Heart Of Atlantis (30 page)

Regret and resignation were there, true, but also the glimmerings of something that felt a little bit like peace.

“I’ve never been happier,” she was able to tell him honestly. “But what happened? How did you finally change back? I thought you’d be a tiger forever.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said, his expression strained. “Part of me—the biggest part of me—never wanted to come back. I’ve seen too much, Quinn. Done too much, in the name of the rebellion. I think that when my body was injured so badly, my spirit decided it was time to retreat.”

“But you came back,” she said, fiercely glad it was true. “You were still a tiger when you arrived, but now—”

Jack started walking, and she matched her pace to his long strides as they roamed together through the gardens. “Now I’m human again. Mostly. I came back because the portal arrived and told us you were in danger.”

He left it at that, and she let that part of it go. She would have done the same for him. She needed to know the rest, though.

“When did you decide to shift? How? I tried so hard in Japan to help you find your way back. I’m sorry I failed.” She walked a little faster, determined not to let him see the tears forming in her eyes.

“You did help,” he said gently, touching her arm. “But this was something I needed to do on my own. I think it was the aftermath of the battle, here in Atlantis, realizing that if an eleven-thousand-year-old lost continent could find its way, then so could a relatively young tiger shifter.”

He fell quiet, and when she realized he wouldn’t say anything else about it, their talk continued to less personal subjects. They walked in the gardens, circling under and around the fantastical trees and fountains, engrossed in catching up and content with the familiar pleasure of spending time together. All the while, however, Quinn had the bittersweet feeling that the conversation was a prelude to good-bye.

“I’m ready to move on and do something else,” Jack finally said, when their talk of Atlantis and the world had died down. “The next group of rebel leaders has already stepped into our shoes, and I don’t want to go back to that life anyway. I think this time I’ll try seeing the world without the need to take charge and save the day. I have an uncle in Florida I’ve been meaning to visit for a few years. He lives in a town named Dead End, can you believe it?”

Quinn laughed. “Sounds interesting.”

“Probably not, but that’s what I’m looking for right now. Someplace
not
interesting.” He plucked a flower off an absurdly round purple bush and handed it to her.

“You’ll always be a hero, Jack,” she said. “No matter where you go. That’s who you are, and you can’t change that.”

His eyes darkened, and just for a moment, it was the tiger looking out at her, and not the man. “I don’t know if that’s still true, Quinn. I need time to learn who I am without the battles and the blood and the killing.”

“I’m always here if you need me,” she said. “You know that, right?”

He hugged her, hard, and then let go, and she felt a moment of deep sadness, as if he’d already gone.

“Quinn, I . . . If you ever need me—”

“I know,” she said, brushing the tears off her face with the back of her hand. “I know. Same goes.”

She reached out, one final time, to try to sense his emotions as she told him she loved him and she wished him well, and they both promised to keep in touch.

She felt it in him, as in her own heart, that they both doubted they would.

They didn’t say good-bye this time. Once had been enough.

She watched him walk away, down toward the shore where he’d said a friend with a boat was waiting, and she finally let the tears fall freely.

“Good luck, Jack. I love you, too.”

Alaric walked up behind her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on the hard muscles of his chest and watched Jack disappear into the noise and chaos of the people renovating the Atlantean port, so long unused.

“He deserves someone who loves him the way I love you,” she said through her tears.

“He will find her,” Alaric said. “I have a very strong feeling about that tiger. He’s going to have an interesting life.”

“Oh, boy. I’m not sure that’s a good prediction,” Quinn said, laughing a little. “Our lives have been far too interesting already.”

“It’s an Atlantean curse, you know. May you live in interesting times,” Alaric said. “And so true of the Atlantean family who adopted Faust. When I saw him earlier today, he’d just set the archery targets on fire. All of them.”

Quinn started laughing and turned around to look at him. “He’s a good kid. He’ll do well. But anyway, I thought that saying was Chinese.”

Alaric raised one silken eyebrow, and she started laughing. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You guys were here first. Well, my interesting Atlantean, let’s go to the palace. Riley is making me try on some ridiculous fancy dress for her coronation.”

“The queen’s sister cannot wear rags,” Alaric said. “However, you could wear those red silk undergarments, so I can think of taking them off you with my teeth—”

“While you’re crowning Conlan and Riley king and queen? I think not.” She pretended to be horrified by the suggestion, but then she stood on tiptoe and whispered a very, very naughty suggestion of what he could think about instead, and when he groaned and yanked her against him, she kissed him, right there in the middle of everything, for a very long time.

Chapter 36

The palace throne room, Atlantis, a week later

“In the name of Poseidon, I crown you King Conlan of Atlantis. Long may you reign!” Alaric placed the gem-encrusted crown that he knew Conlan would probably never wear again on his friend’s bowed head, and an overwhelming feeling of peace swept through him, as the crowd of Atlanteans and visiting dignitaries roared their approval with thunderous applause.

Finally,
finally
, the prince was crowned king, and the Atlantean ruling succession was secure. Now it was Conlan’s turn. Alaric swept his ceremonial cloak, rich velvet in Conlan’s colors of cerulean blue and silver, to one side, bowed low to his friend the king, and then handed him a second, smaller crown.

The king turned to his wife, the princess Riley, and smiled. Both of them wore shining silver, edged in the same deep ocean blue as Alaric’s clothing, and baby Aidan, safe in his mother’s arms, shone like a tiny beacon in matching blue and silver. Ven, Erin, Justice, and Keely stood on either side of the throne, dressed in similar finery, presenting a united front of the Atlantean royal family to all of Atlantis and, through the miracle of modern media, to the entire world.

Quinn, standing next to her sister, wore a simple blue gown edged in silver, and Alaric almost could not bear to look at her for fear he’d forget every word of the coronation ceremony and simply whisk her off to his rooms and ravish her.

Again.

The rehearsal had gone badly for that very reason.

Stand down, boy
, she sent to him, laughter infusing her thoughts.
Let’s get them crowned, and we can escape the party early.

Conlan gently placed the crown upon his wife’s head, and then turned to the assembled crowd. “Behold my wife, Queen Riley. Long may she reign!”

When the applause died down, Conlan took his son and hugged him, and then he addressed the crowd.

“We have endured much in our millennia of isolation from the world, but it has made us stronger as a people. Today, Riley and I stand before you, your representatives to the international community, and we promise to do everything in our power to bring Atlantis into the world as a strong, vibrant country whose people believe in peace, justice, and freedom. Long live Atlantis!”

The crowd picked up the chant. “Long live Atlantis! Long live Atlantis!”

The cheers were deafening and lasted a long time, but Alaric, always tuned in to the undercurrents, noticed a few small pockets of resentment. A human queen of Atlantis, when there had always been many women willing and ready to step up to the job of being Conlan’s wife—well, that was certainly a reason for discord. Politics and maneuvering, usually at the forefront of any royal court but relatively unknown in Atlantis, were beginning to surface after thousands of years of relative peace.

An Atlantis beneath the waves was a far different proposition than an Atlantis above the waves. Outside forces would be a factor—shifting alliances and constant betrayals—

“Why the frown, Alaric?” Conlan said, clapping him on the back. “Can you not find a smile at my coronation?”

Alaric’s forebodings dissipated, and he grinned. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. May I bring you some chilled grapes, Your Majesty?”

Conlan winced. “Don’t even joke about that. I’ve already had to deal with an increase in bowing and curtseying from a lot of people on my palace staff who should know better.”

Ven pounded his brother on the back. “No worries. Just wander on down to the warrior training grounds and I’ll kick your ass in a sparring match.”

Justice grinned. “We will knock that kingly arrogance out of you in no time, brother.”

The queen took her husband’s arm and pretended to glare at them all. “You can knock each other’s heads together later, boys. We have a coronation party to attend.”

She, Conlan, and the baby made their way through the room, chatting and laughing and making each person in their conversational orbit feel special.

“It’s a gift,” Quinn said, slipping her hand into Alaric’s and indicating her sister. “They make the royalty thing look easy, don’t they?”

“Long may they reign,” he replied. “Conlan suggested I might want to sit at the high table at dinner and serve in an ambassadorial capacity.”

She burst out laughing. “Has he
met
you?”

“I wondered the same thing,” Alaric said dryly. “I’m not exactly the most tactful or political person.”

“Suck it up, buttercup,” she whispered, still laughing, as the first of many of the Atlanteans and foreign guests came up to talk to them, barring them from escaping for a very long time.

Quinn escaped to a dark corner of the corridor that led to the banquet hall, and she sat down on a bench and immediately removed her shoes, sighing in blissful gratitude and relief. An icy breeze caressed her bare legs, and she smiled.

“I can fight battles on little sleep, march for hours on little food, and survive beatings and worse, but I have to admit I’ve met my match in these instruments of torture Riley made me wear,” she said to the seemingly empty corridor.

Alaric immediately materialized, his eyes glowing hot emerald green. “You sensed my presence.”

“I will always be able to sense your presence, especially now that we’re soul-melded,” she said, trying not to pounce on him. He was just so unbearably gorgeous in his ceremonial attire, and she had the privilege of knowing what he looked like underneath the silk and velvet. “So you can quit trying to sneak up on me.”

“I never sneak,” he said, joining her on the bench with his usual fluid grace. “I was merely trying to escape the party with some measure of subtlety, rather than tossing energy spheres at the Chinese ambassador when he spoke rudely to his wife.”

“You understand Chinese?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I speak all languages. It is one of the gifts that comes with the duties of Poseidon’s high priest.”

“About that,” Quinn began, hesitantly. “If you’ve changed your mind and want to keep your job—”

He lifted her chin with one finger and proceeded to devour her mouth with searing kisses that tasted like wine and spice and Alaric. She leaned into him and put her arms around his neck, not even caring that somebody could walk down the hall at any minute.

“I want to say I’ll race you to our rooms, but my feet hurt too much,” she admitted, when she finally pulled away.

He promptly lifted her feet into his lap and massaged them, adding tiny bursts of healing energy, so she was soon moaning in pleasure and relief.

“I’ll give you five minutes to cut that out,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall.

“I have a better idea,” he said. He scooped her up into his arms and strode off down the corridor, in the direction opposite to the banquet hall.

“My shoes,” she protested. “You left my shoes.”

“You hate the shoes, why would you care?” Alaric sounded honestly puzzled. “Is this to be like the cake conversation?”

“What cake conversation . . . Oh. That cake conversation. No, I gave up on that one after the Elvis bit,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.

“That,” he said decisively, “is entirely too bad.”

He turned into an open doorway, still carrying Quinn, and she was shocked to see that the room was full.

“Put me down,” she hissed at him, but he ignored her and strode to the front of the room, still carrying her, while everyone watched and grinned at them. Quinn’s face burned so hot she probably could have lit up all of Atlantis.

“Where are they?” Alaric called out, and just then a door opened in the near wall and Conlan and Riley stepped through into the room.

“We’re here,” Conlan said. “Are you ready?”

Alaric finally released Quinn so she could stand on her own two—bare—feet, and she blinked. “Ready for what?”

He took her hands. “We could not find an Elvis, but Queen Riley has informed us that the king of Atlantis has the legal power to perform a wedding.”

Quinn’s mouth fell open. “A wedding? Now?”

Alaric knelt gracefully before her. “Quinn Dawson,
mi amara
, heart of my heart and soul of my soul, will you wed me, bear my children, and remain by my side for all of eternity?”

Quinn blinked really hard, but several tears escaped as she stared at the most powerful man she had ever known, who knelt before her asking for her hand.

“I can never deserve you,” she whispered, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.

“Wearing those red silk undergarments would go a long way toward changing
that
,” he said, flashing his most wickedly seductive grin.

“Alaric,” she said, flushing a hot red all over again.

But the laughter that surrounded them floated on waves of emotion that were warm, encouraging, and kind. She turned to see that the people in the room were in fact only the Warriors of Poseidon and their mates, and every single one of them felt like family.

Family.

“I believe I have waited more than long enough for your response,” Alaric said, his face beginning to show the strain of doubt.

“You knew my answer before you ever asked, my warrior priest,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes, and yes, and yes. Forever and ever.”

She kissed him, and only the repeated sound of royal throat clearing brought her out of it.

When Alaric put an arm around her and nudged her to turn toward Conlan, she realized that everyone in the room was paired up and also facing their new king and queen.

Conlan turned to each couple in turn, and before continuing, he waited for each to respond with their assent to the question, “Do you each take the other as beloved mate, husband and wife, for now and until the waters of the ocean run dry?”

He stood before them. “Alaric and Quinn.”

Even as Quinn said a fervent
yes
, Alaric took her hand and placed a silver ring, set with a beautiful sapphire, on her finger.

“Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes with his beautiful emerald gaze. “For always and eternity.”

Conlan and Riley smiled at them, and Riley sniffled a little, before they turned to the next couple. Quinn listened to the words, almost in a daze, as she stared at Alaric.

“Ven and Erin.”

“Justice and Keely.”

“Bastien and Kat.”

“Alexios and Grace.”

“Marie and Ethan.”

“Brennan and Tiernan.”

“Christophe and Fiona.”

“Serai and Daniel.”

When each of them had responded with a heartfelt assent, Conlan flung open and held wide his arms. “Then, without further ado, and by the authority vested in me as king of Atlantis, I now pronounce you husbands and wives,” he said, smiling. “And long may you live and love, standing by our side and ushering the next generation of Atlanteans into the world.”

A little cheering, a lot of kissing, and many tears and hugs later, Quinn and Alaric had congratulated and been congratulated by everyone in the room. Riley had hugged her tightly for a long time, saying over and over again how happy she was, and happily planning family dinners, but then Alaric and Ven walked to the door next to the one through which Conlan and Riley had arrived, and Ven shouted for quiet.

“We have a little surprise, boys and girls,” Ven said, grinning like a fool.

He and Alaric flung open the door and led the group into a courtyard garden that had been transformed into a private wedding reception just for the newly wedded couples and a few close friends.

“Hit it, Marcus,” Ven called out, and Quinn was surprised to see the very relaxed head of the palace guard leaning down to an enormous array of musical equipment.

The silken tone of Elvis Presley’s voice soared over the room, and Quinn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when the familiar lyrics began. “You got Elvis, after all.”

“I couldn’t help falling in love with you, either,” Alaric told her solemnly. “I tried to fight it; I never believed I could deserve you. But love had different plans for me than a lifetime of solitude and loneliness.”

A blast of salt-drenched sea air blew Quinn from Alaric’s arms, and it was their only warning before Poseidon appeared in the center of the room, next to the enormous seven-tiered cake.

AND YET YOU DID NOT ASK ME ABOUT MY PLANS FOR YOUR LIFETIME, ALTHOUGH YOU ARE HIGH PRIEST OF MY TEMPLE.

When Poseidon’s voice roared through the room, the speakers exploded in pops of electrical sparks and smoke.

“I resign,” Alaric said, crossing to Quinn and taking her hand. “Find someone else to do the job.”

Poseidon, who’d decided to appear in the guise of a ten-foot-tall Atlantean warrior, sneered at Alaric but then appeared to be distracted by the cake. He lifted the entire top tier and put it in his mouth, and a blissful smile spread across his face.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS HUMAN FASCINATION WITH CAKE, BUT I APPROVE.

“You can’t—” Quinn began, but he pointed one giant finger at her, and she found she couldn’t speak.

DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I CANNOT DO, HUMAN. YOU HAVE ALREADY RUINED THE MOST POWERFUL HIGH PRIEST IN ATLANTEAN HISTORY WITH YOUR SEDUCTIVE WAYS.

Quinn didn’t know whether to be appalled or amused at “seductive ways.”