Chapter 43
The Evil Queen
Astrid Mathieson
"Are you ready?" Fen asks, his massive frame currently blocking a doorway that shouldn't exist. He says we can walk through this liquidy-looking water straight into Camelot.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Not too long ago, I would have classified this as a Class Three anomaly and called for immediate containment. I would have done my job as a GUIDE Inquisitor—eliminate the threat and protect humanity from the dangers of unchecked magick.
Now I'm about to step through it willingly, though perhaps slightly worried.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I say, squaring my shoulders.
Fen extends his hand. I take it. I can do this.
"Remember what I told you," he says, his voice low and gentle. "The first crossing can be disorienting. Keep hold of my hand, it will help."
I nod, tightening my grip on his hand as we approach what he called the event horizon. We step forward together and sink into the silky non-liquid liquid. This is weirder than traveling with sirens through water.
The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. I’m whole, but I’m not. Colors I've never seen before wash over me. Sounds that have no source echo in my mind. Time stretches and compresses simultaneously.
Then, with a suddenness that leaves me gasping, we're through.
My feet touch solid ground, and I blink rapidly, trying to orient myself. The huge room stretches out before me, vast and breathtaking. Large crowds of people could gather here and it still wouldn’t feel crowded.
Massive doors of wood and steel line the walls, each one unique, each one a gateway to another world. The air here tastes different—sweeter, heavier with magick than Asgard.
"Welcome to the Hall of Realms," Fen says beside me, his voice echoing slightly in the grand space. "The place where all eight worlds intersect."
My eyes are drawn to a particularly imposing door at the far end of the Hall with intricate metal dragons entwined in across its surface like chains.
"Earth," I say softly, the word escaping my lips before I even realize I know it.
"Yes," Fen confirms.
Movement near one of the other doors catches my eye.
Two guards stand at attention, and I have to stop myself from staring.
They're massive—easily six and a half feet tall with skin so black it absorbs light like onyx stone.
Their eyes glow a brilliant gold and long white hair falls in elaborate braids around elegant pointed ears and past their shoulders.
Each wears armor that seems to shift colors like oil on water.
"Fen," I whisper, edging closer to him. "What… who are they?"
"Upir," he murmurs, his hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back. "Dream-walkers from Lamia. They're this year's custodians of Camelot."
"This year's?"
"The responsibility rotates." His eyes track another Upir warrior who passes by with a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Queen Sahsa is sister to Wraith, one of the Knights you'll meet at some point soon."
I take another look at the imposing guards. They stand perfectly still, yet somehow I get the impression they're aware of every movement in the massive hall. One catches me staring and inclines his head slightly in greeting. I nod back awkwardly.
Before I can ask anything else, three figures from across the hall start walking toward us—a tall, regal man with dark hair speckled with silver and piercing blue eyes, and beside him, a woman with auburn hair and a warm smile that somehow eases the tension in my shoulders.
Behind them both, another man walks a few steps behind.
Huge. Dark hair. Covered in green metallic tattoos.
"Hawke," Fen greets the first man with a nod. "Queen Melinda." He nods to the second man. “Kellan. It’s good to see you.”
“And you, Fenrir,” the big tattooed man answers with an understated smile.
The woman—Melinda—steps forward first, her eyes scanning me with open curiosity.
"You must be Astrid," she says, her voice carrying a distinctly American accent.
I recognize the Midwestern lilt immediately.
I'd been told Melinda was from Earth too, but hearing another American voice in this place is still oddly comforting. "We've been waiting for you."
Movement on her forearm catches my eye and I do a double-take. A tattoo of a dragon, metallic green just like the man standing behind them, is literally moving across her skin. Not shifting with muscle movement—actually slithering and curling like it has a mind of its own.
"Holy shit," I mutter under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away from the animated ink. "That's... that's not a normal tattoo." I've seen a lot of weird things since meeting Fen, but watching art come alive on someone's skin is definitely new territory.
"Welcome to Camelot," Hawke says, his voice deep and resonant. "And to Avalon."
I peel my eyes away from Melinda’s strange tattoo and look up at the man who just spoke. “Sorry, I—”
He chuckles, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her closer. “Siva takes a minute to get used to. This is Melinda’s somatophylakes,” he gestures to the large man standing behind them, “Kellan of Gilat.”
“He means bodyguard,” Melinda says, stepping forward and shaking my hand. “Also, it’s so good to finally have another human woman in the club.”
“I’m not, I mean, I was, but I’m not.”
Melinda laughs, a sweet rolling chuckle that makes me want to laugh with her. “It’s okay. I more meant that you were from earth. I’m not really human either.”
"Astrid is Asgardian now," Fen says, stepping closer to me.
The word still hits my ears wrong. Asgardian.
Like I should be wearing armor and speaking in thees and thous.
Part of me wants to correct him, to say "I'm still me, just..
. different," but I don't. The pride in his voice when he says it makes the words stick in my throat.
Besides, he's not wrong. Not technically.
The transformation was real enough. I have the fur and fangs to prove it.
“Ooooh, wolfy fun. Have you shifted?”
I nod, feeling my wolf stir slightly at the mention of shifting. She's always there now, just beneath my skin.
The petite brunette squeals and claps her hands, her reaction so normal and excited that I can't help but smile.
She's treating my supernatural transformation like it's just a cool party trick, not a fundamental rewiring of my DNA.
Something about her enthusiasm makes this whole insane situation feel a little less lonely.
"I hope I get to see your wolf some time. But in the meantime, like my husband said, welcome to Camelot, King Arthur's castle."
"The King Arthur?" I ask, feeling a little less crazy for once. There's something oddly validating about finding another Earth woman who's adapted to all this magickal craziness. If she can handle it with such cheerful enthusiasm, maybe I'm not doing so badly after all.
Melinda leans forward like she’s going to tell me a secret. “Arthur Pendragon was a Fae.”
I smile and nod. Somehow this revelation doesn’t surprise me in the least. At this point I’m probably going to believe anything anyone tells me.
“I know it’s not going to be pleasant, and Melinda you don’t have to come if you’re not up to it, but I really need Fen and Astrid to see what has happened with the Table.” Hawke pulls his wife to his waist and kisses the top of her head.
She frowns and worries her lip with her teeth. “You’re going to scare her off before I have a chance to make her my friend. And I’m okay. I’ll come with you.”
Hawke's eyes meet mine, appraising. "I believe Astrid is made of much sterner stuff, just like you. She'll not scare easily."
Fen shifts his weight, shoulders tensing. "Is there something wrong with the Round Table?"
"It's better if you see, Fen." Hawke's jaw tightens, fingers drumming against his thigh.
"What of the Queen and the sword?"
The entire castle chooses that moment to shake like it's going to fall down around us. A huge crack splits through the floor. Smaller fissures race up the walls. Dust rains down from the ceiling, and I instinctively duck.
"Holy shit!" I stumble against Fen's solid frame, grabbing his arm to steady myself. "What was that?"
People scramble through the castle, holding their hands over the cracks mending the rock like it’s a living thing that can be soothed back together.
“Hawke?” Fen asks.
“It’s the queen,” he sighs. “We have several hundred Fae from Vandimoor on a constant rotation keeping the castle in one piece. The Upir have been very accommodating.”
“I should think so, since you’re the only ones that can fix the castle. There were only smaller cracks happening last time I was here. When did it escalate?”
“I assume it was when you bonded with Astrid and the next piece of Excalibur appeared.”
My cheeks heat. Wait? What? But I don’t say anything. I don’t want to bring any more attention to our bedroom activities than necessary, but what does our bond have to do with earthquakes and a legendary sword.
Fen nuzzles my ear, kisses my cheek, and pulls me close to his hip. “It is alright, Astrid,” he whispers. “Our bonding is something to be proud of. I am.”
“I am. I just don’t know these people, Fen,” I say back under my breath. “That’s private.”
"Come," Hawke gestures for us to follow. "The Table won't wait, and neither will our other... situation. Wraith and Boaz are also waiting for us."
“It will be good to see them,” Fen says.
Hawke turns, Melinda falling into step beside him as they lead us deeper into the castle. Kellan follows a few paces behind, his vigilant gaze constantly scanning our surroundings. Fen's hand finds mine, and we trail after them.