Page 93 of Secrets of Avalon

"Two nights,” I whisper. The reality of what's coming crashes over me. In just two days, I'll be married. A queen. The enormity of it steals my breath.

Part of me wants to panic. It's so fast. I've spent my life running, hiding. Now I'm hurtling towards a wedding, a husband, and a crown–an enormous commitment I barely understand.

But there's another part, a growing warmth in my chest, that whispers this is right. That Hawke is right. That for the first time, I'm racing towards something instead of away.

"Two nights," I say, more firmly this time.

“I’d marry you today if I could, but I’m quite sure my mother would level the castle in a fit of rage. I’m sorry you won’t be able to plan and enjoy the ceremonies the way you should. She’s already going to be angry that we’re adding a wedding in with the coronation.”

"I'm not concerned," I say, and I'm surprised to realize it's true. "I just want to be with you. The ceremony is for other people."

He kisses the side of my neck, his lips warm against my skin. "And with me, you shall be."

I catch a flash of white emerging from the forest ahead, and my body tenses instantly. "Hawke—" I start, my voice tight with alarm. After everything we've been through, any unexpected sight sets my nerves on edge.

But my fear morphs into disbelief. It's a horse, but one unlike any I've ever seen. Its coat is so pale it seems to glow, shimmering like captured moonlight. It turns towards us and I spot something impossible—a spiraling horn protruding from its forehead.

A rush of childlike wonder sweeps through me, momentarily banishing all my worries and fears. "They're real!" A girlish squeal escapes me. I twist in the saddle to look at Hawke, my eyes wide with amazement. "Unicorns are real! How could you not tell me about unicorns?"

"I didn't know I should've." Hawke chuckles and squeezes me tight.

I turn back to look at the unicorn again, and this time I notice its rider—Atlas. He’s perched atop the magnificent creature like it was the most natural thing in the world. "He’s riding a unicorn." I can't tear my eyes away. He weaves the beautiful animal into the group of riders ahead of us.

Hawke's voice rumbles against my back. "The puppeteer found quite the mount indeed."

"Have you ever ridden a unicorn?"

"No," Hawke replies, a note of wry amusement in his voice. "They don't tend to be the friendliest mounts."

His words barely register, the sight of the unicorn stirring long-buried memories. I remember my mother's hushed tales of magical creatures, stories she'd share in rare moments of peace between our constant flights from danger. A lump forms in my throat.

"Kellan," I say, my voice thick with emotion, "Did you know unicorns were real? There's really nothing about them on Earth but stories."

Kellan's expression softens. "Most all the Fae creatures fled Earth with the Fae before the door was locked, Domina," he answers gently. "It wasn't safe for them to stay. Most were being hunted to extinction."

A familiar ache settles in my chest. "It's only gotten worse with the Inquisitors and the Enclave. Any hint of magic is hunted, either to kill or capture."

Hawke's body tenses behind me, and through our bond, there is a surge of protective fury. His arms tighten around me, and I hear him swallow hard before speaking.

"I hate that you had to go through that," he says, his voice low and fierce. "No one should have to live in fear like that."

I squeeze his hand where it's holding the reins. "I'm here now. With you."

"You saved me, Melinda, but?—"

I shake my head and lean back against his chest, cutting him off. "There are no buts, Hawke. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Kellan and the other knights ride in silence around us, but my curiosity burns. "I would, however, really like to see the unicorn up closer if possible."

Hawke's chest shakes with a slow chuckle. He urges our horse into a trot, and we quickly catch up to where Atlas rides alongside several sirens and Aric.

"Milady." Atlas dips his head in a bow.

I nod in response, turning my attention to the unicorn. “It’s beautiful.” I stare at the fairytale animal. It’s even more magnificent close up. The sheen of its coat is like pearl. And it’s mane and tail shimmer.

"This is Cyrus," Atlas says, a note of pride in his voice. "Cyrus, this is Melinda Mayweather, soon to be Prince Stormblood's wife and queen."

The unicorn turns its head to make eye contact. A pleasure, lady queen.