Page 123 of Secrets of Avalon

And now, with Melinda at my side, our souls entwined in a bond I thought impossible for me. A surge of readiness courses through me. It's as if all the pieces of a complex puzzle have finally clicked into place. The responsibility no longer looms as a burden, but as a calling I'm prepared to answer.

My father lifts the crown—a breathtaking masterpiece of intricate silver filigree studded with blood-red rubies. As he lowers it onto my head, the cool metal rests against my brow, its weight both physical and symbolic. The rubies catch the light, sending crimson flecks dancing across the room like embers from a sacred fire.

With reverence, my father retrieves the scepter from its resting place on a velvet pillow. The attendant holding it bows deeply, his movements deliberate and practiced. As the scepter passes from my father's hands to mine, a jolt of energy courses through me. Whether it's magic or merely the power of the moment, I can't be sure.

I turn my gaze to the assembled crowd, my people—now more than ever. Kellan stands tall among my brothers-in-arms, his face solemn, but respect gleaming in his gaze. I didn’t like him at first. I was jealous of the connection he shares with my wife, but over the course of the last few days I’ve really seen his value and come to respect him as an honorable man.

To Kellan's right, Ares grins broadly, unable to contain his excitement for me. There will be teasing about debauchery later for sure. His black curls glisten like a raven’s wing and there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye that tells me he's already planning something. Despite his carefree demeanor, I know the depth of his commitment—and how hard he struggles with the darkness and wrath that threatens to overwhelm him. To call him friend has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

Wraith stands to Kellan's left. His golden eyes shine and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He’s the one who has always seen more than he says. Given me hell about being king and responsibilities that come with it. He’s older than me by a few centuries, and had we not been called to be knights together, we likely would never have become friends.

Boaz, the quiet professor of our group, always knows the right thing to say. His green eyes are soft, filled with a warmth that reminds me of all the times his strength—both physical, mental, and emotional—has been our group's foundation.

And finally, there's Fenrir, standing slightly apart as always. His lean frame is coiled with tension, alert even in this moment of celebration. But as our eyes meet, I see a flash of fierce joy in his wolf-like gaze. Fen is the type of man who is first to pick up a sword to fight for those he loves and would be the last man to ever put it down.

As I take in the sight of my most trusted companions, a wave of gratitude washes over me. These knights, my brothers in all but blood, have been instrumental in shaping the king I hope to become. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their unwavering support—all have played a part in preparing me for this moment.

Their loyalty and friendship warms me as I continue to scan the assembled crowd, acknowledging the nobles and dignitaries with a slight nod. But amidst the sea of faces, a discordant note catches my attention–Destrien.

For a fleeting moment, I catch a shadow crossing his features—a darkness that sends worry creeping through my mind. Is it envy twisting his expression, or something deeper, more insidious? Before I can decipher it, his face smooths into a mask of neutrality, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

I push the thought aside, refocusing on the monumental task before me. With Melinda by my side and the crown upon my head, I stand ready to lead my people into a new era—one of unity, strength, and hope.

It’s Melinda’s turn now and I don’t want to think about Destrien’s anger or jealousy. I want to think about the next chapter of my life as king and husband.

The coronation ritual for Melinda mirrors mine, yet watching her accept the vows brings a new wave of emotion over me. This remarkable woman, who came into our world so unexpectedly, now stands ready to rule beside me. As my mother places the queen's crown upon her head, I see Melinda's shoulders straighten, chin lifting slightly. She looks every inch the amazing queen I know she will be.

"I now pronounce, King Hawke Stormblood, King of the Fae, Lord of Camelot, and Protector of Earth and Avalon." The pride in my father’s voice threatens to bring tears to my eyes. "And Queen Melinda Mayweather Stormblood, Queen of the Fae, Lady of Camelot, and Protector of Earth and Avalon."

I turn to Melinda. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, there is nothing else in the world but my wife. Her face is radiant. There’s a mix of joy, nervousness, and determination etched across her features. A stray curl has escaped her elaborate updo, softening her regal appearance.

Slowly, I extend my hand to her. As our fingers intertwine, a jolt of electricity courses through me, our bond humming with shared emotion. Her hand is warm, soft, yet there’s a slight tremor—a reminder that she's as overwhelmed as I am. I give her a reassuring smile, hoping to convey all the love and support I have for her.

Together, we raise our joined hands high above our heads, a symbol of our unity and strength. The applause that follows is deafening. The cheers and clapping reverberate through the hall so strongly they vibrate through my chest.

Once the applause has died down, we sit in the thrones and the formal presentation of arms begins, a procession of Fae nobles from the other cities approaching to swear fealty. Julius Darkwood, representing Lunaris, is the first to approach. He kneels before us, his head bowed low. "I, Julius Darkwood, pledge my loyalty and the loyalty of Lunaris to King Hawke and Queen Melinda Stormblood. May your reign be long and prosperous." The words are formal, rehearsed, and without sincerity, but they are spoken nonetheless.

One by one, the lower nobles of Lunaris come forward, each bending the knee and pledging their loyalty. My brother and his new wife are among them.

No one has come from the city of Sigilford. Not a single noble.

As the last noble of Vandimoor and Lunaris rises and steps back, I steal a glance at Melinda. Her posture is perfect, every inch the queen, but I can see the slight widening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. We've done it. We've made it through the wedding and the coronation. Everyone has accepted the shift in leadership, bowing before us as their new monarchs. Well, all but one city. That will be dealt with later and harshly.

My parents step forward one last time, and I'm struck by the mix of emotions on their faces. My father's chest is puffed out with pride, his eyes shining with unshed tears. My mother's smile is radiant, though I can see a hint of wistfulness in her gaze—the bittersweet acknowledgment of an era's end and a new one's beginning.

"People of Vandimoor and guests from all the eight worlds," they proclaim in unison, their voices ringing clear and strong, "now we invite you to celebrate!"

The hall erupts in excited cheers once more, the atmosphere shifting from solemn ceremony to joyous celebration in an instant. The air itself seems to vibrate with energy and anticipation. As the festivities begin, I lean closer to Melinda, whispering in her ear, "We did it, my love. Are you ready? There’s nothing quite as spectacular as a Fae wedding celebration."

The doors of the Great Hall swing open, and I'm momentarily overwhelmed. It looks so different than it had this morning. Banquet tables line the edges of the room, forming a U-shape around a wide-open space in the center.

The tables are filled with every type of meat and delicacy imaginable. Whole roasted boars, their skin crisp and golden, sit alongside platters of iridescent fruits. The aroma of spiced meats mingles with the sweet scent of honeyed pastries, creating a mouthwatering perfume that fills the air.

At the far end of the hall, a group of harpists sit on a raised dais, strumming soft playful tunes. Garlands of living vines and flowers wind their way up the towering pillars, blooming and changing colors in time with the music. The vaulted ceiling above has been enchanted to appear as the night sky, complete with twinkling stars, the moon, and the occasional shooting star streaking across the inky blackness.

"Your majesty?" The herald at the door waits for my signal, his voice low and deferential.

I pause. This is it—our first official entrance as king and queen. A thrill of excitement courses through me, mingled with a hint of nervousness that catches me off guard. I've attended countless royal functions, but never as the crowned monarch.

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