Page 73 of Secrets of Avalon
I incline my head, feeling a rush of warmth and familiarity. "King Jarlath, Queen Sasha," I greet them, my hand instinctively moving to my chest in a gesture of respect. I especially like them, because I’ve been good friends with Wraith for centuries since we were called by Yggdrasil to serve as Knights.
Queen Sasha smiles, her ruby-red lips curving in a friendly smile. "The honor is ours, Prince Hawke. Congratulations on your engagement. Lady Mayweather, it is a pleasure to officially meet you. I look forward to attending your wedding."
Melinda curtsies gracefully, her golden gown catching the light with every movement. "Thank you, your majesty. That is very kind." Despite her poise, there’s a slight tremor in her hands as she smooths her skirts and looks away from the king.
King Jarlath nods, his golden eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. "Prince Hawke, your union with Lady Mayweather is a blessing not only for the Fae but for all the realms."
I bow my head, acknowledging the weight and implications of Jarlath's words. This is more than just a congratulation. It's a declaration of support, a subtle nod to a stronger alliance between the Fae and the Upir.
As we move on to the next table, the atmosphere shifts subtly. The air grows colder, and the shadows in the room appear to deepen as we approach Hades, the formidable king of the Netherworld.
He sits with an air of silent authority, his dark, enigmatic presence commanding respect and reverence. Beside him, his two Valkyrie guests, Sigrún and Bryn, rise to their feet as Melinda and I draw near. Their golden armor glints in the soft light of the hall.
"Lord Hades." I bow my head in deference to the ancient Olympian god.
Hades acknowledges my greeting with a slight tip of his head, his expression inscrutable. His dark eyes are haunting. His intense gaze pierces straight into my soul. A second later he looks away, his attention drawn elsewhere. It's a familiar routine. Hades rarely speaks to anyone other than the Valkyries and Furies that help him manage the Netherworld.
Undeterred by the god's silence, I turn my attention to the Valkyries, a warm smile spreading across my face. "Sigrún. Bryn. It is a pleasure to see you under much better circumstances this time."
Melinda stiffens slightly beside me. A quick glance shows her eyes darting nervously between Hades, the Valkyries, and the chaos of the crowded room. Her breaths come quicker now.
Sigrún flashes a brilliant smile. "The pleasure is all ours, Prince Hawke." Her words ring out clear and strong, filling the space between us. She turns her gaze to Melinda, her expression softening further. "And may I say, your mate is a perfect vision of loveliness."
“Yes she is.” I tuck Melinda close, my arm wrapped around her waist. The heat of her body against me is a sweet torment. I give Sigrún and Bryn a quick bow and excuse us to move toward the next table where King Galathar and Queen Kaylessa of Vanir sit.
The royal couple look up, their smiles polite and perfectly rehearsed. King Galathar inclines his head toward me. "Prince Hawke." His rich, melodic tone carries easily over the din of the hall. "Congratulations on your upcoming coronation and nuptials." Queen Kaylessa nods from her seat next to her husband, her bright green and blonde hair cascades in tight spirals down her back.
“Thank you,” I say politely and bow.
As we continue our rounds, we pause at Queen Nimue's table, even though I’m hesitant to do so. It would be rude if I didn’t stop. The ancient siren’s lavender eyes gleam with a mix of pride and genuine pleasure.
Melinda tenses beside me and her breath catches, waves of unease radiating off her. She’s not the only one the siren queen makes nervous. I’d rather not be seen with a known associate of the rebellion either.
My eyes connect with Kellan’s for a moment where he stands behind her empty chair. I give a subtle shake of my head, telling him she’s good with me and not to approach. He nods and falls back into a more planted stance.
Nimue rises to her feet, her midnight-blue gown swirling around her like a cloak of stars. “This couldn’t have gone better, Prince Hawke. Congratulations on the upcoming wedding and coronation. Lady Mayweather, you look positively stunning.”
Melinda shifts slightly, as if fighting the urge to step back. "Thank you, Queen Nimue."
I hold Melinda closer and steer her onward to the tables where the Drakonii and Asgardian royals sit. The Drakonii king and queen, dressed in decorative scaled armor and glittering jewels, rise to their feet, their eyes glowing with the green inner fire that speaks of the dragons that reside within them and on them.
"Prince Hawke, Lady Mayweather," the Drakonii king rumbles. "We offer you our congratulations and our unwavering support. May your reign be long and prosperous, and may your love be a shining example to all who look upon you."
The Asgardian king and queen, tall and proud in their gleaming golden armor and flowing red capes, echo the sentiment, their voices ringing out clear and strong across the hall.
"To Prince Hawke and Lady Melinda," the Asgardian king declares, raising his goblet in a toast. "May Yggdrasil bless your union and grant you strength and wisdom."
By the time the Asgardian king’s fifth toast is raised, my control is hanging by a thread. Leaning close to Melinda's ear, I let my lips graze the delicate shell, feeling her shiver in response. "What do you say we escape the feast?" I murmur. "I'm ready to have you all to myself."
Melinda flushes, a rosy hue staining her cheeks, but the undisguised desire in her gaze mirrors my own. She nods, and that one simple gesture is my undoing.
Lacing my fingers through hers, I cast one last glance around the great hall. My parents are deep in conversation with the Vanir king and queen, their faces animated and engaged.
The guests are lost in revelry, their laughter and chatter rising to the vaulted ceiling of the dining hall. But beneath the merriment, there’s a different kind of excitement thrumming through my veins, a hot, insistent pulse that draws me inexorably to the woman at my side.
Melinda's hand is warm and soft in mine, her skin like silk against my calloused palm. There’s a tension in her accompanied by anticipation and excitement.
No one will miss us. Respects have been paid, duties fulfilled. The only thing that matters now is the promise of what awaits us in the privacy of my chambers.