Atlantis Unleashed (29 page)

“Yeah, we had a little vamp and shifter problem,” Ven added, cutting into Justice's internal battle. “It didn't go all that well for the good guys, either. Quinn was wounded, and Alaric went after her to be sure she was okay.”

Justice wanted to ask for further information, but Keely leaned against him, drooping with exhaustion.

He carefully rose, pulling her with him. “Rest. As you say, we need rest. Food and a bath, and then a good night's sleep should go a long way toward restoring us.”

Keely only nodded, her eyelids drifting shut as she stood there. He wanted to carry her, but knew she'd hate it, especially in front of Ven and Conlan. So he contented himself with walking beside her down the corridor toward the guest wing.

Giving in to the burgeoning paranoia that grew with every step he took farther into the palace, especially since Ven had accompanied them to “help out,” Justice examined every inch of the room they'd offered Keely before he let her step so much as a foot into it.

Finally, he turned toward the doorway where she leaned, all but falling over from tiredness, and he nodded. Heaving a sigh of relief, she crossed to the bed and flung herself down on it, face-first into the pillows, her silken hair in wild disarray around her.

“I'll call for some food for you,” he promised and strode over to talk to Ven, who still hovered in the corridor.

“You can't stay here with her,” Ven said, his face and voice equally grim. “You know that, don't you? We need to know—gods, man. What you did for me—” Ven stopped, the words strangling in his throat.

The emotion in Ven's—in his
brother's
—voice twisted something inside Justice's gut into a painful knot. “I don't need or want your gratitude,” he warned, his own voice rasping with feelings better left unexpressed. “You would have done the same for me. Hells, you
have
done the same for me.”

Ven scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, and they both pretended that two of Poseidon's fiercest warriors had not come very close to shedding tears.

“Food. Keely needs food,” Justice said, desperate for something to change the subject.

Ven glanced over Justice's shoulder and pointed into the room. “Actually, I'm guessing she doesn't.”

Justice turned to look and saw that Keely was sound asleep on top of the coverlet, still fully dressed down to her boots. He touched a pressure panel on the wall and the room darkened, and then he quietly walked over to the bed and stared down at her. Even disheveled and exhausted, she was more beautiful than he ever could have dreamed a woman could be.

Ven's voice came from directly behind him, startling him. “She's a pretty courageous woman,” he said quietly.

Justice's initial instincts had him clenching his fists to protect her, but that faded as the meaning behind Ven's words sank in. “She's braver and far more beautiful than I could ever deserve,” he admitted. “But she's mine.”

Ven sighed, and then laughed softly. “I had a feeling that might be the way of it, as soon as I saw you two together. Remember, I just went through this with Erin. It feels a lot like being knocked over the head with a very heavy sword, doesn't it?”

Shaking his head, Justice leaned over and gently removed Keely's shoes, then pulled the side of the coverlet over her. Because he couldn't resist—because he
wouldn't
resist—he bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. She made a sound like a tiny hiccuping snore and then settled more deeply into the pillows.

As they reentered the corridor, closing the door behind them, Ven clapped a hand on Justice's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie that felt familiar. Like something Justice himself might have done only four short months ago.

Four
long
months ago.

Now it took everything he had not to flinch from the contact. He warded the room with healthy, familiar Atlantean magic, forcing the voice of the Nereid to silence in his head. None would enter Keely's room while she slept; the powerful wards would ensure that. The dawn would bring what it would, especially if Alaric were back. But for tonight, at least, Justice could rest.

Rest, and pray to all the gods that he would not dream.

Keely woke up facedown in a pile of cloud-like silken pillows, still fully clothed except for her boots. Bolting up out of bed, she stared wildly around the room that she'd been too tired to really get a good look at the night before.

She was entirely alone and didn't want to look too closely at the little twist of relief—or was it disappointment?—in her stomach. Certainly it couldn't be
regret
that Justice was nowhere to be seen.

Or at least so she tried to convince herself.

Wandering around the room, she felt a feminine delight in the pale green silks and complementary cream furnishings. It was a study in understated elegance that enriched its occupant instead of making her feel inferior. Some sort of interior design psychology, no doubt. Or maybe it was an Atlantean gift. Beauty everywhere she looked.

And the view out the window was a Cinderella fantasy dream. The palace gardens stretched for acres and acres of dazzling color and lush greenery crisscrossed by paths of multicolored stone. She wanted, more than anything, to climb out the window and escape to the peaceful serenity of the gardens. Away from warriors and craziness and tension.

Instead, she resigned herself to putting on her Dr. McDermott face and finding out what they wanted and—just maybe—how she could help them.

Help
him
. Justice was never far from her thoughts, as much as she might wish otherwise. Or did she? Her own mind was becoming as divided as his was.

A knock on the door saved her from any further internal examination, and she opened it to find a silver-haired woman wearing a simple belted cotton dress and comfortable shoes. She had one hand on a wheeled cart. A housekeeper, perhaps.

“I've fresh clothes and a tray of coffee and juice for you, my lady,” the woman said, smiling.

“That's wonderful. Thank you so much. And it's Keely, please. Just Keely.”

Keely held the door open, trying not to bliss out at the lovely aromas, as the woman rolled the silver cart into the room. There was definitely some delicious coffee in Atlantis, so one worry at least was resolved.

“I'm sure you'd like to freshen up, Keely,” the housekeeper said, warmth in her voice and smile. “I'll return in half an hour to escort you to the princes.” She pointed to an inset panel on the wall, and the second button on it. “Just push this if you need anything further before then.”

With more smiles and nods, the housekeeper left the room, closing the door behind her.

Keely spent several minutes enjoying a couple of cups of coffee with plenty of sugar and cream swirled into the rich depths while she stared out the window, taking in all of the wonders of the view. Again and again, her gaze was drawn to the dome that covered the entire city. It was awe-inspiring. Whether magic or technology had fashioned it, it was simply amazing. The force of pressure of the water that must bear down on it, day after day . . .

Well. There were certain things a girl didn't need to freak out about before she had a shower.

Sometime later, showered, caffeinated, and feeling almost human again, she checked out the clothes. Remarkably, they were all her size or close to it. She chose a simple green shirt and tan pair of pants and pulled her own boots back on over a clean pair of socks, putting aside all the lovely dresses and skirts and other frilly clothes the housekeeper had brought. It made her feel more in control to dress in something akin to her standard work uniform. She'd learned early on that nobody took seriously a scientist who wore lace or frills.

Of course her gloves were safely in place. Even touching something as neutral as the walls in a place this ancient would likely send her into a trance.

The housekeeper returned, as promised, and led her through corridors whose walls were covered with the most glorious tapestries she'd ever seen. She'd love the opportunity to spend hours, or even days, studying them.

Later, perhaps. If they'd let her.

When they arrived at a door guarded by two somber-faced warriors, the housekeeper knocked and then ushered her into the same room she and Justice had wound up in the night before.

Conlan and Ven were already there.

“Please be welcome. I trust your rest was undisturbed?” Conlan said, bowing slightly.

“Honestly, a train could have roared through the room and I probably wouldn't have noticed,” she admitted, grinning. “I was pretty tired. I'd had a little excitement, you know.”

Ven grinned back at her. “Way to bounce back, Doc. You're my kind of scientist, I can tell.” He gestured to the laden side table. “Please help yourself to breakfast. We've already eaten.”

“Riley sends her regrets, but she is having a difficult time with the pregnancy, and Erin is with her, as well,” Conlan said.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Keely said. “Riley is your wife?”

“She will soon be my lady wife and queen, yes. Evidently we are having a priest or an Elvis,” he said dryly, but the warmth in his voice and the heat in his eyes told her that Riley was very loved, indeed.

A tiny twinge of regret pinged deep inside Keely's chest. No man had ever looked that way when he'd talked about her.

She shook it off. She wasn't usually so sentimental. Must be something about being in Cinderella's castle that made her think about Prince Charming.

Or Prince Tall, Blue-Haired, and Deadly.

While she ate, they pored over maps on the long table, speaking quietly and casting the occasional glance at her. Keely dove into the food like the starving woman she was. When the roar in her stomach faded down to a warm rumble of contentment, she took another sip of coffee and then carefully placed her fragile, almost translucent china cup on the table, resisting the urge to turn it over and examine it like one of her ancient artifacts.

Anyway,
artifact
was probably the wrong word to use. An artifact was something long buried and forgotten, hidden in the mists of time. This delicate china, fired by a process she'd never before seen, was part of their breakfast dishes. It boggled the mind.

The archaeologist in her wanted to cheer or stand up and do cartwheels. Certainly, she was itching to go get her tools from her pack that she'd reluctantly left in the bedroom, go outside, and dig somewhere, just for the heck of it.

The excitement suddenly drained out of her like helium from a punctured balloon. They hadn't invited her there for digging. They knew what she was. They probably had certain artifacts already lined up for her.

They'd called her an object reader, as though the term had precedence in their history. It was both shocking and wonderfully validating to be accepted for something that was so integrally a part of her. However, just as she used tools in her work, she recognized when someone else wanted to use her. She had no intention of being a chisel in their hands, at least not until she got some answers. Foremost among them: where was Justice?

She poured herself another cup of the delicious coffee and then sat back in her chair, casting a measured glance at Ven and Conlan. It took less than a minute for them to feel the weight of her stare, and they both looked up at her.

“Is there something else we might get for you?” Ven's smile was utterly charming and totally guileless. It might even have fooled somebody who'd been born yesterday.

Keely wasn't that gullible. “Yes, actually. I'd like to see Justice. I'd like to see him right now.”

“We're sure he'll be along any moment—”

She cut Conlan off, choosing not to worry if there were any penalties for interrupting royalty in Atlantis. “Right. You said that. Nearly half an hour ago. How do I know you don't have him locked up in some Atlantean dungeon?”

Ven raised an eyebrow and grinned. “No wonder Justice is so crazy about you. Not much frightens you, does it?”

“Lots of things frighten me. Global warming. Poverty in Third World countries. Genocide. Snakes. I hate snakes,” she said flatly. “But you two don't scare me, and if you've harmed Justice in any way, you're going to have to answer to me.”

Ven smiled at her as if he were a teacher delighted with a prize student. “Snakes, huh? Is that common to all archaeologists or have you just watched too many Indiana Jones movies?”

She stood up, pushing her chair back and out of the way, and bared her teeth at him in the fiercest expression she could muster. “Keep laughing at me, and I'll see if I can find a whip, Your
Highness
.”