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“To return to my mental journey. Rubies are the stones of kings, conquerors. Macedonians particularly revered the gems. Rumor says Al Mamon found one the size of a chicken’s egg on Alexander the Great’s chest as he lay in his tomb. Mind you, I think that’s all hogwash, but… Smoke. Fire.”
“Huh?” Indigo curled her lip.
Roark closed his eyes, his dark lashes thick shadows on his cheeks, his chest rising with a slow, deep breath.
“Once my thoughts turned to Alexander, an idea grew. I have a friend who is an antiquarian at a museum in Alexandria, Egypt.” Lynretta paused her story to giggle. “Antiquarian doesn’t mean my friend is old. The term means she studies antiquities.”
Roark flashed a save-me look at Indigo who liked the succubus better since she seemed to irritate him.
Shallow, but what ya gonna do?
“In a recent letter, my friend mentioned a statue her museum has been evaluating. We’ve talked about it. Exchanged ideas. The artist may have been Lysippos, personal sculptor to Alexander the Great. According to her, the whole thing resembles the artist’s work, a daring form, its subject an inspired, godlike man with tousled hair, his lips parted, his eyes cast upward. The pose is called the Lysippean gaze.”
“We should give a shit about this piece of rock, why?” asked Roark. He added “sweetheart” when Lynretta jumped at his gruff question.
Indigo grinned.
Yeah, he was growing impatient with the curvy succubus.
“Bronze,” said Lynretta.
“What?” Roark snapped.
“The sculpture is bronze, not rock. If it is Alexander, he is on a steed, amid battle, wielding a stone-encrusted sword. Anyway, one thought led to another. There is a text known as the Alexander Romance, falsely ascribed to historian Callisthenes. Epic poems have been based on it. A selection mentions the Macedonian conqueror’s ruby sword, kissed by the blood of a dragon. Get it? Blood’s Kiss. If only I could locate the passage again.”
She paused to tap her lip with an index finger. “Anyway, in those days, warriors were buried with their weapons. It’s a stab in the dark.” The exasperating succubus chuckled at her pun.
“Alexander fits.” Roark scrubbed a fist across his jaw.
“Fits what?” asked Indigo.
He shrugged. “Warrior. Sword. Timeline.”
Indigo blinked. “The timeline you pulled out of your ass? After 340 BC?”
“Yes.” Roark returned his attention and sexy smile to the succubus. “What do you suggest we do, Lynretta, sweetheart?”
There it was again, charm dripping from his unscrupulous lips like poisoned honey. Didn’t he have anything better to do than flirt?
“Road trip,” the historian said. “I can be ready to fly out tomorrow morning.”
“What?” More time for the succubus to get her gel-polished nails into Roark. “Where?” asked Indigo. “And why can’t we take a portal?”
“To the Alexandria National Museum. We should see the statue. Also, my friend said she has a coin to show us. We’ll travel by plane because I enjoy flying and haven’t done so for many years. The only way I will go is by air. You need me.” The sneaky succubus pushed around a few volumes of books while she waited for an answer.
Indigo shrugged. Bribery. “It’s your quest, Roark. Expenses are on you.”
When he fixed a less-than-happy gaze on the weapons expert, she batted her lashes. “It’s the only way I’ll go.”
Roark blew out an exasperated breath but nodded. “I’m good for the money.” Though he loved to fly, Indigo guessed by his expression he preferred to use his own wings.
Plans set, the petite Lynretta shooed them out of the office after one final lustful glance at Roark.
The shifter hustled Indigo into the elevator, a hand to her back. “The meeting was painful. I’ll need a stiff drink before we do a replay on our trip to Alexandria.”
On their way to the main floor, Indigo puzzled her brows. “I’m up for the trip, but why would Cerberus want Alexander’s sword? The guy who identifies as the up-and-coming ruler of the world doesn’t strike me as a collector.”
“Could be a grand delusion. He idolizes the dead Macedonian. Sees him as simpatico?”
