Siva stirs against my skin again, this time the small green dragon tattoo travels up my arm and then down to hover over my stomach. Nothing is for certain, milady she reminds me, her voice soft and reassuring in my mind.
It's good of her to try and comfort me, but mostly ineffective. I know what’s coming for the man I love. The same way my first breath killed my biological father, so will the first breath of the child I’m carrying take Hawke away from us both.
From the corner of my eye, I see Kellan standing only a few yards away, my bodyguard, shadow, and friend. I’m never alone and I appreciate him for that.
"Melinda?" Hawke’s voice is soft behind me, touched with concern. I feel his love wrap around me like a warm blanket.
I turn, forcing a smile. "Just thinking." I love you I add silently, pouring everything I feel into those words and through our connection. His eyes soften as he reaches for me, and for a moment I let myself believe that love might be enough to change fate itself.
"We should eat," Hawke says, his gaze sweeping over the knights and their guides. "The small dining room has been prepared." He gestures to a nearby servant who steps forward immediately. "Please show the knight’s guides to the kitchen hall where they can refresh themselves. Ensure they're well taken care of."
The guides exchange glances, clearly understanding the dismissal. Cormac bows slightly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesties."
As the guides follow the servant down a side corridor, Hawke turns to his knights. "I thought we might appreciate some privacy for our conversation."
They nod in agreement.
I fall into step beside Hawke as we lead our strangely-dressed knights through torch-lit corridors. Their voices blend into a low murmur as they catch up with each other, the reunion both tense and comforting. I notice Ares walking with surprising confidence despite his exhaustion.
"Ares seemed rather pleased with himself upon arrival, but he didn't say anything," I whisper to Hawke, leaning closer as we walk. "Did he find his mate already?"
Hawke's lips twitch. "He's found her, but hasn't figured out how to approach her... correctly."
"What does that mean?" I ask, genuinely surprised. “The God of War has never struck me as someone who struggles with confidence.”
"She keeps dismissing him," Hawke answers with a shrug. "Apparently not everyone is susceptible to the legendary charm of Ares."
I stifle a laugh behind my hand. "The same Ares who bowed and kissed my hand the second he met me?"
"The very same," Hawke confirms, his voice dropping lower so only I can hear. "According to Toran, she's completely immune to him. Told him to 'take his pretty face and pick-up lines elsewhere' the second time he approached her."
I can't help the laugh that escapes this time. "I think I might like this woman already."
"Don't tell him I told you." Hawke’s hand finds the small of my back again. "He's pretending it's all part of some elaborate strategy rather than admitting he's actually struck out for perhaps the first time in his immortal life."
I glance back over my shoulder, catching Ares watching us with narrowed eyes, as if he knows exactly what we're discussing. I offer him my most innocent smile, which only makes his suspicious expression deepen.
"His ego must be absolutely shattered," I whisper, leaning into Hawke's warmth as we walk.
"A little humility might do him some good," Hawke replies with a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest where my shoulder presses against him. "Though I suspect his soul mate wouldn't have it any other way. The universe can sometimes have quite the sense of humor."
The small dining room—which is only small compared to the formal banquet hall—glows warmly with dozens of candles. Rich tapestries depicting the eight realms line the walls, their threads shimmering with subtle magick that makes the woven scenes appear almost alive. The scent of roasted venison and freshly baked rosemary bread mingles with the distinctive sweet aroma of Fae wine being poured into crystal goblets. Bowls of vibrant purple plums and golden peaches sit amid platters of steaming vegetables glazed with honey and herbs.
Hawke and I take our seats at the head of the polished oak table, its surface inlaid with beautiful mother-of-pearl tiles. Kellan takes up his normal place directly behind my chair, his presence a comforting shadow. I've given up trying to make space for him at the table. He insists that protecting me comes first and he can't do that properly while seated.
As everyone settles in, I catch Hawke's eye, silently questioning if now is truly the time. We had discussed sharing the Council's decree about me privately with the knights first, but slight tightening of his jaw tells me he's made his decision.
"Before we begin," Hawke says once everyone is seated, his voice carrying the weight of his crown, "there's news from Camelot you should all hear."
I steel myself for the reaction I know is coming. Hawke had shown me the sealed scroll this morning, its wax seal bearing the imprint of the High Council—what’s left of them anyway. We'd expected resistance, but this direct challenge to my presence after our marriage was more than even he expected.
Hawke's fingers find mine beneath the table as he continues, "The Council has officially decreed that no Fae will be permitted to enter Camelot's walls until..." he pauses, his voice hardening, "until we surrender our new queen to be sent back to Earth."
The room erupts in angry protests exactly as I'd anticipated, voices clashing like swords. Hawke's grip on my hand tightens.
"They can't seriously think we'd agree to that," Wraith says, his voice deadly quiet. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as shadows strangely seem to gather in the corners.
I straighten my spine, feeling Siva coil protectively tighter around my wrist. My goblet trembles slightly as I set it down, the wine rippling in crimson waves. "Half the realms stand with the Council," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. The intelligence reports we'd received this morning had been clear.
