36. Recharging The Batteries
CHAPTER 36
Recharging The Batteries
Melinda Mayweather
A canopy of delicate white flowers shimmers above me, their petals dancing against pale green leaves. The branches droop around us like a living curtain. The sweet scent of blossoms mingles with the electric tingle of magic, thick in the air.
Atlas kneels beside me, one hand gripping mine, the other pressed against the tree's trunk. An otherworldly light pulses from his skin, matching the rhythm of power flooding into me. It’s so much. Too much.
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.
My heart pounds against my ribs. Questions race through my mind: What's happening? Did the shield work? Did I hurt anyone? The city? Hawke? I can’t speak, but I push the questions rapid-fire through our bond, but the connection is muffled, like shouting underwater.
Hawke hovers inches away, his outstretched hand trembling, not quite touching me. My fingers twitch, desperate to bridge the gap. I need him to touch me. I try to speak aloud, but choke on the words. White-hot pain flares through my body and I grimace.
“You’re hurting her,” Hawke snarls, his eyes flashing dangerously at Atlas.
Atlas' jaw clenches. "You'd rather her dead?" He presses his palm harder against my skin, forcing more power into my body. The magic crackles through me, setting every nerve alight.
My gaze darts around, seeking familiar faces. Kellan stands guard at my feet, a solid, protective presence. Boaz, Fen, and Wraith shift restlessly, just outside the curtain of branches.
Another wave of power crashes through me, and panic rises like bile in my chest. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps as the magick threatens to overwhelm me. Visions of death flash before my eyes—what if I lose control again? The faces of those I love blur with imagined scenes of destruction. My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms as I struggle to contain the surging energy. It's so much.
You need this magick, Domina. You were dying without it. You have already learned to control it well in the short time you’ve been in Avalon. Siva’s voice echoes softly in my head, trying to assure me this power is necessary and not evil.
My racing heart skips a beat. I close my eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of my breathing. The magick swirling within me, less like an evil raging storm, and more like a powerful river I can direct.
Maybe so. I answer back to Siva. Though it’s hard to believe that something I saw as a curse for so many years… could possibly be managed. But she’s right. I have gotten more control of my magick in the few days I’ve been in Avalon than my entire life so far.
Energy thrums through my veins. So opposite of emptiness I felt moments ago. My skin tingles with renewed vitality, each breath filling my lungs with crisp, flower-scented air. The world around me seems sharper, more vibrant. If someone asked me to lift a car, I’m pretty sure I could right now.
Atlas pulls me up, into a sitting position. Gratitude swells in my chest. Without thinking, I throw my arms around him. "Thank you," I whisper.
A familiar growl vibrates through the air, and suddenly Hawke's arms encircle me. He pulls me against his chest, his touch igniting a flurry of sensations. Our bond flares to life. A tidal wave of intense emotions flood between us–relief, love, fear, possessiveness.
"Hawke," I breathe, drinking in his presence. His heartbeat thunders against my body, matching my own rapid pulse. I savor the warmth of his skin, the strength of his embrace. Through our connection, there are echoes of his terror, and the gut-wrenching fear of almost losing me.
Guilt gnaws at me. "I'm sorry," I murmur, looking up at him.
His eyes, stormy with worry, search mine.
I cup his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with my thumb. "I'm here," I reassure him, pouring all my love and certainty into our bond. "I'm not going anywhere."
Hawke's relief washes over me, tempered by lingering concern. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I forbid you from ever doing that to me again," he whispers fiercely.
I snuggle into Hawke's chest, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. "I love you, so I'm pretty sure I can't promise that."
Hawke buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. His growl rumbles through me, a mix of frustration and affection. "You are infuriating, sweet girl. I love you so much, but you can't do that. You can't risk your life and expend your entire magick reserve."
Curiosity burns within me. I sit up straighter, tugging on Hawke's arm. "Did it help? Did the shield hold?"
Atlas' laugh rings out as he moves away from us. "Not only did it hold, Melinda. It disintegrated the darkness and all the golems in one blast."
My eyes widen, and my breath catches in my throat. A jolt of disbelief courses through me. How? How did I do that?
Heart pounding, I whip my head around to look up at Hawke, desperately seeking confirmation. His eyes lock with mine, and he nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A wave of relief washes through me, so powerful it almost makes me dizzy. My magick helped. It didn't hurt the people I cared about. In fact, it protected them. A warmth spreads through my chest, chasing away the last tendrils of fear and doubt.
"Help me up," I say, suddenly eager to move. "Will it come back? The darkness?"
As Hawke helps me to my feet, his arm locks around my waist. The contact sends warmth spreading through me.
"After a display like that, I doubt the council will try anything similar again," Hawke assures me.
Wraith's voice cuts through our moment. "I agree, but we need to put feelers out to see who is with us and who is against us." He pulls back the curtain of flowers, Fen mirroring his action on the other side. "It is good to see color back in your cheeks, Lady Mayweather."
A wave of gratitude washes over me. "It's good to have color in my cheeks again. I've never felt that tired before." The memory of that bone-deep exhaustion makes me shudder slightly.
Hawke wraps an arm around my waist, steadying me as we step out from under the tree's canopy. I feel strong and each step is a small triumph. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers fills my lungs. I like this room of the palace.
Kellan and Atlas follow close behind. As we approach the doorway, a middle-aged woman appears, her hands clasped in front of her crisp apron.
"Your Highness," she says, bowing her head slightly. "We've prepared a meal in the great hall. And I'm happy to say that your parents have also arrived back from Camelot safely and are asking about you and what happened with the shield."
Some of his tension releases at the news and my stomach growls at the mention of food. "I'm starving. Could we? But also, I need to change clothes. I’m still in a dressing gown."
Hawke's smile warms me from the inside out. "Of course."
As we prepare to follow Cora, Hawke turns to Atlas. "Will you be staying? Or disappearing back into the forests?"
Atlas bows, his eyes already darting towards an exit. "I do think I'll be better off on the outside, Prince Stormblood. Watch her carefully. This fight isn't over."
A chill runs down my spine at his words, despite the warmth of the solarium. As Atlas slips away into the gardens, I press closer to Hawke.
I’ve got you, he whispers through our bond.
I know. I answer in my mind.
“Now about that change of clothes and some food?” I prod gently.
Wraith laughs, the sound surprisingly light coming from the usually stoic knight. Fen flashes me a wide grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Boaz stands quietly next to them, his face softening with a small smile.
"She seems quite back to herself, Hawke," Boaz remarks. "But I have to agree with the lady. It's well past time for a morning meal and she’s dressed for bed."
Hawke turns to me, his stormy eyes softening as they meet mine. "Of course, sweet girl. Let's take care of your clothes first."
He takes a step back, his hands still holding mine. The familiar tingle of his magic builds, like static electricity in the air around us. His eyes never leave mine as he speaks, his voice low and intimate.
"Close your eyes," he murmurs.
I obey, letting my eyelids flutter shut. The spark of Hawke's magic intensifies, wrapping around me like a warm breeze. I feel it dance across my skin, light as a feather's touch. The fabric of my clothes seems to shift and flow, as if it's become liquid. My skin feels fresh. My hair is lighter and up off my neck.
"Open them," Hawke says, his voice filled with warmth and love.
I open my eyes and look down at myself. The buttoned-up robe has vanished, replaced by a stunning gown. The fabric is a soft, shimmering blue that reminds me of the sky just before dawn. It hugs my curves gently before flowing out in an elegant skirt that brushes the floor. The neckline is modest but flattering, with delicate silver embroidery that catches the light. I’ve even got soft slippers on my feet.
"Hawke," I breathe, running my hands over the smooth fabric. "It's beautiful. How?"
His smile is tender as he takes me in. "You're beautiful," he corrects, pulling me close. "The dress is merely a worthy setting for such a precious treasure." His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. "As for how, well, Fae magick allows me to bend the fabric of the world to my will."
He runs a hand along the shimmering fabric of my sleeve, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "With a thought and a touch of power, I can transform the very essence of what's around us. It's as natural to me as breathing."
Before I can respond, he leans in and captures my lips with his. The kiss is soft at first, a gentle press of lips that speaks of love and reverence. But as I melt into him, it deepens, becoming something more heated. His hand cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, while mine fist in the fabric of his shirt.
Through our bond, I experience his love, his pride, and a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart swell. I pour my own emotions back to him–gratitude, adoration, and a sense of home I've never felt before.
We break apart, both breathless.
Kellan clears his throat loudly and I glance around, suddenly remembering we're not alone. The other knights stand nearby, their expressions a mix of amusement and feigned disinterest. Wraith raises an eyebrow, while Fen poorly conceals a grin behind his hand.
Heat rises to my cheeks, but Hawke just laughs, keeping an arm wrapped securely around my waist. "Off we go then. Breakfast awaits."
Hawke guides me through corridors adorned with ancient tapestries and gleaming suits of armor, each step revealing more of his world. My mind races, trying to process everything that's happened. The battle, the near-death experience, the sudden influx of power—it all swirls together in a dizzying mix. Excitement bubbles up within me at the thought of exploring Hawke's world, but it's tempered by a gnawing anxiety about what comes next.
The air shifts subtly as we walk, the floral scent of the solarium giving way to hints of polished wood and old stone. I breathe deeply, letting the rich history of this place wash over me. It's overwhelming, yet oddly comforting—like I'm finally stepping into a story I've always been meant to be part of.
As we round a corner, Boaz stumbles slightly. Hawke's concern pulses through our bond, and I catch him exchanging a worried glance with Wraith. Before I can ask what's wrong, Boaz straightens, his face a mask of perfect composure once more.
Servants bustle past, offering quick bows as they go about their duties. Each deferential nod sends a jolt of surprise through me. I'm not used to this kind of treatment. I’m not even used to people seeing me. I’ve hidden my whole life. Except here… I don’t have to hide. Not any more.
With each turn, my anticipation grows, tinged with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Finally, we approach a set of ornate double doors. I can hear the muffled sounds of activity on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for whatever comes next.
Hawke squeezes my hand reassuringly as the doors swing open, revealing the breathtaking expanse of the great hall. I thought Camelot was elegant, but this palace is in a class of its own.
The ceiling soars impossibly high above us, its vaulted arches adorned with intricate frescoes. Sunlight streams through enormous stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the polished marble floor.
The air is thick with a tapestry of scents - the rich aroma of roasted meats, the sweetness of fresh-baked pastries, and underneath it all, a subtle, ethereal fragrance I can't quite place. It reminds me of moonlight on water, if such a thing had a scent.
The hall buzzes with life. The low murmur of conversations from simply dressed servants create a soothing background rhythm.
As we move further into the room, I'm struck by the play of light on various surfaces. Crystal chandeliers refract the sunlight, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the walls. The golden threads woven into the tablecloths seem to shimmer and move of their own accord.
It’s stunning. Majestic. And even though it’s grand, it’s cozy. Hawke walks us to the table closest to the roaring fireplace. His parents are already seated, but no one has touched the food yet.
Through our bond, I take pleasure in Hawke's joy at my reaction. This is his home, and now, somehow, it feels like it could be mine too.
As we near the table, King Theon Stormblood rises, his imposing figure casting a long shadow. My breath catches in my throat, and I squeeze Hawke's hand tighter. The king's face is unreadable, his piercing blue eyes—so like Hawke's—scrutinizing me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
Queen Isolde stands too, her movement graceful despite the tension evident in her shoulders. Her eyes lock onto Hawke and me, and I'm struck by the myriad of emotions flickering across her face—relief, concern, and something that looks almost like hope.