Philip of Macedonia had possibilities, but it was too far away.
“Of course you must call whomever you wish,” Liam said. But in a movement too fast for her to actually see, he leaned across her desk and pressed something into her hand, then folded her fingers around it.
Instantly, the sheer age of the smooth stone in her hand registered in every one of Keely‟s nerve endings. “No! No, my gloves—you don‟t understand—”
Then the history enveloped her. Centuries of presence whirled her into the maelstrom, and her body arched into a painful spasm as she fell across her desk, crying out, her last sight the slight hint of regret shadowing Liam‟s face.
Unprepared—completely and utterly unprepared—she went under.
“I need you, my darling.” The words came from Keely‟s lips but the voice was not hers. She looked down at the blue silken gown she wore over a voluptuous body and realized the body was not her own, either. As often happened, she was trapped in the vision—an active participant in the life of someone who‟d had vivid emotions involving the object she held.
The object. Liam.
Memories of her office wavered in the back of her/their mind, misty behind the curtain of the vision. She looked down at the object, to see that she held an enormous sapphire that glowed as if tiny universes sparked to life inside it.
The sight of her/their hands drew her gaze away from the jewel. Rings adorned every finger and silver bracelets chimed like bells on her wrists as she moved her slender hands. Pale white hands that weren‟t tanned or scarred with the remnants of countless scrapes from countless digs.
Hands definitely not her own.
Keely looked around the sunlit room, marveling at the exotic strangeness of it. Marble columns in corners were decorated with inlaid gems and a glittering copper-like metal. A bed large enough to fit ten people graced the center of the room, hung with sheer silk draperies in white, blue, and crystalline green. The room was open to a balcony that looked out on a city of crystal and marble towers and spires.
Then, beyond, a . . . dome. She/they knew the dome. It shielded the Seven Isles from the depths of the ocean. The Seven Isles.
Atlantis.
She dropped the gem from suddenly nerveless fingers, and a whisper of cold air sliced through the room to materialize before her as a man. Tall and outrageously handsome, his masculine beauty shivered a thrill of dark desire through her. He caught the sapphire before it touched the mosaic floor, then held it out to her. It caught the light and radiated sparkling shimmers of light from its heart. “It is unusual for you to be so clumsy, mi amara . Especially on such an important day. We crown our new king today.”
As if his words opened the gate to her other senses, she became aware of the distant sounds of many, many people shouting and calling out. Not in anger, but with a celebratory tone. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the room, unexpectedly making her stomach rumble a bit.
The man grinned, his eyes lighting up with wicked humor. “We must do something about your hunger, love, although it is other hungers I had hoped to satisfy before we must leave.”
Keely felt her cheeks warm, but she smiled at him, a bystander inside someone else‟s body.
“There is not time. You crown the new king, my love. As high priest to Poseidon, it is your duty and honor.”
He bent to press a kiss to her lips, and she caught her breath at the melting heat that swirled through her body. “It is my joy. As it will be your joy, I know, to gift this small complement to the Star of Artemis to his queen. Even as the Star itself is said to heal a warrior‟s fractured mind, this has the power to soothe a wounded heart.”
“But what will heal the wounded heart of a kingdom that must remain buried beneath the sea?”
His brows drew together as his expression turned grim. “Not even Poseidon will venture an opinion on that. The seven gems