Page 129 of Secrets of Avalon

King Lorakian snarls, his lips peeling back to reveal teeth that seem unnaturally sharp in the dim light. He doesn't move, but the tension in his body screams of barely restrained violence. "Will we elect new council members?" he spits out, each word dripping with venom.

"We have the Knights. We don't need another fucking High Council! We never should've had them in the first place." King Jarlath Kergadras stands abruptly, nostrils flaring wide. His wife stands beside him, her eyes turned crimson and glittering dangerously in the dim light.

King Lorakian pins King Kergadras with a hateful sneer. "You have a family member as a Knight. We didn't get to pick a Knight from our family to serve." He takes an aggressive step forward.

One step too close to my mate. Every muscle in my body coils, ready to spring.

Melinda’s breath catches. Her fingers twitch against mine, a silent signal of her unease.

I’ve got you, I assure her through our bond and draw her closer, my body angled to shield her from the room's hostility. Let them see, let them understand–she is my queen, my heart, my very soul. To threaten her is to invite my wrath, and I would move mountains, part seas, and yes, set this entire realm ablaze if it meant keeping her safe.

"We didn't pick Wraith, either! The World Tree picks knights." Queen Kergadras tries to step forward, but her husband tucks her slightly behind his body the same way I’ve done with Melinda.

Before those two can start a physical fight, I'm moving. In two quick strides, I place myself between Lorakian and Melinda and the Kergadras King and Queen. Galathar and I are nearly nose to nose, our eyes locked. The heat of his breath whispers against my face.

"Back the fuck down." I'm acutely aware of Melinda behind me, her presence both a comfort and a catalyst for my protective rage. "You are in my home. You are a guest."

He doesn't move for several agonizing heartbeats. Almost imperceptibly, his chin dips. He steps backward, retreating to his wife's side, his eyes never leaving mine.

The peace lasts a mere second before the room erupts into a roar of new accusations and denials ricocheting off the walls. The tension is a living thing, writhing and growing with each shouted word.

I step back, turn and move Melinda with me. Her face is drawn tight, but I see the storm raging behind her eyes. She's handling the stress remarkably well, and her magick isn’t creeping out at all. Kellan stands watchful only a few steps away, but he doesn’t look worried about her either.

My gaze flicks from my brothers in arms, checking in with them before I finally land on my father. I move closer to my father and speak quietly so the rest of the room can’t hear. "Where is my brother and his new wife?"

"I sent them to their rooms. He does not deserve to be a part of this discussion."

"He is now the leader of the city of Lunaris, but I don’t trust him." The words taste bitter on my tongue. I hate how my brother has manipulated his way into more power, cloaking his ambition in the guise of righteousness by killing my wife's would-be assassin.

My father's expression hardens, the lines around his mouth deepening. "He will do as he is bid. I don’t think he’s a threat to you or Melinda, but I don’t think he will help you either." His eyes narrow as he surveys the chaotic room. "It's Sigilford we need assurances from. They did not answer our invitation to the wedding."

"I agree."

My gaze darts between my father and King Lorakian, who's locked in another heated exchange with King Kergadras. I knew war was coming, I’m just disappointed it came smashing into our lives on the first day of my reign. I’d much rather be relaxing in my bed enjoying my wife.

“She is an outsider. It’s her fault this all came to a head now.” King Lorakian has pushed my hospitality too far.

I step toward him, straightening to my full height. He’s at least a handbreadth shorter. "Was it just your council representatives that attacked my wife and family? Sent golems to kill us?" My voice rises with each word. "Or do you wish me ill while you sit in my hall and eat and drink and dance with my family?" The moment the words leave my mouth, there’s a flicker of shame. I'm stooping to their level, hurling accusations like a novice in the political arena.

Melinda's sharp intake of breath behind me is barely audible, but her concern radiates loudly enough.

King Lorakian's face contorts, his lip curling into a snarl that reveals unnaturally sharp teeth. "You Fae think you're so special because you built Camelot," he spits, each word dripping with centuries of resentment. "That you should be in charge."

Ares' voice booms from the corner, shaking the very foundations of the room. "The knights are supposed to be the ruling authority when the kings and queens can't agree." His words cut through the chaos like a blade. "If the knights before me and mine could see you, could see what this self-appointed, self-righteous council has done to the order of the eight worlds... They would curse us all as fools."

My gaze meets Ares. His jaw is clenched and I can see the fire in his eyes. He’s making this fight worse. He’s losing control of his wrath and it's spreading to all of us.

I need you to go, I mouth the words to my brother in arms.

He curls his lip at me like a rabid animal, but suddenly an understanding dawns in his expression and he silently slips out the back door of the study.

And with him goes the overwhelming desire to scream and yell and punch something. At least I know now why the royalty of all eight worlds was bickering like a bunch of petty ingrates–myself included.

“That they would.” Nimue steps out of the shadows, picking up where Ares left off.

Fuck, where did she come from?

“You’re all fools, letting the so-called High Council call the shots for as long as you did.”

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