Page 61 of Secrets of Avalon
"Fair enough," Hawke concedes, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. But even as he tries to match my lighthearted tone, I can see the way his keen eyes continually scan the sea of faces around us, ever vigilant for any hint of danger. No doubt Kellan is doing the same.
Lots of people are gathered around the makeshift puppet stage. The air is alive with the hum of excited chatter and the faint scent of roasted nuts wafting from nearby vendor stalls.
Leaning close to Hawke, I whisper conspiratorially, "I would assume the oh-so-important High Council is too high and mighty to be caught dead at a lowly puppet show."
Hawke snorts softly, a genuine grin briefly chasing away the shadows in his eyes. He nods in agreement. The sight of his smile, sends a warm flutter through my chest. Pride swells within me, knowing that I'm the reason for his momentary happiness, that I've managed to distract him from our plight, even if only for a heartbeat.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the narrator's voice booms from the stage, commanding the attention of the eager audience. "Today we commemorate the fall of the Fae and the capture of the evil queen."
Oh, shit. My stomach twists uncomfortably at his words. "We don't have to stay. I didn't–"
But Hawke squeezes my hand reassuringly, his calloused palm warm against mine. "It's fine. Listen to the story. It's part of our history–my history. I won't hide from it," he murmurs, his jaw set with quiet determination.
As the narrator launches into the tale, I find myself drawn in despite my reservations. "Nearly a thousand years ago, the evil queen roamed Earth, searching for her lost love until it drove her to madness." On stage, a puppet dressed in a tattered black gown with ragged brown hair jerks to life. "She went on a killing spree, and the humans who had once loved and valued magick turned against it."
I watch in morbid fascination as the human-like puppets are brutally torn apart, their cloth heads ripped from their bodies and tossed carelessly aside. Around me, the audience gasps and murmurs, their eyes wide with a mix of horror and enthrallment. Children cling to their parents' legs, their faces buried in the folds of their clothing, while some of the more daring ones peek out from behind their fingers, unable to look away from the grisly spectacle.
A shudder runs down my spine and I swallow hard. "Did she really do that?" I breathe, hardly daring to voice the question aloud.
"Yes," Hawke answers softly, his voice heavy. "But there's more to the story than they're telling."
I take note of his cryptic words, tucking them away to ponder later. For now, I let myself be swept up once more in the unfolding drama.
Five imposing puppets dressed as knights march onto the stage, their wooden swords glinting in the sunlight. "The crowns of the eight worlds voted and sent the Knights to slay the Evil Queen. But she was too strong. So the Knights used pieces of their very souls to create Excalibur, imbuing it with magick to forge the most powerful sword in existence. Yet even then, she could not be slain."
A chill runs through me at the thought of such a sacrifice. All five of them gave up a piece of their soul to save everyone. I tug gently on Hawke's hand to get his attention. "Who was she? The evil queen in the story?"
He turns to me, his expression somber. "Her name was Aena, but beyond that, we know nothing. Not where she came from, nor whose family line she belonged to. It's all a mystery. She never spoke another word after the door to her cell was locked."
As the story reaches its climax, my heart grows heavy with a sense of unease. The puppet Sirens whisper secrets to the robed Council members, and the Evil Queen is tricked into a magickal cage, forever sealed away by Excalibur's power.
Though the narrator proclaims it a victory, something about the tale feels incomplete, the edges too neat and tidy.
“And now whenever Camelot shakes and shudders, remember the evil queen locked in her tower. Remember the High Council saved everyone from her wrath. Remember to be wary of a Fae who's lost their sanity."
His final statement leaves a bitter taste in my mouth… A fae that’s lost their sanity. I turn and look at Hawke. His gaze meets mine with such sadness.
"But was she Fae?" I wonder aloud. "How can they blame her actions on your people?"
Hawke says nothing at first. Instead, he reaches out to trail his knuckles along my cheek with a tenderness that makes my breath catch, as if I am something unspeakably precious and fragile. "No one knows for certain," he admits at last, his voice rough with emotion. "It all happened so fast. We were desperate. She was tearing Earth apart, slaughtering humans, unleashing chaos wherever she went. In our panic, we turned to magick in ways it was never meant to be used. Ways that cost us.”
His real meaning hits me like a double shot of espresso, leaving me wired and breathless. "That's what the Siren Queen meant, isn't it? When she said you'd–" Nope. Can’t say it. “Even if it’s not the same. They’ll say it is, won’t they?”
Hawke's silence is a very clear yes. In the sapphire depths of his eyes, I see the grim acceptance of a fate he believes to be inevitable, and it ignites a fierce, protective rage in my heart.
I will not let him die.
This beautiful, noble, selfless man… this prince… who says he’s my soulmate. I want him to be my soulmate. I want to take everything he’s offering and give him the world in return. At the very least, I intend to do everything in my power to make his soul complete again.
My magick swirls in my gut, but with Siva and Kellan's steadying presence, I wrestle it back under control, harnessing it with an iron will I never knew I possessed. Never before have I felt so grounded, so in command of the chaotic power inside me.
I reach up to cradle Hawke's face between my palms, my fingers rasping against the stubble lining his jaw. His silver hair, caught by the breeze, twines around my wrists like threads binding us together. In the depths of his crystal blue eyes, a thousand unspoken questions flicker to life, and I know with a profound certainty that I will move heaven and earth to keep him safe.
"I won't let you die, Hawke," I vow fiercely, my voice trembling under the weight of my emotions. "I won't let them take you from me. Not now, not ever."
His eyes widen, and heat blazes in their depths. "Melinda?—"
But I surge forward before he can finish, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that pours every ounce of my love and desperation into the contact. He stiffens momentarily, but then his arms are around me, crushing me to his chest.