when she was with Talik. Unlike when she was around Dante. Rieka didn’t need to remind herself of the stupidity of being attracted to him—she shoved it down. Nothing would come of it.
“Fifteen minutes?” Talik asked. Amusement tinged his voice. “This way.”
It hadn’t felt like fifteen minutes, more like an eternity. Maybe she was being dramatic…but she only had four days. And every second counted.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Rieka said as she caught up with Talik, matching his stride.
“Think of me as your personal guide,” Talik suggested, his voice deadpan as he suddenly stopped. “And our first stop is here.”
She turned around. There was no door. It reminded her of everything else she had walked through so far within the Arx: faintly underwhelming, despite its impressive history.
Talik opened the black box to reveal a control panel. His fingers flew over the panel as he slipped his sunglasses on. “Code is 584597. It is coded to you, and it will open all the security doors.”
The door slid open. Bright light smashed into her and temporarily blinded her. “A warning would have been nice.”
A wave of emotions descended over her—anger, hostility, and lust interwoven with each other until she couldn’t tell them apart. She staggered before she caught her bearings.
Talik glanced at her cautiously, and she shook her head at the silent question.
A group of Atlanteans stared at them as they moved through the foyer. Rieka ignored them. They were undoubtedly just wondering who she was. Talik was not inconspicuous, but she didn’t care. She was too distracted by the living museum they had just walked into. Blues and purples swirled together on small tiles. It took her a second to register that they were standing on a mosaic. Excitement rushed through her as she slowly surveyed the ground. She needed to get higher, to see what the design was. “Give me a moment.”
“Of course,” Talik replied. This time, the laughter in his tone was unmistakable. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone this eager to examine outdated architecture and useless objects.”
The screech of metal on sandstone broke the spell. The sound vibrated through her; goose bumps appeared on her arms. She glanced at Talik as he winced. Four armored guards moved as one, the silver of their armor blinding her as they fanned out around a giant plain vase.
“Vandana’s flame,” Khalida said as she stalked toward them.
Rieka swallowed, her mouth unexpectedly dry as she remembered where she was. Her mom had told her stories about the flame: the last surviving link to House Atlas and the royal family.
“My family has guarded the flame for more than four thousand years. The priestesses entrusted it to Aadya.” Pride tinged Khalida’s comment.
Talik stiffened next to Rieka, but she ignored it—too entranced by the flame. What Lilian had never mentioned was how alluring it was. Even from this distance, she wanted to touch it and see if it would burn like any other fire. It changed from dark purple to a light lilac and every color in between. For a moment, it was just her and the flame. She grasped her pendant through her shirt as she forced down the need to touch the flame. Taking note of the guards stationed at the site, she would find her way back here again. “It’s beautiful,” Rieka said.
Eleven thousand years was a long time for a fire to burn.
“Vandana saved it herself, a reminder of her sacrifice,” Khalida added, seemingly just as entranced as Rieka was. “The last vestige of our original home.”
“Aadya?” Rieka didn’t recognize the name, but there was something familiar about it.
“Aadya was lord of Azaes until she abdicated the position.”
Rieka scrunched her face. Atlantean genealogy gave her a headache on a good day. And she really wished she’d paid more attention to it in the past.
“She is Dante’s and my paternal grandmother. Our fathers were half brothers,” Khalida continued. “As humans would refer to it.”
Rory had been right. The ruling elite were incestuous.
“Some believe that as long as the flame burns, a descendant walks the earth.” Talik broke the silence between them.
She’d heard countless versions of the legends. “Do you believe it?”
Talik smiled, the light not reaching his eyes as he stared at Khalida. He tensed up, the move subtle. “If there is a kernel of truth in the legend, it remains to be seen which parts.”
She’d been so distracted, she hadn’t realized that she could cut the tension between them with a blunt knife. They must have history with each other, and she didn’t want to get between them. Not if she valued her life. Khalida probably didn’t carry the dual swords solely for the aesthetic.
Khalida looked at them. Her yellow eyes glowed with an unnamed emotion that was at odds with the stillness Khalida held herself with. “Not everything is what it seems.”