Chapter 8
A Visit From The Knights
Melinda Stormblood, Queen of the Fae
The fountain in the palace's solarium is still, despite our anticipation. I've been watching it off and on all day, waiting for the Knights to return from Earth for their first check-in. Hawke stands beside me, his hand warm against my lower back.
A warm sensation ripples across my forearm. Siva shifts restlessly, her emerald form spiraling around my wrist, working her way up and then back down the length of my arm. She can feel my anxiety over the knights’ return.
I lean into Hawke’s touch, drawing comfort from his presence. "Do you think they found anything?" I ask quietly.
Hawke's body tightens slightly. "Two weeks is a short time to search an entire planet. Especially one as complicated as Earth has become."
He doesn't say what we're both thinking—that time isn't on their side.
We've all seen how quickly they're deteriorating, how much ambrosia it takes just to keep them stable.
I rest my hand absently on my still-flat stomach, thinking about everything that's changed since I first made it through a portal from Earth into this world of magick and very complicated politics.
My breath catches as the fountain's surface suddenly churns, ripples spreading outward in concentric circles. Siva tightens around my wrist, responding to my anticipation. I lean forward.
Beside me, Hawke straightens, his posture alert. "Here we go."
A hand breaks the surface first, followed by Fenrir's massive frame as he steps out of the fountain completely dry.
The Viking warrior looks exhausted in a way I've never seen before, his usual confident stance slightly rigid. Behind him, a man I don't recognize emerges, looking equally drained. They’re both wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and t-shirts. So different from the renaissance styled clothes I’ve gotten used to since arriving in Avalon.
What I wouldn’t give for a pair or jeans or a hoodie right now… I need to remember to ask Hawke to make some for me.
"Welcome home," Hawke says warmly, stepping forward to clasp Fenrir's arm in greeting. "How was Earth?"
Fenrir's laugh holds no humor. "Strange. Loud. Full of metal beasts they call cars." His nostrils flare slightly as he looks at me, and I wonder what his wolf can smell. "No sign of my mate yet, but we've barely started searching."
I step forward and touch Fenrir's forearm lightly.
"It's good to see you back safely, Fen. Earth can be overwhelming even for those of us who grew up there.
" His skin radiates heat beneath my fingertips, the wolf's fever burning just below the surface.
He nods in acknowledgment, the tension in his jaw easing slightly.
He gestures to the man beside him. "This is Cormac. He's been... helping me adjust to Earth's peculiarities."
I extend my hand to Cormac, but the fountain begins to swirl again before I can properly greet him.
This time it's Wraith who emerges, his usually pristine appearance somewhat rumpled.
The dark circles under his eyes speak of sleepless nights.
He's wearing a button up white shirt with dark jeans and cowboy boots.
It suits him. Another unfamiliar man follows Wraith—this one younger, with sharp features and watchful eyes.
"Bracken," the young man introduces himself with a quick bow. "I've been assigned as Wraith's guide on Earth."
Two more times the fountain activates. Boaz arrives with an older Fae male who introduces himself as Dugall. Ares is next, wearing his typical smug grin. Then finally one more strange fae male introduced as Toran.
I drift toward one of the tall windows while Hawke speaks with his knights and their guides, their voices a low murmur behind me.
My hand finds my stomach again, an unconscious gesture that's become a habit lately.
There's barely anything to feel yet—no bump, no movement—but knowing our child grows there fills me with equal parts wonder and dread.
This baby will be so loved. I can already feel Hawke's fierce joy through our mate bond whenever he thinks about it, sense how his parents practically vibrate with excitement at the prospect of a grandchild.
The entire Fae court seems to hold its breath in anticipation of an heir that will unite Earth and Avalon blood.
But they don't all know the price—they don’t know this child will cost Hawke his life.
I press my forehead against the cool glass, watching the lights of Vandimoor city sparkle below.
Siva stirs against my skin again, this time the small green dragon tattoo travels up my arm and then down to hover over my stomach. Nothing is for certain, milady she reminds me, her voice soft and reassuring in my mind.
It's good of her to try and comfort me, but mostly ineffective. I know what’s coming for the man I love. The same way my first breath killed my biological father, so will the first breath of the child I’m carrying take Hawke away from us both.
From the corner of my eye, I see Kellan standing only a few yards away, my bodyguard, shadow, and friend. I’m never alone and I appreciate him for that.
"Melinda?" Hawke’s voice is soft behind me, touched with concern. I feel his love wrap around me like a warm blanket.
I turn, forcing a smile. "Just thinking." I love you I add silently, pouring everything I feel into those words and through our connection. His eyes soften as he reaches for me, and for a moment I let myself believe that love might be enough to change fate itself.
"We should eat," Hawke says, his gaze sweeping over the knights and their guides.
"The small dining room has been prepared.
" He gestures to a nearby servant who steps forward immediately.
"Please show the knight’s guides to the kitchen hall where they can refresh themselves. Ensure they're well taken care of."
The guides exchange glances, clearly understanding the dismissal. Cormac bows slightly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesties."
As the guides follow the servant down a side corridor, Hawke turns to his knights. "I thought we might appreciate some privacy for our conversation."
They nod in agreement.
I fall into step beside Hawke as we lead our strangely-dressed knights through torch-lit corridors. Their voices blend into a low murmur as they catch up with each other, the reunion both tense and comforting. I notice Ares walking with surprising confidence despite his exhaustion.
"Ares seemed rather pleased with himself upon arrival, but he didn't say anything," I whisper to Hawke, leaning closer as we walk. "Did he find his mate already?"
Hawke's lips twitch. "He's found her, but hasn't figured out how to approach her... correctly."
"What does that mean?" I ask, genuinely surprised. “The God of War has never struck me as someone who struggles with confidence.”
"She keeps dismissing him," Hawke answers with a shrug. "Apparently not everyone is susceptible to the legendary charm of Ares."
I stifle a laugh behind my hand. "The same Ares who bowed and kissed my hand the second he met me?"
"The very same," Hawke confirms, his voice dropping lower so only I can hear. "According to Toran, she's completely immune to him. Told him to 'take his pretty face and pick-up lines elsewhere' the second time he approached her."
I can't help the laugh that escapes this time. "I think I might like this woman already."
"Don't tell him I told you." Hawke’s hand finds the small of my back again. "He's pretending it's all part of some elaborate strategy rather than admitting he's actually struck out for perhaps the first time in his immortal life."
I glance back over my shoulder, catching Ares watching us with narrowed eyes, as if he knows exactly what we're discussing. I offer him my most innocent smile, which only makes his suspicious expression deepen.
"His ego must be absolutely shattered," I whisper, leaning into Hawke's warmth as we walk.
"A little humility might do him some good," Hawke replies with a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest where my shoulder presses against him. "Though I suspect his soul mate wouldn't have it any other way. The universe can sometimes have quite the sense of humor."
The small dining room—which is only small compared to the formal banquet hall—glows warmly with dozens of candles.
Rich tapestries depicting the eight realms line the walls, their threads shimmering with subtle magick that makes the woven scenes appear almost alive.
The scent of roasted venison and freshly baked rosemary bread mingles with the distinctive sweet aroma of Fae wine being poured into crystal goblets.
Bowls of vibrant purple plums and golden peaches sit amid platters of steaming vegetables glazed with honey and herbs.
Hawke and I take our seats at the head of the polished oak table, its surface inlaid with beautiful mother-of-pearl tiles.
Kellan takes up his normal place directly behind my chair, his presence a comforting shadow.
I've given up trying to make space for him at the table.
He insists that protecting me comes first and he can't do that properly while seated.
As everyone settles in, I catch Hawke's eye, silently questioning if now is truly the time. We had discussed sharing the Council's decree about me privately with the knights first, but slight tightening of his jaw tells me he's made his decision.
"Before we begin," Hawke says once everyone is seated, his voice carrying the weight of his crown, "there's news from Camelot you should all hear."
I steel myself for the reaction I know is coming. Hawke had shown me the sealed scroll this morning, its wax seal bearing the imprint of the High Council—what’s left of them anyway. We'd expected resistance, but this direct challenge to my presence after our marriage was more than even he expected.