Page 70 of Secrets of Avalon
Queen Isolde gasps, her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I never would’ve thought he’d go to such lengths to make sure the betrothal to Vencia went through. Does Hawke know? I need to tell Theon.”
"Hawke knows. All the knights do. And Kellan told your husband."
Good job, Domina. I nod, a sense of relief washing over me at the knowledge that I'm not alone in this.
“Ah, I see. Good.” She paces the room, her dress swishing with each step. “Hawke says you're his soulmate. Darkwood would never have tried to kill you if he knew. You’re the first soulmate match in the eight worlds since…”
“The evil queen?” I offer.
Isolde looks up at me, her expression one of surprise. She shakes her head. “She’s not evil. What do you actually know of Aena’s story?”
I lower my eyes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. "Just the story the puppeteer told at the festival," I reply, the words barely more than a whisper.
But Isolde just smiles, a sad and wistful expression that speaks of a pain that runs deep. "Aena's story is a tragic one, a tale of love and loss, of darkness and despair. The loss of her mate brought on madness. It took Herculean sacrifices to lock her away and save Earth from further destruction. But it came at a great cost to the world as a whole."
“The knight’s souls.”
Queen Isolde's eyes hold a distant, haunted look. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of her revelation. "And Earth. The Fae lost Earth because of her. There were two great Fae families once upon a time. The Pendragons and the Stormbloods. Arthur and his family stayed behind. He blamed himself. He gave his crown to Theon and we left, taking Camelot and the Realm doors with us."
“King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. There are so many stories about him,” I whisper, hardly believing the woman in front of me knew him.
Isolde's lips curve into a sad, wistful smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sure there are. He was a magnificent man. Kind. Wise." She pauses, her gaze drifting to the translucent glass window, where the soft light of the setting sun casts a golden glow over the room. "Our people have never truly recovered, even after all these years."
I shift my weight, my fingers twisting the fabric of my gown, gathering up the courage to speak. "Hawke said no one really knows who she was, though." The words come out slower and softer than I intend.
Isolde shakes her head, her expression hardening with a fierce determination. “No one wants to admit it, but we witnessed her bend reality to her will. Only a Fae can do what she did.”
“But?” I ask, feeling like there’s more she wants to say.
Isolde begins to pace the room, her dress swishing around her ankles, her hands gesturing emphatically with her words. "But I was there when we–when my father and Arthur's father–built the portals. Our Realm doors are merely bridges between the worlds. We fold time and space, and we can walk from one to another. But we did not connect the worlds. Yggdrasil is what binds the universe together. It always has."
She stops abruptly and looks right at me. "Nimue is wrong. Closing a door we made didn't break the siren's ability to match souls. And it shouldn't have taken the sacrifice it did to lock?—"
A sharp knock at the bedroom door cuts through the air like a knife, shattering the moment. One of the maids scurries over to the door, her movements quick and nervous, and opens it just a crack. She exchanges a few hushed words with whoever is on the other side, then closes the door and returns to the queen's side.
Isolde straightens, her whole demeanor changing in an instant. The warmth from our conversation vanishes and she slips back into her role—queen. "It is time?" Her posture and tone is regal and intimidating.
“Yes, your majesty.”
CHAPTER 28
Tonight We Feast
Hawke Stormblood
When the doors open, revealing my mother and Melinda, the very air is stolen from my lungs. I'm not prepared for the vision that greets me, a sight so breathtaking, so ethereal, that it seems to transcend the boundaries of mortal beauty.
Melinda stands before me, a sun goddess incarnate, her very presence radiating a golden warmth that suffuses the chamber. Her chestnut brown hair is done up in an intricate work of art, delicate flowers of gold woven throughout the lush tresses, catching the light and glinting like a crown of celestial fire. Rubies sparkle amidst tiny braids, each precious stone a glittering star against the rich, earthy hues of her hair.
But it's the bloodstones that next catch my eye, the Stormblood rubies that have been passed down through generations of my family. To see them adorning Melinda's neck, resting against the smooth, sun-kissed skin of her décolletage, is a sight that sends a primal surge of possessiveness through my veins. She wears my family's legacy, a tangible symbol and declaration of my parent’s support of my choice.
And the dress... Gods, the dress. It's a masterpiece of molten gold, the fabric shimmering and flowing like liquid sunlight over her curves. The intricate lace and layered design caress her body like a lover's touch, emphasizing the lush swell of her hips, the delicate curve of her waist, and the tantalizing hint of cleavage that peeks above the neckline.
The feral beast within me stirs with a hunger that goes beyond mere lust or desire. It's a need that consumes me, a longing to possess her, to mark her mine in every way possible. The urge to sink my fangs into the tender flesh of her neck, to taste the sweet nectar of her blood and bind her to me for all eternity, is nearly overwhelming. But even stronger than the physical want is the absolute certainty that this woman is not only carrying the missing piece of my soul, she is my soulmate. I need her.
Earlier, when I held her in my arms, it took every ounce of my self-control not to claim her right there. But now, seeing her like this, a goddess made flesh, a siren's call given form, it feels absolutely impossible to resist.
"Damn, brother. Are you sure it's your soul shard she's carrying? I'll volunteer as tribute if it turns out not to be." Ares' voice cuts through the haze of my obsession, his hand heavy on my shoulder. I can hear the audible swallow, the raw appreciation in his tone, and it ignites a furious possessiveness within me.