Page 9 of Secrets of Avalon

He’s walking so quickly. Almost like he’s running from me. Or running me away from people. No one comes out here. No one goes to the table room unless a meeting has been called between the Knights.

“How are you? Are you feeling better?” he asks, his tone tentative. “What happened?”

I grunt. So that’s why we came all the way out here. I don’t necessarily trust him to keep my secret, but it was smart to find a private place.

“I thought if something was happening, a little space would be good.”

“Something?” I turn and glare at him.

“Brother, you’ve been acting strange all day long. The outburst. Touching the door. You were speaking to someone who wasn’t there. Panicked. You passed out for at least a few minutes. The Upir coming into the Hall were all staring at you like you were crazy. So yes, I thought it would be wise to remove you from the public view.” He folds his arms over his chest and waits.

I roll my shoulders and my eyes to the empty sky above us and yell. “Fuck! I had to touch the door. I saw…” I cut myself off. I can’t tell him, either.

He nods, gesturing toward the door. “Whatever you saw, the World Tree will help calm you.”

We enter the large round tower chamber, a space both ancient and alive, whispering secrets of so many ages past. I hate to tell him I don’t think even the sacred tree can save me from losing my mind.

The room is expansive, with tall windows encircling the entire chamber, offering panoramic views of the surrounding isle of Avalon. Late afternoon sunlight pours through the glass, casting a warm, golden glow that dances across the stone walls. The light plays with shadows, creating a tapestry of light and darkness that adds to the mystical ambiance of a room that practically breathes magick.

In the center of the chamber stands the Round Table, unlike any other. Yggdrasil, the World Tree, grew a trunk up the center of the tower and spread itself out in this room, its surface bark as smooth as polished wood, resembling a majestic flat stump.

The Table calls its Knights from any of the eight worlds.

We don’t choose to serve. It is an honor and a privilege to be called. When my name appeared on one of the chairs–I’ve never seen my father so proud. As a Knight and the Prince of the Fae, I’m in a unique position to serve and protect Avalon, Camelot, and my people.

Around the table are five chairs, each uniquely grown by the World Tree. And they change each time Knights retires and new Knights are called.

I sit in the chair marked with my name and put both hands down on the Table. The magickal energy flows into me like a soothing river of cool water. The table acts as a well, a place where one can reach into Yggdrasil to replenish and find balance.

I’m not feral… yet.

“I saw a woman, Destrien.” I change my mind and decide tell him some. “It was like a dream, except it wasn’t.” I lean back in my chair and stare up at my brother. “The panic I felt was real. The danger she was in was real. She said people were coming to kill her. And I couldn’t get to her.”

His eyes widen, surprise stretching his mouth into a tight line.

The door to the chamber opens and the Queen of the Sirens slips inside.

Her blue and white hair is braided into a crown on her head. She’s wearing a small diamond encrusted tiara on top of her hair. Her silver dress swishes lightly against the stone floor and her short traveling cloak hangs from her back like a royal cape. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything other than formalwear.

I swing my gaze back to Destrien and glare. “What did you do?”

“Don’t be hard on your brother, Hawke. He’s worried about you. And rightly so,” Nimue’s voice is velvety and smooth and controlled.

“You talk to Nimue. I’ll take care of the meetings we’re already late for, brother.” He spins and leaves the room before I can speak against this plan. I don’t want to speak to anyone about this, much less the siren Queen.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She walks closer to the table and runs her fingertips along the edge, but doesn’t sit. She’s a queen by every right, but these seats belong to the Knights. They aren’t thrones, but they are special. Revered.

She clasps her hands and rotates a large silver and blue ring on her first finger. Around and around, like she’s nervous, or thinking, or both. I’ve never seen her act this way and it makes me suspicious.

“I don’t know what my brother told you, but I’m fine.”

“Mmmmm,” she hums beneath her breath. “What did you see when you touched the Earth-Realm door? A woman?”

How in the depths of all fucking hells does she know?

“When did you arrive in Camelot, Queen Nimue,” I ask, ignoring her question and using her title to create distance and formality. We are not friends and I’m pissed my brother involved her in my business. “I don’t remember seeing you come through the Hall of Realms?”

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