Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

teeth and lean into the breeze in order to be able to stand her ground against the urge to run or hide or kneel before her friend’s unearthly beauty.
    “I am Maeve na Feransel, Princess of the Unseelie Court, and you will bow to me or pay for your insolence,” she thundered. Her voice shook the very walls and carried to Fiona the desperate urge to do just that, to bow and worship Maeve’s beauty for eternity, but also the knowledge that it was no ordinary beauty. No, Maeve’s power was a dark and biting thing; knives wrapped in velvet—swift cuts tempered by sweetness. Her chosen would bow to her and live in pain and ecstasy. Begging for more.
    Begging to escape. Not knowing which they wanted more.
    The few seconds it took for Fiona to realize all of that were enough for her to break free of the compulsion, but another sound helped even more. Christophe. He was clapping.
    “Bravo, Fae. Maybe for your next act, you can pull a rabbit out of your ass?”
    Fiona winced at the crude words, and fury crossed Maeve’s face, but it was followed quickly by amusement. Her glamour, if that’s what it had been, vanished, and she was suddenly just Maeve, Fiona’s friend, albeit with silver chips like ice floating in her eyes.
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
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    “Never out of my ass, mortal,” she said. She laughed, and her laugh held as much compulsion as her glamour had. Fiona wanted to curl up in Maeve’s laughter and bathe in it; revel in the joy of the Fae princess’s happiness for the next fifty years or so.
    “Wow. That’s pretty powerful,” she managed to say, breaking free of the compulsion again. “Is that how you always got out of tests at university?”
    Maeve laughed again, but this time it was an ordinary laugh, just like thousands they’d shared before.
    “You have no idea, Fee.”
    “What do you want?” Christophe’s voice was pure menace. She glanced back to find his eyes glowing a hot green and both of his hands holding daggers.
    “Well, I’d love to find out what exactly you are, Warrior,” Maeve said. “But I’ll settle for my original purpose in coming here. Fiona, darling, you need to get out of town for a while. Forget this plan of stealing the Siren. Far more powerful beings than I are in battle for that gem, and you have no chance against them.”
    Fiona suddenly had a hard time breathing. “I—what are you talking about? What’s a Siren? Why would I—”
    Maeve cut off her babbling. “Too little, too late. I know you’re the Scarlet Ninja. Others know, too.”
    “What are you talking about, Maeve? Really, I think you drank too much champagne—”
    Maeve waved a hand in the air, and an image of Fiona, dressed as the Scarlet Ninja, climbing out of the trellised upper window of the Trehorne estate, appeared for a few second before vanishing.
    “Trehorne is Fae. You’re lucky he found you amusing, or you’d be licking his boots in the Summer Lands for a few centuries, Fee.”
    Fiona abruptly sat down, not trusting her legs to hold her upright any longer. She’d thought she was so clever. So discreet. And who knows how many Fae not only knew her deepest, darkest secret, but found her amusing.
    “Listen to me,” Maeve said, suddenly urgent. Her features hardened into an expression of imperious command, and it wasn’t difficult for Fiona to believe that she truly was a princess of her race. “The Siren has become known to us as a weapon of great power. It is said to have the ability to enthrall large numbers of shape-shifters simultaneously. This would be extremely valuable in the war for control of this world. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts have decided to join in to prevent the vampires from gaining complete domination. We wanted to stay neutral; the Moon Goddess herself knows we have enough discord on our own without becoming involved in this fight. But if the vampires succeed, they will turn all mortals into sheep on which to be fed, and we cannot allow total desecration of your race.” She laughed and was again the friend Fiona had known for so long. “Plus, we need your kind. I simply cannot survive without Chanel lipstick.”
    “Who has it now?” Christophe stalked over to her. “Who has the Siren now?”
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    “Do you ask a boon of information, mortal?” Maeve licked her lips, suddenly almost feral. “I will gladly grant it.”
    “I ask nothing. I know how your