The strange silence of halted time roared in his ears. He sat up and put his feet on the plush rug beside his swing bed. A message from Canton Dreich, the castle where his father lived with Queen Eilidh, could only mean one thing, but what might Griogair want with him? Tràth had scarcely spoken to his father in months and hadn’t seen him since Queen Eilidh’s taking of Prince Koen as her third mate. Her mating ceremonies were becoming an almost annual tradition, and Tràth had stayed only as long as politeness required.
Time exuded pressure on Tràth, urging him to release the flows. Since bonding with Douglas, in addition to gaining access to earth flows, he’d grown in his competence with his temporal abilities. Sadly, as the one known temporal faerie, he had no mentors to guide him or teach him new techniques. He’d had several horrible accidents in the past and only recently had begun to touch the flows again. His abilities were undeveloped enough that he could only move outside time in small spates. Still, it was enough for him to catch his breath, to think, to decide what to say. Often, if he remained motionless, people didn’t realise he had manipulated the time stream.
Tràth stood and released the flows. Petroc resumed his activity but jumped when he saw the prince had moved. The attendant didn’t say anything, merely pursing his lips in disapproval. Once, he’d told Tràth that in moments like that, it appeared as though a strange, ghostly double had zipped around the room in an instant. It seemed reality took a moment to catch up.
“Show the messenger in, please,” Tràth said to Petroc. The servant nodded but didn’t leave until he’d finished helping the prince slip on a sheer lounging robe.
Tràth walked over to a window and stared out at the starlit garden. An attractive female faerie clipped wayward leaves off a sculpted hedge. The simple activity made an overwhelming sadness well in Tràth’s chest. Time pounded in his consciousness. As always, he attempted to push the flows aside. Tendrils of possible futures spread out from the woman. She might cut herself, but then, she might not. The outcome depended on…he blinked slowly as she drew her hand back suddenly, then sucked on her finger. Tràth turned away when footfalls approached behind him.
A messenger wearing the deep blue and silver of Queen Eilidh’s servants bowed. “Your Highness,” he said and held out rolled up parchment.
Petroc stepped forward and accepted the page, then handed it to Tràth with a slight inclination of his head.
“Thank you,” Tràth said and unfurled the letter.
The message was written in fine, flourishing script.
Tràth,
Please accept my personal invitation to attend a dinner at the Caledonian Hall tomorrow, the fifteenth night before Dilum, as the swordsman turns from the boar. Your father and I have a small favour to ask, but more importantly, we have missed your company.
I do hope you will find time to attend.
The queen had signed it with a single silver rune: Eilidh.
Tràth glanced at Petroc and sighed. He might ignore a request from his father, but not one from Queen Eilidh. The inconvenience annoyed him, but he couldn’t resist being intrigued. The queen had never asked him for anything before. They were on friendly terms, despite the fact that she’d deposed his mother, who had been Griogair’s first mate, and that the queen was fifty years Tràth’s junior. She had grown into her role but still hadn’t attained the hard ruthlessness that most in her position gained before too many decades passed. He hoped she never did so.
“Very well,” Tràth said slowly. He nodded to Petroc. “Draw up a reply. We’ll leave tomorrow after dusk."
“If you’ll pardon me, Your Highness,” the messenger said. “Prince Griogair has sent an honour guard to escort you and a cart for your things. He suggested you may find it useful to prepare for a somewhat extended stay. I am to wait and accompany you.” He cleared his throat. “As soon as you find it convenient to leave.”
Tràth bristled at the notion. What in the name of the Father of the Sky could Griogair and Eilidh want to see him that badly about? His instincts told him to rebel, but that was childishness talking. “We’ll leave in two hours,” he told Petroc, who bowed and showed the messenger out.
Without a doubt, Tràth’s real hesitation was because of Douglas. His bonded druid lived in the Halls of Mist. They’d been apart for three months, and the ache in Tràth’s chest nearly overwhelmed him. Douglas had grown distant, and Tràth had promised himself he’d give the young human the space he required. Douglas had been there for Tràth when help was most needed, and their bond kept the prince sane, quite literally. Despite the acknowledged foolishness of his fear, Tràth worried that entering a place where he would feel their bond acutely would be more than he could bear.
He didn’t know how long he stood staring at nothing. His reverie was broken only when he heard Petroc’s voice. “Your Highness?” His tone told Tràth this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to attract the prince’s attention.
“Yes?” he said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
“I’ll be right in to help in the bath.” Petroc’s subtle way of trying to remind him to move.
Tràth sighed dramatically. “No need. I can manage this once. I will tend to myself while you pack.” He smiled and slipped off his robe. “Two weeks?” he asked and headed for the side room, where a tub of warm water waited for him.
“His Highness said an extended stay. That might mean anything from a week to an entire moon.”
Tràth called into the next room, “I hope he sent more than one cart, then.”
“Indeed!” came Petroc’s reply.
Tràth closed his eyes and lowered himself into the water. For weeks, he’d fought not to think about Douglas, the pain of the separation, and the ache in his chest. Now, knowing he would soon leave for the Halls of Mist, dread accompanied a twinge of hopeful excitement.
Chapter 2
Munro scooped Maiya into his arms, causing her to giggle wildly. The nurses had dressed her in some flouncy, diaphanous mess of a gown, and somehow, a tiny crown of flowers managed to stay on her head. From his admittedly limited experience with children, he suspected magic was involved.
Maiya’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and as Munro spun her around, she squealed with delight. He’d missed her so. He hated being away from her, even for a day. Sometimes, he worried she would bond with her nurses more than her parents, so he spent as much time with his daughter as he could talk Eilidh into allowing. At the same time, he didn’t want to undermine his wife’s authority or challenge the entire fae culture. But when he looked at his daughter, he knew nobody could love her more than he did. His own father had been such a profound influence in Munro’s life, and he wanted the same for his little girl.
“I should have known you’d come straight here,” Eilidh said from the archway. She smiled at the pair of them.
One of the nurses approached, presumably to take Maiya. Munro ignored him. “I couldn’t wait to see my girls,” he said. He strode over and kissed Eilidh’s cheek. “How was the journey?” he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “The same as always.”
Munro let the comment go. He didn’t understand how the fae’s children affected their lives so little. Babies didn’t live with their parents until they were ten years old. Even then, they spent more time with tutors and mentors than with either of their parents, who rarely lived together. Taking life mates was rare among the fae. Only royals engaged in the practice regularly. “How long will you be able to stay?” Munro asked. “I want to introduce Maiya to various talisman enchantments, but I was thinking we’d come back to Caledonia in a week or so. We put the last rune on the Mistgate today, so after I spend some time with Maiya, I’ll bring her home, maybe stay a while.”
Maiya grabbed one of his ears and gave it a tug.
He reached up and touched the end of her nose, then pulled his hand away quickly. “I’ve got your nose!” he said, wiggling his thumb between his fingers. Her eyes widened for a second, and he tweaked her
nose a second time. “There. Back again. All better,” he said.
Eilidh seemed confused by the exchange. “Your work is complete?” she asked. “And all went well?”
“Yep,” Munro said, letting Maiya pull his fingers toward her mouth. “Rory and Flùranach took the first trip.”
“That’s wonderful,” Eilidh said. “Will you be journeying to the human realm? If this isn’t a good time to have Maiya with you…”
“Don’t be silly,” Munro said. He gazed at Maiya. “It’s always a good time to be with my girl.” He felt a rough spot on her gum as she gnawed on him. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Who’s getting a tooth?” He grinned at Eilidh. “A tooth! It’s about time, too!”
Eilidh struggled to keep a straight face. Munro’s infatuation with fatherhood was a constant source of amusement to her.
“Good thing,” he said, shifting to baby-talk. “I’ve got something special for your birthday that’ll require at least one tooth. Jaffa cakes!”
Eilidh groaned. “The nurses complain,” she said quietly. “They say you don’t let them do their jobs.”
Munro gave his wife a stern look. They had an agreement. He wasn’t going to be talked into letting them keep his daughter locked away, even if it was the fae tradition to leave child-rearing to the professionals. Every moment he spent with his daughter, nurses were lurking around, seeming relieved when he let them take her for feeding, bathing, or a nap. “How long are you staying in the Halls of Mist?” he asked again. Munro adored his wife, but he was weary of their arguments over Maiya’s upbringing. He looked forward to some time alone with his daughter, even if it was only a few days. They’d return to Caledonia and Maiya to her regular routine soon enough, but this was her birthday. He wanted the moment to be fun, even if she wouldn’t remember it when she was older. He’d even gone to Scotland and bought a camera for the occasion.
“I’ve arranged to stay at least a fortnight,” she said. “We have a state dinner tomorrow. Koen may be eager to return to Caledonia in a couple of days, but Griogair and I will remain here until you’re ready to come home.”
Although her words sounded as though she wanted to be with him, her worry and consternation over Maiya rippled through their connection. This wasn’t normal separation anxiety, though. Eilidh wasn’t accustomed to seeing Maiya on a daily basis. He knew she worried his unconventional interference with Maiya’s upbringing would somehow harm the tiny princess. The distrust made him bristle. She didn’t have time to hover around the Halls of Mist for a week, watching him with Maiya. Nearly her every waking hour was spent travelling, in meetings with advisors, signing documents, or visiting with dignitaries from other kingdoms. Considering she had only recently returned from a month away with Prince Koen, she would be busier than usual.
She must have sensed his annoyance because she changed the subject. “Tràth will arrive soon.”
“So tomorrow’s the dinner with the Zalian delegation? You know it’s a waste of time, right?”
She stiffened. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Maiya gurgled in his arms, drooling copiously on his thumb as she chewed with her one, barely uncovered tooth. “Well, good luck,” he said. This wasn’t the way he wanted to leave her, but he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to be away from the Caledonian Hall. Maybe when he and Maiya returned to the Druid Hall, he’d relax some. Hon, the Hall’s steward, had set up a suite for her near Munro’s. He’d wanted to just throw a crib in his own suite, but Hon had pointed out the nurses would need a place to sleep, too. Munro turned to the nurse who still hovered nearby. He knew he shouldn’t resent the fellow, but he hated that someone else spent more time with his daughter than he did. “Is everything ready?”
“Of course, my lord druid,” the nurse replied. “I’ll tell the others you’re ready to depart.”
“How many?” Munro asked.
“Ten of our staff have travelled with Princess Maiya, my lord druid.”
“Ten?” He glanced at Eilidh, then back at the nurse. “Four. No more than four.”
“Quinton,” Eilidh began.
“I do not need ten professionals looking over my shoulder every minute of the day,” he said, struggling not to raise his voice. “Four is a ridiculous number, and it’s the maximum we can accommodate at the Hall.”
The nurse inclined his head, and Eilidh reluctantly nodded. “If you’re certain you don’t need them,” she said.
He kissed Eilidh’s cheek, looking forward to the day when they could put this argument behind them. In time, as she grew more accustomed to his desire to be with Maiya and be a part of her upbringing, Eilidh would ease up. He hoped.
“Will you come by later and speak to Tràth?”
Maiya started to squirm and fuss. “I’m not sure how much he’d listen to me,” Munro said, bouncing Maiya gently in his arms to soothe her. “And I’m not convinced this plan of yours is a good idea.”
“You said yourself the druids have little access to the Zalian borderlands,” she said, sighing with exasperation.
“With the new Mistgate, we don’t need to travel through any kingdom to reach the human realm.”
“So you intend to violate the borderlands and bypass the queens altogether?”
This was another argument they’d had before. None of the queens liked the idea of the druids travelling freely in what they considered their territory. The druids, all being human, didn’t acknowledge the queens’ authority in the human realm. Now that the druids didn’t have to move through the kingdoms, the queens’ wishes were irrelevant.
Maiya’s fussing turned to a full-blown cry.
“If I may, my lord druid. It’s past time for Princess Maiya’s early evening rest period,” the nurse said. He held out his arms to take the child. Munro had little choice but to comply.
“Take her to the Druid Hall for her nap,” Munro told him. “My steward will show you to the suite we’ve prepared.”
“As you wish, my lord druid,” the nurse replied. He took Maiya before Munro had a chance to say goodbye to his daughter. She went with him willingly, as though accustomed to his care.
Munro felt suddenly bereft without her in his arms and watched as the nurse carried her into an adjacent room. He looked at Eilidh, who was observing him closely. “Will you come speak with Tràth?” she asked again.
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the baby drool off his fingers. “If Maiya is still napping when he arrives, sure,” he said.
“If she’s awake, you could bring her. He hasn’t seen her since she was a newborn,” Eilidh said.
Munro hated the suspicion creeping into his thoughts. He should be happy at the offer. Often born decades if not hundreds of years apart, fae siblings, especially step-siblings like Tràth and Maiya, rarely saw each other in the early years. However, he doubted Eilidh requested that he bring her because she wanted Tràth and Maiya to know each other. He suspected she didn’t trust him to know how to care for Maiya or to ask for the nurses’ help. “Fine,” he said. “Send a messenger when he arrives. I’ll come if I can.”
“This is important,” she said, testiness creeping into her tone.
“So is spending time with Maiya. But, as I said, I’ll come if I can.” He softened his tone. “I promise.” He did his best to stifle his emotions and hoped she didn’t feel them through their bond. They were going through an adjustment because of the baby and their recent separation after Eilidh’s third wedding. Everything would be fine once they were home together and had established a routine. She’d grow used to him caring for Maiya and realise that although he was not a trained fae nurse, he could handle a few hours with his daughter.
“Thank you,” she said. She stepped close and kissed him. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, even though no one else was around.
Munro kicked himself. He was so wrapped up in his own emotions that he’d not made allowances for how difficult things had been for Eilidh. Marrying Koen had taken a toll. Munro had tried to ge
t to know the young prince better, but the new consort was proving difficult. “Will you spend the days with me while you’re here?” he asked. The fae rested during the day, but didn’t need as many hours of sleep as humans. Most of the day was spent relaxing and in light recreation with friends and family. Even a queen rarely worked when the sun was up.
“We’ll see,” she said. “I have much to do to prepare for the Zalian delegation’s arrival. Much depends on how the dinner goes. They will likely desire the peace of their own Hall, but Griogair suggested inviting them to stay. They may find some pleasant diversions with us before they take their rest.”
“All right,” Munro said.
The nurse returned, this time without Maiya. “We’re ready to move the princess to the Druid Hall,” he said.
Munro fought not to laugh. “She’s a baby, not a convoy. We’re only going a hundred metres down the road.”
“Of course, my lord druid,” the nurse replied.
“All right,” he said. “I’d best go make sure she settles in,” he told Eilidh. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Goodbye, my love,” she said, and kissed him lightly. “Thank you. Your help with Tràth will be much appreciated.”
∞
“How come they aren’t back yet?” Jago complained.
“You have to be patient,” Lisle said. “Her father hasn’t seen her in a long time, so you will have to wait your turn.”
“It isn’t fair,” Jago said.
Lisle’s patience was wearing thin. Jago talked of little besides Maiya recently, and once he set his mind on something, he was difficult to distract. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s work on your lessons while you wait. Choose a book, and we’ll read together.”
Jago walked over to a shelf on the opposite side of the large suite he shared with his grandmother. She watched him look over the choices, then turn to survey the rest of the room. Many of his books, along with his toys, were strewn across the living room only they shared. None of them seemed to suffice, because Jago disappeared into his bedroom.
Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid Page 2