Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

arm free, eyes flashing a darker green as he drew power to himself. “I‟m getting awfully tired of being threatened, Alexios. Know it.”
     
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    “My lord?” the guard called. “The portal is shrinking.”
     
    Alexios crossed through the magical entry into Atlantis behind Christophe, wondering what would happen if the day ever came that he was forced to challenge him. The warrior‟s ability to channel power was nearly as great as that of High Priest Alaric, and Alexios knew that Alaric could kick his ass in a fight.
     
    Of course, Alexios had learned a trick or two over the centuries, too.
     
    But tonight was not the time for dark thoughts of future betrayals. Tonight was for celebrating. He clapped his hand on the captain‟s shoulder. “The ale is on me tonight.
    My friend becomes a father, and Atlantis gains an heir!”
     
    The guards roared out their approval, shaking their spears in the air as they shouted and cheered. Brennan glanced back over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow before he and Christophe shimmered into mist and headed for the palace.
     
    “Please tell the prince and his lady that we are all praying for Poseidon‟s blessing upon them, my lord,” Marcus said.
     
    “I will, and I know he will appreciate it.” Alexios took a running start and leapt into the air, transforming into mist as he did so, then arrowed toward the palace, thoughts whirling.
     
    Finally. An heir to Atlantis. Perhaps he would be the first Atlantean in millennia to grow up knowing the land walkers‟ world, after Atlantis took its rightful place on the surface
    If Atlantis ever took its rightful place on the surface. Because if what Justice‟s woman, Keely, had said was true, then they had to retrieve the rest of the Trident‟s missing gems or Atlantis would be destroyed as it tried to rise from the depths of the ocean.
     
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    Landing on the balcony of his rooms in the palace, Alexios swiftly returned to human form, dropped his weapons on the bed, and then headed for the throne room, nearly running. Before he made it halfway down the corridor, Brennan appeared at the other end, his face as grim as Alexios had ever seen it.
     
    Alexios slowed to a stop, his heart plummeting. No. It couldn‟t be. Not the baby. There had been so many problems during her pregnancy—the first Atlantean-human mating in recorded history. He was unable to form the words to ask the question, but Brennan answered him anyway.
     
    “It goes badly. Riley and the baby are both at risk.” Brennan‟s face hardened. “Alexios, they might die.”
     
    Thousands of miles away from Atlantis, driving a beat-up old Jeep down a nearly deserted road, Grace felt a wave of anguish slice through her heart like a finely honed katana . But she‟d never felt a Japanese sword pierce that particular part of her anatomy. Once through the side, sure. A couple of hits on arms and legs. But never a chest wound.
     
    Yanking the steering wheel to the right, Grace pulled off onto the edge of the road and put her head down on the steering wheel, gasping for air until the pain passed. The Fae.
    That damn elf must have done something to her. Some sort of delayed reaction spell.
     
    But even as the thought entered her mind, she realized it didn‟t ring true. The pain hadn‟t felt like Fae magic.
     
    It had felt like Alexios . Wherever he was, he was hurting.
     
    And, warrior woman or not, descendant of Diana or not, there was nothing she could do about it.
     
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Chapter 4
    Atlantis, the palace
     
    Alexios followed Brennan through the giant doorway into the opulent palace throne room, barely noticing the pristine white marble floor inlaid with designs of gold, copper, and sparkling orichalcum, a metal unique to Atlantis. He strode past the marble columns and never spared a glance for the ornate golden throne that had fascinated him so as a child, but simply followed Brennan through yet another doorway, this one much smaller, into another room, also much smaller. Prince Conlan‟s private meeting room. Conlan had never been much of one for pomp and circumstance; the formal elegance of the throne room his father had ruled over had never held much appeal. Most of the important business of the kingdom was conducted here, on comfortable chairs and at battered wooden