Page 55 of Secrets of Avalon

The four of them growl their agreement, the unified resonance raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck. They all turn and leave, their purposeful strides fading as they exit the chamber and refocus on their respective duties. Leaving only Kellan and I with Melinda.

I focus my attention fully to Melinda. I cup her cheek, needing to feel the warm reality of her supple skin under my palm.

Melinda exhales a soft, shuddering breath at the contact, instinctively leaning into my touch. The naked vulnerability in that simple motion is like a blade carved straight into my soul. But it's her eyes that grip me most viscerally–luminous pools of molten bronze. My heart clenches painfully at the glimpse of anguish she cannot entirely mask.

I’m proud of her for defending herself. She’s stronger than she realizes, but I hate that she had to fight. That I wasn’t there to keep her safe.

Kellan clears his throat, drawing my attention. "Perhaps the kitchens would provide a measure of comfort?" He suggests carefully. "You could both get some food, and we can discuss next steps from there before rejoining the others. Do you know a quiet way from this side of the castle?"

I give a tight nod. "Yes, there's a private servant's corridor that should get us there mostly unseen." I reluctantly remove my hand from cradling Melinda's face, letting my fingers trail down her soft cheek before taking her hand instead. "Breakfast and then you can tell me more about that guardian on your wrist?"

She doesn't respond right away, and for a moment dread seizes my heart. What if she doesn’t want me with her? But she quickly shifts closer until her body presses flush against my side, as if seeking shelter in my solid frame.

"Food does sound good," she finally murmurs.

Relief courses through my veins at her reply and her proximity. She's still present, still tethered to me, to this moment. Squeezing her hand, I try to infuse the simple point of contact with every ounce of grounding solidarity I can offer.

"Excellent. Follow me."

I guide her through the secluded corridors with a firm hand at the small of her back, allowing the familiar weight and warmth of Melinda’s petite frame tucked against me to be a balm against the lingering darkness and anger swirling below the surface of my calm exterior.

Kellan's towering bulk follows a few deferential paces behind, giving us space yet providing an extra layer of security.

The hush of the passages is only broken by the faint echo of our footsteps and the occasional murmur of distant voices until I turn into the narrow servants' hallway between the great hall and kitchens...

...and come face-to-face with Destrien.

"Brother." My gut clenches at the unexpected confrontation. I instinctively pull Melinda closer. I shouldn’t need to protect her from my brother. He doesn’t mean her any harm. But I’m not thinking rationally right now.

Destrien's expression is unreadable for a sliver of a heartbeat before his eyes widen in surprise. "Hawke. Y–you have Melinda. I thought you were finalizing the changeover with the Upir guard. What are you doing?"

"Melinda was–" I start to explain, but the words are drowned out by a warning growl from Kellan. A muscle ticks in my jaw. While I understand the Drakonii warrior's protective instincts when it comes to Melinda's wellbeing, the bristling undercurrent of territorial challenge in his tone stirs a flicker of anger.

I am still Prince of the Fae, about to be crowned King. His flagrant disregard for propriety when addressing me, grates like shards of glass in my throat.

Glancing over my shoulder, I meet the Drakonii warrior’s stern glare, the air around him shimmering and distorting with the ethereal manifestation of his loosely leashed magick. "This is my brother, Kellan," I bite out, the emphasis on the familial title both acknowledgment and subtle rebuke.

The Drakonii’s eyes are bright with green flaming energy. He just stares. A wordless challenge.

"What's happened, Hawke?" Destrien's voice slices through the weighted tension, grating against my already frayed restraint.

With a deliberate inhalation, I forcibly relax my instinctively confrontational stance, leaving Kellan's silent provocation unengaged for now. Turning to face my younger brother once more, I'm struck by the thinly-veiled glint of panic in his eyes.

"Darkwood sent someone to kill Melinda this morning," I state flatly, keeping my tone purposefully void of emotion. "I need to keep her out of sight for now. Away from the High Council."

A subtle narrowing of his eyes is the only reaction that betrays my brother's attempt to school his expression. "Do you have proof?" He acts clueless to the severity of the situation.

I shake my head shortly, reining in the swell of acrid resentment sitting bitter on my tongue. "No," I bite out, struggling to remain impassive. "I just need time to work out this mess about the engagement he thinks should be in play between his daughter and I."

Melinda stiffens almost imperceptibly at my side at the mention of an engagement. I glance down to see her staring at Destrien with luminous eyes gone suddenly wide and haunted.

"Father is planning to announce your engagement tonight, Hawke." Destrien's words are casual. Too casual. But they detonate like a thunderclap in the tense space between us.

"What?" I snap my head back up, horror and rage rendering me speechless for a heartbeat. How could my father do this to me? "How do you know that? I asked him not to. I told him I wouldn't marry Vencia."

Destrien shrugs, a picture of nonchalant disregard. "I saw his speech for tonight on his desk."

Had I not been holding Melinda against my body, I wouldn’t have felt the small tremor of fear ripple through her. But I can’t stop the surge of rage from erupting. My brother’s lack of concern. He didn’t care that Melinda had been attacked. Only wanted to know if I had proof. I never for once would have suspected that my brother wasn’t on my side. But now…