“Know what?” Munro asked.
It was Eilidh, not the prince, who answered. “That the crown prince is gifted in the Path of Stars.” She shook her head with disbelief. “He is azuri fae.”
“But you said you didn’t recognise his magic.” Munro turned to her. “I thought that meant it was some kind of earth magic you hadn’t learned, since you’re weakest in the Ways of Earth.”
“Where is he?” Griogair asked eagerly.
“We have no idea,” Eilidh said. “He disappeared before our eyes. This is no magic I am familiar with. Your Highness, I must have your permission to speak to the Higher Conclave. Surely you can see this is the only way. Otherwise we are working with the glare of the sun in our eyes.”
“No,” the prince said firmly. “Things have gotten difficult enough already, and with your druid’s display today, there will be even more rumours. At least now,” he said with a wry chuckle, “the rumours will be about an intimate encounter for three. And with a human involved. That should increase my reputation as a licentious profligate.”
“It seems to be a well-practised subterfuge,” Munro said, having difficulty showing any respect, even knowing Griogair could have them both killed on the spot without even getting his hands dirty.
The prince ignored the comment. “I planned to tell you to stop looking for him. Soon after you left our last meeting, my retreat was swarmed with the queen’s guard. They claimed to be there in advance of my wife’s visit, and indeed she did come, but after a few hours, she left again. Never before have they been worried about security in my home. She grows more paranoid. Even still, I got the distinct impression she was disappointed to find me alone.”
“Why?” Eilidh asked.
“If she’d caught me with a maiden in my bed, she would not have to suspect me of treason.” He paused. “Things have gotten dangerous for all of us. You must stop looking for Tràth. It comforts me to know he is alive, and for now that has to be enough.”
“I can’t do that,” Munro said. “I have an even bigger problem than your spat with your wife.”
Griogair raised an elegant eyebrow.
“I have forty-five missing villagers. We don’t know what happened, but my people know it’s something strange. It’s my job to get them back. Maybe Tràth took them. Maybe they saw him and ran off when he did some weird magic thing. I don’t know yet, but I know they disappeared because of your son. Locating him is my concern, whether you want him found or not.”
“You cannot do this,” Griogair said, leaning forward in his seat. “Please. There is growing unrest in the kingdom.”
“What happened?” Eilidh asked.
“This is the reason Cadhla asked to speak to Oron and why she wanted to do it here. As the word has spread of the colony, and of your actions to save Caledonia last summer, the kingdom has grown divided. Many want those who follow the Path of Stars found and stamped out.” A sympathetic frown spread across his face. “Others, though, especially ones who have lost children or friends to execution or exile, not to mention some progressive thinkers, feel the fear is destroying us, and they want to see the azuri restored to the kingdom.”
“Exile is one thing, but how could Queen Cadhla pursue stamping out those who follow the Path of Stars when her only child is gifted with that form of magic? We aren’t dangerous to you.” Sadness rolled off Eilidh as she implored the prince, and Munro felt the pang deeply in his own emotions.
Griogair turned to Munro. “Do what you must in your own world, but I can help you no further. The rift in my people is spreading, and quickly. There is unrest like I have never seen.”
“You would abandon your son?” Munro asked.
A pained expression spread over the prince’s face. “Not by choice and not forever. I will find him. I will restore him to his rightful place, but I need time. I’m holding the queen’s council together with a thread. The conclave has crippled itself by allowing the usual divisions to splinter even further.”
For the first time, Munro felt a certain respect for the prince. He was a lot more than he first appeared, but perhaps that was his plan all along. It was easy to dismiss him as a playboy, but he was willing to sacrifice his own desire to find his son for the sake of his people. That couldn’t be easy. “It would help if I could speak to his friends, to the Watchers who helped him cross into the borderlands.”
“No. I’m sorry. You have no idea how this pains me. Find him if you can, but you’ll have to do it without my help.” His violet eyes glowed in the dim light. “I wish you the best of fortunes, my friend. I need you to do this. You don’t know me, and you probably don’t even like me. I’m not your ruler…”
“Don’t worry about that,” Munro said. “I’ll help any way I can.” Ten minutes ago, Munro had hated the guy, but suddenly he understood the prince.
“Thank you,” Griogair said. “I have said this to Eilidh, but I give you my pledge as well. I will give you anything you ask if you return my son to me.”
Munro dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “It’s my job, sir.”
“You must do it quietly and without involving the azuri conclave. My son’s abilities cannot be made public.”
“Surely it would heal the kingdom if you came forward. If the queen herself could have an azuri child, everyone would realise it’s not a curse but a gift,” Eilidh said.
Griogair chuckled. “You’d have to convince Cadhla of that first. She cannot know of this. If the queen learned what has passed between us…”
“And just what,” asked a voice from the doorway, “has passed between you three?”
The faerie striding toward them was tall, blonde, and magnificent. Every aspect of her was flawless, from her delicate skin, to the magnificent ivory gown she wore. Her eyes locked on Eilidh, who dipped into a deep curtsy.
“Your Majesty,” Eilidh said, and Munro bowed low as well, not daring to show any sign of disrespect. It was one thing to mouth off to Griogair, but Munro could tell this woman wasn’t someone he wanted to mess with.
Magic crackled in the air, causing the hairs on Munro’s arms to stand on end. “Get up,” the queen said to Eilidh before turning her attention to Griogair. “I asked you a question.”
“I was entertaining our guests, Cadhla,” the prince said, holding out a hand to encourage a frightened Eilidh to rise.
“And with your clothes on, for once.” The queen seemed less than charmed. “I heard otherwise. I came to see the entertainments for myself.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Alas,” Griogair said, his features well-schooled and serious. “Eilidh’s druid showed some reluctance. But then, we’ve always known his people are more restrained than ours in the pursuit of pleasure.” He glanced at Munro, who felt a tug at his emotions, similar to what Alyssa had used when she invited him to bed her.
Munro realised the prince was trying to send him a message with this magic, but he didn’t know how to respond, so he just looked down.
The prince touched Munro’s face. “He blushes prettily though.”
“You can cease this pointless charade, Griogair,” the queen said, her red lips crinkled into a pucker of distaste. “Even you would not go so far.”
“Cadhla, I assure you, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your Majesty,” she corrected him and then spat, “You have betrayed me. You and your worthless son. Return to Elmerick at once. I will deal with you when I arrive.” She turned to Eilidh. “We are in the Halls of Mist, and you came at my request, so I cannot touch you for your treachery. Your elder waits at the portal. You have this night only to pass through and return to your exile. If you ever set foot in my kingdom again, or if anyone finds out what you know about the boy, it will be war, and you will pay with your life.” With a cruel smile, she added, “And that of your father. He won’t, I think, be leaving his house again. His life will ensure your cooperation, I hope. As long as you remember your duty, he will live well.”
Munro started to s
tep forward and put himself between Eilidh and the queen, but the second Eilidh realised what he was doing, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back as though he were on a leash. She gave a quick curtsy. “By your leave, Your Majesty.” Eilidh led Munro out of the room before anyone could say another word.
Outside the dome, they moved in silence. He followed her beyond the narrow bridge, looking over his shoulder occasionally, uncertain if they would be followed.
As promised, Oron was waiting. As soon as they came close, he motioned them toward the portal. “Come quickly,” he said. “We must return to Skye at once.”
“What happened?” Eilidh asked.
“Go, child,” he said. “We must reach the gate before it closes at dawn.”
Chapter 11
Eilidh’s mind whirled as they raced through the Otherworld. It was happening all over again. Exile. She had let her guard down, begun to feel safe. She’d had her father back. And now the dream had been snatched away. This time, it felt even worse. The queen herself had accused Eilidh of treason. Despite the queen’s assurances, Eilidh worried for her father. He’d been through so much in the past century.
Astral magic roiled within her, and her control slipped. Her focus went hazy, and hers and Munro’s clothing returned to the modern fashions of the human realm. Munro’s presence was the only thing holding her together. He became the foundation beneath her feet. Determination carried him forward, and she followed his aura like a beacon.
When they arrived at the gate, they ran through without stopping. There wasn’t time for a forlorn goodbye to her homeland. It’s happening again.
Her nerves didn’t settle until she breathed in the thinner air of the borderlands. When her newfound earth powers drained away as they travelled through the protective enchantments on Skye, she finally began to feel safe. She had a million questions for Oron, but the elder didn’t pause to explain his meeting with the queen. He merely told Eilidh and Munro he’d called an emergency congregation of the Higher Conclave, and she was not to leave the safety of his house until he sent for her.
* * *
Munro leaned against a wall, arms crossed, thinking, while Eilidh sat on the floor and meditated. After an hour of concerted effort, her mind had yet to relax. Her emotions whirled out of control after the encounter with the queen, so he suggested she try the mental exercises that had become part of her daily training program. When talking didn’t help and resting proved impossible, this was the only thing he could think of to help her calm down. Even now, she wrestled with her own mind as though she were fighting dragons.
Quietly, he slipped out the door and went into the kitchen. He didn’t feel comfortable making himself at home, even though Oron had said many times Munro should treat this like his own house. But hunger overwhelmed politeness, and he made himself a sandwich of sorts, or as close as he could approximate with the odd food choices Oron kept.
Munro hadn’t eaten since just before their journey, and he’d run many miles that night. They’d made it back well before dawn, and the sun had only begun to rise. The lightening sky lifted his spirits for no reason he could explain. After washing the dishes he’d used, he turned toward a large east-facing window. He jumped when he saw a faerie he didn’t recognise in the garden outside, then froze as realisation dawned. The build was familiar, the shape of the face, the hair, but the eyes were wrong. He lifted a hand in greeting to be sure, and the figure in the garden mirrored his movements.
Munro stepped forward and studied his reflection. It had been partly a trick of the light, but his eyes glowed strangely. His skin too had a shining quality, and his hair seemed to have gone a shade or two lighter. He thought of himself as an average-looking guy, so seeing his image now, he hardly recognised the strikingly handsome man. It was him, but better, stronger, more vibrant. He appeared older, which was strange considering how smooth and perfect his skin looked. Pushing back his hair, Munro looked at his ears. He hadn’t even felt them change, but now each one had a subtle point at the top.
“Holy shit,” he said to the man in the glass.
Light footsteps in the hall told him someone approached. He scrubbed his hair forward with his hand, not wanting anyone else to see the full extent of the changes.
Alyssa walked into the kitchen and took an apple from a wooden bowl. With a small paring knife, she began to peel it in one smooth motion, round and round the fruit, not acknowledging Munro’s presence.
“Good morning,” he said quietly. “Off to bed?”
She smiled without looking up. “Not yet. Why do you ask? Have you changed your mind about bedding me?”
“No. I mean, look, it isn’t personal. It’s just…”
Alyssa smiled. “It’s all right. I told her you’d say no.”
Munro stopped short. “You mean you and Eilidh talked about it before you propositioned me?”
“Of course. Do you think I would have suggested it if she hadn’t asked me to? Not that you aren’t growing more handsome by the day, young druid, but Eilidh is a guest in my grandfather’s house. I would not risk offending her, considering how much she obviously cares for you.”
“She asked you to seduce me?” His mind reeled. “Why would she do that?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Perhaps she thought you needed companionship? I don’t know. I told her you would say no. Perhaps,” she said in a tone that was almost too casual, “she wished to test your loyalty.”
Anger rose in Munro’s chest. It was a bloody test?
Alyssa’s eyes widened as she watched his expression. “I’ve said something wrong. Forgive me, druid. I’m young and not as socially adept as a human my age would be.”
“Don’t try that bullshit on me,” he said. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Just like she did.” He strode toward the door.
“Forgive me, please,” she said. “I meant no harm.”
He turned back to respond to Alyssa, but just as he opened his mouth, Munro felt the connection between his mind and Eilidh’s shut down. Completely. It wasn’t like the vague distance he felt when she travelled into the Otherworld. It was as though she’d ceased to exist. Alyssa forgotten, Munro ran through the house, shouting Eilidh’s name.
Returning to the meditation chamber where he’d left her, he was surprised to find she wasn’t there. Without his internal sense of her, he felt like he was searching with his eyes closed. He took the public areas of the house first. After Oron’s explicit instruction to stay put, he doubted she would leave. His heart wouldn’t let him add the word voluntarily.
When she didn’t seem to be in any public part of the property, including the gardens, he went to her bedroom. It was the last place he expected to find her, considering how wound up she had been, but he saw her as soon as he came to the doorway. She wasn’t alone. She sat on the edge of the swing bed, one foot on the floor, slowly rocking the bed. Lying beside her was Griogair. Munro froze, his mind reeling, when he saw Eilidh stroke the prince’s face. She whispered to him in a trilling language Munro couldn’t understand.
“What the…?”
Eilidh cut Munro off with a glare and held her finger to her lips, motioning for silence. She stood and quietly walked to the door, closing it behind her and Munro.
“What the hell is going on?” Munro asked in a growling whisper. “And why can’t I feel your thoughts anymore?”
“Outside,” Eilidh said. She led Munro to the garden and turned to face him. “Griogair barely escaped. The queen tried to kill him.”
Curious, Munro thought. He didn’t look injured. “She wouldn’t just order that done?”
“A faerie of Griogair’s power? No, that would not be possible.” Eilidh laughed bitterly. “You do not sound as though you even care, to speak so casually of whether she could order it done or do it herself. Does it matter?”
Munro sat on one of the cold stone benches, grateful his new druidic power meant the temperature didn’t bother him. He couldn’t even remember where his coat was. “Why can�
��t I feel you, Eilidh?”
Her expression softened. “I don’t know how I did it. I just found the right button to push, as you would say. Our bond is not broken, only our sharing of emotions.”
“Can you un-push it?”
“Perhaps.”
“But you don’t want to,” he said.
“The queen may come for him. He claims she’s lost all grip on her reason,” Eilidh said. “I can feel your anger. Isn’t it good for us to have space for our own thoughts from time to time?”
“Was he hurt in the attack?”
“Not seriously, no. He was fortunate she had enough dignity not to chase him, while he didn’t mind running for his life. It’s the earth shield making him sick. He can’t touch the Ways of Earth on the island, and one as powerful as he would find that more painful than most.”
Azuri Fae - Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae) Page 12