Page 132 of Secrets of Avalon

“What did Siva say, Domina?”

“She just told me I couldn’t have the wine and clammed up.” I let out a loud huff of frustration. “But I’d really like to try it. A glass of wine after all this sounds just about perfect to me.”

Ares raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. He approaches, a small glass of the special wine in hand. My heart rate quickens as he nears.

Suddenly, Siva bursts from my wrist in a swirl of emerald energy. The baby dragon, now an outline of light and energy, plants herself between Ares and me. Her growl reverberates through the room as she spreads her wings, a clear warning.

What the actual hell? What is her problem? “Siva!”

"You win, baby dragon." Ares concedes, downing the glass of ambrosia wine himself.

The silence stretches on from everyone else, thick and suffocating. Fen and Wraith and Boaz all exchange glances with Hawke, concern clearly written on their faces.

The worry that was bubbling in my stomach now starts to roll up my throat. “Somebody better explain. You all look like you know why she’s being this way. A little wine isn't going to hurt me."

Siva turns, her gaze meeting mine. Then she looks to Kellan, and I do as well.

The shock on Kellan's face mirrors every other person in the room. My chest tightens more. Bile burns at the back of my throat. What am I missing?

Hawke’s surge of excitement is quickly overshadowed by dread. But he’s not talking either.

“Just tell me. Nothing is worse than this fucking silence.”

Ares finally breaks it, his words falling like hammer strikes. "Fermented ambrosia is dangerous for a woman carrying a child. It's never really a problem because we have ways of knowing as soon as a woman is pregnant... Therefore, we would never offer it to them and they would never take it accidentally."

“No. No. No. I can’t. I just–I can’t.”

Kellan looks at Siva. "Are you sure? And why can't she tell? She is magickal. I think that's been well established."

The little dragon bobs her head up and down.

How can Siva know? Hawke and I only were together… it hasn’t been long enough. No one could know. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t lose Hawke. I should’ve had more time to figure this out. No. No. No. The denial repeats in my mind, a desperate loop against the truth that's slowly, inexorably sinking in.

“Oh, Melinda, this is wonderful.” Isolde claps her hands and smiles widely. She’s excited. I can see it in her face. She’s only thinking about how she’s going to be a grandmother. She’s forgotten that it will kill her son. She’s forgotten that she’ll hate me.

My vision blurs as tears well up. I try to breathe, but it's like my lungs have forgotten how to work. Each gasp is shallow, insufficient. The room spins.

"Melinda. You're safe." Hawke's arms encircle me, and his warmth is usually a sanctuary. But now, it only amplifies the horror building inside me. I continue to gulp for air, feeling like I'm drowning on dry land.

In nine months, when this child is born, I'll lose him. Hawke–my love, my mate, my husband–will be ripped away forever. He'll never hold our baby, never see their first steps, never hear them laugh.

And it's all my fault.

The guilt is a vise around my heart, squeezing until I think it might burst. I should have been stronger. I should have pushed him away, no matter how much it hurt. Now, because of my weakness, I've sentenced the man I love to death.

My mother always warned me. Over and over she’d warned me not to have a child with a man I loved.

“No. No. It will kill you.”

Melinda. Hawke's voice echoes in my head, a lifeline I cling to desperately. Sweet girl. Do not put blame on yourself. You told me what you feared. I had a choice and I made it. I wanted to be with you. I needed to be with you. We are in this together and we will find a way to remove the curse, if it even still exists.

How can he still have hope? How can he not hate me for what I've done?

"I'm going to lose you," I choke out, burying my face in his silken shirt. “There’s nothing I can do. My curse will kill you.” My fingers clutch at the fabric as if I can keep him here by sheer force of will. Sobs wrack my body. I’m spiraling into a darkness where the only certainty is the knowledge that I've destroyed everything I love.

Again.

Isolde's strong, steady voice cuts through my despair. "No, my dear. We won't let that happen."

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