Page 24 of Secrets of Avalon
Several goats run around a corner with their owner right on their heels. They stop in front of Melinda, scream and faint right there on the spot.
“Ahhhhh!” Melinda gives a tiny shriek just like one of the goats. “S-sorry. It startled me.” She gives a feeble smile. “Are they okay?” She points down at the prone goats at her feet.
“They’re fine,” I explain. “Asgardian goats are kept very drunk at all times to avoid this type of behavior. But they reacted as if they weren’t drunk at all.”
She nods like she already knows what I’m telling her.
I glare at the goat herder to our left. “Forgive me, your majesty. I know the goats are only allowed in Avalon if they are drunk. They were. I give you my word. I gave them several pints just this morning. I–”
I wave him away. I need to get Melinda out of sight. I need to understand what happened in the marketplace. I need to know how she got here from Earth. And above all, I need to touch her—desperately.
We approach a small, ironclad door. I open it and wait for them to enter, then lock it behind us. The room is bathed in a soft golden light from a mixture of fae stones, their light pulsating like the heartbeat Camelot itself, along with flickering candelabras casting dancing shadows against the stone walls.
"This is simply amazing," she murmurs in a hushed, awestruck tone, standing close to Kellan's side. Her fingers curl around the dragon’s arm in a trusting hold, and the sight of their closeness sends a surge of angry heat through my veins.
By the laws of our universe, he is her somatophylakes. He is meant to be at her side, a steadfast stalwart against any danger. Their bond, woven with threads of loyalty and duty and powerful magick, is revered as sacred. No one can come between a somatophylakes and his bonded charge without permission— not even a prince.
But I will find a way to make her mine.
Tapestries of intricate design adorn these walls, each thread spun with tales of valor and glory from eras long past. The weapons of my ancestors, their edges dulled but their presence still formidable, are proudly displayed - a constant reminder of the legacy I've been born into and the responsibility it entails.
We weave our way through a maze of interconnected rooms until we arrive in the secluded sanctuary of a private sitting room nestled beneath the sweeping staircase that spirals upwards to the Drakonii guest chambers.
She’s not Drakonii, but she’s dressed for the occasion. I assume that’s where he would’ve been headed with her before the incident in the market.
Kellan cautiously peers into the room first, assessing for any potential threats before allowing her to enter. Once he's satisfied, he gently ushers her through the ancient, ornate doorway with a protective hand at her back.
I follow them inside and close the door softly.
"Who are you?" I blurt out almost immediately, not waiting for her to settle into one of the plush chairs tucked into the corner of the room.
The question hangs heavy in the silence.
She looks at Kellan first, like she needs his permission to answer. Interesting. Will I get lies or the truth…
I push harder. “You said your name was Melinda, but who are you?”
“It’s complicated. My family died to get me to Avalon.”
“You came from Earth, did you not?”
A slow nod is her only response.
Dammit. I want to yell at her to explain. I manage to keep myself in check. "What happened in the market this morning?" I glance briefly at Kellan.
"I'm sorry about that," she says, pain tightening her face. "I?—"
"Domina."
I square off with Kellan. "Let her speak.” I turn back to her, purposely dismissing him. “You have nothing to be sorry about. He was the one that loosed his magick in a crowded market."
Kellan steps in front of her again and pins me with an aggressive glare. "Keep your orders to yourself, princeling."
"You’re older than me, dragon, but I'm no child. Do not overstep the grace your position affords." I meet his fiery green gaze and hold.
He steps closer, putting us mere inches from each other. Energy bristles between us. His tattoos are bright. His eyes burn like green flames. I'm prepared this time. He won't be able to knock me over.
"Hey, I thought we were going to talk, not have another smackdown." Her voice is calm, she's putting on a brave face, but I hear the thread of fear and it shatters the anger brewing within. The last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me.