Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

a grin of purely wicked intent. She blushed a hot pink color, which pleased him so much he caught himself whistling like a fool.
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 51 of 188
    The owner stood up near the table and clapped her hands. She must have had some magic herself, because the overwhelming din quickly settled down into a dull roar and then quieted to almost a hush.
    “Thank you all so much for coming out today to hear our favorite guest author. I know she needs no introduction, so without further ado, here is Lady Fiona Campbell, England’s beloved author and illustrator, to talk about her book, The Forest Fairies.”
    The room erupted into whistles and applause, and Fiona’s cheeks pinked up again, which fascinated Christophe so much he nearly tripped over one of the younglings near the back of the crowd, where he stood. The tiny girl looked up at him, all big eyes and pigtails, and he tried not to grimace. She scooted nearer to her mum, though, as if she’d seen inside him to the scary monster within. That was one thing about kids, they were perceptive.
    He’d known the couple who’d adopted him were zealots past the point of insanity, but nobody in that backward hamlet listened to a four-year-old child. At least not until he’d started crying for his parents and for Atlantis, and his budding magic talent had displayed itself.
    Then they’d listened.
    “Mister, are you okay?” The small voice caught his attention and snapped him out of dark thoughts.
    “You look sad.”
    It was another small girl, this one brave enough to approach the scary man. Before he could answer, she reached out with one tiny hand and patted his arm. “When I’m sad, I read one of Lady Fiona’s books and it makes me feel better. Just listen to her read and I bet you feel better, too.”
    He blinked and stared down at her in utter astonishment. No child had dared approach him in centuries.
    He’d even wondered sometimes if when Atlantean parents warned children of the things that go bump in the night, they pointed to him as a fearsome example. Now this tiny girl whose curly-haired head barely reached his waist was comforting him.
    Any moment, a seahorse would sprout wings and fly through the room.
    She smiled up at him, her two front teeth missing, and something in his heart, long unused and rusty, lurched a little. “I think you’re right,” he told her, but then her mother was there, grabbing the girl’s hand and snatching her away.
    “So sorry if she bothered you,” the woman said, but Christophe saw the suspicion in her eyes. She probably thought he was a predator, here to snack on the children.
    “No bother at all.”
    Declan stepped up next to him and grinned at the woman and little girl. “Declan Campbell, Fiona’s brother. I see you’ve met our friend, Christophe.”
    The woman’s suspicion melted away in a genuine smile. “No, but Lily did. She’s never known a stranger she doesn’t make into a friend in a heartbeat.”
    “A dangerous trait in a child,” Christophe said harshly. “Not all who smile are friends.”
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 52 of 188
    Her smile faltered and she took a step back. “Of course. Quite right.” As she hurried away with her child, Declan shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced up at Christophe, who had a few inches on him.
    “Making friends wherever you go, I see.”
    Christophe glared at the boy. “Anyone who calls another friend too easily is a fool.”
    Declan shrugged, not intimidated in the least. “And anybody who doesn’t is alone. Which is worse?”
    Christophe opened his mouth to answer and then decided to ignore the impertinent boy. He turned his attention to Fiona, who was well into her reading. She told the story of a Gille Dubh, a lonely and lost dark-haired lad who played and danced in the forest, clothed in moss and leaves, luring unwary children to come and play. Unfortunately, once they danced with the Gille Dubh, they were stolen away to the land of the Fae, to play and dance for years and years and years, until their parents and everyone they’d ever known were long dead.
    It was a grim tale, the truth behind her made-up story, and only too real. Christophe had no love for the Fae, who played games with humans as easily as though with chess pieces on their carved marble boards. But in Fiona’s version, the lad—a spirit, no longer a living child—fell in love with a bonny lass who enticed him