21. I Am Not Alone
CHAPTER 21
I Am Not Alone
Melinda Mayweather
The warmth of Hawke's embrace lingers on my skin. We sit in silence, our hearts beating in sync. For a moment, the world outside this room ceases to exist, and I allow myself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, we can find a way to break the curse that haunts me. He seems so sure that Avalon holds the secrets.
The illusion shatters as the bedroom door swings open, revealing Kellan's imposing figure. I jolt upright, startled by the sudden intrusion, and instinctively pull away from Hawke's embrace. Kellan’s grave expression and worried brows make my heart race. "Hawke, you need to leave. Now." His voice is low and urgent.
Hawke's arms tighten around me. He doesn’t want to let go. "What's happened?" he asks, his voice tense.
Kellan steps into the room, his gaze darting between us. He’s fighting to keep from saying anything about my scandalous position on Hawke’s lap. "My people have reported that Julius Darkwood has people following you. There will be questions and gossip about why you were in the Drakonii guest suites until nearly midnight. I shouldn’t have let you stay as long as I did.” He turns his gaze to me. “ Domina, forgive me."
A chill runs down my spine at the mention of Darkwood. The memory of his cold, calculating eyes boring into me during the confrontation in the Hall of Realms sends a shiver through my body. I look up again into the warm eyes of my worried bodyguard. “You did what I asked, Kellan. There’s nothing to forgive.”
Hawke rises from the floor, holding me securely in his strong arms. With a gentle strength, he carefully lowers me onto the soft mattress, ensuring my head rests comfortably on the pillow. His touch is tender and protective. He tucks the blanket around me, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin. He leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips warm and comforting against my skin.
"Get some rest," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. "Tomorrow is the Changing of the Guard ceremony, and I have a lot to prepare for. But I'll find a way back to you." His expression is tight and painful, his eyes filled with a fierce determination. "No matter what happens, remember I am yours. Trust me and don't believe anything you see or hear if it doesn't come from me."
“You mean about the other woman,” I ask, worry flooding back into my system. “Darkwood’s daughter, Vencia.”
At the mention of Vencia's name, Hawke's jaw clenches, and a flicker of unease passes through his eyes. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself against an unseen threat. "They're going to try everything they can, Melinda. I need you to trust me."
I nod. Despite the sudden tension in the room, I know in my heart that I do trust him.
With one last squeeze of my hand, Hawke exchanges a meaningful look with Kellan and strides out of the room, his shoulders squared and his head held high.
Kellan's gaze softens as he turns to me. "Try to sleep, Domina . You're safe here. I'll be right next door if you need anything."
I manage a small smile, the exhaustion of the day and night finally catching up with me. "Thank you, Kellan. For everything."
He nods, a flicker of green fire igniting warmth in his eyes, before he exits the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Alone again.
The tattoo wriggles around my wrist, purposefully proving my thoughts wrong. Never alone, Domina.
“Thank you, Siva,” I whisper up at the ceiling. And she’s right. I have her. I have Kellan. Even Nimue, regardless of her own motives, is trying to help Hawke and I end up together.
Tonight I don’t want to dwell on my cursed magick. Tonight I want to dwell on the glimmer of hope, the tiny flame in my heart that refuses to be extinguished. Maybe, just maybe with Hawke by my side we can find a way to break the curse and build a future together.
I turn in the soft blankets and pull them up to my chin. I can still smell Hawke’s scent on the blanket wrapped around me like his arms had been only minutes ago.
Sleep claims me swiftly, pulling me under into a peaceful and dreamless darkness.
The creak of the door rouses me from my slumber. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the windows. A figure moves in my peripheral vision, and I sit up, expecting to see one of the friendly maids from the previous night.
Instead, I'm greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar woman, her features sharp and her eyes cold. She regards me with thinly veiled contempt, her lips curling into a sneer.
"Well, well. The prince's little Olympian whore, awake at last. Hawke thought he could hide you as one of Ares' little trollops." Her voice drips with venom, each word a barb designed to wound.
I bolt upright, my heart pounding in my chest. A wave of panic crashes over me. The room spins as I struggle to comprehend the hateful words spewing from the stranger's mouth. "Who... who are you?" I stammer, fear making my voice tremble. "Where are the other maids? What's going on?"
I frantically scan the room, desperate for any sign of Elen or Lydia, but find only the malicious gaze of the woman before me. My hands clutch at the bedsheets, trying to anchor myself against the rising tide of terror.
She laughs, a harsh, grating sound that sets my teeth on edge. "They're not here. It's just you and me, darling." She takes a step closer, her gaze raking over me like a predator sizing up its prey. "His ploy would’ve worked too, if we hadn’t witnessed Hawke visit you and stay most of the night."
My heart hammers in my chest. This woman is no ordinary maid. She's here with a purpose, and that purpose is to kill me.
"Darkwood sends his regards." She reaches beneath her skirt and pulls out a wicked-looking dagger. The blade glints in the sunlight, its edges razor-sharp.
Fear and adrenaline surge through my veins, and I back away from her, toward the wall. "Please, you don't have to do this."
Help me hold it back. Please. I whisper the prayer inside my mind while my magick billows inside me. Siva is straining to do as I ask. She knows I’m terrified of hurting everyone in this tower much more than I am of being hurt myself.
The stranger stalks towards me, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, but I do. Darkwood's daughter will be queen, and you? You're nothing but a threat to be removed." She lunges forward, dagger raised, and the world slows to a crawl. Each heartbeat thunders in my ears, stretched out into an eternity.
In that frozen moment, something inside me fractures. The magick is freed and roars to life. The surge of power that courses through my veins is electric and alive. It responds to my desperate need to survive, and with it, Siva emerges too.
The dragon guardian detaches from my skin, a shimmering veil of green light that swirls around me in slow motion. Through the haze of fear and adrenaline, I watch as she guides the explosion of my magick, focusing it into a controlled strike that inches toward the assassin.
The world snaps back into focus as my magick slams into the woman, sending her flying backward in a not-so-graceful arc to the stone wall. Time catches up with itself, and everything in the room follows suit, crashing against the wall with a deafening roar. The dagger clatters to the floor, the sound sharp and metallic. Bits of pottery and shards of mirror rain down, tinkling like wind chimes. The assassin's body slumps to the ground, her eyes wide but vacant.
I kneel there in the center of the bed, trembling, staring at my hands in disbelief. The magick was aimed, at least a little. Because of Siva. But I killed someone–again. Who else did I hurt? What damage did I do?
“I should’ve held back. I shouldn’t have let it out.”
You would have died. Fighting to survive is honorable, Domina. The ethereal green dragon leaps back toward me and I absorb her light until she’s back to being just a tattoo swimming around my wrist.
No. Not if it cost innocent lives.
The door bursts open, and Kellan rushes in, his eyes wild. He takes in the scene before him – the lifeless woman, the dagger on the floor, broken furniture everywhere, and me, still in the center of the bed.
" Domina !" He crosses the room in two strides. His hands grip my shoulders gently, searching my face for any sign of injury.
I nod, my voice shaky. "I'm okay. She... she tried to kill me. Darkwood sent her." I look up at Kellan, tears pouring down my cheeks. "Did I hurt anyone else? Are you okay? I tried not to let it out."
"Everyone is fine, Domina . You did well defending yourself." He glances at the lifeless body and his jaw tightens. "This never should have happened. I should have been more vigilant."
Regret clouds his features briefly before determination takes over. “I'm proud of you and Siva. You both did well." He releases me and moves to scoop up the assassin's body. "Stay here, I'll take care of this."
As Kellan carries the assassin's body out of the room, I sink back into the rumpled bedding, breathing in the last faint traces of Hawke's scent that cling to the sheets. The adrenaline that had flooded my veins during the attack quickly dissipates, leaving me drained and trembling. A bone-deep weariness seeps into the core of my soul.
I curl into myself, hugging my knees to my chest. I killed someone else. My magick took another life. Who knows how far the blast reached and who else suffered because of my lack of control. Hot tears spill from my eyes. I bury my face against the pillow, desperately inhaling Hawke's lingering woodsy scent.
"Hawke," I whisper brokenly into the empty room. "I need you here with me."
Sobs wrack my body. Terror, relief, and loneliness intermingle into an churning wave of overwhelm. I miss my mother. My father. My family. I want to believe I belong here, but I’m hurting people here too.
I'm startled by the sound of footsteps approaching and look up to see Elen and Lydia entering, their arms laden with bundles of clothing. I quickly swipe at the tears streaking my cheeks, though I know it's futile to hide my blotchy mess of a face.
They walk carefully over the mess of broken furniture and decor like it isn’t there. Although Elen does give the sideways large copper tub a quick side-eye like she’s making sure it isn’t going to move again.
“ Domina .” Elen settles next to me on the mattress. Her gentle hand comes to rest on my back, rubbing soothing circles. I lean into the connection even as the tears continue to slowly flow.
“I killed her. How many people did I hurt when I lost control?”
“None, but the one who deserved it. No one else is hurt, I promise.”
“Let’s get you dressed. There are four very anxious knights downstairs who are demanding to be let up to see you on Prince Stormblood’s orders. Master Kellan finally gave them pause when he told them you needed to dress.”
Elen's words barely register as a hollow ache settles into my chest. Hawke didn't come.
But if he sent the others… Did he know I needed him? Is it a coincidence?
"How did they even know to come?" I manage to choke out into the pillowcase. "I assumed Kellan taking care of her body.”
“Oh, he is,” Lydia chirps from across the room.
I look up from the bed, past Elen’s lap, and into Lydia’s kind eyes and nod shakily at her reassuring words, trying to let them sink in. The knights don't know what happened… we're keeping this contained for now. A small flicker of relief stirs.
But it's quickly extinguished by a new wave of anxiety. If one assassin infiltrated my private quarters this easily, could there be more? Sleeper agents lying in wait on Darkwood's orders?
My eyes dart around the room, suddenly seeing every shadow as a potential threat. The broken furniture takes on a more ominous appearance in my frazzled state. I flinch at every small noise, my grip tightening on the sheets until my knuckles crack under the pressure.
"Are you sure it's secure? That no one else got in?" I ask in a small voice, hating how frantic I sound but unable to control the rising panic. My magick ruffles, but Siva helps me and I push it back down without too much trouble. We make a good team.
Elen places a calming hand on my arm and looks me square in the eyes. "Breathe, Domina . You're safe now. Kellan has the entire tower on lockdown. No one else is getting in or out without his explicit orders and permission."
I focus on taking slow, deep breaths...in and out...willing my racing heart to steady. Elen's right, I need to get a grip. If there were any other visible threats, Kellan would’ve found them by now.
I begin to uncurl from my tight ball, the bedding falling away. My eyes catch on the piles of fresh clothing and I'm struck by the sudden need to rid myself of anything associated with this traumatic event.
"Help me get dressed, please," I murmur. I'm regaining my equilibrium moment by moment. And embracing the strange new experience of letting others care for me. Dress me. Protect me.
I’m not alone. I don’t have to do this alone.
They lead me to a clear space a few feet from the bed and begin to unwrap the bundles. The first piece they reveal is a flowing chiton, its fabric a rich shade of white with gold embroidery along the edges.
Lydia carefully takes the towel and blanket I slept in, leaving me feeling vulnerable for a moment. But she helps me into the chiton quickly before I have too much time to dwell on the lingering unease from the attack or about being naked and exposed. I shiver at the touch of the whisper-soft material sliding over my skin–though whether it’s from the delicate caress of the fabric or an aftershock of the trauma, I can't say.
They cinch the chiton at my waist with a golden belt, the rich material draping elegantly over my body. I run my hands along the flowing lines, feeling the simple power and comfort of the style. It's like wearing liquid grace.
Next, they bring out a pair of sandals, the leather straps intricately braided. Lydia kneels to lace them up my calves with deft motions. The new ritual of being dressed and adorned helps soothe the jagged edges of fear and self-doubt that have taken root.
Elen produces a box of jewelry. She selects a delicate gold necklace with a pendant shaped like a laurel wreath. She fastens it around my neck. Matching bracelets and earrings follow, the weight of the jewelry makes me feel regal... empowered…
I’m not sure I deserve to feel that way, but I like it.
Lydia scurries across the room and returns with a stool that survived the onslaught of my magic. "Please sit, I need to braid your hair." I comply and she begins to work, her fingers deft as she brushes and braids my hair up, down, small braids woven into larger ones. The repetitive motions are grounding, allowing me to simply be present rather than trapped in the turmoil of my mind. A serenity settles over me that I didn't expect after such chaos.
"You look beautiful, Domina .” Lydia pins up the last braid.
I stand, feeling like an ancient queen. The clothing, the jewelry, the hairstyle—it’s all so different from what I’m used to, but there’s a certain power in it, too. I feel a renewed sense of inner strength and composure rising from the ashes. I am more than what tried to destroy me.
I straighten my shoulders and stand taller. "Thank you," I reply, my voice steady again. "Both of you."
They bow quickly then gesture toward the open door. "Master Kellan will be waiting with the knights."
"Well then, we should head that way, I guess."
Lydia and Elen both nod and give me small, encouraging smiles. They clear a path through the rubble for me, and follow respectfully behind as I make my way to the spiral staircase.
With each step downward, the weight of what I did re-settles onto my shoulders like a heavy cloak. What will they think of me? What will Hawke think when he hears I killed someone?
Kellan is standing sentry at the base of the stairs when I arrive. He gives a subtle nod of approval as his gaze roams over my regally adorned form. "You look lovely, Domina ."
"Not like someone who fought off an assassin?" I whisper up at him, my voice tinged with fragile bravado masking the guilt that still gnaws at me for taking a life yet again.
His mouth flattens into a grim line and a low, rumbling growl emerges from his chest—my words clearly striking a displeased chord.
Uh oh.
"She fought off a what?" Ares demands, suddenly looming closer with the other knights in tow. Alarm and confusion are at war on his chiseled features.
"I'm quite sure the woman said assassin.” Anger drips from Fen’s every syllable.
I turn my gaze back to Kellan, my shoulders crumpling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell them. I wasn’t thinking, I–"
" Domina , no." He grasps my shoulders firmly, holding my attention. "You did nothing but speak the truth. Nothing wrong."
“Except you hadn’t told them what happened. You didn’t want me to and I just blurted it out anyway.”
He presses a fatherly kiss to the top of my head. “I was waiting until we got you back to Prince Stormblood. All is well, Domina .”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wraith, the big man with onyx black skin and scary red eyes steps closer. “Hawke will be furious. Who tried to hurt her?”
“Calm yourself, Wraith, you’re scaring the poor woman.” Fen slaps at Wraith’s arm. “Fix your eyes at least so you don’t look like a damned devil.”
The only one that doesn’t speak is a very handsome tall blonde man leaning against the wall furthest from Kellan and I. He’s dressed in leathers and a long green cloak. His ears are pointed and he reminds me of Legolas from the Lord of the Rings. His gaze flicks from man to man to man, back to me, and then over to Kellan. His arms are crossed over his massive chest and he just stares.
“The broody one on the wall, Lady Melinda, is Boaz,” Ares says, approaching with a smile. He reaches out for my hand and I give it to him. He bows and kisses the top of my hand, looks up at me, and winks. “Starting your day slaughtering assassins. I like it. Nothing like a good fight to get the blood pumping.”
"I–she–" The words stick in my throat. I see flashes of the assassin's angry face. The surge of power ripping through me to save my life. The horrible sight of her dead... It all comes crashing back in vivid detail.
I look up at Kellan, not knowing whether I should share or not.
Kellan's expression softens with understanding. "It is alright, Domina ," he rumbles in that deep, calming timbre of his. "Tell them what you told me. It will not be hidden now."
I swallow in a fortifying breath and turn back to face the knights, straightening my shoulders. Ares meets my gaze steadily, his dark eyes reflecting a swirl of anger, confusion, and concern.
"She said Darkwood sent her," I manage in a voice made raspy by the knot of fear still lodged in my throat. "That they knew I wasn't really your... whore." The demeaning word tastes like ash on my tongue. "They saw Hawke come to my rooms yesterday."
A collective “ Fuck,” whispers through the small entry.
The weight of the situation–the violation, the hateful accusation behind the assassin's boasts–presses in from all sides, nearly suffocating me.
"The body of the assassin," Ares demands finally, looking up at towering Kellan with vengeful intensity. "Where is it?"
Kellan's jaw tightens, a rumbling growl comes from deep within him like an apex predator guarding its den. "No proof. And when my people are done with Domina's rooms, no one will be able to tell anything ever happened."
“Everyone in the tower will keep this a secret. For me? Why?”
“Even if we chose not to hide it. You’re under my protection. Any attempt to harm you is the equivalent of attacking me personally. Attacking the King and Queen of Drakone. This qualifies as an act of war. If we announce it, we will have to declare war on the Fae. My people do not want that.”
War. No. That sounds much worse than merely keeping a secret about a failed attack.
Ares' expression darkens further. "We'd have to have all the crowns on our side to bring charges against a High Councilman, anyway. And we'd never get them all to agree."
Kellan gives a grim nod. "My king said as much."
A tremor runs through me at their resigned words. They make it sound so hopeless... like there's nothing that can be done. Panic flutters in my chest, constricting my throat.
"Aren't you worried they'll try again?" I blurt out, hating how my voice pitches higher along with my growing anxiety. "And what if I hurt people next time? I was lucky this time. Siva helped me... but it was luck. My magick?—”
“They will absolutely try again.” The man Ares had called Boaz speaks. He shoves off the wall and walks toward me, staring so intently I begin to wonder if there’s something wrong with my dress. Or something on my face.
Kellan snarls at the man, hackles raised. "They will not succeed. I'll not leave her side again. I'll sleep at the foot of her bed."
Boaz gives a curt nod, unfazed. "But they will try again. And it would be prudent to plan according to that knowledge." His eyes bore into me with grim appraisal. "More than just sleeping at her feet, Kellan. There are any number of ways to kill a person. A blade is only one."
His ominous insinuation sends a chill spiraling through me. Images of other possible scenarios flash through my mind. Poison. Strangled. Burned… I suck in a sharp breath, nausea roiling in my gut.
Boaz bends at the waist, hands on his thighs and breathes deeply. “By Fate, what is she doing? I feel like Hades himself just walked past me.”
I pant, sucking in shallow panicked breaths.
The other knights are feeling it as well. I’m making them sick.
Deep breaths, Domina. Push the magick back deep into your well. You can do this.
Grounding myself, I follow her instructions and force bigger gulps of air into my lungs and try to corral the chaotic magic seeping from every pore. Slowly it calms and pulls back, setting deep down inside me.
Kellan's large hand settles on my shoulder, steadying me further. "Breathe, Domina ." His rumbling voice holds a tinge of concern.
"I'm good," I manage. "I just... this is a lot." My gaze darts between the grim knights surrounding me. Cold tendrils of dread coil even tighter around my heart. How will I ever be able to control this? "Can we go to Hawke? I really would feel better if I saw him. I need to see him."
“Yes, of course.”