Page 32 of Secrets of Avalon
Hawke Stormblood
Sigrún’s presence here is a huge sign of respect for the Upir royal family. She and Bryn kneel before the queen, but no words are exchanged. Everyone knows this is a body retrieval. There’s no way the children could’ve survived outside the portal magick.
The valkyries stand.
The hall falls silent. I’m frozen with everyone else, watching the Valkyrie’s advance to the Lamia doorway, the Upir homeworld. Their wings unfold in a flurry of golden blades and white feathers–beauty and danger blended in perfect harmony. No one comes out of a fight with a Valkyrie unscathed. Usually they don’t even come out alive. They step through the watery horizon of the portal and disappear from view.
I meet my father’s gaze briefly, before looking to my mother where she’s kneeling beside Queen Sahsa. Then I steal a glance back toward the corner where Melinda stands.
This pull towards her, it's more than an attraction—it's a gravitational force, an undeniable need that transcends the physical. She’s a vision even covered by Ares’ ostentatious red velvet cloak and hood. It’s a double-edged sword, that cloak. My inner beast churns with a possessive rage at the sight of another’s claim laid so casually upon her.
She’s mine.
Yet, in a twisted sense of relief, the cloak serves as a veil, shielding her captivating honey-brown eyes from view, and her pale skin. No one is or will question that Ares has a woman with him. But I was a fool to think others wouldn’t instantly assume she was human. She doesn’t shine with magick, not like those from other worlds do.
She does look human, but it’s a lie.
Melinda has more magick inside her than anyone I’ve ever come in contact with. Even the famed Drakonii warrior, Kellan of Gilat. I assume the only reason his magick can compete with hers is because of the bonded link between them. The high council can never know what she hides within.
The balance between protecting her and exposing her to this world is a bridge I must navigate with the utmost care. I have to find a way to keep her from overloading like she did earlier. Human or not, if she presents a threat, the High Council will call for her execution the same way they will for me if they think I’m going feral.
The thought of a world without her, of the high council's judgment tearing her away, ignites a protectiveness in me that knows no bounds. She’s mine to guard, mine to cherish, and I'll wage war with gods and fate alike to ensure our paths remain entwined.
As the Olympian portal shimmers open, spilling forth a handful of individuals, the hush in the hall is broken. Our collective attention is briefly diverted.
My father, with practiced command, dispatches a pair of Fae guards to brief them on the situation. It’s strange to be teetering on this precipice of not being in charge, but knowing that soon the responsibility will all fall on my shoulders.
Two more people arrive from the Asgardian portal. The pattern repeats.
We all stand. Waiting. Hoping the children are not really lost, but dreading the approaching moment when the Valkyries will return with the children’s bodies in their arms. This is not the first death due to a magickal glitch with the portals. But it is the first time we’ve lost children. And the glitches happen so rarely, perhaps once or twice every fifty years.
A small group steps through the horizon of Vanir’s portal and a collective breath catches across the Hall. A pair of guards in gold armor are followed by the Elvin king and queen…and two small children dressed entirely in black.
It can’t be. My heart stops, frozen in my chest.
Queen Sahsa screams, a sound so visceral it resonates deep in my gut—relief. She bolts toward the children, diving to the floor and pulling them both into her arms.
Chaos erupts in the hall, a mixture of cheering and shouting.
My father walks over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to the present. “The World Tree found a way.”
I turn to him, searching his weary face for certainty, for hope. “You think the Tree saved the children?”
“Yes.” He nods. “It is good. It will ease the anger of the High Council toward us,” he continues, his words a soft yet firm reminder of the political tremors these events could incite.
I bristle at the thought, the unfairness of blame, the injustice of it all. “They cannot blame us. It’s not Camelot’s fault. It’s not the Fae’s fault,” I say, barely containing a growl of defiance. Yes, as the reality of the children’s miraculous return sinks in, a wave of relief washes over me, easing the tension that had coiled tightly around my chest.
Queen Sahsa and her husband sit on the floor embracing their two children. Wraith stands just behind them, giving them space and also keeping others from approaching. My mother leaves Sahsa’s side and returns to my father’s.
A feeling of pure, unbridled relief spreads through the Hall, dispelling the worry and anxiety we’d all been carrying since the children were first reported missing.
My parents and I walk back to King Galathar and Queen Kaylessa Lorakian, the haughty-looking royal couple from Vanir who arrived with the children in tow. “Galathar, many blessings upon your house. We feared the worst when the children did not come through the portal with their parents,” he says, his tone respectful and more gracious than I could’ve pulled off. My mother stands tall and proud at his side.
I offer a respectful bow of my head to the royal couple, mindful of the delicate balance that governs our interactions. I may be a prince and a Knight, but the Vanir King and Queen are above my station and thus demand my respect. Balance is what keeps the politics of the eight worlds civil, especially with the Fae. The other worlds might tolerate less formality between each other, but the Fae are never allowed leniency.
“King Stormblood, we were quite shocked to see the Kergadras children arrive through our portal. Can you explain how this occurred? Are you not monitoring the portals here in the Hall adequately enough? Surely the Fae can handle such a routine job such as keeping children from playing in portals?” His tone is cold and meant to cut deep. He knows without a sliver of doubt those children weren’t playing in the portals. It’s merely a dig at my parents. At me. At our people.
It has been this way since we were exiled from our home and the Earth portal locked. If we weren’t so powerful, we would be ignored completely. Instead, most take any opportunity to cast insults.