10. Shes Here, Shes Real, Shes. His?
CHAPTER 10
She's Here, She's Real, She's... His?
Hawke Stormblood
Dismissing yet another guard with a casual flick of my hand, I issue my command firmly. "See to it that no one has been harmed. I need to have a word with the Drakonii."
The guard inclines his head. "Of course, your highness." He departs without further delay.
Purpose in my stride, I advance toward the formidable dragon. Our gazes lock, and I can almost read the torrent of emotions swirling in his ancient eyes—recognition sparks, quickly followed by a shadow of concern.
The Drakonii, a man of imposing stature, instinctively shifts to shield the woman at his side.
An involuntary growl rumbles deep within me, the primal part of my being stirring with possessiveness. The word echoes through the chambers of my mind, resonating with a feral intensity— mine .
"That's the man I glimpsed through the doorway."
Her voice is heaven to my ears.
She maneuvers herself around the imposing Drakonii.
My breath hitches in my throat, taking in my first unobstructed view of her. She’s dressed differently now–like a Drakonii. The traditional chiton she wears seems custom-made to accentuate the graceful curves of her body. Her luxuriously dark brown hair, twisted into an elegant half-up, half-down style, spills in soft curls that tenderly brush against her neck and shoulder.
Primitive feelings of ownership surge within me, setting my senses angrily ablaze when I see the distinct mark of a somatophylakes bonding writhing like a living thing up and down her forearm. Mine. Mine. Mine. Not his.
"No, Domina ," Kellan corrects her, wrapping a protective arm around her and drawing her back to his side. "You're standing before Prince Stormblood."
"Kellan, it's okay."
Kellan? Realization dawns. She’s not under the protection of just any somatophylakes , she's bonded to none other than the legendary Kellan of Gilat. This is the man who faithfully served as bodyguard to the royal Elvin family for over three centuries. The queen's passing was a mere three years ago.
Traditionally, Kellan should have retired, taken a wife, and begun his own family. Instead, I find myself locked in a silent confrontation with him, his hands possessively lingering on my woman .
She looks at me, no fear, only curiosity. “Why couldn’t you help me at the river? What happened?”
“I tried. I couldn’t get to you. I think it was an illusion. A shared one through the locked door.” I look from her to the dragon. “What happened? Why did you use your magick here?”
“It’s complicated, your highness. I can explain, but we really should move off the street now.”
“I’m fine right now. I just got overwhelmed and–”
“ Domina. ” He cuts her off abruptly.
I reach out to touch her. “Who are you?” I want so badly to have a solid connection to her. She’s carrying my soul. Does she know she has it pulsing within her, alive and calling to me? Mine.
“I’m Melinda M–”
The Drakonii reacts with lighting speed, knocking me to the ground like a nuisance. Guards surge forward from the edges of the crowd, but I dismiss them with a wave. “I’m fine. It was a misunderstanding.”
“You may wear the mantle of a prince, but she is my Domina . You shall not lay hands on her as if she belongs to you.”
I bite back the angry response dancing on the tip of my tongue. Instead I brush myself off and calmly stand back up. I at least succeeded in getting her first name. “My sincerest apologies, Lady Melinda. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” She flashes me the most beautiful apologetic smile. Then turns to her protector with a frown. “Did you have to knock him down, Kellan?”
“Indeed, Domina ,” the dragon answers, completely ignoring me.
“He was well within his right, milady. There are rules in place to protect you and I ignored them.”
The Drakonii growls at me and his tattoos shimmer, an unspoken threat. One I’ll likely disregard as soon as his back’s turned. Melinda is mine. I will have her. He can go find himself some other charge. I wave at the once again bustling marketplace. “Please follow me.”
I pivot on my heel, motioning toward the imposing keep that looms ominously behind them. We proceed in silence, the only sounds being the occasional crunch of gravel beneath our boots and the loud hum of the marketplace. It's a brief walk, but the tension is thick, stretching the minutes into an eternity.
Several goats run around a corner with their owner right on their heels. They stop in front of Melinda, scream and faint right there on the spot.
“Ahhhhh!” Melinda gives a tiny shriek just like one of the goats. “S-sorry. It startled me.” She gives a feeble smile. “Are they okay?” She points down at the prone goats at her feet.
“They’re fine,” I explain. “Asgardian goats are kept very drunk at all times to avoid this type of behavior. But they reacted as if they weren’t drunk at all.”
She nods like she already knows what I’m telling her.
I glare at the goat herder to our left. “Forgive me, your majesty. I know the goats are only allowed in Avalon if they are drunk. They were. I give you my word. I gave them several pints just this morning. I–”
I wave him away. I need to get Melinda out of sight. I need to understand what happened in the marketplace. I need to know how she got here from Earth. And above all, I need to touch her—desperately.
We approach a small, ironclad door. I open it and wait for them to enter, then lock it behind us. The room is bathed in a soft golden light from a mixture of fae stones, their light pulsating like the heartbeat Camelot itself, along with flickering candelabras casting dancing shadows against the stone walls.
"This is simply amazing," she murmurs in a hushed, awestruck tone, standing close to Kellan's side. Her fingers curl around the dragon’s arm in a trusting hold, and the sight of their closeness sends a surge of angry heat through my veins.
By the laws of our universe, he is her somatophylakes . He is meant to be at her side, a steadfast stalwart against any danger. Their bond, woven with threads of loyalty and duty and powerful magick, is revered as sacred. No one can come between a somatophylakes and his bonded charge without permission— not even a prince.
But I will find a way to make her mine.
Tapestries of intricate design adorn these walls, each thread spun with tales of valor and glory from eras long past. The weapons of my ancestors, their edges dulled but their presence still formidable, are proudly displayed - a constant reminder of the legacy I've been born into and the responsibility it entails.
We weave our way through a maze of interconnected rooms until we arrive in the secluded sanctuary of a private sitting room nestled beneath the sweeping staircase that spirals upwards to the Drakonii guest chambers.
She’s not Drakonii, but she’s dressed for the occasion. I assume that’s where he would’ve been headed with her before the incident in the market.
Kellan cautiously peers into the room first, assessing for any potential threats before allowing her to enter. Once he's satisfied, he gently ushers her through the ancient, ornate doorway with a protective hand at her back.
I follow them inside and close the door softly.
"Who are you?" I blurt out almost immediately, not waiting for her to settle into one of the plush chairs tucked into the corner of the room.
The question hangs heavy in the silence.
She looks at Kellan first, like she needs his permission to answer. Interesting. Will I get lies or the truth…
I push harder. “You said your name was Melinda, but who are you?”
“It’s complicated. My family died to get me to Avalon.”
“You came from Earth, did you not?”
A slow nod is her only response.
Dammit. I want to yell at her to explain. I manage to keep myself in check. "What happened in the market this morning?" I glance briefly at Kellan.
"I'm sorry about that," she says, pain tightening her face. "I?—"
" Domina ."
I square off with Kellan. "Let her speak.” I turn back to her, purposely dismissing him. “You have nothing to be sorry about. He was the one that loosed his magick in a crowded market."
Kellan steps in front of her again and pins me with an aggressive glare. "Keep your orders to yourself, princeling."
"You’re older than me, dragon, but I'm no child. Do not overstep the grace your position affords." I meet his fiery green gaze and hold.
He steps closer, putting us mere inches from each other. Energy bristles between us. His tattoos are bright. His eyes burn like green flames. I'm prepared this time. He won't be able to knock me over.
"Hey, I thought we were going to talk, not have another smackdown." Her voice is calm, she's putting on a brave face, but I hear the thread of fear and it shatters the anger brewing within. The last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me.
Kellan tips his head to the side, studying me carefully, but never once drops his magick. His tattoos continue to shimmer and writhe on his skin.
"I'd like to talk to him, Kellan." She touches his arm again.
A knot forms in my throat, an unspoken longing for it to be my arm she's reaching for. An almost primal urge to touch her, to have her skin against mine, consumes me.
He takes a step back, moving her with him, strategically keeping her just out of my reach, like he can sense my urge.
"So." She wrings her hands in front of her. "You said when I saw you before, at the river, you were trying to reach me. Where were we?"
"I’m not sure. I wanted to help you. I'm sorry I couldn't. How did you get through the door into Avalon? No one saw it open on our side. It’s dangerous for you to be here."
She looks at Kellan again instead of answering.
He shrugs, letting her make her own choice.
"The Queen of the Sirens brought me through a fountain. And I’m safe with Kellan."
My heart stutters in my chest. Of course the Siren Queen is involved, which means the rebellion is involved too. The High Counsel will be furious. Another reason for her to be in danger, although Kellan’s presence does alleviate some of their sway. The Drakonii mostly just tolerate the High Council, unlike the rest of us that agreed to bow the knee.
They have two representatives on the council too, but it’s just because they wouldn’t have allowed a council to form without a fair input into its creation.
But why would Nimue bring a human to Avalon? Does she somehow know Melinda is carrying the missing piece of my soul? And if the High Counsel does find out a human is here from Earth, they could choose to execute her just to make a point. "Does anyone else know she brought you here?"
Melinda looks to Kellan again.
Look at me. Just look at me.
"My people know. She came to Drakoné first, and she's under my protection now. No one will speak of where she came from." Kellan speaks quietly, moving to block my view of Melinda yet again .
"What is your problem?" I snarl at him before I can control the feral rage howling inside my chest. Mine.
The flicker of a smile graces his face before he growls at me and bares his fangs. "You look at her like a starving beast. Touch her again and I'll enjoy burning you with my flame."
"Kellan, stop." Melinda pokes her head around his massive body, not at all fazed by his aggressive show.
" Domina , he will take liberties."
"Do not hurt him." She yanks on his arm. She's tiny standing next to him, but he moves under her slight touch as if he has no choice. Perhaps he doesn't. I don't know exactly how the bond works. "Please."
"As you wish, Domina . But if he hurts you, he will experience my wrath."
"Fair enough." She nods, taking a step closer to me. "Can we start over, Prince Stormblood?"
"Start over?" I don’t quite understand what she means by the phrase, but I’m more than willing to do as she asks.
She extends her hand and I take it immediately. My fingers brush against her delicate palm and I suck in a breath. A surge of magick sends a shiver up my spine. It's there, just beneath the surface of her skin, a current of raw, untamed power that dances and whirls. Not…human. She said she came from Earth, but humans don’t have magick. Feeling magick through touch isn’t normal either. So what is she?
Even through the questions whirling in my head, my gaze is helplessly drawn to the soft gold glow radiating from beneath her breastbone, the missing shard of my soul. It's tantalizingly close, a beacon that calls to the deepest part of me.
"Hi, I'm Melinda Mayweather."
"Yes, Lady Melinda," I say her name, relishing each syllable. “I am Prince Hawke Stormblood. Welcome to Avalon.”
The door bursts open behind us.
I whirl to see my brother.
"I finally found you. There was a huge incident in the market. A Drakonii used…" Destrien’s voice trails off when his gaze drifts over my shoulder. "Well, damn, brother."