Page 27 of Violet Legacy

Rieka looked surprised at his response. “That was it?”

“I migrated to the city in 1706,” Dante stated. The pull to have something that belonged solely to him had been far too strong. Moving to the young country had been an opportunity to expand House Mneseus’s influence and create his own space. It had been a vastly different world back then. The city had been full of hope and broken dreams, reality not quite matching what people had been sold. “Atlanteans do not live for an eternity. Our life span does not exceed four thousand years in most circumstances.”

A distinction most humans glossed over.

Rieka waved her chocolate-covered spoon around as if it was a minor detail. To humans, it doubtless was. Near immortality was as far out of reach as immortality.

“What was young Dante like?” Rieka asked before she slowly licked the spoon.

The low moan she released set his body on fire.

“The chocolate frosting is to die for.” She looked at him mischievously and licked her lips, drawing attention to her wicked mouth.

The simple action sent a jolt of desire through him, his arousal unmistakable. In less than a second, the temperature in the room had gone up.

Dante reached out; his hands brushed Rieka’s. She shivered under his touch. He traced her inner wrist, following the outline of the lilies. Rieka’s breath hitched as he continued the path up toward her arm. Her skin was silky smooth to his touch. The small involuntary shivers urged him onward as the scent of subtle desire darkened the room. The fire that threatened to take over his mind made him realize he wasn’t immune to Rieka’s reactions and was not in as much control as he had initially thought. He should pull back. But Rieka was proving to be intoxicating. She was highly intelligent, which coupled with her beauty, had the potential to be a lethal combination. It was Rieka’s zest for life that drew him in, like a moth to a flame. She showed it in everything she did. The type of passion that was reserved for those who knew that every single moment counted. A foreign concept to him.

Rieka slowly pulled her hand back. A red blush stained her cheeks.

“I was exactly as you imagine.”

Talik stood quietly at the door, half-hidden by the shadows. Dante wanted to ignore him, but there was only one reason Talik would interrupt him. Aadya had decided that she would meet with him. His paternal grandmother was many things, but maternal was not one of them, and she would not have granted his meeting without extensive consideration.

“Precocious and intense?” Rieka laughed. She nodded at Talik. “I assume you have to leave.”

It would not be long before the kitchen bustled to life again, and they would be unceremoniously kicked out. Some things never changed. “I must attend a meeting. Talik will escort you to your room.”

“It’s fine. I know the way.”

“Not everyone at the Jimourt will be as welcoming as Anhur is,” Dante said, as Rieka picked up her backpack and placed it on her lap. She used the backpack like a physical barrier. “The Houses may appear civilized, but they will do anything to remain in power.”

Rieka stiffened. “And you?”

“I would exploit any weaknesses they have.”

Awaveoficinesswent through Dante as Rieka walked out of the kitchen. Rieka’s presence felt like a burning flame, something he wanted to touch—to understand how close he could get before it affected him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had not been focused exclusively on his work or finding the tomb. They sold the Jimourt to the outside world as a celebration, but to the key players, they knew what it was. A time when they could conduct ruthless acquisitions and amend alliances. Not a time to show any form of weakness. And he was fast realizing that Rieka may become one of his. Dante could not afford to be distracted, not even by his unexpected attraction to Rieka. He should have been able to control it. Instead, he’d reacted on pure instinct and desire. It was slightly disturbing that Rieka could evoke such a visceral reaction from him.

It didn’t take him long to reach his destination. Large, ornate metal doors closed behind him and sealed him away from the rest of the Arx. The great circular room was empty save for the four statues facing inwards. The closest figure was of a woman holding a crossbow in her hands, her body arched gracefully as if she was mid-turn. Wild brown hair flowed to her waist, the rich color mixed with hues of chestnut and red. It complemented her bronze skin.

Two of the statues carried swords, and the fourth, had a chakram held tightly against her chest. The women appeared to be forever memorialized as warriors.

Dante knew better.

He continued his walk down the center of the room, the thick bloodred rug muffling the sound of his movement as he crossed the room. Moonlight streamed through the aquamarine stained-glass dome and cast dark shadows along the walls. He kept his attention straight ahead.

The elusive immortals. The descendants of the last of the high priestesses who had guarded the royal family of House Atlas. Traditionally, they wore loose dark attire and a mask that concealed their identity to the outside world. It was believed that their name did not come from their ability to cheat death, but rather because if an immortal died or was unable to protect the royal family, they were immediately replaced. Today, only a select few of the immortals remained loyal to the Houses; preferring instead to offer their skills to the highest bidder, human or Atlantean. The four within the room were loyal to Khalida, and protected Aadya.

As he walked past, the auburn-haired statue holding the chakram winked at him.

A reminder that not all was what it seemed.

Chapter 18

Asmall,half-hiddenwoodendoor opened in front of Dante, forcing him to stoop as he walked through. Yellow crystals, above his head, lit up the narrow tunnel. He waited as they grew bright enough, until the minute details of the faded murals carved into the stone were illuminated.

The door shut silently behind him; the immortals would continue to guard the room. Any Atlantean foolish enough to force an entry would learn firsthand how deadly the warriors were, and that history had not exaggerated their level of viciousness or cruelty.

Instead, he focused on where he was going. The only sound was his breathing and the echo of his shoes on the stone floor. He didn’t bother to mask his movements.

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