Chapter 17
Find My Son!
Melinda Stormblood, Queen of the Fae
The whispers wake me again. They’re worse this time.
I jolt upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribs, the silk sheets tangled around my legs like vines trying to drag me back down.
My skin is clammy with sweat despite the cool night air drifting through the open balcony doors.
Beside me, Hawke sleeps soundly, his face peaceful in the dim moonlight, completely oblivious to the voice that's been haunting my dreams for weeks.
Melinda...
It's there again. I press my fingers against my temples, trying to quiet the sound. It doesn’t work.
Melinda... come to me...
"Ugh, shut up," I mutter under my breath, careful not to wake Hawke. He has enough to worry about without knowing his pregnant wife is hearing the crazy queen’s voice all the way from Camelot.
I ease out of bed. Hawke shifts slightly but doesn't wake. Moonlight catches on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. The sight of him still makes my heart skip a beat, even now. I could stare at him for hours and be happy.
You. Must. Come.
I pad silently across the cool stone floor to the massive copper bathtub that dominates one corner of our chambers. It's empty now, but that can be fixed. I wave my hand over the ornate tap. Water begins to flow and steam rises in lazy curls.
My morning sickness has been keeping me close to the bathtub anyway. Hawke won't question finding me here if he wakes. It's the perfect cover for why I'm up at this ungodly hour. Again.
The voice has been getting stronger every night for weeks. At first, it was just a whisper, easily dismissed as a dream. But now it's constant, insistent, a presence that claws at my mind until I'm afraid I might actually be losing it. Plus, I can hear it when I’m awake now too.
I sit down onto the edge of the tub to wait for it to fill, dropping my head into my hands. I'm so fucking tired. Between the morning sickness and the nightly voice, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks.
Siva, I call silently to the dragon tattoo on my wrist.
The ink shifts, colors brightening as the small dragon circles my wrist once before settling. Yes, Domina?
I think I'm losing my mind.
Because of the voice? The dragon's mental voice is gentle, lacking its usual snark.
I jerk my head up in surprise. You know about that?
Of course I do. I'm part of you. I hear what you hear.
Why didn't you say anything?
I was waiting for you to tell me, Siva replies. Or to tell the King. Which you should have done weeks ago.
I sigh, watching steam curl from the water. I wanted to believe it would go away.
And now?
It's getting worse. Tonight it's... urgent. She wants me in Camelot.
Absolutely not! Siva's mental voice is sharp with alarm. The Queen is dangerous, Domina. Even locked away as she is.
You think I don't know that? I snap back. But I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't fucking think with her voice constantly in my head. I need answers, Siva.
Then wake the King, Siva insists. Tell him. Let him help you.
He needs rest. There are so many problems. The Knights. His brother. The council. And he won’t want me to go. And I need to go.
But you think he'll rest better if you sneak off to Camelot in the middle of the night? The dragon's voice drips with sarcasm.
I'm not going to sneak off, I protest.
But she’s right, I had considered it. There’s something eerily familiar about the queen. Something that tells me she knows things that I need to know.
Really? Because that's exactly what you're planning. I can feel it.
I glare down at the tattoo crawling up and down my wrist. You don't know everything.
I know enough, Siva counters. And if you try to leave without telling anyone, I'm going to shriek so loud the entire palace will hear me.
You wouldn't.
Try me, the little dragon challenges. I am sworn to protect you, even from your own stubborn self.
I stand up and pace the length of the room, frustration building in my chest. The voice grows more insistent with each passing second, a relentless pressure behind my eyes.
YOU. MUST. COME. NOW.
"Fuck," I hiss, pressing the heels of my palms against my temples. "Just shut up for one fucking minute!"
"Melinda?" Hawke's voice comes from the bed. "Who are you talking to?"
I freeze, caught between embarrassment and relief. "No one. Just... talking to myself."
He sits up, the sheets pooling around his waist. His eyes find mine in the dim light. "You're lying."
Of course he can tell. The bond between us makes it nearly impossible to hide anything from each other—which is why I've been so careful to shield these thoughts for weeks. I didn’t want him to feel my anxiety. He’s carrying so much already. He worries constantly over me.
"It's nothing," I say, turning back to the tub. "Go back to sleep."
Instead, I hear him get up, his bare feet on the floor until he stands behind me, close enough that I can feel his warmth but not touching me. All I want to do is lean back against him and let him take away all my worries.
So let him.
Shut up.
"You haven't slept properly in weeks," he says quietly. "You think I haven't noticed?"
I close my eyes, guilt washing through me. "I didn't want to worry you."
"I'm your mate, Melinda. Worrying about you is part of the job description." His hands land gently on my shoulders, turning me to face him. "Talk to me."
I look up into his face, those piercing blue eyes that see far too much, and something inside me crumbles.
I have to tell him.
"I'm hearing a voice," I admit, the words rushing out. "The Queen. From Camelot. She's been calling to me for weeks, but tonight she's... she's screaming, Hawke. She won't stop."
His expression turns grim. "How long?"
"Since I touched the sword." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the steam rising from the tub. "At first I thought it was just nightmares, but I can hear her when I’m not sleeping now too."
"And you didn't tell me because...?"
"Because you have enough to worry about!" I gesture helplessly. "The High Council, Destrien's betrayal, the cracks in the castle. You're dealing with so much already. I didn't want to add to it."
As the words leave my mouth, a knot of guilt tightens in my chest. The look in Hawke's eyes—concern mixed with hurt—makes me feel like the world's biggest ass.
Of course he noticed. Of course he's been worried.
I've been shutting him out for weeks, thinking I was protecting him when all I've done is push away the one person who could've helped me through this nightmare.
I drop my gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I should have told you sooner," I admit quietly. "I just... I thought I could handle it myself. That it would go away." A bitter laugh escapes me. "Clearly, I was wrong."
The relief of finally saying it out loud washes over me, but it's tinged with the sharp sting of regret. All this time wasted, all these sleepless nights, when I could have been leaning on him instead of suffering alone like some stubborn martyr.
"Our problems are shared problems, sweet girl," he says firmly. "That's what it means to be mated."
See? Siva chimes in smugly. Told you.
Not helpful, I think back.
"I need to go to Camelot," I tell Hawke. "Tonight. I need to understand why she's calling me, what she wants."
I'd been bracing for exactly this reaction. The firm set of his jaw. The flash of protectiveness in his eyes. Of course he'd say no. I knew he would. But the little kernel of hope I'd been nursing still withers at his flat refusal, and my exhaustion quickly ignites into frustration.
"I have to," I insist, squaring my shoulders. I've rehearsed this argument in my head a dozen times, prepared to plead if necessary. "She won't leave me alone, Hawke. I can't sleep, I can't think—"
"Then we'll find another way," he cuts me off. "A spell, a ward—something that will block her voice."
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I'm so goddamn tired, and the queen's voice is a constant pressure behind my eyes, making it hard to think straight.
But I know what I need, and I'm ready to fight for it, to beg if that's what it takes.
I'd get down on my knees right now if I thought it would convince him.
"It won't work." My voice comes out flatter than I intended, edged with a desperation I can't hide.
"You don’t know that, my love."
"Yes, I do. I can’t explain it, but I need to go. Tonight. What if she has answers, Hawke," I challenge. "About my magick. She tried to syphon it, remember."
"You don’t need answers from her,” he says, softer now. "Your magick is amazing. Beautiful. It’s just a little wild."
I pull away from him, anger flaring. "My magick killed my mother. And my aunt and uncle. It's killed everyone I've ever loved except you. And now, because of this baby it will kill you too. So don't tell me my magick is beautiful. It’s dangerous. Violent. Just like the queen."
He flinches slightly at my tone but doesn't back down. "And you think the Queen who nearly destroyed earth with her magick is going to help you?"
"I don't know!" I throw up my hands in frustration. "But I can't just sit here night after night with her screaming in my head! I'm going crazy, Hawke!"
Domina, Siva interjects tentatively. Your magick is rising.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Hawke staggers suddenly, one hand flying to his chest as he drops to one knee. His face goes pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cold. "Melinda," he gasps, the word strained.
No. No. No.
I try to rein in my emotions, but the panic at seeing him in pain only makes it worse.
Kellan. Help. I send the mental call through our guardian bond, my desperation pulsing through the connection.
The door crashes open as Kellan bursts into the room. "Domina!" he shouts, eyes widening at the scene before him.
I'm hurting Hawke. It won't stop. Make it stop.