Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9

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Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 Page 23

by Christy Nicholas


  All the venom and power of his words sunk into her bones.

  Her entire body turned numb. Grimnaugh stood by the throne but did nothing except give her an encouraging nod.

  Drums sounded somewhere. A slow, martial beat. Ponderous, inevitable, demanding. They grew louder, as if the drummers walked down the endless halls of the palace. A slow parade of battle-wearied Fae tramped in with the slow tattoo, all in perfect formation. Ranks of bronze spears, swords, and a myriad of Fae mounts, and soldiers of every description filled the hall. Clíodhna didn’t think the space would hold so many, but it seemed to expand to accommodate the additional Fae.

  As they all stopped in position, the courtiers ranged next to the dais. The soldiers and other Fae stood before her, arrayed for her approval.

  A bell tolled, long and low, reverberating across the room and the hills beyond. The bell rang again, and once more. Echoes of its ring died out and the silence fell heavy upon the gathered host.

  The ever-present ambient glow dimmed, almost as dark as a mortal night. Clíodhna glanced at Cerul, who lifted her arms in a demonstration of power. The tall Fae twisted her hands in an elegant gesture and the stars came out.

  In all her time in Faerie, Clíodhna never saw stars. With no day and no night, only the ambient glow of the land itself, she missed staring at the twinkling lights in the sky. The splash of white, the central avenue of starlight, shone above her in sparkling glory. Those gathered gasped, as many of the attending Fae never traveled to the mortal world.

  Soon, glittering points of light traveled across the sky, sped by Cerul’s magic. The glow on the horizon hinted with feather touches of teal and blue, turning to purple and peach.

  When the sun rose in brilliant splendor, Clíodhna cried in nostalgic triumph. If she’d regained control over her body, she would have fallen to her knees to greet her old friend, the dawn she’d lost for so long. This grandeur once colored her every morning for her entire life until she came to Faerie. Now she beheld the wonder once again in exaltation.

  This vision couldn’t be the real sun. However, Cerul’s illusion imitated the sun of the mortal world so well, try as she might, Clíodhna didn’t see a difference. What a wondrous achievement.

  While trembling from the power of the gift Cerul granted her, Clíodhna took in a deep breath, trying to regain control over her emotions. With Bodach controlling her physical reactions, at least she kept her mind in line.

  The drumming came again, but this time instead of a slow, martial march, it rapped out a precise tattoo, as if announcing some great event.

  When it finished, Bodach held her hand up, as if signaling a victory.

  “Our beloved Queen has perished. She fought bravely against those who rebelled against her, but her time has fallen.

  “However, we have a new Queen, a Queen who will take up the Faerie Mantle and lead us to victory. All hail Queen Clíodhna the Fair One!”

  The sheer wall of noise that became the Fae cheers smashed upon Clíodhna like a physical barrier. She closed her eyes against the onslaught, wishing she could cup her hands to her ears. They cheered three times, a grand huzzah to welcome her. She opened her eyes to study the faces of each of her new courtiers.

  Cerul’s pleasure seemed genuine and after her coronation gift, Clíodhna understood. Cerul had been a supporter of hers for some time, without realizing it.

  Grimnaugh looked ambivalent. He knew she hadn’t accepted this responsibility willingly. Other courtiers looked either thrilled, pensive, worried, or outright angry. She made a note of each reaction, to store them away and examine them later. For now, she must get through this day.

  Something rumbled in the distance, like a large cart rushing by, driven by a team of galloping horses. No one else seemed to notice.

  She glanced up at the arches, but nothing dire seemed to be happening. The hallway filled with Fae, so no enemy would rush in without warning. She shoved the unease away and turned to Bodach, waiting for his next action.

  He grinned at her, a grin full of lascivious delight, kissed her hand, and gestured for her to take a seat on the throne, at long last.

  Clíodhna glanced behind her to make certain the throne hadn’t moved, took a deep breath, did her best to look regal and assured, and sat.

  The rumble grew. Now the walls shook and the ground buzzed. She gripped the throne’s arms until her knuckles turned white, looking to Grimnaugh for help. He shrugged, his expression bleak. The other courtiers glanced around in patent confusion.

  Bodach looked unconcerned, and still held her hand. She tried to extract it, but he gripped tight, crushing her bones.

  “Bodach! What is that? Let me go.”

  “Not yet, my Queen. You have one more thing to do.”

  “What? What is that?”

  “That, my Queen, is the power of the land of Faerie. You must survive its attack. Somehow.”

  * * *

  The rumbling bounced the throne until her teeth rattled and her spine ached. She clung onto the arms of the chair for dear life, begging it to stop. Bodach’s laugh echoed in her ears as the rumbling drowned out all other sounds.

  The wave of sparking power that reached up from the ground and engulfed her like a giant hand slammed her against the back of the chair. She struggled to fight against it, but she possessed no defenses against such strength.

  Just like in her dream, this power from the earth surged like a behemoth, a huge and unstoppable force. Its amorphous potency surrounded her, drowning her in its depths.

  Clíodhna couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull in a gasp of air but failed. Panicked, she drew some energy from this attacking earth, pulling it into her body to wrest some control from it. A trickle obeyed her, but the vast majority of it ignored her command.

  Angry now at its recalcitrance, she doubled her efforts, calling upon every trick Adhna taught her. She yanked that rope of power, swollen with brute strength, and shoved it within her own body, under her governance.

  It fought her efforts, bucking like a dolphin on the waves of an ocean storm, but she didn’t give up. She clung upon it without mercy, tightening her grip with each heartbeat, until it sighed within her clasp and suffused her muscle and bone.

  With intense relief, she let out a breath, able to once again work her lungs. The power buzzed through her, energy crackling along her skin.

  She opened her eyes and turned to Bodach; whose lascivious grin fell a few notches. She must be a sight to behold, for several courtiers fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the floor when she rose.

  Bodach took a step back, his eyes growing wide. His discomfiture didn’t last for long, however. He soon realized she’d done as he’d wanted and survived the onslaught of power.

  Clíodhna became the Faerie Queen in name and power, and in command of this land.

  His grin returned and he trailed a finger along her arm. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he turned away, unconcerned.

  Bodach clapped twice, and the Faerie host parted, as if well-practiced. A column in the center opened, and a squad of Fae ran in, carrying tables and benches. After placing a small table on the dais, they placed long ones in a center line. Then another squad came, carrying platters.

  The plates and platters gleamed in the sunlight, glinting with bright sparks as they traveled through the beams. Several Fae squinted either at the beams themselves or the shine from the plates. As servants laid the food upon the table, the aromas wafted toward the dais, and Clíodhna’s stomach told her it had been a very long time since she’d eaten.

  How could she think of food? When her most dangerous enemy propped her up as a puppet leader, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it, and her body craved meat? How banal she had become, a slave to her base desires?

  Still, she couldn’t deny her body’s craving.

  The savory aromas of roasted food wafted up to her nose, making her mouth water. Glass goblets of exquisite grace and elegant design held potent mead. Had the Fae made thes
e? Or were they artifacts from the human world? She rose, holding one glass up to the gathered Fae, and took a sip. They all cheered and drank from their own vessels.

  The warmth of the mead didn’t feel like when she’d been human. Now it bristled and tingled each part, like tiny explosions throughout her body. She sat with care, unwilling to seem wobbly or uncertain. She glanced at Grimnaugh, but he would be no help.

  Had the power shift changed her to a true Fae? Did it transform her human parts? A chill traveled down her spine at the idea. As a test, she pinched her skin, not knowing how that would prove anything at all. Adhna bled. She’d seen it and dressed his wounds. Some ancient tales told of mortals demanding someone prove they bled to determine they weren’t Fae. She let out a rueful chuckle. Such measures mustn’t be as foolproof as imagined.

  She nibbled at the food, not as ravenous as she’d thought. The courtiers ate with cautious enthusiasm, each one sneaking a glance toward the dais. Bodach ate with gusto and fastidious manners. Clíodhna had imagined him with horrible manners, shoving food into his mouth like an animal. Instead, he sliced each slice of meat with his bronze leaf-shaped knife and placed it daintily in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed each morsel before cutting another off.

  Noticing her regard, he turned. “Do you not find the offering to your taste, my dearest? I can call for something else, if you prefer.” He clapped twice. A young servant Fae appeared at his shoulder, all eager eyes and nervous anticipation.

  “What would be your pleasure, my Queen? A delicacy from the mortal world, perhaps? Or something sweet and unusual? Ah, I know!” He whispered into the servant’s upswept ear and the youngster darted off.

  Time passed, and Clíodhna returned to watching the courtiers and noting each reaction to Bodach and herself. She listened to the snippets of conversation that drifted into her hearing.

  When the servant returned, they staggered under a huge platter. Atop the platter stood a miniature palace, almost like her own. It even had soaring archways of glittering white and blue, with living ivy entwined around the towers.

  With an exclamation, Clíodhna realized the castle consisted of a sweet cake and some delicately constructed decorations. Even the ivy was edible. Her eyes grew wide with the wonder of it, and she didn’t want to ruin the incredible creation by eating it. Bodach laughed at her hesitation and sliced into one hallway with his bronze knife, offering her a slice. “Eat of the sweets, my dearest. You are the Queen, and should have all that is wonderful.”

  For just a moment, her heart melted against his perfidy. But then she remembered his endless machinations and it hardened again. She bit into the confection and relished the intense sweetness. How many bees had toiled for this much honey?

  She turned to her captor and Consort. “Tell me, Bodach, why did you wish me to be in this throne? For you have arranged everything that came to this point.”

  He blinked with feigned innocence. “I have? That’s curious. I didn’t realize I could be so crafty.”

  She narrowed her eyes. The court grew quiet as her hissed response cut across the entire hall. “As your Queen, I forbid you to lie to me.”

  Still with a cheerful grin on his face, Bodach blinked. “As my Queen, I have no ability to lie to you anyhow. Please, enjoy your coronation feast. Soon, there will be dancing!”

  He caught the eyes of a courtier hovering on the sidelines, and that Fae ran out of the hall. Clíodhna gritted her teeth. She would confront him afterward, not before the entire court. She may not be familiar with being a Queen, but some court etiquette might be supposed.

  The courtier returned with a group of Fae, each carrying an odd object. They stood to one side of the hall, lifted the objects, and played.

  Clíodhna had attended the Queen’s court a hundred times already, and seldom had she heard instrumental music within these walls. They’d held balls and dances, but usually with a Fae singer or a group of singers. Perhaps the old Queen hadn’t cared for such tools. But how could anyone not be delighted with such exquisite melody? The sounds made by the instruments soared up and down in graceful descants, at once describing the flight of a butterfly and a powerful rainstorm.

  She closed her eyes and lost herself in the music’s magic, quite forgetting where she sat and who sat next to her.

  When the music ceased, she gasped, as if someone punched her in the stomach. The removal of such a glorious sound came as a horrible loss and left her head reeling. The room spun with the effects of the music and the mead, and perhaps with the sweet palace confection.

  Her stomach roiled and informed her it was unpleased.

  She breathed in shallow gasps, hoping to get control over her body. She clutched at the edge of the table, unable to stand or leave without danger of stumbling. A Queen didn’t stumble. Nor must she appear ill before her people, especially not during coronation.

  In and out. One breath. Two breaths. In and out. Her nausea subsided and she merely felt uncomfortable. She took in one deep breath, and her head cleared somewhat, allowing her to once again pay attention to her surroundings.

  The court finished their meal during the first song, and the servants cleared tables and dishes from the center of the hall. Fae formed several clumps for a formal dance. Bodach stood and offered his hand, but she glared at it with repugnance. “I prefer to watch.”

  He looked both rebellious and disappointed, but he sat back down on his lesser throne. The musicians began their tune and the courtiers danced.

  She’d never watched the balls from this vantage point before. Up on the dais, she commanded full view of the formations of the dance, a measured orchestration of perfect movement, both elegant and ordered. Not one Fae stepped out of place, nor hesitated on the beat. Swirling clothing and glittering hair accompanied the dancers, as did the occasional wing or feathers. Clíodhna became entranced with the artistry of both the dance and the dancers.

  Swirls and twirls of delicate tracery across the glittering dance floor. The sky above, with the artificial sun still shining high, now dimmed with colorful clouds dancing in a similar rhythm. Clíodhna watched the mirrored dance above her and smiled at the loveliness until her neck hurt.

  Cerul outshone herself with the sky today. She must remember to thank Cerul personally. That chance remark when she first arrived must have been the impetus to create this illusion, and she appreciated that personal touch.

  She glanced at the remaining palace confection and the other tidbits on her table. They hadn’t been removed with the rest of the tables, as she still ate and drank, so she grabbed another morsel. This seemed a mushroom of some sort, marinated in a garlic sauce. She popped it in her mouth and nearly gagged at the strong taste flooding her mouth. She took a long swig of mead to clear her throat, and once again, her head spun from the alcohol.

  As the dance ended, she stood and clapped her hand once in approval of the entertainment, as she’d seen Queen Áine do so many times in the past. The courtiers, out of breath from their exertions, fell apart from their rigid lines into small knots of friendship and gossip. This freed her from her role as rigid hostess, and allowed her to dismount the dais. She joined her new people.

  Bodach placed a hand on her arm, halting her step down from the throne. “My lady, you have a duty yet.”

  Clíodhna forced a smile on her face. “Oh? Do remind me, Bodach.”

  “You must punish those who rebelled against Queen Áine, of course. You cannot let them go free for their insolence.”

  She furrowed her brow. “But the marsh and wild Fae rebelled. Many of them died already.”

  His lip curled up in a nasty smile. “Nevertheless, you must discipline the rest. Or else others will believe they can try to throw over the Queen with impunity.”

  The marsh and wild Fae loved her best, the ones who came to her in their time of need. The ones who kept her company on lonely nights in Adhna’s roundhouse. How could she punish them for trying to make their lives better? “I can’t do that, Bodach.”
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br />   “You must. If you do not, the other Queens will take you to task, else risk similar resurgence in their queendoms. This is not merely a matter of your own realm, Queen Clíodhna. It’s a matter for all of Faerie.”

  She ground her teeth with stubborn intransigence. She didn’t want to do this, but his words made sense. “Very well. What do you advise?”

  His grin stretched from ear to ear, the bark crackling at his glee. “I suggest a token punishment for their leaders.”

  Clíodhna drew in a deep breath. “Bring them to me.”

  * * *

  It took some time to gather the leaders of the revolt, but after a few sleeps, they assembled before Clíodhna’s throne. Every courtier she’d ever met came to watch her mete out punishment. In the meantime, she’d consulted Grimnaugh to gauge his opinion on Bodach’s idea.

  “I’m afraid he’s right, my Queen. You must punish them. However, your punishment needn’t be too dire. Perhaps banishing them to the mortal world for a time would be sufficient, at least for the leaders. Most of them survive well enough there, and enjoy their time, so it isn’t a harsh punishment.”

  “Is that why I’ve met so many there? Did they all get banished from Faerie?”

  “Oh, no! We go when we want if we’re allowed. I’ve never been, but many travel there. The mortal realm works differently from here, and some enjoy those differences.” Grimnaugh shivered, displaying his own opinion of the mortal realm.

  Clíodhna had so many questions to that statement, she couldn’t choose one.

  A flood of nostalgia washed over her, and an aching need to hold her children tight. Grateful she stood in front of just Grimnaugh and not the entire court, she gave in to her sobs and fell to her knees, her face in her hands. She cried silent tears, her shoulders shaking with the love of her children, away from her in the mortal world.

  Grimnaugh patted her shoulder with awkward comfort and cleared his throat. When she dragged her sorrow back inside, she looked up, tears staining her cheeks. “Grimnaugh, have you ever missed someone so much it felt like something stabbed you?”

 

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