Heart Of Atlantis

Quinn’s relief, and Riley led her through rooms and hallways and past people dressed in flowing clothes that seemed to belong in a fairy tale. Riley kept up a running commentary, but Quinn gave up trying to remember it all after the third or fourth “this is the way to the breakfast kitchen” or “this is the warriors’ wing” or “the household staff lives down this way.”
    “You have become somebody who has household staff,” Quinn marveled. “Who would have thought?”
    Riley stopped short and turned around, an embarrassed smile on her face. Her dark blue eyes flashed with amusement, and she sent a powerful blast of embarrassed resignation through their shared emotional connection. “I know, it’s ridiculous, right? But what was I going to do? It came with Conlan, kind of a package deal.”
    “Prince Charming,” Quinn drawled. “Does that make you Sleeping Beauty?”
    “No, that was Serai. I think more like Cinderella. Not that we lived in ashes, but you know what I mean. It’s a long way from the life of a struggling social worker to life in a palace on a mythological lost continent.”
    “Mom would have loved it. Remember all those stories she told us?”
    They shared a moment of sad fondness for the woman they’d lost too early, and then Riley took off again, her cloud of red-gold hair flashing. “Come on. Aidan should be awake by now.”
    “Isn’t it bedtime? Not that I know anything about babies.”
    “No, he has an after-dinner nap, and then he’s awake for a while and goes back to sleep around ten,” Riley said, racing down a hallway lined with tapestry-covered walls.
    Quinn was no expert, but she thought the tapestries looked old and intricate enough to belong in a museum. Which was funny, considering that the entire place belonged in a museum of antiquities. Every archaeologist and anthropologist on the planet was going to wet his or her pants when word got out about this place.
    Up one final staircase, and Riley flung open two ornately carved doors to an enormous room that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Gorgeous carved woods, silver and crystal accessories, and rich, lush fabrics combined to make the room a showplace.
    A thin wail coming from a round white wicker bassinet in the center of the room alerted them to the occupant’s state of mind.
    “He’s up, and he’s mad. I’m supposed to be right there when he wakes up,” Riley said, smiling. “His ‘prince of the manor’ arrogance showing up early, I guess.”
    Quinn eagerly followed her and was rewarded by an armload of warm, squirmy, angry baby being thrust into her arms.
    “Meet your auntie Quinn while I get a diaper, kid,” Riley advised her son, before disappearing into another room.
    Baby and rebel leader stared at each other with matching expressions of total surprise. The baby’s emotions pulsed strongly, wrapping themselves around her in a cocoon of love and contentment. This child was loved, and he knew it. His innocence and purity shone like a beacon, and underneath both there was something else—something
more
. A strength and self-possession that was unbelievably powerful in such a tiny baby.
    “Oh, boy,” Quinn whispered. “Welcome to the world, Aidan. You are destined for great things, my sweet nephew.”
    He grinned up at her, gums flashing, and Quinn realized she’d just fallen hopelessly in love for the second time in one day.

    Conlan and Alaric headed for the war room, bypassing Conlan’s fancy and rarely used throne room on the way.
    “Do you want me to tell you now or wait till everyone is gathered?”
    “Most of them aren’t even here,” Conlan said. “Ven returned several hours ago, but Erin was in some kind of trouble in Seattle with her witch’s coven, so he portaled out of here after telling me cryptically, ‘We’ve got big trouble, bro.’”
    “He’s not wrong,” Alaric said grimly.
    “Justice is here. I’ll call him.” Conlan didn’t even pause, but Alaric knew he’d sent out a call on the Atlantean shared mental pathway to his half brother, the only Atlantean in the royal family who was also descended from the ancient race of Nereids.
    Complicated family tree in the Atlantean royal house.
    Justice arrived at the war room seconds before them, and he held open the door. His long blue braid reached his waist and almost covered the broad battle sword sheathed on his back. He was wearing fighting leathers, as usual.
    “No more guards?” Alaric said,