Page 26 of Violet Legacy

“A sense of loyalty, I assume,” Dante dryly answered. “She has worked for Anhur for more than one thousand years.”

Rieka’s eyes widened as she glanced around the kitchen before focusing back on him. She did not trust him, not entirely, but that was to be expected. He didn’t have the time to draw her out of her shell; he needed to push at her boundaries and get what he wanted. If it required him to reveal information about himself that he would not share outside of these circumstances, he was more than willing to take the gamble.

The fire behind them cast her in a warm glow. It highlighted the red hue in her black hair. Frankincense and myrrh lingered in the air; someone must have added them to the stone hearth. “Why did you choose to study Atlantean archaeology?”

Rieka glanced at the fire before she turned her attention back to him. Her eyes matched the roaring blaze behind her, licks of gold interwoven with vibrant red.

“My mom. She was obsessed with the tomb despite not having formally studied anything to do with archaeology. She was a bit of a free spirit.” Rieka sighed, looking down at her plate as she pushed away the remnants of the chocolate cake. “It makes me feel closer to her.”

Lilian Sinha died well over a decade ago, according to the files he had sourced, but for Rieka, the memory must still be raw. Every time she talked about her mother, pain flickered through her; it was almost palpable when he was this close to her. Grief could leave invisible scars on the body and the mind. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what that would be like to feel the way humans did. Their lives were brief, but they could burn brighter than most Atlanteans. It was hard to lose the allure of life when a life span was less than a hundred and fifty years. Unlike his species. It was ironic that most Atlanteans lived to be over three thousand years old, but after living for a couple of hundred years there was a danger of everything fading into mundane routines and obsolete memories.

“If we are being honest with each other, what drives you, Dante? Wealth, legacy?”

“Power,” Dante acknowledged. He never kept it a secret. It was what they’d drilled into him as a child. The only currency his family understood. Everything else was secondary except for protecting the purity of their bloodline. Even if some considered his father’s pursuit for the tomb of Vandana madness—Talal’s bloodline had been faultless. And his mother’s was just as impeccable. The only blight on the Delacroix family was that Dante was the first male born to the matriarchal line in over nine thousand years. But they had absolved his mother of that little sin with the arrival of his twin sister.

“Power isn’t everything.”

“It is in my world.”

Rieka frowned, as if his response offended her. “Surely there is more to near immortality than power.”

“It is one of the few absolutes,” Dante said. It had driven his every interaction. “Atlanteans are not as prone to emotional attachments as humans. When you live as long as our species, emotions become a commodity at best or a weakness that can be exploited.”

“I never would have thought I would feel sorry for you—as a species—but I do. There is more to life than power.” Rieka tapped her plate. “I wouldn’t ask for near immortality if I lost the ability to feel.”

Rieka said it with such honesty and frankness, Dante almost doubled back. No one had ever questioned his drive; it had always been the opposite. The ruthless ambition had been fostered and encouraged. Despite the veneer of civility Atlantean society cultivated, it never pretended to downplay the importance of power and wealth.

“Does it ever get tiring?” Rieka asked.

“Tiring?”

“To live as long as you do?” Rieka added. “Does it all merge into one long memory?”

“There is always something or someone that can reignite the allure of living.” It was the truth. But those interests were becoming few and far between. And more difficult to find. “You would have to ask the elders. I can only imagine after three thousand years that it becomes a blur.”

Rieka sighed. “That is disappointing.”

“Nothing lasts forever, Rieka. Dynasties have risen and fallen throughout our history.”

“Near immortality does not sound that appealing.” Rieka pushed back against the table. The brown leather necklace peeked out from her shirt.

“The pendant? What is it?” Dante asked.

Rieka’s eyes widened at his question.

“You don’t just play with your hair when you are concentrating.”

Rieka tugged at the brown cord, pulling the pendant from beneath her T-shirt. “My mom gave it to me before the plane crash. Just a pretty Atlantean trinket,” Rieka said as she lifted it. The silver glowed bright against the fire. “It’s all I have left of her.”

Dante froze for a second. Rieka didn’t notice as she held up the pendant for him to see. Five circles were intertwined with what appeared to be a trident running through them. An ancient symbol of House Atlas. One that Talal had shown him in secret, and he’d never seen again.

Rieka stared at it for a second longer before she returned it, slipping it under her T-shirt where it would be nestled securely between her breasts. He could scent no lie from her. She did not know what the pendant was. Otherwise, she likely wouldn’t have shown it to him. Or agreed to the contract.

“The design appears unusual.”

“Mom said she was given it by her mom when she was a child. Turns out the Sinha women tend to leave their children behind.” Rieka smiled to herself. The memory was tinged with sadness. She shook her head, her wild curls bouncing. And like that, the scent of the sadness was gone. “Enough about me. How does the child of a scholar and the matriarch of the House Mneseus end up owning half of New York City?” Rieka asked as she continued to move the chocolate cake around her plate.

“The House doesn’t own it; we are heavily invested in it,” Dante said. He’d taken a chance that none of the Houses had had the foresight to act upon, and it paid him dividends. “I saw a business opportunity and exploited it.”

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