28. Tonight We Feast
CHAPTER 28
Tonight We Feast
Hawke Stormblood
When the doors open, revealing my mother and Melinda, the very air is stolen from my lungs. I'm not prepared for the vision that greets me, a sight so breathtaking, so ethereal, that it seems to transcend the boundaries of mortal beauty.
Melinda stands before me, a sun goddess incarnate, her very presence radiating a golden warmth that suffuses the chamber. Her chestnut brown hair is done up in an intricate work of art, delicate flowers of gold woven throughout the lush tresses, catching the light and glinting like a crown of celestial fire. Rubies sparkle amidst tiny braids, each precious stone a glittering star against the rich, earthy hues of her hair.
But it's the bloodstones that next catch my eye, the Stormblood rubies that have been passed down through generations of my family. To see them adorning Melinda's neck, resting against the smooth, sun-kissed skin of her décolletage, is a sight that sends a primal surge of possessiveness through my veins. She wears my family's legacy, a tangible symbol and declaration of my parent’s support of my choice.
And the dress... Gods, the dress. It's a masterpiece of molten gold, the fabric shimmering and flowing like liquid sunlight over her curves. The intricate lace and layered design caress her body like a lover's touch, emphasizing the lush swell of her hips, the delicate curve of her waist, and the tantalizing hint of cleavage that peeks above the neckline.
The feral beast within me stirs with a hunger that goes beyond mere lust or desire. It's a need that consumes me, a longing to possess her, to mark her mine in every way possible. The urge to sink my fangs into the tender flesh of her neck, to taste the sweet nectar of her blood and bind her to me for all eternity, is nearly overwhelming. But even stronger than the physical want is the absolute certainty that this woman is not only carrying the missing piece of my soul, she is my soulmate. I need her.
Earlier, when I held her in my arms, it took every ounce of my self-control not to claim her right there. But now, seeing her like this, a goddess made flesh, a siren's call given form, it feels absolutely impossible to resist.
"Damn, brother. Are you sure it's your soul shard she's carrying? I'll volunteer as tribute if it turns out not to be." Ares' voice cuts through the haze of my obsession, his hand heavy on my shoulder. I can hear the audible swallow, the raw appreciation in his tone, and it ignites a furious possessiveness within me.
I don't take my eyes off Melinda, my gaze locked on the whiskey-brown depths of her own, those mesmerizing orbs that seem to glow with an otherworldly light. I drink in every detail of her, from the full curve of her lips to the graceful lines of her collarbones, the way the dress hugs her body like a second skin, a enticing promise of the treasure that lies beneath.
"If you so much as touch her, I'll rip your arms from your body." My voice is a low growl, a warning that tolerates no argument. The beast within me snarls, ready to tear apart anyone who dares to lay a hand on what is mine. Even a man I consider a brother.
I take a step forward, drawn to Melinda like a moth to a flame, a helpless slave to the magnetic pull of her presence. The world around me fades away, the murmur of the others around us, all of it insignificant in comparison.
She is everything. My beginning and my end, my salvation and my damnation. I would lay down my life for her and tear apart the very fabric of the universe to keep her safe.
I close the distance between us, my hand outstretched, ready to take hers and never let go. A sense of rightness settles over me.
I draw Melinda close to my body, reveling in the warmth of her presence, the soft curves of her form molding perfectly against the hard planes of my own. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, my voice low and intimate. "You are exquisite. Words fail to capture the depth of your beauty in this moment, Melinda."
She shivers in my arms, a delicate tremor that resonates through my very being. The racing of her heart and the hitch in her breath only serves to fuel the fire that burns within me.
Kellan takes up his place directly behind us, with my brother and brothers in arms falling into formation behind him. My parents stand before us, ready to lead the procession.
Together, we begin our descent down the ancient stone steps. My parents lead, with Melinda and I following closely behind. Kellan and my brothers in arms form a protective line behind us on the way towards the main corridor of the castle.
A mixture of anticipation and pride swells within me while we walk. Melinda's hand in mine is both delicate and strong. My parents aren’t fighting me anymore and that is a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.
The usual Fae guards lining the walls have been replaced by Upir soldiers in their bright silver armor, signaling that the changing of the guard has already begun. The sight fills me with a shadow of bitterness. We shouldn’t be leaving. Ever.
As we progress, the sounds of music, laughter, and merriment grow louder. My heartbeat quickens with each step, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. This is the moment when Melinda will be truly introduced to our world, and I find myself both eager and concerned. I have my parents support, but that doesn’t keep her safe completely. Not yet.
Upon entering the grand space, we're enveloped by the lively atmosphere. The room is arranged with eight long tables forming a sprawling U-shape, each one laden with a feast fit for royalty. At the head of this arrangement stands a separate table, adorned with the finest linens and glittering place settings, flanked by high-backed, throne-like chairs.
Tonight we feast. We drink. And tomorrow my people will bid Camelot goodbye and return to Vandimoor. At least I will have Melinda this time. And I will have my soon-to-be duties as king to distract me from the fact that we’re not in charge of Camelot.
Past the main table set up the rest of the room is filled with rows and rows of tables for the many guests that each royal family brings with them. The tables are decorated in the colors and crests of each family. The walls also bear finery from each of the eight worlds.
My parents lead us to the head table. They take their seats at the center. And I guide Melinda toward our seats at my father’s right hand. I pull out the chair for her with a gentle flourish. She graces me with a radiant smile, her gown draped around her body like a cascade of liquid gold. I take my place beside her, gazing with pride and love upon the woman I will claim tonight if she will have me.
My brother Destrien appears from the crowd and takes a seat at my mother's left, his expression an odd mix of irritation and solemnity. His usually immaculate appearance seems slightly disheveled, as if he's been in a rush. He should’ve walked in with the rest of us. Why was he already here? But it’s been a chaotic day and I push away the fleeting sense of unease.
Kellan takes position behind Melinda's chair. My knights excuse themselves, each one making their way to join their own people at the various tables scattered throughout the hall.
My parents, King Theon and Queen Isolde, rise to their feet, their regal bearing commanding the attention of all present. A hush falls and all eyes turn to the head table.
My father clears his throat. "My dear friends. Tonight, we gather to celebrate the Changing of the Guard. The Upir will take over as caretakers of Camelot.”
A cheer rises in the room. He's never been one to lavish praise on the Upir so openly. Perhaps recent events with Melinda have shifted his perspective more than I realized.
He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces before him, waiting for the noise to die down once again. "It is with great pride and even greater joy that I announce the engagement of my son, Prince Hawke Stormblood, to the Lady Melinda Mayweather."
I blink, momentarily stunned. I knew I had my parents support, but I hadn't expected him to announce it himself. I’d assumed he’d make me announce it, not stand and give his absolute blessing.
A ripple of surprise and excitement runs through the crowd, a buzz of whispers and murmurs that quickly gives way to a swell of applause and cheers. Melinda's hand slips into mine beneath the table. I squeeze them gently, warmth and gratefulness spreading through my chest.
"In three days' time, they will be wed in Vandimoor, in a ceremony that will coincide with Prince Hawke's coronation and ascension to the Fae throne."
Another wave of whispers sweeps through the hall at the revelation of my impending coronation. The weight of the crown settling upon my head has never felt more real, yet it pales in comparison to the lightness and hope in my heart. With Melinda by my side the challenges ahead seem less daunting.
"Yes, my friends," my father continues, his voice softening with emotion, "the time has come for me to step down, to pass the mantle of leadership to the next generation. And there is no one more worthy, more capable of guiding our people through the challenges that lie ahead than my son, Hawke."
He turns to me, his eyes shining with pride and love. "Hawke, my boy, you have proven yourself time and again to be a leader of unparalleled strength, wisdom, and compassion. You have faced trials that would break lesser men, and emerged all the stronger for it. And now, with the Lady Melinda, I have no doubt that you will lead our people to an even brighter future."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. A lump forms in my throat and I struggle to find the words to express the depth of my gratitude. I rise to my feet, gently pulling Melinda up beside me. Her cheeks flush a delicate pink, and she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders slightly as if bracing herself. Despite her evident anxiety, there's a glimmer of strength in her eyes that makes my heart swell with pride. She stands tall beside me, her hand still firmly in mine, a united front before the assembled crowd.
"I am humbled by the trust you have placed in me, Father, and by the support of all those gathered here tonight." I scan the crowd, searching for signs of disapproval or confusion. To my surprise, I see only excitement on the faces before me. "I pledge to you, to all of you, that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of that trust, to lead our people with the same courage, compassion, and wisdom that my father has shown throughout his reign."
The hall erupts in a thunderous applause, the sound of hundreds of voices raised in celebration.
I had braced myself for whispers about the abandoned arrangement with the Darkwood family, for questioning glances and barely concealed disapproval. Instead, the hall seems united in its celebration of our engagement. This unconditional acceptance fills me with a newfound sense of hope and determination.
"I am humbled by the trust you have placed in me, Father, and by the support of all those gathered here tonight," I begin. My father raises his cup to me and I bow deeply.
"Let the feasting begin and the wine flow freely!" My father's voice booms across the hall, setting the tone for the evening ahead. We take our seats once more, the scrape of chairs and the clink of goblets filling the air as the guests settle in for the feast.
I catch my mother's eye, her smile radiant and filled with a warmth that seeps into my very bones. "Thank you," I mouth the words. She nods an acknowledgement before turning her attention back to my father.
I turn to Melinda. Her eyes are wide. Her heart is pounding, but she appears in control. The delicate dragon tattoo on her wrist, a symbol of the guardian that resides within her, moves languidly up and down her bare arm, a mesmerizing dance that draws my gaze to look hungrily at every bit of bare skin.
"This is really happening, isn't it? We're getting married in three days. You're becoming… king. I–" Her voice trembles, the words catching in her throat.
Leaning in close, I rest my forehead against hers. "What’s wrong?" I ask, my breath ghosting over her skin.
"A few days ago, I was running for my life. I thought I was going to die. My family was murdered in front of me. I didn't even know Avalon existed. Certainly, I never imagined anything like this." Her words are raw, and I feel her pain like it’s my own.
I want to take it from her. Carry it for her. My heart aches for the suffering she has endured, but I can’t wish her life had led her another way. I’m selfish. I want her here in Avalon with me. I need her.
Everything that happened to her led her to this moment.
I let my gaze drift down to the soft swell of her breasts, the smooth expanse of skin that rises and falls with each breath she takes. And there, glowing beneath the surface like a tiny sun, is my soul shard–a light that will banish my darkness.
“You are everything to me. You know that. I would walk away from all of this. One word from you is all it would take. None of this matters. Only you.” The words pour out of me, a declaration of my devotion and unwavering commitment. This is how I make it better. This is how I carry her pain. This is how I serve penance for my selfishness.
She looks up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm terrified of hurting you, but I'm more frightened of losing you. I want everything you have to offer. You're meant to be a king. And I will support you in every way I can. I don't know anything about your people or about being a leader. But you are my family now, and I will do my best for you."
Her words steal the breath from my lungs, a promise of love and loyalty that resonates through every fiber of my being. I am humbled by her strength, her resilience in the face of unimaginable adversity. She is a survivor, a fighter, a queen in every sense of the word. She is and has always been meant for me.
I bring her hands to my lips, pressing a reverent kiss to her knuckles. "And that is more than enough, Melinda."
As the words leave my lips, a hush falls over the room, the chatter and laughter fading into a whisper. A single note pierces the air, a haunting melody that sends shivers down my spine. It's a song I've heard a thousand times before, a traditional Fae ballad that speaks of love, loss, and the unbreakable bonds that tie two souls together.
The music crescendos, a symphony of pipes fill the hall with an enchanting rhythm. Around us, couples begin to rise from their seats, their bodies swaying in time with the music. They all make their way to the open center of the room.
I turn to Melinda, my heart pounding in my chest. I drink in the sight of her, the way the candlelight dances across her skin, the way her eyes sparkle with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. I stand, my hand outstretched. "Dance with me.”
She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the sea of dancers. Then, with a smile that takes my breath away, she places her hand in mine, allowing me to draw her to her feet and into my embrace.
As we move to the center of the room, the music wraps around us like a cocoon, separating us from the rest of the world. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the crown that awaits me, not the challenges that lie ahead. All that exists is the woman in my arms, her body pressed against mine, and the warmth of her breath on my skin.
We sway in perfect harmony, our bodies moving together easily, a dance as natural as breathing. I lose myself in the depths of her eyes, in the love and trust that shines within them. The music builds to a crescendo and I lean in close, brushing my lips against hers.
The moment our mouths meet, the world around us fades away, the music and the dancers blurring into a distant hum. All that exists is her soft, warm lips against mine and the taste of her on my tongue, sweet and intoxicating.
I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding up her back, holding her tightly. She responds with equal fervor, her arms winding around my neck, her body melting into mine until there's no space left between us.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless and trembling. I savor the lingering taste of her on my lips and stare down into the ocean of emotions swirling in her gaze.
“I want to steal you away from this dinner and make you mine, Melinda, but I will shame my parents if I do not take the time to introduce you to the other royal families.”
I love the way her cheeks pink up and her body shivers against mine.
“I–umm–well–I certainly don’t want to shame your parents,” she answers with a small nervous smile.
I offer my elbow and she takes it. “No we do not, Lady Mayweather.” I lead her toward the U-shaped group of high tables, planning to speed through introductions.
Our first stop is King Jarlath and Queen Sasha Kergadras' table. The Upir rulers sit regally, their onyx-black skin a striking contrast against the silver and white of their elegant attire. Beside them, two small children, the ones the Valkyries went searching for yesterday, sit safe and content, happily consuming their body weight in honey cakes.
I incline my head, feeling a rush of warmth and familiarity. "King Jarlath, Queen Sasha," I greet them, my hand instinctively moving to my chest in a gesture of respect. I especially like them, because I’ve been good friends with Wraith for centuries since we were called by Yggdrasil to serve as Knights.
Queen Sasha smiles, her ruby-red lips curving in a friendly smile. "The honor is ours, Prince Hawke. Congratulations on your engagement. Lady Mayweather, it is a pleasure to officially meet you. I look forward to attending your wedding."
Melinda curtsies gracefully, her golden gown catching the light with every movement. "Thank you, your majesty. That is very kind." Despite her poise, there’s a slight tremor in her hands as she smooths her skirts and looks away from the king.
King Jarlath nods, his golden eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. "Prince Hawke, your union with Lady Mayweather is a blessing not only for the Fae but for all the realms."
I bow my head, acknowledging the weight and implications of Jarlath's words. This is more than just a congratulation. It's a declaration of support, a subtle nod to a stronger alliance between the Fae and the Upir.
As we move on to the next table, the atmosphere shifts subtly. The air grows colder, and the shadows in the room appear to deepen as we approach Hades, the formidable king of the Netherworld.
He sits with an air of silent authority, his dark, enigmatic presence commanding respect and reverence. Beside him, his two Valkyrie guests, Sigrún and Bryn, rise to their feet as Melinda and I draw near. Their golden armor glints in the soft light of the hall.
"Lord Hades." I bow my head in deference to the ancient Olympian god.
Hades acknowledges my greeting with a slight tip of his head, his expression inscrutable. His dark eyes are haunting. His intense gaze pierces straight into my soul. A second later he looks away, his attention drawn elsewhere. It's a familiar routine. Hades rarely speaks to anyone other than the Valkyries and Furies that help him manage the Netherworld.
Undeterred by the god's silence, I turn my attention to the Valkyries, a warm smile spreading across my face. "Sigrún. Bryn. It is a pleasure to see you under much better circumstances this time."
Melinda stiffens slightly beside me. A quick glance shows her eyes darting nervously between Hades, the Valkyries, and the chaos of the crowded room. Her breaths come quicker now.
Sigrún flashes a brilliant smile. "The pleasure is all ours, Prince Hawke." Her words ring out clear and strong, filling the space between us. She turns her gaze to Melinda, her expression softening further. "And may I say, your mate is a perfect vision of loveliness."
“Yes she is.” I tuck Melinda close, my arm wrapped around her waist. The heat of her body against me is a sweet torment. I give Sigrún and Bryn a quick bow and excuse us to move toward the next table where King Galathar and Queen Kaylessa of Vanir sit.
The royal couple look up, their smiles polite and perfectly rehearsed. King Galathar inclines his head toward me. "Prince Hawke." His rich, melodic tone carries easily over the din of the hall. "Congratulations on your upcoming coronation and nuptials." Queen Kaylessa nods from her seat next to her husband, her bright green and blonde hair cascades in tight spirals down her back.
“Thank you,” I say politely and bow.
As we continue our rounds, we pause at Queen Nimue's table, even though I’m hesitant to do so. It would be rude if I didn’t stop. The ancient siren’s lavender eyes gleam with a mix of pride and genuine pleasure.
Melinda tenses beside me and her breath catches, waves of unease radiating off her. She’s not the only one the siren queen makes nervous. I’d rather not be seen with a known associate of the rebellion either.
My eyes connect with Kellan’s for a moment where he stands behind her empty chair. I give a subtle shake of my head, telling him she’s good with me and not to approach. He nods and falls back into a more planted stance.
Nimue rises to her feet, her midnight-blue gown swirling around her like a cloak of stars. “This couldn’t have gone better, Prince Hawke. Congratulations on the upcoming wedding and coronation. Lady Mayweather, you look positively stunning.”
Melinda shifts slightly, as if fighting the urge to step back. "Thank you, Queen Nimue."
I hold Melinda closer and steer her onward to the tables where the Drakonii and Asgardian royals sit. The Drakonii king and queen, dressed in decorative scaled armor and glittering jewels, rise to their feet, their eyes glowing with the green inner fire that speaks of the dragons that reside within them and on them.
"Prince Hawke, Lady Mayweather," the Drakonii king rumbles. "We offer you our congratulations and our unwavering support. May your reign be long and prosperous, and may your love be a shining example to all who look upon you."
The Asgardian king and queen, tall and proud in their gleaming golden armor and flowing red capes, echo the sentiment, their voices ringing out clear and strong across the hall.
"To Prince Hawke and Lady Melinda," the Asgardian king declares, raising his goblet in a toast. "May Yggdrasil bless your union and grant you strength and wisdom."
By the time the Asgardian king’s fifth toast is raised, my control is hanging by a thread. Leaning close to Melinda's ear, I let my lips graze the delicate shell, feeling her shiver in response. "What do you say we escape the feast?" I murmur. "I'm ready to have you all to myself."
Melinda flushes, a rosy hue staining her cheeks, but the undisguised desire in her gaze mirrors my own. She nods, and that one simple gesture is my undoing.
Lacing my fingers through hers, I cast one last glance around the great hall. My parents are deep in conversation with the Vanir king and queen, their faces animated and engaged.
The guests are lost in revelry, their laughter and chatter rising to the vaulted ceiling of the dining hall. But beneath the merriment, there’s a different kind of excitement thrumming through my veins, a hot, insistent pulse that draws me inexorably to the woman at my side.
Melinda's hand is warm and soft in mine, her skin like silk against my calloused palm. There’s a tension in her accompanied by anticipation and excitement.
No one will miss us. Respects have been paid, duties fulfilled. The only thing that matters now is the promise of what awaits us in the privacy of my chambers.
With a tug of Melinda's hand, I lead her to a side door, slipping through and out into the torch-lit corridor beyond. The sudden quiet is a shock after the noise of the hall, and for a moment, all I can hear is the rasp of our mingled breathing and the thundering of my own heart.
A moment later, Kellan appears in the corridor through a door several paces away. His eyes narrow and a muscle in his jaw twitches. "Go to her suite in the Drakonii tower." The words come out an almost-growl.
Irritation flares within me. I had planned to take Melinda to my rooms, to finally have a moment alone with her. But even as annoyance prickles under my skin, I know Kellan is right. The Drakonii tower would be safer, more secure.
With a curt nod, I turn and head the other way in the corridor, swallowing my frustration. As we make our way through the bustling keep, I'm acutely aware of Melinda's presence at my side, of the whisper of her gown against the flagstones and the subtle, intoxicating scent of her skin. Every nerve ending is alive, every sense heightened to an almost unbearable degree.
Servants scurry past us, their arms laden with trays and linens, but they may as well be ghosts for all the notice I take of them. My entire world has narrowed down to the woman beside me, to the heat of her skin and the promise in her eyes. I almost forget about the large Drakonii following at a respectful distance behind us. Almost.
At last, we reach her chamber door. I turn to her and meet her fevered gaze, “You want this?”
“More than anything, Hawke. Please.” Her breathy whine makes me instantly hard.
I usher her inside, my gaze drinking in every detail. The way the candlelight gilds her skin. The way small bits of her hair have come loose and tumble down her back in flirty wisps of auburn silk.
She is a vision, a dream made flesh, and I am lost in the wonder of her.