Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

-- The Gift of the Magi, O. Henry (1917)

“Welcome to Atlantis!”

Dare watched Lyric as she stood, frozen, in the middle of the palace garden. She was holding her small blue book she called a passport in one hand and a travel bag in the other. He was carrying her larger case; the one that contained her paints and brushes and a few small canvases that she'd refused to leave without.

"I can't – I can't believe I'm here. I thought… I thought we had to go find a train or plane tickets or a boat –" she paused, a stricken expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Dare. I didn't mean to – I know you need to go find out what happened to your ship. You can just drop me somewhere and go do what you need to do."

He didn't bother to say that he'd already been doing exactly that, reaching out on the shared Atlantean mental pathway to anyone who knew anything about his ship. One of the portal guards had responded very briefly, so at least he knew his ship, his crew, and Bingley and Jane were safe, if nothing else.

“It’s fine. Everyone is fine and safe. I can go check on the ship later. First let's get you –"

She was amazing. It was her first trip anywhere, she’d told him, and it was to Atlantis. The land long thought to be myth by her kind. And yet her first thought was for him and his ship and crew.

It had been the same way all throughout the night, while he’d tossed and turned with fever from a budding infection. He had vague memories of holding her in his arms and – surely not? – having his hands on her lovely ass. Then strange memories intruded, of needles pricking him in the arm, and the fever finally subsided. When he'd awoken this morning, it had been to the lovely sound of her singing, which he’d wanted to keep listening to. So he’d pretended he was still asleep and lay there in her bed, with her scent of peach and vanilla and spice surrounding him, and listened to the song of the woman it'd taken him five years to realize he'd fallen in love with.

Luckily for her, he was never, ever going to tell her that. When you live a life characterized by a bad reputation that you absolutely deserved, you knew better than to think your darkness had a chance at finding love with someone so wholly of the light.

But in spite of everything, he'd wanted her near him. By the time he’d finally let her know that he was awake, he’d come up with a plan. And his first words had been Come to Atlantis with me.

She'd sat there, shock on her lovely face, those gorgeous copper eyes wide and slightly unfocused. He forgot sometimes that she was blind, because she was so completely in command of herself and her space in her studio. Even on the few occasions on which they’d ventured out to local restaurants together, she'd been capable and perfectly independent. He realized it was ridiculous that he thought she might be otherwise. The loss of one sense didn't mean the loss of all, or the diminishing of intelligence. And clearly she’d found ways to compensate for that loss.

So he’d asked again. “Will you come to Atlantis with me?”

She taken a deep breath and said yes, surprising them both.

While he cleaned up and got dressed, he heard a flurry of activity going on out in her studio. Lyric's friend Meredith had come by and packed up Lyric's paints for her in a very precise order and she also took the cat home with her for the holidays.

Holidays. This was something new for him, too. Atlantis would be celebrating its first Christmas, thanks to King Conlan’s human, Christian wife. There’d been a frenzy of decorating and baking going on when he'd last left port, but he’d ignored it, because it was annoying. Someone was always getting in his way or underfoot, even his brother Liam, who generally operated on a the same isolationist policy toward family that Dare had. Suddenly Liam was cornering him and inviting him to “family" meals with his new wife Jaime.

He’d avoided them as much as possible and was relieved, in a slightly guilty way, that Liam and Jaime would be traveling out of Atlantis for the next week or so. The last thing he needed was to overwhelm Lyric with his family, when he knew that she could never become part of it. She deserved better than him and his screwed-up family.

All of this had gone through his head in seconds. He turned toward Lyric and saw that she’d put her bag down on the ground and was reaching out to touch the flowering bush nearest her. It sported huge masses of yellow and purple blooms, and he'd never seen a similar plant outside of Atlantis.

"Oh, Dare, this scent. The scent of these flowers is the most amazing thing I've ever smelled. I feel like I could almost see them just from the way they smell and feel.” She ran her fingers over the delicate petals, and he immediately had a very ungentlemanly thought about how and where he'd like her fingers to be touching his anatomy. He grinned at the thought of how she’d blush if he voiced the thought but refrained.

"The gardens are the jewel of the palace,” he told her, touching her arm lightly. "They were first designed and planted more than 11,000 years ago, before Atlantis was forced to sink beneath the seas to escape invaders."

"Is it a large garden? I'd love to walk through all of it." Her eyes were closed in what looked like bliss as she walked slowly from flower to flower, touching them all.

"It's enormous. We will certainly walk through as much of it is you like, but perhaps first we should find you a place to stay."

She turned her head to face him. "I'm not – I'm not staying with you?"

Her voice sounded small and hesitant, with perhaps a touch of hurt underlying her words. He hated himself for putting it there, but the unfortunate truth was that he didn't have any quarters to take her to. When he was in port, he always stayed on his ship.

"Well. About that –"

"Dare! I'm so glad you're safe." The voice was one he very rarely heard but recognized instantly. He suppressed a groan and the simultaneous instinct to flee and turned to the newcomer.

He bowed. "Your Highness."

Next to him, Lyric stiffened, but then offered Queen Riley a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea how to curtsy," she blurted out.

The queen laughed, and Dare liked her better for it.

"Please. No your highness, no bowing, no curtseying. It wasn't that long ago I was a social worker in Seattle. I certainly don't intend to put on fancy airs just because I happened to move to a new neighborhood."

Riley took Lyric's hands in hers and smiled at her, probably not realizing that Lyric couldn’t see it.

"That's some ZIP Code change," Lyric said wryly. “It's very nice to meet you. Lyric Fielding."

Riley squeezed Lyric's hands and then stepped back, her eyes widening. "You're not – but you must be. Lyric Fielding is an unusual name. I can't believe there are two of you. Lyric Fielding, the artist?"

Lyric smiled shyly, and then she nodded. "I guess I am. I haven't heard of any other Lyric Fielding so yeah, that's me."

Dare looked back and forth between them. "You know her work?"

"I do," Queen Riley said happily, leading Lyric by means of a gentle touch on the back of one elbow towards the fountain. "We can sit here if you have a moment."

The queen and Lyric sat on the broad rim of the fountain, and the splashing of the water made a musical counterpoint to the sounds of their voices.

"I’ve loved your work for years," the queen was telling Lyric. “I saw two small seascapes in an exhibition at the Seattle Museum of Art four years ago or so, and I've been following you ever since, hoping I could afford a painting one day. There's not much in the media about you though."

Lyric bent her head so her face was turned toward her hands instead of toward Queen Riley. "Thank you. I – that's very nice of you. I've had requests for interviews and articles, but they weren't really things I wanted to follow up on. They ... they always seem to want to focus on the wrong thing, as far as I was concerned. And you don’t have to buy a painting. Please allow me to offer you one as a gift."

Riley’s mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—oh, no. That’s a lovely gesture, but I wasn’t hinting for a gift. I’ll tell my husband I’ve finally decided what I want for Christmas.”

Lyric shook her head. “Please, allow me to--"

“No, really. You have no idea how happy he’ll be. He tried watching American TV and decided I wanted a set of steak knives or life insurance. He has no idea what life insurance is of course, but he said such venerable old men were offering it, it must be of value.”

Lyric laughed, but Dare had no idea why. “Okay, then. But only to save you from steak knives.”

Riley laughed but then grimaced. "Oh, and believe me, I completely understand about the interviews. The media requests I've gotten, since Atlantis came back up from under the sea and decided to participate in world affairs, have mostly been downright bizarre.. You would not believe the things people ask me."

The Queen sat up straight and peered interestedly at Dare and Lyric and began to speak in a weirdly falsetto voice. "Do you and the king have sex underwater? Does he have gills?"

Lyric burst out laughing and so did Dare, surprising even himself. It is been a long while since he heard himself laugh, at least while sober or in his right mind. He wasn't sure what he’d done last night in the grip of the fever, but it must've been interesting considering the way Lyric’s cheeks had been turning pink this morning every time he touched her.

"Dare, are Liam and his new wife here? Jaime was incredibly helpful at Halloween. She planned the most amazing party, and everything was absolutely perfect."

Dare studied the Queen's too-innocent face, wondering if he’d heard the faintest undertone of suggestion that Queen Riley actually knew all about the chaos and mishaps that had gone on behind the scenes on Halloween. Thieves had tried to steal the crown jewels and might've gotten away with it if his new sister-in-law hadn’t been so quick thinking. Liam probably had something to do with it too, he admitted to himself.

"I like her a lot," he admitted to the Queen. "She's smart and funny and keeps Liam on his toes, which is certainly something he needs to knock a little bit of that arrogant pomposity out of him."

Lyric tilted her face toward him. "I would've liked to have met him, but you said he was gone?"

"Yes, they went to some village called Chicago to pack up her belongings and bring them back here."

Lyric and the Queen started laughing, and he narrowed his eyes. "What did I say? Why is that funny?"

"Some village called Chicago," the queen said to Lyric, her eyes sparkling.

"I wonder what the Cubs fans would think about that," Lyric said, still laughing a little.

Riley stood and touched Lyric on the shoulder.

"I'm delighted to meet you, Lyric. I'd love to talk some more, but I need to go see what my son is up to. Probably terrorizing his nanny. And no – I can't believe I have a nanny, either." She smiled ruefully. "It's another Cinderella moment. But anyway, I'd love to offer you rooms in the palace, if you're staying for a while. I have a beautiful place in mind, and you could use the adjacent room for a studio. The light is magnificent –"

Queen Riley abruptly stopped speaking, a horrified expression coming over her face. "I'm sorry. I imagine the light doesn't matter. Oh, wow, this is horribly awkward, so I'm just going to apologize for being a buffoon and leave it at that and hope you forgive me."

Lyric stood and smiled at the queen. "You have no idea how refreshing it is for you just to acknowledge the awkwardness. People say stuff all the time like 'do you see what I mean’ and 'will you look at that,' and then they get horribly awkward and weird, and it's ridiculous. They’re figures of speech, and of course I know that. I've been blind since I was ten, and I'm not overly sensitive about things like that anymore."

Dare reached out almost without realizing it and took her hand. Her lips parted in surprise, but she squeezed his fingers in reassurance – whether for him or for herself, he couldn't tell.

Riley’s large eyes considered Dare thoughtfully, and he suddenly and unpleasantly remembered that she was aknasha’an—an emotional empath. She could probably feel everything he was feeling, which made him feel like five kinds of fool.

She smiled at him, probably feeling that, and he wondered how the king and the high priest—former high priest—could stand to be involved with empaths. There’d never be any secrets…

The queen delicately cleared her throat.

"That is very kind of you, your highness," Dare said. "I stay on my ship, of course, but I would much rather that Lyric had more comfortable accommodations."

“That would be lovely. Thank you so much,” Lyric said, sounding as excited as a child. “I can’t believe I’m going to stay in the palace.”

"I still haven’t gotten used to it,” the queen admitted. “Perfect. I'll have someone show you to the rooms I have in mind and make sure they're set up for company and for you to paint, if you like. If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to stop by and talk to you about your painting sometime. If that's okay."

Lyric’s smile was like a burst of sunshine spreading across her face. It was as if she were glowing – actually glowing – with happiness. Something inside Dare's chest cracked open just a little bit, and he swallowed, hard.

"Thank you so much, your, um –"

"Riley," the queen said firmly. "Just Riley, please."

"Thank you so much, Riley,” Lyric said. “I happily accept, and I would love for you to come by and talk to me about painting. I promise not to ask anything about gills or underwater sex, kings or otherwise."

Riley laughed. "We can talk about villages. Like Chicago."

The queen darted a glance at Dare, who was still bewildered by why a village named Chicago was funny, but he enjoyed watching Lyric smile too much to complain about it.

With a quick goodbye, the queen was gone, heading toward the palace and the little prince.

"I realize that I never asked you about brothers and sisters. It seems strange, considering we've known each other for so long – but on the other hand, we haven't known each other long at all. It hasn't really been six years, just maybe a total of thirty or so days during the six years that we saw each other." Lyric shoved her mass of curls out of her face after a tendril of breeze brushed by them. "Is it only Liam? Liam and you?

"Actually, no. We have another brother. Flynn. But we haven't seen him in a few years; the last I heard he was caught up with a bad gang of dragon shifters. Real lowlifes."

"There are dragon shifters? Holy cow. I had no idea."

He took her hand and put it on his arm, then picked up the bags and started walking with her toward the palace. By now, the queen would have someone ready to show them to Lyric's rooms.

"Yes, there are dragon shifters. There are all sorts of different shifters. I once heard about a koala shifter who kept falling asleep on the job until he finally switched to the night shift. And I'm actually friends with – or at least acquaintances with – a pretty bad ass tiger shifter who lives down in your neck of the woods."

She walked beside him not hesitant but cautious about where she placed her steps. He slowed, cursing himself for a fool, because he’d started out at his normal long striding pace. She didn't know this place like she knew her own neighborhood back in St. Augustine. He had to be more careful with her.

She wasn't fragile; he knew that. But she was precious to him and, like all precious things, must be treated with care.

Care that didn't include becoming involved with the likes of him.

"I'm so glad your ship and crew are safe," she said, changing the subject. "If you want to go check on them once we find my room, of course you should. I am fine on my own, you know."

"I know you are. You run your own business. You have your own studio. You are in complete control of your own life, and I admire the hell out of you for it." He put every bit of sincerity he felt into his voice, since she couldn't see it in his face. "But I would like to go see my ship and talk to my crew, so if –"

Dare. I have more news.

The guard’s voice in his mind sounded hesitant, and Dare lost patience with that quickly.

What is it? Tell me now, man.

It's your ship. It's… It's no longer your ship. Poseidon has decreed that you're not to step even one foot on board.

He froze and then reached again for the band that wasn't on his arm. "Apparently my ship is no longer my ship,” he said carefully, trying not to let his anger leak into his voice. “I need to find out what’s going on, and I really, really need to find out about Seranth. I haven't been able to sense her since I came through the portal into your house without my arm band."

Lyric touched his cheek. "I'm sure she's okay. She is a sea spirit, after all. You said she's existed for thousands of years. I doubt a little storm – or even a huge storm – could harm her. But please go find out."

They reached one of the many doors to the palace, where one of the many people who worked there stood smiling at Lyric. "Welcome to Atlantis, Ms. Fielding. I'm Fergus, and Queen Riley has asked me to show you to your rooms. If you’ll come this way?"

"May I place my hand on your arm?" Lyric asked the question calmly, with no hesitation, and Fergus, in return, didn't blink or hesitate.

"Of course." He stepped closer and held out his arm. “Just at your left," he told her.

“Go,” Lyric urged Dare. “I’m almost as anxious as you are to hear. Find me when you get back.”

"I will. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time,. I look forward to walking through my first real palace. I feel like a princess already," Lyric said, smiling at both of them.

Fergus looked as bowled over by the force of the smile as Dare was. And Fergus was seventy years old if he was a day. That smile of hers charmed everyone.

She hesitated, and then she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Dare’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

“Count on it.”

He smiled, watching her walk off with Fergus and already asking a million excited questions. He’d just go find out about Seranth and what in the hells was up with his ship--

Suddenly Poseidon’s voice smashed into Dare’s mind with the force of a massive hammer, laying waste to his too-recently healed head.

DO NOT WASTE YOUR TIME COMING TO FIND SERANTH. I HAVE DISSOLVED YOUR BOND, AND NOW SHE IS FREE TO FIND A CAPTAIN WHO ISN’T A SELFISH ASS.

When his head stopped ringing, Dare realized he’d fallen to his knees, almost knocked unconscious by the sea god’s wrath. He stood up, brushed off his pants, and nodded once, sharply. “You can stick your Trident up your ass. The pointy end. I’m getting Seranth and my ship back, whether you like it or not.”

The sea god roared at him, but Dare didn’t give a damn. He’d defied worse odds.

But when he started walking, and then running, toward the docks and his ship, a little voice in his mind laughed at him. He snarled at it.

A little denial never hurt anybody.