Atlantis Betrayed

by Alyssa Day

  “You don’t understand, Fiona,” Christophe said. “The Fae said only the two of us. The Summer Lands have a magical entrance, similar to the Atlantean portal. It will only admit the two of us, and it won’t let anyone at all enter carrying weapons.” He forced the words out. “None of this does us any good. Once we’re in there, we’re on our own.”

  Chapter 37

  Fairsby Manor, midnight

  Christophe tightened his grip on Fiona’s hand and knocked on the enormous wooden door. Oak, he thought. Beautiful carving in all of the many panels. Funny how the Unseelie Fae always surrounded themselves with beauty, when they were so ugly on the inside, where it counted.

  A tiny shiver passed through Fiona, but she hid any nerves behind her “lady of the manor” serenity. “Just coming to call,” she said. “I’ve been here before.”

  “That’s it. You can do this.”

  “Before I knew my best friend was a Fae princess and kidnapper,” she continued relentlessly. “Before some crazy elf stole my brother and wanted to hire out my uterus.”

  Christophe grimaced. “I don’t think he has hiring in mind. What were you talking to Justice about, by the way?”

  She shrugged her shoulders under her long, heavy coat. “Nothing much. And now? I’m going to kick some elf ass,” she said, smiling at the door.

  “We’re going to kick some elf butt, Partner.”

  She reached up to kiss him and he just barely had time to hope it wasn’t the last time he ever kissed her, and then the door opened. His jaw dropped open in shock.

  “Lucinda?” Fiona leapt inside and helped support the bloody and battered shifter. “Who did this to you?”

  Christophe thought, Trap, but it was too late, far too late, and so he followed Fiona inside and watched the door slam shut behind them.

  Lucinda fell to the ground heavily. She was bleeding from so many different places that it was a wonder she was still alive.

  “Why don’t you shift and start healing yourself?” He crouched down next to her. “We’ll stand guard.”

  She shook her head; a tiny movement, but even that caused her pain. “No, you don’t understand. He has the Siren. He can keep us from shifting. Right now he’s only playing with it and there are hundreds of us near death. If you teach him how to access its full power, we’re all finished.”

  “No worries there,” he told her. “There’s not a chance in the nine hells I’ll help him with anything.”

  The sound of boot heels ringing on marble sounded in the foyer, though there was no one there, until suddenly Gideon na Feransel stood there watching them. “Such a disappointment. Here I’d hoped it would be easy.”

  The Fae slowly and carefully rolled up the sleeves on his tailored shirt. “I think I need a little snack for this demonstration.”

  As if on command, three shifters dragged a fourth out of a doorway behind the Fae and dropped their struggling captive in front of him. The shifters, all but the captive, were enthralled. The one on the floor looked up at them, and it took Christophe a minute to recognize Evan, Lucinda’s mate, in the mass of torn and tattered flesh that was all that was left of his face.

  “What did you do to them?” Fiona demanded. “Gideon, how could you?”

  “It’s not the Gideon you think you know,” Christophe reminded her. “He was an illusion.”

  “Yes, he was an illusion,” the Fae repeated, mocking them. “But this isn’t.”

  He yanked Evan up off the floor with one hand and brutally jerked the shifter’s head up at a painful angle. Then he leaned forward until their faces were almost touching and he . . . inhaled.

  That was all. He inhaled. Nothing more, and yet Evan began to scream and fight even harder than he had before, to get away. Christophe pulled his daggers, but the Fae pointed a single finger at Fiona, and the shifters attacked. The three were pure, single-minded, deadly determination in their enthralled state, and it took everything Christophe had to fight them off. By the time he’d killed the third, Gideon na Feransel was dropping the husk of Evan’s drained body on the floor.

  That single action caught at something in Christophe’s mind and sliced away all of his years of denial in a single vicious swipe, and the memory played in full, living color.

  His mother, her drained body falling to the floor. His father, only a dried-out husk remaining, thudding to the floor.

  The same man the cause of all of it.

  The same Unseelie Fae.

  He turned blind eyes to Fiona, and she caught his arm. “What is it? What’s wrong? What did he do to you?”

  “He finally caught on, Lady Fiona,” the Fae said mockingly. “That’s all. He finally remembered that I’m the one who killed his parents.”

  Fiona knelt on the ground, Lucinda dying in her lap, and watched the man she loved shrivel away as if the Fae had drained him instead of Evan. The agonizing memories were too much; she could feel them screaming through his brain, and she wondered how either one of them would survive it.

  “That’s it. Fall apart, Atlantean. I need you a bit more malleable,” Gideon said. “Be a good boy and fall asleep again, like you did when you were a sniveling brat all those years ago.” He laughed. “Your parents did taste so delicious. Enough life force to last me for almost a year. You Atlanteans are special. It was your fault, of course.” He stalked closer, but Christophe just stood there, shuddering. “Your fault,” the Fae repeated. “If you hadn’t run away that day; if they hadn’t wasted the time to try to find you, why, they might have escaped. You murdered your own parents, you pathetic, whining brat.”

  His eyes shone with a dark and evil glee, and Fiona’s head nearly split with the weight of guilt and pain he was piling on Christophe with his lies and manipulation.

  “No!” she screamed in Christophe’s face. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t let him do this to you, or he wins.”

  Christophe slowly raised his ravaged face to meet her gaze, and then, just as slowly, he nodded and spoke inside her mind.

  He will never win while you are mine to protect, mi amara.

  She could feel the Herculean effort it took as Christophe forcibly pushed his pain and terror aside and locked it into the back of his mind in a box of his own, to deal with later.

  Together. We’ll deal with it together, later, she promised him, sending the thought from her mind to his with all of her focus.

  But Christophe fell on the ground and huddled in a ball, rocking back and forth, and only the calming feel of his thoughts kept her from believing that he had given up entirely. Hopefully, he had fooled the Fae.

  “It’s too late, Fiona,” the Fae said, all false pity and concern. “He’s no good to you. Luckily you have my offer of marriage, even though you’re soiled now. All I need is to lock you in a room for at least half a year, to prove to any naysayers that none of his fucks bore fruit in your delicious body.”

  But then na Feransel made his first mistake. He took his eyes off Christophe, just for an instant, so he could leer at Fiona.

  An instant was long enough.

  Christophe leapt to his feet and shot an energy bolt through the air at the Fae. Power thundered through the room and smashed into Gideon, knocking him through the air and into the wall.

  But a heartbeat later, Gideon was back on his feet and hurling his own power at Christophe. Back and forth, first one had the advantage and then the other—it was a towering magical battle between two masters, and all Fiona could do was drag Lucinda over to the wall and hope they didn’t get caught in the cross fire.

  It lasted forever, or it ended in mere minutes, she couldn’t tell, but suddenly the door behind Gideon opened again and a shimmer of hot green light poured from it.

  “That’s the doorway to the Summer Lands,” Lucinda whispered with the last of her strength. “He has hundreds of Fae warriors standing by in there to crush any support you brought with you.”

  “That’s the Summer Lands? Not here?” Fiona suddenly had hope and for nearly fi
ve entire seconds she held on to the vision of Hopkins and the Atlanteans saving the day. But then her vision turned to a far different one as she saw the many dark forms crowding the doorway to the Summer Lands. In this new vision, the Fae warriors swarmed out of that door and killed them all, leaving Gideon no reason to release her brother.

  She called out, and both Christophe and Gideon paused, restraining their power while they turned their attention to her.

  “Willingly spoken, is that correct?”

  Christophe saw it in her eyes or felt it in her soul before she even spoke the words, and he shouted a denial, but it was too late.

  “I willingly go with you, Gideon na Feransel, in return for the lives of my brother and this shifter, Lucinda.”

  “Willingly spoken and done,” Gideon said triumphantly.

  Before Christophe could stop him, the Fae raised both hands and a sweep of power pushed through the room, overpowering everything and everyone it its way.

  “No,” Christophe said, and his anguish at what she knew he thought of as her betrayal pierced the fragments that were left of her heart.

  Then the room faded to a welcoming black.

  Chapter 38

  Christophe woke when a massive aquamarine smashed into the side of his head.

  He’d been woken up in worse ways. He closed his eyes again.

  Then the reality of what had just happened caught up with his dazed and battered mind, and he changed his mind. This was the worst, ever.

  Fiona had willingly given herself to the Fae. There was almost nothing he could do about it. He was tapped out of magic, trapped in the Summer Lands—and, most likely, the Unseelie Court itself, the center and source of this Fae prince’s power—and the woman he loved more than his own life had just surrendered herself to the same monster who had murdered Christophe’s parents.

  The worst situation of his life, perhaps, but there had to be a way to win. There was always a way.

  Gideon na Feransel was going to die.

  All of that analysis ran through his mind in the few seconds before he opened his eyes. He then sat up and retrieved the gem that had woken him so unpleasantly. He held it up in the air and scanned the area. Rock walls. Rock floor. Light from some unknown source. A cave?

  “Thank you. I’ve been looking for this. Telios was just a frame?”

  Gideon’s voice sounded in the chamber, but Christophe couldn’t see him. More tricks of illusion. “Telios was a tool for me to use, who unfortunately learned secrets he should not have tried to wield. He enthralled the shifters in the Tower Guard, stole the sword, and then killed them and blamed it on the Scarlet Ninja. Our lovely Fiona will be hanging up that particular outfit from now on, by the way, unless she wants to play dress-up for me.”

  Christophe snarled and leapt to his feet, still clutching the Siren. “Where is she? If you’ve hurt her, you bastard, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to you.”

  “So violent. Why would I possibly hurt the mother of my future children?”

  Christophe didn’t understand that, either. The Fae were big on purity of the race and all that. Sort of like the Atlanteans had been before Conlan smashed right through that tradition.

  “Why her? She’s not Fae. Why do you want her?”

  “Ah, is that what you believe? I know what you are, now, you know. Atlantean. Evidently you know less than you think you do, for a living example of an ancient race.” The Fae finally appeared, roughly in the same place from which his voice had been projecting. “Fiona is a descendant of Fae royalty. Seelie Court, to be exact. She will be very happy in my . . . well, let’s just call them unification efforts, shall we? Show me how to work the Siren, or I will make her life quite unpleasant, shall we say? There are many ways to harm a human without breaking her. Humans are so delightfully fragile, aren’t they?”

  Christophe didn’t waste time or breath on more threats. “What do you want?”

  “The Siren. Show me. The ancient legends tell us that it holds enormous power, and I’ve only been able to access a fraction of it. Your young warrior friend, the one so besotted with my dear sister, knows nothing of how to access the gem’s power. But, of course, he doesn’t have your magic, does he? So now you show me how to control the full spectrum of power, or else—”

  “Yeah, I get it. Or else bad things happen, and so on and so forth. Show me Fiona. Now.”

  “Never.”

  “Take me to Fiona, so I can see for myself she is unharmed, or you can stuff this gem up your hairy elf ass,” Christophe snarled. “I have no incentive to help you unless I know for sure she is safe and well.”

  Gideon’s face turned red, then white again, and Christophe was sure he was finally going to die, right there on the spot.

  “Yes. I will allow you to see Fiona,” Gideon finally said. “After that, you will show me how to control the Siren’s power. Willingly speak it to me, or I will kill you now.”

  Christophe inclined his head. “After I see Fiona, I will show you the full power of the Siren. Willingly spoken.”

  Satisfied, Gideon pointed toward a doorway that hadn’t been there before. Christophe led the way out of the door.

  The first chamber they entered was a deep, rich forest. The scent of green and growing things and the rich loam in the soil permeated the air and made Christophe wonder how creatures of such viciousness and hate could create and control nature’s perfection so beautifully. Then he saw the unhappy faces of several wood sprites, and he knew the truth. The Unseelie Fae could harness, imprison, and control, but none of nature worked willingly in cooperation with them.

  Would it be enough to lead to their downfall? He didn’t know. Millennia of Fae history said the opposite.

  As they neared the end of the forest chamber, Christophe heard splashing and laughter like tiny bells. Nymphs. He schooled his face to be completely expressionless, in case Fiona was there, too. Nymphs could be fairly outrageous and he’d prefer not to react.

  When they rounded the final tree and came upon the pool, however, it wasn’t Fiona he saw, but her brother. From the looks of him, he was in excellent spirits, too.

  Not to mention stark naked.

  Expressionless didn’t cover this. Christophe had to force himself not to laugh. Luckily the Fae had kept walking and was some distance ahead.

  Declan saw him and turned red, making an attempt to cover himself. “Christophe! Did you come to get me out of here?”

  The nymphs, three of them, all naked as the day they were born and absolutely lovely in their watery play, smiled and beckoned him to come join them.

  He bowed but shook his head. “Alas, ladies, my heart is given to my one true love.”

  They pouted but gave up gracefully. Nymphs could overpower any man’s will except for one who was truly in love. For them to have given up so easily, they must have sensed it powerfully in him.

  “That’s delightful,” one said.

  “Lovely, lovely, love,” the second said, nibbling at Declan’s toes. He turned an even brighter shade of red.

  “We love virgins. Not that he is one, anymore,” the third said, rubbing her breasts on Declan’s back. His groan was heartfelt, but he splashed his way out of the pool and toward Christophe.

  “Can you at least put that thing away?” Christophe tried not to laugh, but it was getting harder.

  “They stole my clothes,” Declan said, covering himself with his hands and hopping back and forth.

  Christophe took pity on him, but they needed to get moving before the Fae changed his mind. “Compliment them and then ask about your clothes,” he advised. “But they have to be really flowery compliments. Nymphs love to be flattered. Catch up to me as quickly as you can.”

  Christophe took off without waiting to hear what Declan came up with, and he caught up to Gideon just as the Fae was opening another doorway.

  “He may come with you, since his sister needs to see that he is safe, according to our agreement,” the Fae said, as if bestowing a fav
or upon a subject. “I will leave the doorway for him to find.”

  Christophe had never wanted anything as badly in his life as he wanted to crush this murdering bastard like the monster he was. Not yet, not yet, not yet. Soon.

  The next chamber was like and yet unlike the first. This, too, was woodlands, but it was forest; ancient and resonating with power. No nymphs would dare frolic here. This was for serious magic. Gideon led the way through the chamber, and this time a silver throne twined with living vines held center court. Seated on it, wearing nothing but a filmy gown, Maeve na Feransel kissed Denal as though her life and future depended on it.

  Christophe almost wanted to turn away from the intimacy of it, but then he remembered how Denal had come to the Summer Lands.

  “Denal,” he called out, careful not to approach the throne. “It’s Christophe. Are you still yourself?”

  Denal slowly raised his head, and Christophe saw that the dark blue of his eyes contained something else. Something more. Fae magic. Intertwined with Atlantean.

  He was too late.

  “I spoke truly and willingly, Christophe. Go home to Atlantis. I have served Maeve as her knight for three Fae years and willingly stay longer still. My duty compels me to honor my promise to her.”

  “Duty? What of your duty to Atlantis?”

  A wave of sadness passed over Denal’s face. “They don’t need me. Maeve does. I belong here, at least for now.”

  Then there was nothing left to say, but for one final thought.

  “Be well, my friend,” Christophe said, realizing as he said it that it was truth. Denal was his friend. It had been Christophe who had pushed the rest of the Seven away so he could be alone, nursing his anger and sense of betrayal. If he could finally find love, he could accept other bonds, too. “Be well.”

  Denal stood and bowed to Christophe. “And you, my friend.”

  As Denal returned to his seat, he sent a message to Christophe on the shared Atlantean mental pathway.

  Beware his power, but remember that vanity is his fatal flaw. Maeve tried her best to rescue Fiona, but Gideon is far too powerful for her to oppose right now. She has given her permission to Declan to return home, so his contract in the Summer Lands is fulfilled and he may leave. As princess, she has the power to release him even though it was Gideon who abducted him. She may pay heavily for that, so destroy Gideon if you can.