34. Say Hi To The Rebellion
CHAPTER 34
Say Hi To The Rebellion
Melinda Mayweather
The other knights group around me along with Kellan, blocking the others from getting a good view of me. And they definitely are curious. All sorts of people are steadily moving closer. Sirens. Drakonii. Upir. Elven. Valkyries. Fae…
My head spins with questions. "Who are all these people? And did Atlas leave?" I ask, looking from Hawke to Kellan.
When they hesitate, I turn to Ares. He smirks, his golden armor glinting even in the pre-dawn light. “Welcome to the rebellion.”
"The rebellion," I repeat. "I’m sorry. This is all my fault, isn’t it?"
“Not your fault. Not at all. Don’t think that. Anyone who does not agree with the High Council usurping the Knights’ authority is considered a rebel,” Hawke explains further.
“I don’t understand. You’re the Knights. Did you agree with the High Council?” I press.
Aric's voice cuts through the tension. "Because the High Council executes rebels and half of the Knights are royalty, it puts them in a political pickle for choosing sides." His smile widens. "But I'm quite sure you all joined up today."
Ares jerks his head once, tension lining his face. "It definitely appears that way." He runs a hand through his hair. "Zeus is going to be pissed. I need to get to Olympus and find out where we stand in all of this. I also need more ambrosia for all of us or everyone around me is going to start punching each other."
He waves to a nearby siren, who motions him over. "I'll catch up with you in Vandimoor tonight," Ares says, striding away.
Hawke pulls me close, his arm warm around my waist. "Let’s get you on a horse and us on the road to Vandimoor, Sweet girl."
"Yes. Of course," I say, exhaustion hitting me suddenly. “What about the others? Are they coming?”
A tall man with very blonde hair tucked behind slightly pointed ears approaches with a cavalier smirk on his face. He’s dressed in leather armor. A short dagger is sheathed at his waist and a bow and quiver hang on his back. He looks very much like Boaz. “I like your mate. She’s sweet. Concerned about all of us like that.”
“Fuck off, Aric,” Hawke says, hissing and bares his fangs.
Jealousy courses through my mate, makes a smile curve my lips. I like that he doesn’t want anyone else to look at me or flirt with me. I feel the same about him. I don’t have any fangs, but I agree with the sentiment.
“Many pardons, Prince Stormblood.” Aric bows with a flourish. "Some of us will follow with you to Vandimoor, milady. But many of us will disappear back into the forest and wait until we're needed again."
I give Aric a curt nod, dismissing him.
He takes the cue. In a matter of heartbeats, Aric and the rest of the rebels begin to disperse, melting into the shadows of the trees. It's eerie how quickly they vanish, leaving only a handful behind. The clearing is suddenly empty, the silence broken only by birdsong and rustling leaves.
"I’m ready." I turn to Hawke. He lifts me onto a chestnut mare without effort. The swings up behind me. His solid warmth against my back is both comforting and electrifying. We set off at a brisk trot, Kellan leading the way down forest road.
"Hawke, what were those monsters?" I prompt, leaning back slightly.
He sighs, his breath tickling my ear. "Those shadow creatures were golems. It was Elven and Fae magick."
"What about Aena?" The memory of the tower floods back. The oppressive weight of her magick and the way she’d tried to tether herself to me. "Why is she in that tower?"
Hawke's arms tighten around me, grounding me in the present. His warmth seeps through my clothes. I lean back into him, grateful for his solid presence. "Her cell is a tiny pocket dimension all its own, separate from Avalon. The door is connected to the tower and Excalibur sealed the door so that she couldn’t siphon power from the World Tree."
I blink, struggling to process. "Excalibur? As in, the sword from the Arthurian legend?"
"I don't know what stories are told on earth," Hawke says, his voice rumbling against my back, "but yes, the sword was Arthur’s. He gifted it to me when the World Tree called me to be a Knight. We used it for the spell because it is strong and made from Drakonium."
My mind whirls, fragments of memories crashing over me like waves. I close my eyes, transported back to that moment in the tower. "The sword," I breathe, my voice tight. "It blazed with an inner fire, brighter than any flame. And then?—"
I swallow hard, recalling the searing heat that had licked along the wall. "Flames etched the door's outline, but it wasn't just fire. It was... alive somehow." A chill seizes me, my body instinctively recoiling from the phantom memory.
"Aena," I whisper, my fingers clench harder around Hawke's arm. "It felt like she was reaching inside me, clawing at my magick—like she was trying to take it from me."
Kellan moves his horse closer. “You felt she was taking magick from you, Domina ?”
“Yes and I couldn't lift my hand away until you grabbed it."
"Perhaps because the sword was made of Drakonium? Maybe it needed the magick of a Drakonii to interrupt the flow of energy." Hawke's voice is tense.
“How does your magick feel now, Domina ?”
I pause, focusing inward. My magic pulses restlessly beneath my skin. "I'm... okay, I think," I say slowly, flexing my fingers. I meet Kellan's eyes. "I tried to control it, to keep from hurting anyone, but..." I trail off, remembering the raw power that had surged through me.
Kellan growls and rolls his neck. "Everyone in the room was still alive when I left. You hurt no one."
His words like a physical blow. I slump against Hawke, tension draining from my body. “How will you stop another attack?”
Kellan looks up at me, but his eyes go to Hawke, waiting for his answer to my question.
“We can shield the city temporarily. We have two nights before the coronation and wedding,” Hawke answers.
"Two nights,” I whisper. The reality of what's coming crashes over me. In just two days, I'll be married. A queen. The enormity of it steals my breath.
Part of me wants to panic. It's so fast. I've spent my life running, hiding. Now I'm hurtling towards a wedding, a husband, and a crown–an enormous commitment I barely understand.
But there's another part, a growing warmth in my chest, that whispers this is right. That Hawke is right. That for the first time, I'm racing towards something instead of away.
"Two nights," I say, more firmly this time.
“I’d marry you today if I could, but I’m quite sure my mother would level the castle in a fit of rage. I’m sorry you won’t be able to plan and enjoy the ceremonies the way you should. She’s already going to be angry that we’re adding a wedding in with the coronation.”
"I'm not concerned," I say, and I'm surprised to realize it's true. "I just want to be with you. The ceremony is for other people."
He kisses the side of my neck, his lips warm against my skin. "And with me, you shall be."
I catch a flash of white emerging from the forest ahead, and my body tenses instantly. "Hawke—" I start, my voice tight with alarm. After everything we've been through, any unexpected sight sets my nerves on edge.
But my fear morphs into disbelief. It's a horse, but one unlike any I've ever seen. Its coat is so pale it seems to glow, shimmering like captured moonlight. It turns towards us and I spot something impossible—a spiraling horn protruding from its forehead.
A rush of childlike wonder sweeps through me, momentarily banishing all my worries and fears. "They're real!" A girlish squeal escapes me. I twist in the saddle to look at Hawke, my eyes wide with amazement. "Unicorns are real! How could you not tell me about unicorns?"
"I didn't know I should've." Hawke chuckles and squeezes me tight.
I turn back to look at the unicorn again, and this time I notice its rider—Atlas. He’s perched atop the magnificent creature like it was the most natural thing in the world. "He’s riding a unicorn." I can't tear my eyes away. He weaves the beautiful animal into the group of riders ahead of us.
Hawke's voice rumbles against my back. "The puppeteer found quite the mount indeed."
"Have you ever ridden a unicorn?"
"No," Hawke replies, a note of wry amusement in his voice. "They don't tend to be the friendliest mounts."
His words barely register, the sight of the unicorn stirring long-buried memories. I remember my mother's hushed tales of magical creatures, stories she'd share in rare moments of peace between our constant flights from danger. A lump forms in my throat.
"Kellan," I say, my voice thick with emotion, "Did you know unicorns were real? There's really nothing about them on Earth but stories."
Kellan's expression softens. "Most all the Fae creatures fled Earth with the Fae before the door was locked, Domina ," he answers gently. "It wasn't safe for them to stay. Most were being hunted to extinction."
A familiar ache settles in my chest. "It's only gotten worse with the Inquisitors and the Enclave. Any hint of magic is hunted, either to kill or capture."
Hawke's body tenses behind me, and through our bond, there is a surge of protective fury. His arms tighten around me, and I hear him swallow hard before speaking.
"I hate that you had to go through that," he says, his voice low and fierce. "No one should have to live in fear like that."
I squeeze his hand where it's holding the reins. "I'm here now. With you."
"You saved me, Melinda, but?—"
I shake my head and lean back against his chest, cutting him off. "There are no buts, Hawke. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
Kellan and the other knights ride in silence around us, but my curiosity burns. "I would, however, really like to see the unicorn up closer if possible."
Hawke's chest shakes with a slow chuckle. He urges our horse into a trot, and we quickly catch up to where Atlas rides alongside several sirens and Aric.
"Milady." Atlas dips his head in a bow.
I nod in response, turning my attention to the unicorn. “It’s beautiful.” I stare at the fairytale animal. It’s even more magnificent close up. The sheen of its coat is like pearl. And it’s mane and tail shimmer.
"This is Cyrus," Atlas says, a note of pride in his voice. "Cyrus, this is Melinda Mayweather, soon to be Prince Stormblood's wife and queen."
The unicorn turns its head to make eye contact. A pleasure, lady queen.
I gasp and twist in Hawke’s arms. “It talked. He talked. In my head. The unicorn talked.”
Kellan’s somber face cracks a smile. “They can do that.”
Cyrus snorts, almost like he’s laughing with Kellan. Then his gaze locks with mine again . Be wary of Atlas, lady queen. He is not what he seems. Though neither are you, I suppose.
I jerk back against Hawke. My heart pounds in my chest. What does he mean? How can Atlas not be what he seems? And what about me?
Melinda? Sweet girl, what is wrong? Hawke asks immediately inside my head.
He startled me with what he said. He said Atlas isn’t what he seems. And that I’m not either, I tell Hawke through our bond.
Atlas is a chimera, of course he’s not what he seems. And we already know your magick is unlike any we’ve ever seen as well.
I swallow and take a deeper breath. Right. Right.
Hawke kisses my temple and urges his horse forward, toward the front of the group and Kellan follows just on our left.
We crest a hill and spread out before us is one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen. Vandimoor sprawls across the valley, a breathtaking fusion of crystal, stone, and magic that defies everything I thought I knew about architecture.
My heart races, pounding so hard its in my throat. I suck in a sharp breath. "It's... It's so beautiful," I whisper.
Towering spires of gleaming white stone pierce the sky, their surfaces alive with intricate designs that seem to dance in the morning light. My gaze traces the delicate lacework of rose-gold arches connecting the buildings, marveling at how something so massive can appear so fragile.
Rivers of glistening and glowing water weave through the city like luminous veins. They cascade down in glittering waterfalls, feeding pools that pulse with ethereal light. The sight stirs something deep within me, a primal recognition of magic that makes my skin tingle.
My fingers twitch, longing to touch, to confirm that this dreamlike vision is real. I lean forward in the saddle, drinking in every detail. The graceful bridges spanning the glowing streams. The ethereal pools that seem to breathe with an inner light.
On the far side of the city, atop a hill to the north, a palace rises like a crystal dream given form. Sunlight fractures against its facets, scattering beams of pure radiance across the city. The sight steals my breath away, leaving me lightheaded and giddy.
"Welcome home, my sweet girl," Hawke murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.
"It's unbelievable," I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away. A lump forms in my throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “I’ve never really had a home. We moved so often. If it wasn’t the Inquisitors after us it was the Enclave. My mother wanted nothing to do with either.” I let my emotions and thoughts flow through our bond. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for giving me a place to belong.”
“You already have.”