Page 18 of Violet Legacy

Dante moved back to his seat. “You will have access to the vault in the afternoon.”

Rieka nodded. Dante was turning out to be far more dangerous than she had expected. She should have been impervious to him, but a small part wanted more. His gaze burned into her. The intensity made her want to look away, but she held her ground. A game she refused to lose.

There was only one reason she was there. Dante was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Not when there was so much at stake.

She really had a chance of finding the tomb.

Chapter 12

Dantewalkedintotheroom and placed the tablet on the metal table. The surrounding bookshelves loomed over him, only broken up by a large tapestry that appeared out of place within the musty library.

He should be alone. He couldn’t sense anyone around him, but he knew better.

“Why do you look like you want to murder the screen?”

“Hiding, Idris?”

“No. Waiting for you to notice I was here. It took longer than normal,” Idris answered. The chuckle was deep and echoed throughout the ancient library. “You must be distracted.”

Distracted was putting it mildly. He’d waited five hundred years for this opportunity to get a better glimpse at what his father had found, but all he could think about was a flamed-eyed hybrid with no known association to any of the Houses. He couldn’t recall the last time he had focused on someone or something other than work.

The dark shadow took on a humanoid shape as Idris stepped out from the shadows and into the sunlight. Few Atlanteans or humans dwarfed Dante, but Idris was a good foot taller than him and wider. Dressed entirely in simple black clothing, Idris had an unnatural ability to meld into the darkness. A gift that had served him well in his previous incarnation as a sought-out assassin. Idris had been brutal on and off the battlefield until he had found his current calling, moving from warrior to scholar. An unusual progression, but one that suited the giant Atlantean. Idris’s pale gaze twinkled with amusement a second before Dante was enveloped in a bear hug.

“Idris,” Dante warned, as he was unceremoniously placed back on the ground.

Idris took a step away, laughing as he wiped the mirth away from his eyes.

“It has been at least fifty years. Too long, Dante.”

“You have an open invitation to visit New York.”

Idris laughed again. “One day, I will take up your offer,” Idris said. “I’ve heard whispers you have a guest with you.”

Already, the rumors were circulating. They would have made the rounds long before they had arrived at the Arx. A tool he’d harnessed on various occasions to his advantage, but Idris was not just anyone. He was as close as a brother. “And?”

“They wonder why you brought a hybrid to the Jimourt. One who has a reputation for uncovering secrets that should have been kept hidden,” Idris said, his big shoulders shrugging nonchalantly, as if he was talking about the weather. “They conveniently forget that Anhur’s consort is human.”

They.

The archaic council still thought they held the power to influence and shape their society. Dante thoroughly enjoyed taking their power away from them, one acquisition at a time. A game he excelled at. One that many of the council members hadn’t noticed they were playing until it was too late. Dante leaned back. He’d known Rieka would garner attention; her hybrid status alone would draw the ire of the purists. It galled Dante that many still believed Atlanteans should not mix with the humans, lest their bloodline become tainted. But then, many Atlanteans still clung to the old ways and ignored the spattering of humans who littered their genealogy or were even the reason their family lines still existed. Even with modern technology, the Atlantean birth rate was extremely low. Ironically, Dante was one of the few Atlanteans who could claim a pure lineage. Not that he gave a damn about purity. “Dr. Sinha is under my protection.”

Idris’s smile grew wider, his pale eyes glittering in the light. “That rumor appears to be true,” he said. “What are you doing? And don’t lie to me. I’ve known you too long to know that you have a plan.”

“Should I be offended by the assumption or not?”

“Take it as a compliment.” Idris moved toward the wall-sized tapestry across the room. “It is always breathtaking to see the image. Even if it’s only a copy.”

“A copy of a copy,” Dante reminded Idris.

The large dark tapestry was out of place among the Atlantean architecture, the style far more human than theirs. In his childhood, Dante had spent far too many hours studying the image, just like every other Atlantean. The style was always the same: with some slight variations, but not enough to detract from the sanctioned myth of Vandana. Central to the image was a pure-white sand covered beach that stretched as far as the horizon. The pale foam tips of waves crashed against the edges of the sand; above the beach was a clutter of ominous clouds that covered the sky, swallowing almost any hint of blue. At the edge of the tapestry, a tiny figure of a black-haired child held the hand of an auburn-haired woman, their backs to the audience. Both wore simple light blue gowns, the clothes of the peasant class. The child appeared to be holding a small doll in her hand. They faced the ruins of a temple, and a plume of smoke rose above them. The tapestry wasn’t the finest artwork Dante had ever seen, but what it represented had shaped an entire civilization and their history. “Vandana and the Descent of the isle of Atlantis.”

“And House Atlas,” Idris added. “The two were so intrinsically linked that neither could survive without the other.”

“Yet the four remaining houses survived and thrived,” Dante said. He’d never quite understood the allure of the sacrificing martyr and the mythos that surrounded the persona of Vandana. If the statue his father had depicted held any truth, their history would prove to be a lie. “We created an entire dogma based on this one image.”

Idris shook his head, his hands clasped in front of his body. “Dante, old friend, it is far too early to be having a philosophical debate on the merits and origins of our history. I’m also far too sober to contemplate those questions.”

Dante ignored the comment. A blatant lie. Idris became a scholar because he had begun to question everything. It was a useful trait in Idris’s current trade—not one that had been welcomed previously. Dante took one last glance at the tapestry. “How far would you go to find the truth?”

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