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Atlantis slipped beneath the waves and began its slow descent to its forgotten grave. The Houses searched for their new homes, traveling farther and farther away from each other and Atlantis. The survivors’ descendants were destined to never return home, but they carried the violet flame, Vandana’s legacy, with them.

Atlantis will only rise again when Vandana’s bloodline returns to the throne.

Chapter 8

Theknockatthedoor was sharp and short.

It jolted Rieka back to reality. Where had the time gone? The candle on her kitchen counter flickered as the blackened wick appeared dangerously low. The recording had given away to static. If she ignored the doorbell, the person on the other side would eventually go away. Her cell rang. An image of a woman and her blonde thirteen-year-old mini-me flashed onto the screen. It lasted a second before a text pinged. Rieka stifled a groan.

I know you are in there!

I can wait out here all night.

Rieka believed her. Rory was her best friend, but potentially the most stubborn person she’d ever come across. It was why they bonded as quickly as they had—that and the hours of community service they both had to do as part of their juvenile rehabilitation.

Rieka unlatched her lock, opening the door. “Aurora Lombardo, fancy seeing you here.”

“You sound like my boss when I’ve done something wrong. Or my parents.” Rory sauntered in, holding up a tray. “I come bearing gifts.”

“I have coffee.” Rieka added a second before her stomach grumbled. She had forgotten to eat dinner; she had been far too distracted by the journal.

Moving out of the way, Rory walked past her, heading toward the kitchen and sidestepping the papers as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She wore an oversized faded navy-blue sweater that almost reached her knees with dark leggings and black Vans. A long, neat French braid reached Rory’s waist.

“Homemade cinnamon and apple muffins,” Rory added.

“Where is Delaney?”

“At the library, doing her homework.” Rory chuckled, and small laugh lines etched around her eyes. “And unlike us at that age, she is actually studying.” Rory placed the tray on the kitchen counter before she pivoted, hands on hips. “You can’t send me a message to say you mettheDante Delacroix, lived to tell the tale, and not reply to my messages for four hours.”

“What are you working on?” Rieka swiped a muffin and bit into it. The crispiness of apple and cinnamon exploded on her tongue. It was mouth-wateringly delicious, not that she expected anything less. Rory did her best baking when she was deep in an investigation.

“Don’t change the subject. I’m here to talk about your day.” Rory shook her head, pulling out a barstool. “Why does this place look like a crime scene?”

Rieka wasn’t sure where to start. She hadn’t told Rory about the mosaic in the temple.

“Are you going to make me drag it out of you?” Rory asked, her blunt nails tapping against the faux marble counter. “Does it have to do with Göbekli Tepe?”

Rory was far too intuitive for her liking and had a knack for deciphering complex puzzles. It made her a fantastic investigative journalist, but also extremely hard for Rieka to hide anything. Rieka took another bite before she busied herself with making the coffee. “What do you know about the Jimourt?”

Rory raised a dark eyebrow, her light brown eyes widening. “It’s either an elaborate excuse to throw a party or a bloodless coup. Depending on who you are talking to.”

Rieka nodded. The history books were littered with examples of the Jimourt and how it was used to consolidate power plays and alliances between the noble families and dominant Houses, but that wasn’t what interested her. “It is the only time they exhibit House Atlas artifacts.”

Rory straightened, a slight crease in her brow. “The event is invite-only.”

And only extended to full-blooded Atlanteans. The Atlantean elite were bloodline purists as well as zealots.

“I received an invitation.”

Rory slowly blinked at her as if she was registering what Rieka had just said. “What? Wait. How?”

“I need to authenticate an artifact,” Rieka said.

“That didn’t work out so well for you last time,” Rory calmly pointed out as she played with the foil on her muffin. “The zealots hounded you for two years straight.”

It was the understatement of the century. Rory had taken the brunt of Rieka’s worry and called in all her contacts to make sure the death threats against her had been taken seriously.

“The Atlanteans didn’t help you then. Why do you think it would be different now?”