Page 66 of Secrets of Avalon
CHAPTER 27
Maybe The Queen Doesn’t Hate Me
Melinda Mayweather
Kellan leads the way out of the garden. Footsteps sound on the pathway ahead of us. I tense, my hand tightening around Hawke's, and he gives me a returning squeeze. “It’s just the other Knights.”
Sure enough, four familiar figures emerge from around the corner of the tower, their dress armor glinting in the soft light. The knights–Hawke’s friends.
Wraith’s onyx skin sharply contrasts with the gleaming silver of his armor. He moves with a fluid grace and his golden eyes are fierce, alert, and staring straight at me.
Beside him is Fen, his armor adorned with intricate knot-work and runes that seem to glow with an otherworldly power. His long, brown hair is braided back from his face, and his eyes are the color of a stormy sea.
None of them can compete with Hawke for my attention, but I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t recognize how beautiful they all are.
Boaz, the Tolkien-esque Elf, (at least that’s what I’m guessing he is) is a vision of ethereal masculine beauty. Pale silvery skin, aquiline features. His long, blond hair, tucked behind pointed ears, falls in a sleek curtain down his back, and his eyes are a piercing silver-blue, filled with ancient wisdom and a hint of mischief.
And finally, there is Ares, the God of War himself (supposedly), his armor polished gold with highlights of crimson and rubies. His eyes are a rich emerald green, and the wide smile he presents to the world doesn't hide the simmering anger just beneath the surface.
A shiver runs down my spine as I study him. His barely buried rage resonates with something deep inside me, a recognition that makes my skin prickle. My magic is always just beneath the surface, always threatening to burst free. Both of us are fighting a war for control.
"Hawke, Melinda," Wraith greets us, his deep voice carrying down the path. "I’m glad we found you."
"How did you?" Hawke asks, his brow furrowing.
Fen steps forward, his blue-green eyes flickering to me briefly before settling on Hawke. "Elen and Lydia saw the encounter with Darkwood and your parents in the marketplace. They followed you to the garden and reported back."
I glance nervously at Hawke, searching his face for a reaction. I’m not supposed to be drawing attention to myself. I shouldn’t have asked to go to the festival. We should’ve just stayed hidden in the kitchen. It won’t be long before whispers of "unstable" and "dangerous" are following me again.
"We were just on our way to meet with my mother," Hawke explains, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a soothing gesture. "She's requested Melinda's presence in her chambers, to prepare for the Changing of the Guard ceremony tonight."
Wraith nods, his face solemn. "A wise decision. Your parent’s support will send a strong message."
I blink, surprised by Wraith's words. The queen's invitation, which had initially filled me with dread, suddenly takes on a new light. Could this truly be a show of support? The knot of anxiety in my stomach begins to unravel, replaced by a cautious hope.
"We'll ensure you reach the royal chambers safely," Boaz adds, his deep melodic voice filled with a quiet confidence. "Darkwood won’t approach again with all of us present."
Emotion wells up in my throat, gratitude and affection for these fierce, loyal warriors who have welcomed me into their midst. "Thank you."
Hawke presses a soft kiss to my temple, his arm slipping around my waist as we fall into step with his knights. Kellan takes up a position directly behind us and we make our way between buildings and back toward the main keep.
With each step my anxiety mounts. I'm not ready for this confrontation. All the reassuring words have been forgotten. My palms are slick with sweat, and I barely resist the urge to stop and vomit.
We enter through a side door and the Knights lead us through a maze of twisting corridors. I try to steady my breathing, to prepare myself for what's to come. But how does a girl prepare to face the rulers of a realm, especially when you're the outsider who's captured their son's attention and ruined their plans?
Suddenly, we're climbing a grand staircase, its granite steps gleaming in the soft light of enchanted sconces. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a countdown to the inevitable meeting.
Before I can fully brace myself, we reach the top of the stairs. Magnificent, ornate doors swing open ahead of us, and my breath catches in my throat. There they are—the couple I saw earlier in the market, Hawke's parents—standing regally before us.
Time seems to slow as I take in their appearance up close. The King's stern gaze, the Queen's evaluating eyes—both fixed squarely on me. Another wave of inadequacy washes over me. What must they see when they look at me? A dangerous liability? A threat to their son and kingdom?
The queen turns to the king, and the moment their eyes meet the very air between them ignites.
The king's stoic expression melts away like frost beneath the sun's rays, replaced by a smile of such tenderness and devotion that it steals my breath. "Theon, my love," the queen says, her voice a melodic caress, "won't you take the boys elsewhere? I wish to spend some time getting to know our new guest."
My heart lurches in my chest, a cold spike of panic shooting through me. Alone with the queen? My gaze darts to Hawke, silently pleading for him to stay. The thought of facing his mother alone makes my magic stir uneasily beneath my skin.
Hawke steps forward, gently guiding me with him. His touch is steadying among the unfamiliar sea of royal protocol, etiquette, and pure unadulterated panic. "Mother, allow me to introduce Melinda Mayweather."