What he really wanted to know was how Eilidh felt. Their bond let him sense some things, flashes of emotion from time to time, but it didn’t tell him what he wanted, and it never reassured him. In the past six months, she’d lived here, studying and working, and he came when his schedule would allow. They’d grown closer, but they also spent a lot of their time working. Oron was so eager to probe and test the bonding magic that it left him and Eilidh with little time to do normal things. Of course, how normal could they be?
One thing he’d noticed the last time they studied their bond was that he could sense her magic. He didn’t know how to put words to it beyond that it felt ancient. It spoke to a part of him he wasn’t aware of before. If he was honest, it scared him a little, seeming like an endless black ocean full of unknown perils, of monsters and storms. He hadn’t told her, because he wanted some time to chew on his thoughts.
Munro shook himself, focusing on Eilidh and Oron. He’d missed a bit of their conversation, but then realised they hadn’t gotten far. They were talking about someone called Queen Cadhla wanting Eilidh to act as an ambassador and Oron not wanting her to.
“Oron,” Eilidh said. “I can’t refuse.”
The older faerie replied with a snort. “Of course you can.”
“Why would I? Is the Higher Conclave not willing to speak with the kingdom?”
“Many are distrustful, especially those who have never been to the Halls of Mist. My children and grandchildren were born on this island.”
“Will there be no going home for any of you?”
“Home,” Oron said. “I can smell the Otherworld on you.” He did that thing Munro noticed faeries did a lot: sat without saying much. Munro couldn’t tell if they were thinking, or just sitting. He didn’t mind. His dad had been a quiet thinker too, and silence never bothered Munro. But it was cold out, and eventually he’d have to go get warm, or he’d freeze his arse off on this stone bench. “We had always believed the source of our power was in the Halls of Mist,” Oron finally said.
“Isn’t it?” Eilidh asked, surprised.
Instead of responding to her question, Oron went on, “If we submit, we would always be kept on a leash. Centuries of suspicion are not easily overcome. It certainly won’t happen quickly. The azuri conclave has wondered if there is any reason to subject ourselves to the queen’s will.”
“Why not be independent?” Munro interrupted. “If that’s what most of you want. Who needs the queen anyway? She sounds like a pain in the arse, making all these demands that you bend a knee.” Both faeries stopped and stared at him. “You told me yourself that you lot are pretty powerful. There’s loads of you here too. It’s not like she could make you do anything.”
“The kingdom should be healed, not cleaved even further. What you are suggesting is unthinkable.”
Munro could sense the tension in Eilidh’s voice with more than just his ears. “Doesn’t sound to me like you azuri could be any more cleaved than you already are. Look, they kicked you out. I’m not saying start a war. But you told me all the kingdoms join up at this Halls of Mist place, right?”
Oron nodded but didn’t speak. He seemed fascinated, but Munro couldn’t tell if it was in a “this is a good idea” sort of way, or more like, “wow, who knew humans could talk.”
“Build your own gateway,” Munro said. “Make an azuri kingdom. You seem like you’d make a decent enough king, Oron. Or you could be president or something. Let people vote on things rather than bowing and obeying and crap.”
The old faerie stood and smiled, not even acknowledging the suggestion. “This afternoon I’m going to examine the talisman you created for Flùranach. I’d like to observe another creation ritual, should you perform one.”
Eilidh spoke up, “Of course he will. Any time you wish.”
Oron glanced at her, his face unreadable, but then went on in a different vein, “Eilidh, we are half way through your first year of training. It’s time to consider your house.” Eilidh looked puzzled, but Oron said, “It will wait until your druid returns to his city, but it’s time to think about it.”
Munro glanced at Eilidh. He couldn’t help but wonder again what kind of plans she had. He supposed it wasn’t too bad, her being in Skye with him in Perth. It wasn’t the easiest drive, but he couldn’t ask her not to move here. It would mean spending a lot of time apart, but they needed to take their time, and cities made her uneasy, even a small and sedate city like Perth.
Oron said, “If I’m not mistaken, my granddaughter Alyssa has prepared a meal. I suggest you eat while the food is hot and before your druid freezes.” He nodded to them both and walked toward the house.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Munro said, “So what do you need to talk about?”
“There is much I need to tell you,” she said. “But not here. Let’s go into the human settlements.”
In all the trips he’d made to Skye, they’d spent their time in the company of faeries, never venturing outside the colony’s village. “Sure, we can head over to Portree after we eat. See what there is to see. Or we can go now. I can tell you have a lot on your mind.”
“We’ll eat, then go,” she said. “It would be rude to refuse the meal. You should have told me you were cold.”
Munro grinned and stood. “I thought you could read my mind.”
* * *
Eilidh wandered into one of the shops in Portree. She needed new clothes, and she didn’t like using illusions to hide the wear in the ones she had. Especially when she never knew what lessons Oron would have her do that would require her to drop all illusions and focus her mind on something else. Her visit to the queen made her realise how ragged her human clothing had become. When she’d lived in exile on the streets of Perth, she hadn’t worried about what she wore. Now she missed proper fae clothing and felt discontent with having to make do with rags. With a sigh, she chose a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a baggy, hooded sweatshirt. She planned to steal the clothes, especially since she’d gotten better at making herself nearly invisible, or invisible enough to humans. It wasn’t so much that they couldn’t see her, as they didn’t notice her.
When she told Munro what she intended, he whispered, “Jesus, Eilidh. I’m a cop. I’m not letting you steal things.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be in and out before they know something is missing. I’ve done it a hundred times.” Granted, it had never been this easy. Before, she’d relied on her speed and natural abilities. Now that she had a little training, it was simple to fool the human eye.
“Well, you aren’t doing it again.” His voice grew hard, and she realised he wasn’t playing. She felt his thoughts grow rigid.
She understood and felt suddenly guilty because of all the things she’d taken during her quarter century of exile. She’d lived on the streets of Perth, stealing and killing rabbits or sheep in the countryside to eat, sleeping in abandoned buildings or sometimes isolated corners of city parks. Gaining human employment wasn’t an option, and she didn’t entirely understand the monetary system humans used. In the fae kingdoms, they traded precious metals, gems, talismans and supplies. She suddenly wondered how the faeries here on Skye paid for things. Did they engage in commerce? It would be difficult to feed and clothe several hundred faeries without working out some kind of trade, but she didn’t know how they managed.
Humans counted hours, sold time, and exchanged paper to tally what was owed. It seemed a cruel, distrustful system. She would never have considered stealing from one of the fae, but when taking from humans what she needed to live, she hadn’t counted it as theft, only survival. But seeing the look in Munro’s eyes as he waited for her to promise she would not take anything without paying, shame burned within her.
“I don’t have money,” she said.
“I’ve got it,” he told her. She watched with fascination as Munro produced a piece of plastic, which he called “a credit card,” and took it to the merchant.
He came back with her new cloth
ing in a plastic bag and handed it to her. As they walked outside, she said, “You show him your card, and he gives you items in exchange?”
“It’s like a promise to pay later.”
“Can I have one? So I will not have to steal?”
Munro chuckled. “We’ll see. For now, let me help you with anything you need.” He touched her lightly on the cheek, the harshness of their earlier exchange gone. She still had difficulty accepting the help of a human, even him, but she didn’t argue. He leaned in and kissed her lips softly. It flustered her, because they were standing in the middle of the street, people milling, going in and out of shops. She had not yet grown accustomed to allowing herself be seen by humans. She glanced around, but no one noticed. Her reaction made Munro chuckle again.
“Why are you laughing, Quinton?”
He ran his hand up her cheek and over a twisted ear, hidden by the illusion that made her look human. She hadn’t bothered to make it feelround, and she wasn’t very good at that anyway. “You are so powerful,” he said quietly. “And yet, something like a public kiss scares you.”
She shuddered at his touch. “I should tell you,” she said, biting her lip, “that touching a faerie’s ears is very…intimate.” Glancing down, she suddenly didn’t want to meet his intense blue eyes.
“Is it now?” He leaned close and whispered, “I’ll have to remember that.” He took her earlobe into his mouth for just an instant before backing away. He grinned and reached for her hand. “Let’s find someplace quiet to talk.”
She allowed him to lead her, wondering if he could tell how her stomach fluttered at the exchange. They hadn’t discussed or explored their relationship much over the months. He knew the kiss scared her, so he could at least glimpse into her emotions. She could only assume he knew the same things about her she could see in him. The idea left her feeling vulnerable.
They walked east, toward the sea and away from the small town of Portree, making their way up a small hillside. Below them were boats, tied in their harbour. Eilidh and Munro sat on the grass. She funnelled a bit of earth magic through him and warmed the air around them. It took more effort than usual, because of the enchantments on Skye, but oddly, being near the human settlement helped. After just a moment, he relaxed. He rarely complained about the weather, or about anything, she realised. She watched him looking out over the water. He seemed fascinated with it, but she could sense a knot of fear as well.
“You do not like the ocean?” she asked.
“I like the sound of it.” He didn’t elaborate on what he didn’t like. She was about to ask when he said, “So, what don’t you want Oron to know?” He took her hand, but he did it as though touching her comforted him.
She recounted her meeting with the queen, filling in pieces of what he’d not managed to gather from her conversation with Oron, this time including her thoughts and fears. She described Eirlioc Falls and recalled details. He let her talk without interrupting or asking questions, and she loved that. She could almost forget he was human at moments like these.
Then she explained how Prince Griogair took her aside to a guest chamber afterwards. Munro tensed inwardly, but he made no outward sign, which she found interesting. She would not have considered he would be so accomplished at deception. He did his best to hold his jealousy in check, but she could detect it as she described the magic the prince used to try to persuade her. She also felt a flash of annoyance directed at her.
But when she came to the story about Prince Tràth, Munro’s focus shifted, and she felt his mind grow very ordered. His emotions almost completely disappeared.
“I told Prince Griogair I would bring the matter to you. I assured him you are respected among your people.”
Munro didn’t answer, but his thoughts moved like the mechanical ticking of a clock. His eyes flitted back and forth, as though reading. Finally, he said, “I need more information. I have to talk to this Griogair.”
“Quinton,” she said, “There is no way the prince-consort will come here. There is only one time the queen and her mate would ever leave the Otherworld.”
He looked up and met her eyes, his face serious. “When?”
She flushed. She did not want to explain the mating rituals of her people, how they came to the fringes of the human world to make a sacrifice to the Great Mother to ask for her blessing of fertility. “That time, I believe, has likely passed for the queen.” Of course, the queen was only four or five hundred years old, perhaps six at most, and could have more children, but considering what Griogair had told Eilidh, she didn’t expect the royal couple to make that journey again. “However,” she said thoughtfully, “I must return to the Otherworld to see the queen. I can question Griogair further, if you need me to, and I’ll tell him we’ll do what we can for him and his son.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re willing to help. I wasn’t sure you would consider it.”
“No,” Munro said, shaking his head. “I need to speak with him myself. It isn’t the answers to the questions as much as the way he gives them. I won’t know if he’s lying unless I see him with my own eyes.”
Eilidh felt the blood drain from her face. “I can’t risk bringing you to the Otherworld, Quinton, and even if we could travel to the fringes, I certainly can’t take you to the Falls.”
“He asked for my help, Eilidh,” Munro said. “This is what my help looks like. I have to talk to him face to face.”
“Very well,” she said, her mind turning. “I’ll relay the message. We should get back. I must speak to Oron again. I know he will want to talk about the gift you gave his granddaughter.” She paused. “That was very reckless of you. If your actions had been misconstrued as hostile…”
Munro looked up with a half-grin. “You’re jealous.”
Eilidh blinked. “Jealous?”
“That I made a stone with someone else before I tried it with you.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, but slowly and without conviction. Had she been jealous? She’d thought she’d been trying to protect the girl, but perhaps there was a kernel of truth in his words. All of their attention in the short time Munro spent in the colony had been used to test the magic of the bond. They’d devoted no time to Munro’s talismans, although she knew he crafted many on his own.
“Let me see your face,” he said, tracing his finger along her chin, tapping it upward so she would meet his eyes.
Even though they were alone, Eilidh cautiously glanced around before dropping the human illusion, revealing the curl of her ears and turning her hair brilliant white. She watched his smile grow as she revealed her true face. Although she didn’t alter her appearance much, just enough to pass for one of the younger race, it pleased her that he liked her real self better than the illusion.
He pulled her close, and his musky human scent mixed with the salty breeze blowing off the ocean. He kissed her again, this time fiercely and without reservation. She felt his love for her as though the sun had appeared from behind a cloud. He took his time, tasting, exploring, enjoying the sensations they shared. “You and I will make things together, Eilidh, my love. All kinds of things.”
Then as quickly as he had revealed himself, the light dimmed, and he reined his passions back. She had no idea how he did it, but he seemed well-practised. In all these months, he’d touched her tenderly, kissed her, and held her, but he’d never suggested they become lovers, not since that time soon after they’d first met, when she’d turned him down because of his race. So much had changed since then, yet he did not pursue it, even though she could sense his attraction for her. She couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Come on,” he said, standing and extending his hand to help her rise. “It’s getting late. We’d better get back.”
Chapter 5
“You’re out of your fucking minds,” Munro said. At first, he’d been intimidated by all these old faeries. Eilidh had told him the youngest of the bunch was likely around six hundred years old. And this, apparently, was an “open conclave” m
eeting, so there were more in attendance besides the eleven members. Naturally, he’d always been nervous around them. He could sense Eilidh was too, and that made it worse. He’d gotten to know Oron and had run into others, but this was his first time before the whole conclave. As soon as he sat down that night, he saw they had an agenda beyond the queen’s offer of reconciliation. No, what they really wanted was more druids, and they expected him to deliver.
“Quinton!” Eilidh hissed between her teeth.
He turned and saw the warning on her face, but he held firm. “No, Eilidh. I’m calling a spade a shovel. These people expect me to go back to Perth, round up my human druid friends,and deliver them, so this lot can pass them around to see who can bond with whom.”
“Quinton,” she repeated, but softer this time.
The conclave sat there, staring smugly at him, as though he were an errant child who didn’t know any better than to piss in the potted plants. He met their eyes, one by one. “Surely you remember the last faerie who tried to bond with one of them also planned to kill them all.”
Azuri Fae - Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae) Page 5