46. Nope, No Sleep For Me
CHAPTER 46
Nope, No Sleep For Me
Melinda Mayweather
The soft glow of candlelight flickers across the stone walls of Hawke's chambers—our chambers now, I remind myself. I'm curled against Hawke's chest, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath my ear. The events of the day swirl through my mind like leaves caught in an autumn breeze.
"You should rest." Hawke’s fingers trace lazy patterns along my spine. “We have a long day tomorrow."
I let out a soft snort. "That might be the understatement of the century." I tilt my head to meet his gaze. "Are you nervous?"
A wry smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "About marrying you? Not in the slightest." His expression softens, a flicker of vulnerability shows in his bright blue eyes. "About becoming king? Slightly."
I reach up, cupping his cheek in my palm. "You're going to be an amazing king, Hawke. I've seen how much you care for your people, how hard you fight for what's right."
He turns his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. "And you'll be right there beside me, my queen."
The title sends a shiver through me. He might only be slightly nervous about becoming king, but I’m terrified. He’s been prepping for this his whole life. I’ve had a couple of days to get used to the idea. And my very presence in Avalon has started a war.
Hawke's arms tighten around me. "We'll figure it out together. I promise."
I burrow closer to him. "Tell me more about the ceremony. What should I expect?"
As Hawke begins to describe the intricate details of the coronation and wedding rituals, his deep voice rumbles soothingly. My eyelids finally grow heavy, the tension of the day slowly seeps out of my muscles.
His voice fades away as I drift off hoping for peaceful dreams tonight. But even as that hope forms, the tendrils of something darker, something other , reaching for me across the veil of sleep…
The world shifts, reality melting away like candle wax. Suddenly, I'm standing in an endless field, the familiar warmth of Hawke's arms replaced by a cool night breeze that raises goosebumps on my skin. Terror surges through me, a cold wave that threatens to drown out all rational thought. I spin in place, my eyes darting frantically as I search for any trace of Vandimoor. The city has vanished, leaving nothing but an ocean of knee-high grass swaying in the moonlight.
A pinprick of white light blinks into existence beside me, pulsing with a gentle hum. It darts around my head, leaving a streak of light in its wake. The tiny sprite pauses, hovering expectantly just out of reach.
Heart pounding, I take a hesitant step forward. The sprite whirls in tight, excited circles, its hum rising to a delighted chirp. Before I can second-guess myself, it zips away down the hillside, pausing every few yards to ensure I'm following.
I plunge after it, the damp grass soaking the hem of my nightgown. The sprite leads me on a twisting path, the landscape blurring at the edges of my vision. Just as I start to wonder if this chase will ever end, an unfamiliar voice slices through the night.
"Melinda."
I whirl, nearly losing my footing on the slick grass. The field is empty save for the dancing sprite.
"Melinda."
This time the voice comes from behind me. I spin again, my heart leaping into my throat. The sprite vanishes into the night, and there she stands—the woman from the tower cell. Except this time she’s not terrifying. This time she just looks like a normal human woman. No black eyes. No soul sucking vacuum stealing my magick. Somehow, that's even more unsettling.
“You’re her. Aena, aren’t you?”
She tilts her head, reminding me of a curious bird. Her gaze bores into me, searching for something.
"What do you want?" I force the words out past the lump of fear in my throat, taking an involuntary step backward. Any second now, I expect her to transform into a nightmare creature, all fangs and claws and insatiable hunger.
"What they took." Aena's voice is soft, but it carries the weight of centuries. She glides toward me, her movements unnaturally smooth.
Panic explodes in my chest. "Stay away from me!" I thrust my hands out in front of me, as if I can somehow ward her off.
She lunges forward with inhuman speed. A startled cry tears from my lips as I lose my balance, crashing to the ground. Aena looms over me, her features contorted by a feral hunger, eyes wild with frenzied need. "Give back what you stole."
"I didn't steal anything from you!" I scramble backward, grass and mud clinging to my palms. "What are you looking for?"
Aena's head tilts again, confusion flickering across her features. It's as if she can't quite grasp the question—or worse, doesn't know the answer herself.
A wild thought strikes me. I push myself to my feet, ignoring the trembling in my legs. "Do you remember what happened to you?" I take a cautious step toward her. "Everyone is afraid of you, Aena."
She shakes her head, frustration etching deep lines around her mouth. "Give back what you stole!" Her eyes flash a brilliant white, like lightning contained within flesh. Then, just as quickly, they plunge into inky blackness and she grabs my face. "Give back what you stole! Give back what you stole!"
Aena's hands burn like ice against my skin. Her fingers dig into my cheeks, nails biting deep. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. The world begins to spin, faster and faster, Aena's face distorting even more before my eyes. Her features twist into a nightmarish monster—lips peeled back in an angry snarl, eyes blazing with a dangerous fiery rage.
"I don't have it!" I want to shout, but my voice is trapped in my throat. The spinning intensifies.
Give back what you stole. Give back what you stole. GIVE BACK WHAT YOU STOLE!
The words pound in my head, growing louder until they're all I can hear, all I can think. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, something inside me snaps.
A scream tears from my throat.
My eyes fly open, and I bolt upright, gasping for air.
The cool night breeze vanishes, replaced by the soft morning warmth of the solarium. I jolt upright, heart hammering against my ribs, a scream caught in my throat. Disorientation crashes over me in choppy waves as I struggle to separate reality from the nightmare. Aena's desperate eyes still burn in my mind.
The door bursts open. Hawke charges in, sword in hand, his eyes wild. Kellan is right behind him, his massive form filling the doorway.
"Melinda!" Hawke rushes to my side. "Who hurt you? Where are they?"
I open my mouth to respond, but sob escapes instead. The remnants of the dream cling to me like a second skin, cold and suffocating.
Hawke's sword clatters to the floor. In an instant, he's there, strong arms enveloping me. I burrow into his chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of pine and leather floods my senses, anchoring me to reality. I’m not in the dream anymore.
Aena is gone.
"It was her," I choke out between ragged breaths. "Aena. She was in my dream. It... it hurt so much. She kept screaming that I'd stolen something from her. That she wanted it back."
Hawke stiffens, his arms tightening around me. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through me. Over his shoulder, I see Kellan move closer, his eyes sweeping the room with predatory intensity.
"Did you see anyone here, Domina ?" Kellan's voice is calm, but deadly.
"No, she was in my dream. It was just a dream." I swallow hard, tasting salt. "But the pain... it was so real."
"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl, my love." Hawke presses his lips against my temple. I can feel him trembling, feel his fear and anger through our bond.
"Did she say what was stolen, Domina ?" Kellan’s expression is intensely serious.
I pull back slightly, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "No." I shake my head. "She just... kept demanding I give it back."
Kellan’s posture relaxes fractionally, but his eyes never stop scanning the room.
Hawke shifts, and suddenly I'm weightless in his arms. He cradles me against his chest. "Let's get you back to our room. Elen and Lydia are waiting for you. We must prepare for today." His stride never falters once as we move through the dim corridors. "My brother has arrived with his wife, and my parents would have us break bread this morning before the ceremonies start."
The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Elen and Lydia fuss over me, their gentle hands and soothing words a balm to my frayed nerves. They dress me in a gown of soft blue silk, its flowing lines remind me of a cascading waterfall.
As they guide me to a full-length mirror, I catch my breath. The gown hugs my curves before flowing out in a gentle sweep, making me look taller, more regal. Intricate silver embroidery adorns the bodice, catching the light with every movement. My hair has been plaited into a braid with a few loose wisps that frame my face. I’m like a princess at a ball in the Lord of the Rings , if that were a thing.
Hawke steps into an adjacent room to change, returning moments later as Lydia finishes lacing up the fancy sleeves on my dress.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him. He's a vision in deep midnight blue. His jacket, tailored to perfection, accentuates the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his body. His silver and black hair has been tied back, and several braids along the sides of his head emphasize the beautiful angular planes of his face. But it's his eyes that capture me—full of pure adoration and desire that makes my heart swell.
He steps forward, offering his arm. "Ready?"
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. The nightmare lingers at the edges of my mind, but I push it aside. Today is about new beginnings, about hope. I’m not going to let anything get the better of me. Not even Hawke’s brother marrying the enemy. I’m safe with Hawke. With his family.
"Ready."
Together, we step into the corridor and Kellan falls into step behind us as we make our way towards the grand hall. The doors are pushed open by the attendants, and we step inside to a very uncomfortable silence.
Hawke's arm tenses beneath my hand, but that’s the only physical manifestation of the blinding rage coursing through him when he lays eyes on Julius Darkwood.
King Theon and Queen Isolde sit at the head of the table, their faces flat and unreadable. At the opposite end of the table Destrien sits silently with Julius Darkwood at his right and Vencia Darkwood to his left
"Mother, Father." He keeps his voice formal and controlled. He nods to each of them in turn, pointedly ignoring the others. "I apologize for our tardiness."
"Hawke, Melinda." Queen Isolde's voice is warm despite the tension. "Please come and sit. Eat."
My heart races as Hawke leads me to the table. He deliberately positions himself between me and Darkwood. I catch a glimpse of Darkwood's face–cold and calculating.
Kellan takes up a position behind my chair as usual.
Servants bring in trays of food, their footsteps and the scrape of platters on the table the only sounds in the suffocating silence. The aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced meats would normally make my mouth water, but anxiety has made my stomach turn. I’m not the only one. No one touches a plate.
King Theon clears his throat and fixes his gaze on Destrien. "I believe it's time for some explanations." He turns to Destrien, his expression hardening. "Son, you have much to answer for. Explain yourself."
I glance at Destrien, struck by his resemblance to Hawke. But where Hawke's face usually holds warmth and kindness, Destrien's features are sharp with arrogance. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, and a surge of disgust rushes through me from Hawke.
"Explain what, exactly, Father?" Destrien's voice drips with condescension. "My marriage? Falling in love? Securing myself a future while my brother was off cavorting with the rebels?"
Destrien's accusation slices through the air, sharp and venomous. I force a steady breath, willing my racing heart to slow. The heat of anger rises to my cheeks. How dare he twist Hawke's sacrifices into something so petty and self-serving?
My fingers tighten on Hawke's arm. I glance at him, searching his face for a reaction. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, but his eyes and composure remains steady. And so I make sure mine does as well.
The king's face, however, hardens and I'm grateful his anger isn't directed at me. "You married in secret. You aligned yourself with those who sought to hurt this family. And you dare speak against your brother, against your next king?"
Vencia leans forward, her eyes glittering with a cunning that makes me instinctively recoil. "Your Majesty, if I may-"
"You may not." Hawke’s voice is like ice. I've never heard him speak with such coldness, and it startles me. "You have no voice here, Vencia. Nor do you," he adds, glaring at Darkwood.
Julius Darkwood merely smiles, a gesture so chilling that I have to suppress a shudder. “I am here to make peace, Prince Stormblood. Nothing more.” He shrugs his shoulders. “The council is no more. Lunaris is my home. Vandimoor is our capital. I am a loyal Fae. You will be my king.”
Deceitful prick.
Hawke scoffs and looks away.
Kellan steps closer to my chair, and the tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I half expect violence to erupt at any moment.
"Brother," Destrien's voice is mockingly conciliatory, making my teeth clench. "Surely you can see the advantages of my actions. With this alliance, we only strengthen our family in-"
"Enough!" Queen Isolde's voice cracks like a whip, making me jump. Her eyes, so warm when they looked at me, now blaze with maternal fury. "This day is for your brother and his mate. There has not been a soul mate match in centuries. We have a coronation and a wedding to put on. You will be silent and polite. Is that understood, Destrien?"
I watch as Hawke's brother bows his head, but I can see the defiance still simmering in his eyes. "Yes, mother." The words are said, but they ring hollow.