22. As Long As Melinda Is Agreeable
CHAPTER 22
As Long As Melinda Is Agreeable
Hawke Stormblood
I pace back and forth in the cramped guard room outside the Hall of Grievances. The walls press in, shrinking the already tight space. My mind whirls, cycling through the endless details of the Changing of the Guard ceremony. The Upir head of the guard, a tall, imposing figure with piercing bright gold eyes, stands across from me, his expression stoic as I finalize the shift assignments.
"I need your best men stationed at the main entrances to Camelot," I say, my voice firm and authoritative. "We can't afford any security breaches, especially with the recent disturbances near Vandimoor."
The Upir nods, his dark hair slicked back and shining in the flickering torchlight. "I've heard the reports, Your Highness. A wolf-like beast harassing the hunters. Has there been any progress in identifying the creature?"
I shake my head, frustration coiling in my gut. "Not yet, but I have my best trackers on it. We'll find and eliminate the threat. It’s more of an annoyance, but I don’t want innocents hurt."
While we continue to debate potential security measures, an invisible cord yanks at me, urging me elsewhere. It's accompanied by a warmth that spreads rapidly through my veins, setting my blood afire.
Melinda. She's near. The realization makes my heart begin to race, palms growing uncomfortably damp. I try to focus on Aldrich's words, but her magnetic presence is like a siren's irresistible call, urging me to abandon all else and simply run to her.
The chamber door bursts open with a resonant bang. Wraith strides in, eyes blazing red with an intensity that makes me instantly worried. The other knights follow close behind, their expressions equally grim.
My gaze instantly locks onto Melinda—a homing beacon for my soul. Relief at seeing her alive and seemingly unharmed floods me… until I take in her pallid complexion and the haunted, wide-eyed look marring her beautiful features. Kellan looms protectively at her side, utterly motionless yet coiled like a viper prepared to strike.
With a curt nod of dismissal from Wraith, Aldrich exits, leaving us in tense silence broken only by the thud of the door closing behind him. The heavy atmosphere crackles with unspent energy, as if the air itself holds a static charge of roiling emotion and unvoiced implications.
"What's going on?" My words emerge rougher than intended, twisted by the knot of dread and worry clenched in my gut. "Melinda… are you alright?"
"I k-killed a woman," Melinda chokes out. Her pain stabs straight through my heart like a barbed blade. Tears glisten in her soulful eyes. "In my chambers… this morning."
I pull her against my chest, desperately wanting to alleviate some of the pain I hear screaming between every word and every shuddering breath.
“What happened?” I direct my question to Kellan.
"Darkwood sent an assassin to kill her," Kellan's deep voice rumbles out, resonant with a simmering rage that matches my own.
Rage surges through me, a searing heat that threatens to consume everything in its path. My heart pounds furiously. "How did this happen? I thought you were supposed to be protecting her!"
Kellan meets my gaze unflinchingly, his green eyes flickering with anger. "She came in as a Drakonii servant, bearing false tattoos and speaking our language. The guard had no reason to suspect her. But Melinda, guided by Siva's power, defended herself bravely."
Pride and fear war within me. My brave, beautiful mate, facing down an assassin with her incredible power. But the thought of how close I came to losing her makes my blood run cold. Then my brain catches up with the Drakonii’s last comment. “Siva? Who’s Siva?”
Melinda steps back from my hold and raises her arm, the green somatophylakes bond mark on her wrist rippling, slithering around her delicate skin like a live serpent. "My own guardian."
"It's... moving." I blink rapidly, not believing what I’m seeing. “I didn’t know they could move.”
"She's alive," Kellan rumbles, his towering frame tense beside my mate.
"She? Alive?" My stomach clenches, confusion wars with jealousy creating a churning concoction. What in Hades' name has he done to my Melinda? Everyone knows the Drakonii tattoos are guardians, but information about the details of the magick is very guarded.
"We need to focus. Darkwood sent the assassin." Ares steps closer, sword hand twitching to grasp his blade's hilt and start a fight. "They know Melinda isn't just another of my conquests. Someone saw you visit her last night, Hawke."
A guttural curse tears from my chest, ripping through clenched teeth as the cold embrace of guilt encircles my heart. "This is my fault."
"No!" Melinda's petite form vibrates with determination. She jabs a finger into my sternum, the fire in her gaze searing away the chill of self-recrimination. "This is Darkwood's fault. He's the one willing to kill me so you'll marry his daughter. He's the only one to blame."
I pull her back into my arms, burying my face in her hair and breathing in her sweet scent. I need to reassure myself she’s safe. Unharmed. "I’m still sorry, Melinda. I should’ve done something. Been more careful."
She shakes her head fiercely, stubborn denial muffled against the fabric of my tunic. "Not your fault."
Kellan clears his throat, drawing my attention from my mate. "We believe the best course of action is to act as if nothing happened. Drawing attention to the attack now could put Melinda in even greater danger."
I want to argue, to unleash the feral rage burning in my veins and storm directly into the Hall of Grievances, demanding brutal justice for the attempt on my mate's life. Every instinct screams at me to hunt down Julius Darkwood himself and rip that vile snake to shreds with my bare hands.
But I know Kellan is right. We cannot act rashly now. As much as it is painful, we must play this carefully, biding our time until we can strike without putting Melinda in even greater danger. I can't give that manipulative bastard Darkwood any more leverage over me and my actions than he already wields.
"Fine," I grit out, jaw clenched so tightly my teeth ache from the pressure. “But Melinda doesn’t leave my side.” I half expect Kellan to argue, to insist that she’s not safe with me.
But Kellan just nods. “I will stay beside her as well, Prince Stormblood.”
I blink, surprise allowing some of the tension to bleed from my frame as Kellan simply… agrees with me. No posturing, no conflicts of interest, just a mutual objective—protecting Melinda at all costs. I let out a slow breath and instinctively pull her closer against my side.
"We'll return to our people and prepare for the ceremony tonight," Fen says, his voice low and steady. "But we'll stay connected through the Drakonii servants Kellan has following the two Fae members of the High Council."
Wraith steps forward, the torchlight glinting off his silver armor like quicksilver. "I'll finish the handover with the Upir guards, Hawke. You focus on Melinda and keep her out of sight. We've got your back on this."
A mirthless smile tugs at my lips as I glance around at my knights–my brothers in all but blood. "Thank you and we will make that bastard Darkwood regret ever threatening what's mine," I rumble, the promise of merciless retaliation clear in my tone.
The four of them growl their agreement, the unified resonance raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck. They all turn and leave, their purposeful strides fading as they exit the chamber and refocus on their respective duties. Leaving only Kellan and I with Melinda.
I focus my attention fully to Melinda. I cup her cheek, needing to feel the warm reality of her supple skin under my palm.
Melinda exhales a soft, shuddering breath at the contact, instinctively leaning into my touch. The naked vulnerability in that simple motion is like a blade carved straight into my soul. But it's her eyes that grip me most viscerally–luminous pools of molten bronze. My heart clenches painfully at the glimpse of anguish she cannot entirely mask.
I’m proud of her for defending herself. She’s stronger than she realizes, but I hate that she had to fight. That I wasn’t there to keep her safe.
Kellan clears his throat, drawing my attention. "Perhaps the kitchens would provide a measure of comfort?" He suggests carefully. "You could both get some food, and we can discuss next steps from there before rejoining the others. Do you know a quiet way from this side of the castle?"
I give a tight nod. "Yes, there's a private servant's corridor that should get us there mostly unseen." I reluctantly remove my hand from cradling Melinda's face, letting my fingers trail down her soft cheek before taking her hand instead. "Breakfast and then you can tell me more about that guardian on your wrist?"
She doesn't respond right away, and for a moment dread seizes my heart. What if she doesn’t want me with her? But she quickly shifts closer until her body presses flush against my side, as if seeking shelter in my solid frame.
"Food does sound good," she finally murmurs.
Relief courses through my veins at her reply and her proximity. She's still present, still tethered to me, to this moment. Squeezing her hand, I try to infuse the simple point of contact with every ounce of grounding solidarity I can offer.
"Excellent. Follow me."
I guide her through the secluded corridors with a firm hand at the small of her back, allowing the familiar weight and warmth of Melinda’s petite frame tucked against me to be a balm against the lingering darkness and anger swirling below the surface of my calm exterior.
Kellan's towering bulk follows a few deferential paces behind, giving us space yet providing an extra layer of security.
The hush of the passages is only broken by the faint echo of our footsteps and the occasional murmur of distant voices until I turn into the narrow servants' hallway between the great hall and kitchens...
...and come face-to-face with Destrien.
"Brother." My gut clenches at the unexpected confrontation. I instinctively pull Melinda closer. I shouldn’t need to protect her from my brother. He doesn’t mean her any harm. But I’m not thinking rationally right now.
Destrien's expression is unreadable for a sliver of a heartbeat before his eyes widen in surprise. "Hawke. Y–you have Melinda. I thought you were finalizing the changeover with the Upir guard. What are you doing?"
"Melinda was–" I start to explain, but the words are drowned out by a warning growl from Kellan. A muscle ticks in my jaw. While I understand the Drakonii warrior's protective instincts when it comes to Melinda's wellbeing, the bristling undercurrent of territorial challenge in his tone stirs a flicker of anger.
I am still Prince of the Fae, about to be crowned King. His flagrant disregard for propriety when addressing me, grates like shards of glass in my throat.
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet the Drakonii warrior’s stern glare, the air around him shimmering and distorting with the ethereal manifestation of his loosely leashed magick. "This is my brother, Kellan," I bite out, the emphasis on the familial title both acknowledgment and subtle rebuke.
The Drakonii’s eyes are bright with green flaming energy. He just stares. A wordless challenge.
"What's happened, Hawke?" Destrien's voice slices through the weighted tension, grating against my already frayed restraint.
With a deliberate inhalation, I forcibly relax my instinctively confrontational stance, leaving Kellan's silent provocation unengaged for now. Turning to face my younger brother once more, I'm struck by the thinly-veiled glint of panic in his eyes.
"Darkwood sent someone to kill Melinda this morning," I state flatly, keeping my tone purposefully void of emotion. "I need to keep her out of sight for now. Away from the High Council."
A subtle narrowing of his eyes is the only reaction that betrays my brother's attempt to school his expression. "Do you have proof?" He acts clueless to the severity of the situation.
I shake my head shortly, reining in the swell of acrid resentment sitting bitter on my tongue. "No," I bite out, struggling to remain impassive. "I just need time to work out this mess about the engagement he thinks should be in play between his daughter and I."
Melinda stiffens almost imperceptibly at my side at the mention of an engagement. I glance down to see her staring at Destrien with luminous eyes gone suddenly wide and haunted.
"Father is planning to announce your engagement tonight, Hawke." Destrien's words are casual. Too casual. But they detonate like a thunderclap in the tense space between us.
"What?" I snap my head back up, horror and rage rendering me speechless for a heartbeat. How could my father do this to me? "How do you know that? I asked him not to. I told him I wouldn't marry Vencia."
Destrien shrugs, a picture of nonchalant disregard. "I saw his speech for tonight on his desk."
Had I not been holding Melinda against my body, I wouldn’t have felt the small tremor of fear ripple through her. But I can’t stop the surge of rage from erupting. My brother’s lack of concern. He didn’t care that Melinda had been attacked. Only wanted to know if I had proof. I never for once would have suspected that my brother wasn’t on my side. But now…
I release Melinda, shoving her behind me and lunge at my brother. "He wouldn't do that to me!" The growl rips free as I grab Destrien by the collar and slam him against the unforgiving stone wall. His head cracks against the surface, but his eyes remain angrily locked with mine.
Destrien's fangs descend. He hisses back in my face. "Let me go. This isn't you talking, brother–it's the darkness clouding your mind." He shoves both hands against my chest, but I don't release my grip. "You're not thinking clearly about the consequences here. Father intends to use this engagement to solidify our family’s influence with the High Council. You need to know what’s coming. You need to be prepared."
A part of me rages that this isn't some feral impulse, but the rest cannot be so sure anymore. My father can't marry me off to Vencia... not when my mate is right here. I have Melinda.
Melinda. Where’s Melinda?
I whirl away from Destrien, my hands coming up empty. I scan the corridor wildly. "Melinda?" I growl out the summons, baring my fangs at the formidable form of Kellan looming in the shadows a few yards away. Her presence whispers at the edges of my senses, but I cannot pinpoint the source. She’s close. I can feel her. My vision tunnels as that terribly familiar darkness begins encroaching. "Where is she? Give her back!"
Kellan doesn't flinch, regarding me with a maddeningly cold, steady gaze. One bushy brow arches slightly. "Is this truly what you wish for, Princeling? To allow your baser instincts freedom to scare your mate?"
The words explode inside my skull like shrapnel, each jagged syllable shredding through the haze of primal fury gripping me. Melinda...my mate. My everything. Panic ratchets its way up my throat. Visions of Melinda's horrified face, of her recoiling from the monster I've allowed to surface, assault my imagination.
I suck in a ragged breath that burns like I’ve inhaled shards of ice instead of air. I wrestle to leash the wildness still snarling at the edges of my psyche. But the ache, the desperate yearning to simply see her, touch her, reassure myself of her immediate safety… it's an inexorable force pulling me under again.
"Give. Her. Back." The words are slowed but no less fraught with menace than before. My jaw clenches until molars grind against the strain. I fight to hold the darkness and my magick at bay through sheer force of will. "She's mine."
"Settle yourself first." Kellan's unshakable composure only inflames my desperation further.
Melinda's slender hand appears from behind the Drakonii's formidable bulk, her fingers wrapping around his forearm in a casual grip that ignites like a flame in my addled mind.
She's touching him. A guttural snarl rips its way free as my control ruptures, rational thought consumed by the primal urgency to reclaim what is mine. To keep her safe, sheltered from any who might try to part us ever again
I roll my shoulders against the tremors of warring impulses, jaw muscles flexing as I fight to retain some semblance of rationality. Melinda needs my steady presence now more than anything, not the rampaging feral beast slavering at the mere implication of her being taken from my side.
Control...I must regain control over myself before I spiral any deeper into this darkness raging to swallow me whole.
"Kellan. Move," Melinda speaks up from behind the Drakonii knight, her soft tone commanding and sure.
"No, Domina ." Kellan doesn't budge an inch, that anvil-steady glare boring into me with censure. "He's not safe."
It's like a dash of icy water hitting me square in the face. Not safe...for her? Am I truly so lost to the nightmare shadows lurking within that I would bring Melinda to harm? Horror wars with shame, twisting my gut into agonized knots. I wouldn’t hurt her. I know I wouldn’t.
Melinda moves, deliberately ignoring Kellan, into my line of sight. Her serene face is an instant balm to my overwhelmed senses. Her luminous golden-brown eyes search my own without a shred of fear or revulsion.
"Hawke, I'm here," she murmurs, her voice quivering ever so subtly. Yet her unwavering gaze holds me transfixed as if she is the unshakable eye in this storm of violent impulses.
My focus narrows to that singular point of light, my touchstone against the swirling madness. Distantly, I'm aware of Destrien speaking, but his words hold no meaning against Melinda's ethereal gravity slowly reeling me back from the brink.
Step by step, she approaches with her small hand outstretched, delicate fingers carefully unfurling like a bloom seeking the sun's warmth. Please. Touch me.
In seconds those same elegant fingers are brushing against my chest, her touch searing through layers of clothing and muscle to singe against my very essence.
The breath I've been holding expels in a violent rush as every unraveled thread woven into my psyche snaps taut once more. The savagery retreats. I capture her delicate frame against me, cradling her close for fear that she might evaporate if I don't keep holding on.
I bury my face against the satin strands of her hair, each inhalation flooding my senses with her vibrant citrus essence and steadying my fracturing composure further. "I won't lose you," I rasp out in a voice made rough by the exquisite combination of want, relief, and the shame of my failure to protect her. "I promise..."
"I know," she soothes, her small hands tracing patterns against my back that leave tingling trails of balm in their wake. "It's okay. I'm okay."
"You're mine," I repeat the declaration more for my benefit than hers. I move my hands from her back to her face, cupping her cheeks. “Mine.”
Melinda doesn't flinch from the weight of the pronouncement, of the desperate need driving it. Instead, her plush lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile. She gives a slight nod. "Yes." She presses a scorching kiss against my palm. "Mine."
That word hits me with the force of a stomping hoof to the chest. With that singular acknowledgment, the last dregs of darkness recede into the shadows of my soul and I am fully myself and in control once more… for now.
I pull Melinda tighter to my chest. Her warmth. The softness of her body molds against mine perfectly. Her scent fills my lungs, and I take several slow deep breaths.
Destrien clears his throat, drawing my attention away from Melinda. His expression now is a mix of concern and understanding, completely contradicting what I saw before. "I'll leave you to it, brother. But please, be careful."
I nod, gratitude welling up in my chest. I misread him. The darkness made me suspicious of my own brother. "Thank you for the warning, Destrien. I know I can always count on you."
With a final, reassuring smile, Destrien excuses himself, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he disappears from view. I catch Kellan’s gaze briefly and he nods, stepping back a few paces to give me more privacy with Melinda.
I look back down at Melinda, my heart still galloping in my chest. A wave of uncertainty washes over me. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that." I brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "The darkness–my feral nature–it's been there for so long, lurking beneath the surface, getting stronger every year. I never wanted you to witness that part of me, to see the monster I can become."
She leans into my touch, her eyes shining with a mixture of love and determination. "I'm not afraid of your darkness, because I know it's not all that you are. Even in the dark, I'll find you. I'll always find the light in you, no matter how deeply it's buried."
"We'll find each other," I promise, pulling her close and resting my forehead against hers. "No matter the darkness, we'll always find our way back to the light together."
Lost in the moment, I barely notice the sound of approaching footsteps until two maid servants turn the corner and freeze in place, their eyes widening at the sight of us. "So sorry to intrude, Prince Stormblood," they say in unison, quickly dropping into a low curtsy and keeping their gazes fixed on the floor.
I reluctantly step back from Melinda, composing myself before addressing the servants. "Not at all. We were just headed to the kitchens."
"Yes, your highness," both women reply, looking up at me with slightly pale cheeks, clearly uncomfortable at having stumbled upon such an intimate moment. But this is how it will be. I’m not letting Melinda out of my sight. Everyone and anyone that sees us will know she belongs to me. And that will unfortunately keep a target on her back. But she’s my choice. She’s also the only choice I have to survive what’s happening to me.
Pushing aside my concerns, I take Melinda's hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze, offering her a reassuring smile. "Come, my sweet girl, let's find you something to eat."
Kellan follows close behind us as I lead us through the passage, between a couple of out-buildings and toward a large square building with multiple chimneys. I glance back at him a few times. He’s tense and alert, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. The encounter with my brother and the maids has put him on edge.
As we step into the kitchens, the bustling atmosphere envelops us. The heat from the ovens washes over my skin, and the clatter of pots and pans fills the air. Despite the lively environment, Kellan remains vigilant, positioning himself near the entrance and keeping a watchful eye on the kitchen staff.
Melinda's eyes widen with delight, momentarily distracted from the tension. Her stomach growls audibly, and a pretty blush colors her cheeks. "Sorry," she presses a hand to her stomach. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now."
"There’s plenty. The kitchens are cooking up a feast for tonight."
We navigate the bustling kitchen, the staff bowing and curtseying as we pass. I snag a couple of freshly baked honey cakes, their golden crusts glistening with a sugary glaze, and offer one to Melinda.
She accepts it with a delighted smile, taking a bite and letting out a soft moan of pleasure. "There’s nothing quite like fresh pastry."
I take a bite of mine and agree with a groan of approval. "There should be some meat pies somewhere. Let's get you something more substantial too." I lead her away from the baker and across to a different area of the kitchens toward the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat and flaky pastry dough.
As we navigate through the busy kitchen, we come across a small, secluded alcove tucked away from the main activity. A rough-hewn wooden table sits at the center, accompanied by a set of sturdy chairs. Flickering candles rest on the table, their warm glow casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The distant chatter of the kitchen staff and the clatter of pots and pans create a lively backdrop to our impromptu dining area.
"Prince Stormblood, why don't you take Domina over and sit? I'll get us a variety of dishes and a flask of wine," Kellan suggests, gesturing toward the inviting table.
I bristle at Kellan's use of the term "us," implying that he will be joining Melinda and me for the meal. While I appreciate his dedication to protecting Melinda, I had hoped for more private time with her. The thought of Kellan intruding on our opportunity for intimate conversation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Perfect. Thank you," Melinda says, before I can verbally object to being told what to do by her bodyguard.
The corners of Kellan's mouth turn up into a brief smirk before he turns away and strides over to the cook, who is surrounded by an array of foods. I clench my jaw, frustration simmering beneath the surface at Kellan's show of dominant behavior.
I guide Melinda to the table, pulling out a chair for her before taking my own seat beside her. The rough texture of the wooden chair beneath my fingers and the comforting warmth emanating from the candles create a cozy atmosphere.
Kellan returns to the table moments later, carrying a large tray laden with a tantalizing assortment. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingles with the savory scent of roasted meats and the sweet fragrance of ripe fruits, are making my mouth water.
As he sets the tray down on the table, the feast before us is revealed in all its glory. A loaf of crusty bread, its golden crust glistening with a generous brush of butter, sits alongside a platter of thinly sliced cured meats, each morsel a deep, rich hue. A wedge of creamy, pale cheese rests next to a bowl of plump, juicy grapes and slices of crisp, tart apples, their colors vibrant against the wooden tabletop.
Melinda's eyes widen at the sight of the food, a mixture of awe and longing etched across her face. "I’ve never seen food like this…" she trails off, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "We didn’t have a lot growing up. Not that I was starving, but this is so much…" She quickly shakes her head, as if to dispel the memories, and offers me a small, grateful smile that tugs at my heart.
I make a silent vow right there to make sure that she will never want for anything. That she will have the best foods. The best clothes. Every comfort I can provide for her. I will.
In the center of the tray, a steaming bowl of hearty stew beckons, its rich broth filled with tender chunks of meat, colorful root vegetables, and fragrant herbs. Beside it, a plate of flaky, golden-brown pastries oozes with the sweet, sticky filling of honeyed figs and toasted nuts, their aroma mingling with the savory scents of the other dishes.
Kellan places three plain horn cups on the table, their smooth surfaces catching the flickering candlelight. With a deft hand, he uncorks a flask of deep, ruby-red wine and pours a generous amount into each cup. The wine's rich, fruity aroma wafts through the air, promising a perfect complement to the delectable spread before us.
As Kellan takes his seat across from Melinda and me, he gestures to the feast with a satisfied smile. "Your kitchen staff has outdone themselves."
"They really have," she breathes, her voice filled with appreciation.
I nod in agreement, my own stomach rumbling in anticipation.
"I figure we've got a long day ahead of us, dodging council members," Kellan remarks, his tone turning serious. "Do you have a plan for how you're going to handle tonight if your father does publicly announce your engagement to Vencia Darkwood?"
"I plan to announce my engagement to Melinda before he can declare otherwise," I say calmly, tearing off a corner of the soft, fragrant bread. "As long as Melinda is agreeable?"