Page 128 of Secrets of Avalon

Fen groans, attempting to sit up but failing. "Like I've been trampled by a herd of centaurs. Twice." His voice is hoarse. He looks around, taking in the chaos of the hall, the scattered guests, the guards still on high alert. Fear and guilt flash across his face. "Did I... did I hurt anyone?"

"No," Ares assures him quickly, placing a comforting hand on Fen's shoulder. "Boaz contained you before you could."

At the mention of Boaz's name, he turns his head, seeking out the Elven knight. When he spots him, standing a few feet away and looking exhausted, Fen nods. "Thank you, brother."

A small, tired smile tugs at Boaz’s lips. "Let's get you cleaned up and dressed, shall we?" he says, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

My heart pounds against my ribs. The weight of so many eyes—judging, wondering, accusing—presses down on me.

Hawke must sense the growing unease because he turns to address the room, his voice ringing out clear and authoritative. "Friends and honored guests. I know this evening has taken an unexpected and tragic turn. For now, I must ask most of you to return to your rooms for the night." He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the assembled royalty. "Kings and queens, would you please follow my parents to my father's library. We need to speak before the night ends."

There's a moment of hesitation before the crowd begins to disperse, quietly shepherded by the palace guards.

As the hall empties, leaving only our inner circle and a few key guards, Hawke takes my hand. We make our way out of the Great Hall and I look back a moment at the mess.

The flowers that had been so joyfully strung about the room now lie trampled and torn, their petals scattered like confetti across the floor. Tables are overturned. Chairs knocked over. And Darkwood's body has been covered, but the dark stain on the floor peeks out from beneath a blanket.

A lump forms in my throat, threatening to choke me. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My wedding day. The beginning of a new chapter. Instead, the war I caused has come back to haunt me once again.

CHAPTER 50

Just Believe

Hawke Stormblood

The library door closes behind us with a soft click. I guide Melinda to a nearby settee, my hand never leaving the small of her back. Her face is pale, but her eyes burn with a determination that makes my heart swell with pride. This is my wife, my queen, facing the storm head-on.

At her right stands Kellan, silent but vigilantly supportive. Boaz, Ares, and Fenrir flank the room's edges watching the angry royals with concern. Even Wraith seems on edge.

This is my first moment as king. The responsibility has never felt heavier. Everyone is arguing and yelling and shouting about what they want. What is better for them. Safer for them. No one is thinking about how all of this will affect us as a whole.

My father moves to stand behind his desk, taking my mother with him. Around us, the kings and queens of the different worlds settle into an uneasy silence, letting their attention fall to him first instead of me. Which is fine, he has been king for two thousand years. I’ve been king for two hours.

"We find ourselves at a crossroads," my father says. "Julius Darkwood, formerly of the High Council, is dead after attempting to assassinate my daughter-in-law, the new Queen of the Fae."

My father's words hang in the air, heavy with what remains unsaid. I notice the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze skims over where my brother usually stands next to his desk. But Destrien wasn’t invited into this conversation. Does he share my unspoken fears about Destrien's involvement? I can't be certain, but the omission speaks volumes.

Our eyes meet, and he gives a subtle nod, passing the mantle of leadership to me. My heart pounds against my ribs as I step forward, Melinda's hand warm in mine. Countless eyes bear down on us. I scan the room, my gaze sharp and searching. I'm looking for tells–a furtive glance, a bead of sweat, a trembling hand–anything that might betray guilt or complicity in the attempt on Melinda's life.

There’s nothing.

"This was a declaration of civil war within the Fae." My fingers tighten around Melinda's, drawing strength from her presence. She squeezes back, her grip firm despite the slight tremor in her hand. "He tried to assassinate the first soulmate match in centuries. My wife."

The words taste bitter on my tongue. Rage simmers just beneath the surface of my calm. "Some of you here may have allies who conspired with the traitor. Make no mistake–any treachery festering in our own cities will be rooted out and crushed without mercy. This is not the first attempt to take her from me."

My gaze sweeps the room once more, slower this time, more deliberate. Where before I sought guilt, now I'm searching for something deeper. King Lorakian's fingers drum against his thigh, a nervous tic I've never noticed before. Queen Kergadras meets my eyes unflinchingly, but there's a glimmer of... is that approval? To my left, I catch a subtle nod from one of the lesser lords, his expression grim but determined.

It's not just traitors I'm looking for now, but allies. Those who understand the gravity of what's at stake. I see it in the tightened jaw of one of the lesser Lords of Sigilford. The future of the Fae–of all our worlds–hangs in the balance, and I refuse to let it crumble on my watch.

Queen Sahsa Kergadras leans forward. The silk of her gown rustles as she shifts, drawing all eyes to her. "My sources tell me that the golems could've been created only by mixing Elven and Fae magick."

The room crackles with tension. Melinda stiffens beside me and her fingers tighten around mine. My jaw clenches as I brace for the inevitable explosion.

King Galathar Lorakian surges to his feet, his face flushing a deep crimson beneath his pale skin. "You dare to implicate my people in this treachery?" He slams his fist on the arm of his chair. "Golems sound more like something Hades would bring to life."

As if summoned by his name, Hades materializes from the shadows. The temperature in the room plummets, and I pull Melinda closer. "I'd warn you to leave me the fuck out of this, Galathar." Hades' voice is soft, but it cuts through the air like a blade. Flames of blue anger dance in his eyes. "If I had wanted to assassinate King Stormblood's wife, she'd be dead. And I wouldn't be here listening to all of you whine about the unfairness of life."

The god's words hang in the air, heavy and threatening. A shudder runs through Melinda, though her face remains impassive. Pride swells in my chest at her composure, even as my own anger simmers dangerously close to the surface.

---