25. No Authority Needed
CHAPTER 25
No Authority Needed
Hawke Stormblood
I could've sworn I saw my brother, but when I look again he's not there. Instead, I see my parents standing beside Julius and Vencia Darkwood, their faces a mix of confusion and disapproval.
A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach, like a lead weight threatening to drag me under. It's a feeling I've grown all too accustomed to over the centuries, but the stakes have never been higher than they are now. Not with Melinda by my side. Her hand grasps mine tightly, her very presence both a comfort and a risk.
They saw us . I see the hatred simmering beneath Julius' feigned nonchalant expression, like a volcano on the brink of eruption, its molten fury barely contained by a thin veneer of civility.
Melinda goes tense, her grip tightening on mine. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that I'll protect her no matter what. But even as I try to project an air of calm confidence, my mind is racing, trying to anticipate the many ways this encounter could go wrong, each scenario more disastrous than the last.
They cross the space between us, the distance closing with each measured step until they're standing close enough that I can smell my mother's jasmine perfume, the scent usually so comforting now tinged with the bitter notes of disappointment. I love that scent, but right now, the look on her face breaks my heart, a jagged crack that spreads with each passing second. I wish I'd had more time to explain, to make them understand.
"Hawke, my son," my father calls out, his voice carrying a mix of surprise, but mostly disapproval. "We didn't expect to see you here, with–" He pauses, searching for the right words, but they elude him. He just witnessed me kissing a woman. In public. The scandal of it all hangs heavy in the air.
A low growl builds in my chest, a primal sound that I can't quite suppress. My feral nature strains against the leash of my self-control, the beast within me pacing and snarling, ready to break free.
But before I can respond, Julius chimes in, his tone deceptively mild, like a dagger concealed in a velvet sheath. "Yes, I must admit I find it curious that a woman of such... questionable background has managed to capture the attention of the crown prince of the Fae."
Questionable background. The insinuation behind his words is clear, a poison that seeps into my veins, igniting a fire that threatens to consume me. My anger rises, a red haze tints the edges of my vision, and the world narrows down to this moment, these people, this insult.
How dare he? How dare Darkwood stand there, a smug smile playing on his lips, when just hours ago, he sent an assassin to end Melinda's life? To kill my mate. The audacity, the sheer malevolence of it all, makes my blood boil.
The urge to lash out, to make him pay for his crimes, is almost overwhelming. My control is slipping, the beast within me howls for vengeance, for retribution. It would be so easy to let go, to give in to the primal fury coursing through my veins and tear Darkwood limb from limb.
Vencia is on her father's arm, her posture regal and poised, but her eyes are sharp and cruel as she glares at Melinda down her regal Roman nose. "I suppose it's a male thing, to pass whores around before a wedding, isn't it, father?" she says, each word a barbed arrow aimed straight at Melinda's reputation.
I grind my teeth, the muscles in my jaw twitching with the effort to hold back the torrent of fury that threatens to spill forth. I take a step forward, my muscles bunched and flexing, like a caged lion waiting for the moment to pounce. But Kellan moves faster, his massive frame stepping out to block Melinda from the condescending, hateful words.
"Careful," he rumbles, his voice like distant thunder, a warning and a promise all in one. "To insult my ward is to insult me."
Genuine shock registers on Darkwood’s face. He really hadn’t known Melinda was bonded to Kellan.
"Hawke, who is this woman?" My mother speaks this time, her voice strained and uncertain. "Is she not Ares', ah, um?—"
"No," I say, the word a harsh, guttural sound that tears from my throat like a wounded animal's cry.
There's a crowd gathering around us now. The puppet shows are abandoned and people watch with avid interest, their whispers and speculations filling the air like the buzzing of a thousand insects.
This isn't the right time. I can't do this here. Not right now. It has to be in front of everyone. Melinda won't be safe unless I announce my intentions at the ceremony, with all the pomp and circumstance that entails.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. I know I need to handle this delicately, to navigate the treacherous waters of politics and power while keeping Melinda safe. But the weight of the situation, the eyes of the crowd boring into us, makes it hard to think straight.
"Mother, Father," I begin, my voice steady despite the turmoil and panic writhing in my gut, a sickening dance that makes me want to double over and retch. "This is Melinda Mayweather. She is a guest of the crown and under my protection."
It's a half-truth, a deflection, but it's all I can offer at the moment, a flimsy shield against the onslaught of their scrutiny and judgment. They don’t trust me. They think they know better.
Melinda's grip on my hand tightens again, and I know she understands the precariousness of our position.
My father's brow furrows, his eyes darting between Melinda and me with a mixture of confusion and concern. "A guest of the crown? Hawke, what is the meaning of this?"
I open my mouth to respond, to offer some explanation that might satisfy their curiosity without revealing too much, but Julius Darkwood cuts me off, his voice dripping with disdain and regained confidence, a snake that has found its footing once more. "Forgive me, Your Majesties, but I find it hard to believe that a mere 'guest' would warrant such... intimate attention from the prince."
Vencia lets out a derisive snort, her eyes narrowing as she inspects Melinda, taking in every detail of her appearance with a critical eye like a predator sizing up her prey. "If it's just a last hurrah before our engagement, Father, I can forgive him. She's nothing more than one of the god of War's consorts. I'm going to be queen, after all. Ignoring a husband's indiscretions is part of the job, is it not?" She peers at my mother as if for support, a twisted sort of camaraderie that makes my stomach churn.
But my mother's face is angry now, her features tight and her eyes blazing with a fury I've rarely seen.
Not angry at me. She's angry at Vencia.
Thank Fate for small mercies.
"Leave my sight." A growl from Kellan sends unease straight to the pit of my stomach. The sound of his voice is like the rumble of an avalanche rolling down a mountainside smashing everything in its path.
My father puts an arm in front of my mother, but Darkwood and his daughter seem to be immune to any type of self-preservation, their arrogance blinding them to the danger they're in.
“I don’t know who you think you–”
“I am Kellan of Gilat. I am Melinda Mayweather’s somatophylakes . I am Drakonii and I demand your respect.”
A mix of emotions swirls within me as I watch Kellan stand up to Julius, his voice ringing with a commanding authority that even my father respects and backs away from. On one hand, I feel a surge of gratitude for the way he defends Melinda without any concern for politics or his own wellbeing. I’d expect nothing less from a somatophylakes .
But there's also a twinge of something else, a small, nagging flavor of jealousy that I can’t shake. It's not that I doubt my own ability to protect Melinda. I would lay down my life for her in a heartbeat, without hesitation or regret, but my actions come with consequences for more than just myself. My family. My people.
"Or what," Julius sneers, his face twisting into an ugly mask of contempt. "You have no authority over me."
Kellan's eyes flash green. The spirit of one of his dragons flows from his skin into the air, a shimmering, ethereal form that circles the seven of us, like a wolf stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"The law gives me the right to protect my ward from anything and anyone. I will put my hand around your neck and squeeze very tightly if you or your daughter utter even one more derogatory word about Lady Mayweather. Am I clear?" He presses forward a step, his presence a tangible force that makes Julius and Vencia stumble backward, their bravado faltering in the face of his wrath.
I want to charge forward with him, fangs bared, magick primed and ready to strike, but instead I hold. I stand, still holding tight to Melinda’s hand and I let the dragon do what he does best. I will owe him for his loyalty, but it’s a debt I’m willing to carry if it means Melinda is safe.
A murmur ripples through the crowd at Kellan's words, a mix of surprise and speculation. I can see the calculations running behind my parents' eyes, the wheels turning as they try to make sense of what must be a very confusing situation. I wish I had the time to explain right now, but I don’t.
My priority is Melinda.
For a moment, Julius looks like he might argue. His cheeks are flushed with anger and humiliation, a dangerous combination could easily make him reckless and unpredictable. But he catches sight of the watching crowd and thinks better of it, a hint of reason breaking through his arrogance.
"Of course," he says, his voice tight. "Forgive our... misunderstanding."
I hold in the enormous sigh of relief that threatens to escape my lips, the tension in my body so great I could snap at any moment. I can't let down my guard. It's not over yet. None of this is over. I grimace and swallow down the bile rising in the back of my throat. The nausea is familiar now–a side effect of Melinda's magick.
They're feeling it too, my parents, Darkwood, Vencia. I can see it in the sickly pallor of their skin, the way their eyes dart around nervously, searching for an escape. They don’t know it’s her and I need to keep it that way.
We have to get Melinda away from everyone before it gets worse.
I bow to my parents. Then meet my father's eyes. "I am excusing myself, but I will see you at the ceremony shortly."
I pull Melinda’s body closer to mine. Her skin is clammy and her breathing is shallow. She’s trembling under the effort to hold back her magick.
Kellan scoops Melinda into his arms, breaking our handhold. Mine. I want to snarl and fight. I should be carrying her.
His dragon guardian swirls around them both, a protective shield against the world outside. “Come,” he pins me with a hard look and pushes through the crowd. I have no choice but to follow. We make our way through the crowd, away from the festivities and the market, the sounds of laughter and music fading behind us as we turn toward the guest tower and the enclosed garden around its base.
We're almost running now, our steps urgent and hurried, the need to get Melinda to safety a driving force that propels us both forward. The air around us crackles with energy, a static charge that sets my teeth on edge and raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
"Hawke. Kellan," Melinda gasps, her voice strained and breathless. "I can't... I can't hold it much longer."
Panic grips my heart like a vice, squeezing the air from my lungs. I don’t know if the nausea flooding my system is from her or my worry about what will happen if she does lose control.
I need her. I need to touch her. “Put her down.”
“You can’t touch her like this,” Kellan snarls. “I have to help her hold back the magick.”
"They're going to kill him. They're going to take him away from me. I can't lose Hawke. I can't lose this place. I belong here. Kellan, I need him," she sobs, the words tumbling from her lips in a broken, desperate stream, each one a knife to my heart. "Please." The panic in her voice is tearing my soul to pieces.
“Your magick, Domina. ”
"I can take it," I say, my voice firm and unwavering, a certainty that I don't fully feel but cling to nonetheless. "Give her to me." The nausea is a living thing now, a writhing mass of agony that threatens to bring me to my knees, but I push through it, my need for Melinda stronger than any physical discomfort. "Now!" I order, my tone allowing no argument.
He hands her to me, a precious, fragile burden that I cradle against my chest like the most valuable treasure in all the realms. Because she is.
He takes a few steps back, his dragon guardian spirit going with him, its ethereal form disappearing from the air and melting back into his skin.
I sink to the ground with her in my arms. Her legs go around my waist and her arms around my neck, a desperate, clinging embrace that speaks of her need, her fear, her love. She does love me. I know it in my bones.
She buries her face in my shoulder and ragged hiccups of breath shake her body.
“I’m here. Melinda, I need you to breathe. I need you to feel me. You’re safe.”
"But you're not!" she wails, the words a raw, agonized cry that rips through the air like a physical force.
The darkness inside me surges forward, a hungry, predatory thing that drinks in her scent, her essence, her very soul. My fangs descend, razor-sharp and hungry. I scrape them along the bare skin of her shoulder, a primal, possessive gesture.
I want to bite. I want to claim her. I want to mark her as mine forever, to bind her to me in a way that can never be undone.
But I can’t do it yet. Not like this.
I have to have my parent’s blessing or I have to wait until I am king, until I can make her mine in the eyes of the law and the realms.