by Alyssa Day
“She can’t die,” Denal cried out, his voice a rusty croak. “She can’t die, and the baby can’t die. I can’t bear it if she dies, Alexios. Not again. Not after she sacrificed her life for mine. I’ve been on my knees for hours praying to Poseidon to let me return the favor. Let him take me and spare her and the baby.”
Alexios was a little taken aback at the depth of anguish in the warrior’s voice, though on reflection Denal had been smitten with Riley from the first. Had declared himself her champion and protector, and had built up a big case of puppy love, even trying to defend her from Conlan, her chosen mate, over a misunderstanding. But after the vampire attack where he and Brennan had actually died, and Riley had traded her life to Poseidon for theirs . . . well, something in Denal had broken. Some spark of the youth and joy that made them all think of him as an overgrown youngling, though he was man and warrior enough to be part of the Seven, well, that spark had slowly turned to ash and died. Over the course of the past several months, Denal had changed. Become quieter. Less exuberant.
Less . . . Denal.
So maybe Alexios shouldn’t have been surprised at the vehemence of Denal’s pain at all.
Alexios started to speak, to offer some comfort, but Denal lurched up off the floor and grabbed his arms in a death grip, digging with bruising force into his flesh. “Why won’t he take me? Alexios, why won’t he take me?”
Alexios shook his head, unable to offer false comfort. “They are gods, Denal. They are gods, and they choose as they will. There is nothing we can do to affect their decisions.”
Something dark and deadly gleamed in the back of Denal’s eyes. “Nothing? I think you’re wrong.” He leaned forward as if to embrace Alexios and then, before Alexios could stop him, Denal snatched the daggers out of Alexios’s sheaths and jumped back.
“If Poseidon won’t take me, then I’ll give myself to him,” Denal shouted.
Alexios leapt forward, reaching for the blades, but he was too late. Denal plunged both daggers into his own abdomen and screamed loud and long as he fell back to his knees in a grotesque parody of his earlier position, blood streaming down his shirt.
“Two blades for two lives, Poseidon,” he cried out. “It’s all I have to give. Let it be enough, or I will battle you through all the levels of the nine hells.”
Somewhere behind him, Alexios dimly heard Keely screaming. Justice shouting. Even Brennan, calling out for help. But none of it penetrated. None of it mattered. The warrior Alexios had once mentored for half a century had just killed himself in front of his eyes, and Alexios had done nothing. He’d failed him. Like he’d failed Prince Conlan, when Anubisa came for him. Like he failed everyone.
Lost in soul-deep anguish beyond the bearing of it, Alexios threw back his head and roared out his pain and denial.
“Not what I expected to find,” a dry, calm voice said over his shoulder. “Bleeding, shouting, and self-inflicted evisceration. What is it about you warriors?”
“Alaric, damn you,” Alexios choked out. “You’re Poseidon’s high priest, so act like it. Heal him. Now.”
Alaric knelt beside Alexios and flicked a sardonic glance his way. “Should I invalidate such a noble sacrifice? Even though Riley and the baby are now doing much better, and the First Maiden told us five minutes ago that a healthy birth is imminent? Perhaps Poseidon would not approve.”
“If you don’t heal him in the next five seconds, my daggers are going to be digging a hole in your belly,” Alexios gritted out, knowing the priest was toying with him but not understanding how Alaric could do such a thing while Denal lay dying on the floor in front of them.
Certainly Alaric had grown darker and more silent of late. All of them had noticed it. But to actually let the warrior die when he could help . . . Alexios could not believe it of the priest who’d healed them all, so many times.
Alaric turned his dark gaze to Denal, his face hardening at the grim sight of the warrior sprawled gracelessly in a pool of his own spreading blood. “He’s very nearly gone. Get out of my way.”
Alexios scrambled backward to give the priest room to work. Alaric called power so swiftly and strongly that Alexios’s skin tried to crawl off his bones as the powerful rush of magical energy filled the room. Alaric’s hands glowed in the exact center of two pulsing blue-green spheres.
The priest leaned forward and grasped the hilts of the daggers, chanting something under his breath. Yet where Denal had prayed to Poseidon for death, Alaric was praying to the same god for life.
Denal’s life.
With one powerful yank, Alaric drew both daggers from Denal’s abdomen and tossed them to the floor. Never breaking his chant, he spread his hands over the torn flesh, and the light from the energy spheres sank into Denal’s body through his open wounds.
Silently, Alexios added his own prayers. Denal couldn’t die this way. Not through a useless, unnecessary sacrifice. Riley was going to be fine—had already turned the corner before Denal had plunged the daggers into his own flesh.
Surely Poseidon would accept the spirit of the sacrifice and release Denal from its finality. But Poseidon had released Denal from death once before . . .
How many miracles would the sea god grant to a single warrior?
Alaric abruptly leaned forward and pushed, his hands pressing deeply into Denal’s abdomen. Denal’s body arched and then fell back to the floor, and he started choking and coughing, then sucked in huge, gasping breaths. His eyes snapped open and he stared up at Alaric, an uncomprehending expression on his face.
“Am I dead?” He managed to force those three words from his throat before he began coughing again.
The priest leaned back and held his hands up into the air. The energy spheres burned fiercely for a moment and then disappeared as if they’d never existed, leaving Alaric’s hands cleansed of blood. He looked at his hands and smiled, but it was a smile lacking in any trace of warmth or humor.
“If only my soul could be cleansed so easily,” Alaric said, so quietly that Alexios knew he hadn’t been meant to hear it. Then the priest stood up and stared down at Denal. “No, you’re not dead, though you were close. But if you ever act in such a manner again, you may believe that I will leave you to the consequences of your actions.”
Without another word, Alaric turned and stalked toward the door. “If you’re done with this display, Lady Riley has asked that we be present in her outer chamber so that we can meet the baby immediately after he arrives.”
He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “I would suggest that you clean up first.”
Alexios helped Denal, whose wounds were entirely healed, sit up. All the things he wanted to say tumbled through his mind. Finally, he settled on the simplest. The good news.
“Denal, Riley and the baby are going to be fine. Marie has said so, and she has been First Maiden of the temple dedicated to health in childbirth for many, many years. You know we can trust her instincts. And Erin is there to call the power of gemsong to aid in the healing. All will be well.”
Denal just stared straight ahead, his expression blank and frozen. Alexios had seen it before. Hells, he’d felt it before. It was shock. The state of unnatural calm of one who had faced and accepted death. When death relinquished its claim, it took time for the realization of continued life to sink in. The space in between, that gray and featureless limbo, was a cold crossing where sanity hung in the balance. Not everyone came all the way back.
Brennan, Keely, and Justice all gathered around Denal, and Keely put her arms around him, tears still streaming down her face. Belatedly, Alexios realized they’d been right behind him while Alaric had healed Denal. Justice and Brennan each put a hand on Denal’s shoulders, offering their own comfort.
Strength in numbers, indeed.
“You Atlanteans,” Keely said as she sat back up, mingled fury and relief in her voice. “From the moment I first stepped foot in Atlantis, somebody has been trying to sacrifice himself for somebody else. I’ve had it. I wan
t to go home where nice, normal people don’t go around killing themselves all the time.” She batted Justice’s arm away when he tried to comfort her, and there was a certain wildness in her eyes. Alexios wondered, not for the first time, how difficult adjusting to life with an Atlantean warrior must be for a human.
Slowly, slowly, Denal’s gaze sharpened and focused, and he blinked up at Keely. “Dr. McDermott?”
She smiled through her tears, and in that instant Alexios knew why Justice had kidnapped this woman. Why he’d follow her through all the nine hells to be by her side. She was fierce and beautiful and everything a man could ever desire.
She reminded him of Grace.
“Don’t you ‘Dr. McDermott’ me, Denal. I may be a couple of hundred years younger than you, but I can still kick your butt,” she said, wiping her face on her sleeve. “Now let me help you up and we’ll get you in a bath.”
Fully alert now, Denal stared at Justice in total horror. “Oh, no. She can’t—I can’t—”
Justice and Alexios shared a glance of complete understanding. “Oh, no worries. My woman is not giving you a bath,” Justice said, a wicked smile on his face. “Alexios and I will help you wash your baby-soft ass, youngling.”
“I’m not touching his ass,” Alexios pointed out.
“Nor do I have any desire to cleanse that part of Denal’s anatomy,” Brennan said. “Perhaps we should find the palace housekeeper. She did, after all, change his wet clouts upon occasion when he was an infant.”
If anything, Denal looked even more horrified. “No! Not Neela! By the gods, I can bathe myself!”
They all started laughing as Denal spluttered protests, but their laughter had a sharp edge to it. Simple joy and relief tempered with the residue of not-yet-vanquished terror.
Denal was alive. But he almost hadn’t been.
A flash of something unfathomable crossed Denal’s expression, and his face hardened. “Then Poseidon did not accept my sacrifice? I was unworthy?”
“You are not unworthy, you fool,” Justice said, smacking Denal in the back of the head in a gentle imitation of the action he’d done so many times during the youngling’s training. “Your sacrifice, noble though it was, was unnecessary. Riley and the child were out of danger before you—”
“Before you took my daggers from their sheaths,” Alexios interrupted, his own smile fading. “I think we will need to come to terms over that, but that’s for a later time. For now, get cleaned up and meet us in Conlan’s chambers so we can meet our future prince. Maybe you can change some of his clouts.”
This time, even Denal smiled. Only a little, and it quickly vanished, but it had been a true smile. That was something. It was a start.
Alexios stood and bent to offer Denal his hand, but Denal shook his head, clenching his teeth, and slowly climbed to his feet. As Alexios knew from previous healings, the wounds may have been gone, but the pain from their infliction was very real and stayed around far longer than the healed wounds themselves if Alaric had been in the mood to teach a stubborn warrior a lesson.
The Alaric who had healed Denal would have had no care for pain. Denal would feel the effects for a while. And, judging from the expression on his face, not only the physical effects.
Keely put her hands on her hips and looked at the four Atlantean warriors surrounding her. “Can we go, already? I want to see that baby!”
Alexios nodded. “As do we all.”
As they headed back through the doorway he’d entered only a short time—or was it a lifetime?—ago, Alexios offered yet another prayer to the sea god. This time a simpler one.
A prayer of thanks.
Chapter 5
Atlantis, Prince Conlan and Lady Riley’s chambers
Marie held open the door and ushered them in. “Please enter, my lord Justice, Brennan, Alexios, Keely. Be welcome and rejoice, for we have a healthy baby to present to you.”
Alexios walked forward into the large, airy space filled with sunlight, laughter, and the fresh-garden scent of masses of flowers, clustered in vases all over the room. Christophe leaned against one wall, grinning, and Ven was twirling Lady Erin around and whooping with joy. Erin looked tired, though. The first human they’d ever known to possess the lost art of gem singing, she channeled a great deal of energy when she used her Gift for healing.
“Ven, put me down right now,” Erin said, laughing. “You’re blocking their view.”
Ven caught her in his arms and moved to the side, his face nearly split in two with an enormous grin. “Hey, Uncle Justice. Come meet our new nephew.”
Justice’s answering smile damn near lit up the room. “Nephew? It’s a boy? It’s a boy!” He pulled Keely in close to him, pressing a kiss on the top of her flame-red hair. “How does Auntie Keely sound to you?”
“Well, technically speaking, since we’re not married yet—”
From the bed, where Alexios could finally see her after Ven and Erin had moved out of the way, Riley laughed. “Oh, quit being such a logical scientist, Keely. Get over here, you two.”
Conlan was sitting next to her, his arm around her shoulder, and Alexios could just catch a glimpse of a pink face inside a bulky lump of blanket in Riley’s arms. Then the baby yawned, forming a tiny, perfect O with his gaping mouth, and everybody started laughing.
Hesitantly, in that peculiarly awkward way of warriors with newborn babes, Justice knelt beside the bed and touched one tiny fist with his finger. Instantly, the baby opened his eyes and his little hand and clamped his fist around the finger. The look on Justice’s face was priceless.
“Clearly our nephew has good taste,” Keely said, putting a hand on Justice’s shoulder. “He likes his uncle already.” She looked up at Riley. “He’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you. He is, isn’t he? It’s such a miracle that this tiny person grew inside my body.”
Justice started to speak, but nothing but a harsh croaking sound came out. Then he dropped his head for a second and took a deep breath. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were suspiciously shiny, but Alexios was betting nobody in the room was going to tease him about it, since Justice was far from the only one in that condition.
Alexios kind of suspected his own eyes were a little shiny, too.
“We, both the Nereid and Atlantean halves of our soul, are honored to call this child nephew. We will serve and protect him with our very lives, from now until eternity,” Justice vowed.
Alexios realized from the pronoun “we” that the melding of the two halves of Justice’s heritage had taken an interesting turn. But if Alaric, who leaned against a wall silently watching everything, wasn’t worried, it wasn’t for Alexios to concern himself with.
“In the name of the prince and heir to the Atlantean throne, we accept that promise,” Conlan said. The words were formal but the warmth in his eyes was not. Conlan and Ven had fully accepted Justice into their family as their half brother, and all of them were the better for it.
Riley smiled, and although she looked very tired, she was glowing as though lit from within by a thousand Atlantean sea stars. “Oh, don’t get all stuffy and formal, boys. His name,” she said, suddenly holding the bundle out toward Justice, “is Aidan. Let’s not hang all that prince-and-heir stuff on him just yet when he doesn’t even weigh ten pounds. And Aidan wants his uncle Justice to hold him.”
Justice looked stunned. “Us? You trust us—me—with your son?”
Keely knelt down next to Justice. “Of course she does. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Take your nephew, Justice,” Conlan said. “On this day, of all days, my wife gets whatever her heart desires.”
Riley smiled at Conlan with such perfect understanding and love that Alexios felt like an intruder on an intimate moment, though the chamber was filled with people.
Slowly and hesitantly, Justice reached for the infant. An expression of complete and utter awe swept over his features as he gently lifted the baby into his arms.
“Support h
is head, honey,” Keely prompted. “Babies can’t hold up their own heads for a while.”
“He does have an enormous head,” Brennan observed, looking bemused. “Perhaps his neck is simply undersized for such a weight?”
Riley, Keely, Erin, and Marie all burst out laughing.
“Brennan, are you calling my baby a bobblehead?” Riley demanded, when she could catch her breath.
“The proportions do seem a little off,” Alexios said, stepping closer and winking at Conlan and Riley. He flashed a grin at Erin. “He must take after his mutant uncle Ven.”
Ven growled at him, but Erin just shook her head, smiling.
“Don’t even go there, pretty boy,” Ven said. “At least he doesn’t have all that girly golden hair like you do.”