Page 124 of Secrets of Avalon

I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. The scent of polished wood and fragrant flowers wafts around me, grounding me in the present. With a slight nod to the herald, I give him permission to announce us.

"King Hawke Stormblood and Queen Melinda Mayweather Stormblood."

The herald's voice booms through the hall. A hush falls over the crowd inside. My heart quickens its pace, a drum beating out a rhythm of anticipation and pride.

Only then do I turn to Melinda, curious to see how she's handling this moment. I drink in her awe-struck expression, feeling a surge of tenderness. Her eyes are wide, darting back and forth as if trying to memorize every detail of the scene before us. The nervousness I'd felt moments ago melts away, replaced by a fierce protectiveness and love.

"Ready to make our entrance, my queen?" Seeing her like this—vulnerable, excited, a little overwhelmed—only makes me love her more. It's a reminder of how far she's come, how much she's adapted to this world that must still seem so strange to her.

“Yes.” She flashes me a nervous smile.

“Relax, my sweet girl. This is just a party.” I guide Melinda to the center of the dance floor. The music shifts to a slow, haunting melody as I draw Melinda close. "Follow my lead." I begin to move in time with the music. And as we dance, the world seems to fade away until it's just the two of us. Her initial nervousness melts into joy. And that is exactly what had hoped for.

After at least an hour of making rounds and hearing congratulations from dozens of people, I finally guide my queen to the head table. Exhaustion tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but the warmth of Melinda's hand in mine keeps me grounded. As we approach our seats, my eyes fall on the familiar faces already seated, and a knot forms in my stomach.

My parents sit to my right, their presence a comfort. But beyond them, the sight of Destrien, Vencia, and Julius Darkwood sends a surge of irritation through me. The memory of Destrien's earlier expression—that fleeting moment of darkness—flashes in my mind. Vencia's simpering smile does little to mask the calculation in her eyes, while Julius exudes an air of smug satisfaction that sets my teeth on edge.

I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral. This is my coronation, my wedding feast. They have no right to taint it with their presence. A part of me wants to order them removed, to banish them to the far corners of the hall where I won't have to see their faces or hear their voices.

But I'm king now. I can't afford to make a scene, to let personal grievances overshadow the significance of this day. I take a deep breath, willing the tension from my shoulders. I've faced far worse than them. I can endure a few hours in their company.

I pull out Melinda's chair, using the moment to compose myself. As she sits, I lean in close, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. It centers me, reminding me of what truly matters. When I straighten, I've pushed away the unease their presence brings, locking it behind a wall of determination.

This is our celebration, and I won't let them ruin it.

With practiced ease, I slip into my own seat, nodding cordially to each member of the table. My voice is steady as I raise a toast, not a hint of my inner turmoil showing. I am King Hawke Stormblood, and I will not be rattled by whatever games they think to play.

Tonight is about Melinda and me, about our future together. I let my gaze drift to my left, where Melinda sits, radiant in her silver-white wedding gown. The sight of her soothes my agitation, replacing it with a warm sense of contentment. Beyond her, I see the familiar faces of my brothers in arms, their presence a comforting buffer between us and the rest of the court. We'd tried to convince Kellan to take a seat as well, but the man stubbornly refused to leave his post behind her chair.

A server approaches our table, a small tray balanced carefully in his hands. The sweet aroma wafting from it immediately identifies its contents, bringing a smile to my face. They are her favorite. The server pauses next to Melinda, his voice respectful as he offers, "More honey cakes, your majesty?"

“Yes, thank you.” She plucks a cake from the tray and takes a big bite out of it, flashing a bright smile at the serving boy. The boy blushes red and hurries off.

“Those smiles are for me, my love.” I pull her closer and press a kiss to her lips, tasting bits of the honey cake.

She rewards me with an even brighter smile. “I was just being nice. He brought my favorite.”

“Hmmm, very well. I’ll spare him this time then.”

“I’m glad.” She laughs, full and deep, and I think it’s one of the very first times I’ve really heard her let her guard down and laugh. And now that I’ve heard it, I can’t imagine not hearing it every day. I will do anything and everything to make sure she’s safe and happy and treasured above all else.

A sudden hush falls over the Great Hall, broken only by the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as guests rise to their feet. The harpists' melody shifts, their fingers dancing across the strings to coax forth a lively tune that seems to breathe new life into the very air around us.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the herald's voice rings out, "it is time for the Faelight Reel!"

A ripple of excitement passes through the room. Half the guests move toward the center of the hall, their smiles wide and their eyes bright. The Faelight Reel is the favorite and the last dance of the night at a Fae wedding.

I stand, offering my hand to Melinda. "Shall we, my queen?"

Before she can respond, Ares materializes at Melinda’s side with a roguish grin. "If I may, Your Majesty.”

I bare my fangs and hiss at my friend.

“You know the rules.” He holds out his hand to her. “Tradition dictates that the new king and queen dance with others for the Faelight Reel." He bows low. "Your Majesty the Queen, would you grant me the honor?"

Melinda's eyes dart to mine.

I push down the flare of possessiveness. "It's true, love. Go on."

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