"Since I touched the sword." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the steam rising from the tub. "At first I thought it was just nightmares, but I can hear her when I’m not sleeping now too."
"And you didn't tell me because...?"
"Because you have enough to worry about!" I gesture helplessly. "The High Council, Destrien's betrayal, the cracks in the castle. You're dealing with so much already. I didn't want to add to it."
As the words leave my mouth, a knot of guilt tightens in my chest. The look in Hawke's eyes—concern mixed with hurt—makes me feel like the world's biggest ass. Of course he noticed. Of course he's been worried. I've been shutting him out for weeks, thinking I was protecting him when all I've done is push away the one person who could've helped me through this nightmare.
I drop my gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I should have told you sooner," I admit quietly. "I just... I thought I could handle it myself. That it would go away." A bitter laugh escapes me. "Clearly, I was wrong."
The relief of finally saying it out loud washes over me, but it's tinged with the sharp sting of regret. All this time wasted, all these sleepless nights, when I could have been leaning on him instead of suffering alone like some stubborn martyr.
"Our problems are shared problems, sweet girl," he says firmly. "That's what it means to be mated."
See? Siva chimes in smugly. Told you.
Not helpful, I think back.
"I need to go to Camelot," I tell Hawke. "Tonight. I need to understand why she's calling me, what she wants."
I'd been bracing for exactly this reaction. The firm set of his jaw. The flash of protectiveness in his eyes. Of course he'd say no. I knew he would. But the little kernel of hope I'd been nursing still withers at his flat refusal, and my exhaustion quickly ignites into frustration.
"I have to," I insist, squaring my shoulders. I've rehearsed this argument in my head a dozen times, prepared to plead if necessary. "She won't leave me alone, Hawke. I can't sleep, I can't think?—"
"Then we'll find another way," he cuts me off. "A spell, a ward—something that will block her voice."
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I'm so goddamn tired, and the queen's voice is a constant pressure behind my eyes, making it hard to think straight. But I know what I need, and I'm ready to fight for it, to beg if that's what it takes. I'd get down on my knees right now if I thought it would convince him.
"It won't work." My voice comes out flatter than I intended, edged with a desperation I can't hide.
"You don’t know that, my love."
"Yes, I do. I can’t explain it, but I need to go. Tonight. What if she has answers, Hawke," I challenge. "About my magick. She tried to syphon it, remember."
"You don’t need answers from her,” he says, softer now. "Your magick is amazing. Beautiful. It’s just a little wild."
I pull away from him, anger flaring. "My magick killed my mother. And my aunt and uncle. It's killed everyone I've ever loved except you. And now, because of this baby it will kill you too. So don't tell me my magick is beautiful. It’s dangerous. Violent. Just like the queen."
He flinches slightly at my tone but doesn't back down. "And you think the Queen who nearly destroyed earth with her magick is going to help you?"
"I don't know!" I throw up my hands in frustration. "But I can't just sit here night after night with her screaming in my head! I'm going crazy, Hawke!"
Domina, Siva interjects tentatively. Your magick is rising.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Hawke staggers suddenly, one hand flying to his chest as he drops to one knee. His face goes pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cold. "Melinda," he gasps, the word strained.
No. No. No.
I try to rein in my emotions, but the panic at seeing him in pain only makes it worse.
Kellan. Help. I send the mental call through our guardian bond, my desperation pulsing through the connection.
The door crashes open as Kellan bursts into the room. "Domina!" he shouts, eyes widening at the scene before him.
I'm hurting Hawke. It won't stop. Make it stop.
"Look at me," Kellan commands, gripping my shoulders firmly. His eyes shift, the pupils elongating into reptilian slits as his inner dragon rises to meet my wild magick. A wave of soothing warmth radiates from his hands where they touch me.
