“If one had such supremacy with the flows, I’d expect we’d have seen evidence of her power by now.”
Griogair tilted his head. “Admittedly, the queens are the only ones who have a motive to attack the druids. They are a threat to the status quo. Their actions in the past year have disrupted the balance of power in the Halls of Mist.”
“True,” Oron said. “Assuming the force was deliberately targeting Munro.”
Griogair raised an eyebrow. “You believe it was a random attack?”
Oron paused, choosing his words. “We have to consider all possibilities. There is no evidence either way. On the other hand, we also must concede Princess Maiya may have been the intended target.”
Griogair blanched. “Who would attack a child?”
“Someone who does not want her to be the heir to the Caledonian throne, perhaps?”
“Koen?” Griogair didn’t like the other prince much, but he wouldn’t have thought him capable of hurting a child. “I can’t imagine he would. I admit that I don’t trust him, but I’d wager he doesn’t have the capacity to pull off such a strange event. He comprehends even less of the Stone than I do.” He furrowed his brow. “No, you had to see this thing to understand. The apparition was immense and powerful. It terrified me. Only Eilidh maintained her cool, rescuing Maiya when Munro attempted to throw her to safety.”
Athair.
Oron nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. Still, with Eilidh’s condition uncertain,” he said, lowering his voice, “I would suggest keeping guard on the princess. It is said that if the fae in a bonded pair dies, the human will always perish soon after. If the human in a bonded pair dies, the fae will live, but only as a shadow of herself. These druids have confounded our beliefs many times, so I do not know if these tales are to be believed. However, Maiya is Eilidh’s heir, and we must face the possibility that the queen may not recover from this blow.”
The stark warning shocked Griogair. He wanted to argue that only one night had passed. How could Oron give such a bleak outlook in so short a time? Of course, he realised this was his heart talking. He didn’t want to believe Munro was dead and that Eilidh would be lost as a result. “What should we do?” Griogair asked. In addition to being Eilidh’s mentor, Oron was head of the joint conclave, the advising and law-making body of Caledonia.
“For the immediate term, we move Queen Eilidh to Caledonia. We will need to announce she is suffering from a mild illness. Something innocuous enough not to cause concern in the populace, but enough so we can clear her schedule for a while.”
“What about the portal? If this thing which attacked Munro did so at random, it may strike again. Shouldn’t we warn the other kingdoms?”
“Because you sent Watchers to every kingdom, we informed them that we observed an anomaly with no further explanation. For now, our concern is our queen and our kingdom.”
Griogair stared at his mate. She looked so pale, as though frost might form on her cheek at any moment. “What of Maiya?” he asked quietly.
“At the princess’ birth, Queen Eilidh and her mate appointed you Maiya’s guardian, should anything happen to both of them.”
“Did they?” Griogair blinked. He had never considered something might happen to both Eilidh and Munro, or what the consequences might be. A foolish oversight on his part. Of course Eilidh and Munro would have considered such an eventuality, despite their youth.
“As such, the conclave would have no qualms appointing you as regent, should we be forced to declare Eilidh incompetent to rule.”
A chill crept up Griogair’s neck. He felt disloyal to think in these terms. He wanted nothing less than to spend the next ninety-nine years on Eilidh’s throne while she wasted away in grief. “It’s only been one night and one day.”
“Yes,” Oron agreed.
Athair.
Griogair sighed. “I’ll order Princess Maiya to be secured in the Caledonian Hall. I won’t risk taking her near the portal. If another queen did this to attack Caledonia, Maiya will be safest here. Would you advise me to lock down the Hall?”
Oron shook his head. “Doing so would attract too much attention. No one will think twice about not seeing the child or her nurses, but if you forbid scholars and citizens free movement in the Hall, that would cause a stir.”
Although Griogair didn’t like the risks of keeping the Hall open, he agreed with the elder’s reasoning. The Caledonian population might panic if they thought their queen had been rendered incapable. The uncertainty would undermine the stability they’d enjoyed for the past year. “I’ll call more Watchers to the Hall and neither the princess nor her nurses will leave the royal wing until further notice.”
“Good,” Elder Oron said.
“Will you return to Caledonia with us?” Griogair asked. His only hope of Eilidh’s recovery was that a powerful astral fae could reach her mind. In addition, his heart ached at the loss of a good friend. He’d not recovered from the shock of Munro being taken and feeling so helpless to stop it. For Eilidh, however, and for Caledonia, Griogair had to put his own concerns and emotions aside.
“Yes. After I pay a visit to the Druid Hall. From my earlier contact with them, my impression was they were in no hurry to announce this attack either. Unlike our queen, however, they’re not convinced Lord Druid Munro is dead.”
“No?” Griogair asked. He hardly dared to hope.
“In my mind, they are best suited to investigate further. I will advise them to stay clear of the portal for now, however, in case the attacker wishes to harm all their kind. It’s impossible to deduce the purpose behind these events.” The elder’s mouth turned down in a troubled scowl.
“Should we send word to Lord Druid Aaron to return from Zalia?” He didn’t want to mention Tràth. His son had left through the portal only moments before the attack. What if he’d been present? He lost his son once, years ago, and Eilidh brought him back. He couldn’t bear to go through that again. “They may need him.” In truth, he wanted his son to return safely to Caledonia, the Zalian treaty be damned.
Oron shook his head. “I know it’s difficult, but we must keep up the appearance that nothing is wrong. If the druids wish to recall Aaron, they will do so at their own discretion, but your son should stay where he is for his own safety. Of all the kingdoms, Zalia is the last one I suspect of being behind this attack.”
On that part, Griogair agreed.
Athair. Athair. Athair.
“She continually calls for her father,” Oron said.
Griogair blinked, surprised Oron could hear the repeated word as well. Usually Eilidh’s gift was directed to one person at a time. She had told him once it took great energy to send a call to several minds at once, and even more to blanket a message to an area. He’d taken her words as a sign she was reaching out to him, trying to communicate despite her shock and grief. If she was simply projecting, did this mean her call was merely unconscious babbling? “Yes, I hear her too. My heart breaks to see her like this.”
“Still, you will send for Imire when you get to Caledonia?”
“Of course,” Griogair said. “I don’t know what help her father might be, but Eilidh is requesting his presence, so I will obey. I pray he can do some good.”
∞
When Tràth arrived at the small reception lounge where Imena waited for him, he was surprised to find no other guests. The princess was dressed for day in a sheer black robe tied with an elaborate knot on one side. Beneath the fabric, her black nipples contrasted against her red skin. Her feet were bare except for jewels encrusted around her toes.
“Good morn, Your Highness,” he said.
She rose when he entered, signalling to a steward to refill her wine glass. “If we’re to be friends,” she said, “you must call me Imena.”
He gave a subtle nod. “You honour me, Imena.” He couldn’t explain why, but he felt on edge, perhaps due to his conversation with Aaron and the unwanted reminder of his bonded druid. Maybe the dusty journey had tir
ed him more than he thought.
They chatted about pleasant and unimportant matters for a while before the princess turned to serious matters. “I hope you weren’t offended by my mother’s words tonight,” she said. “Things are changing throughout the Otherworld, but more slowly in Zalia than elsewhere.”
Tràth accepted a fresh glass from a steward and sipped his wine. “I lived most of my life under a death threat because of the nature of my magic. The past two years in Caledonia, while pleasant, have not wiped my memory of the attitudes most held. Your mother seemed more concerned by the druid lord’s humanity than my azuri talents.”
“Our kingdom has long been filled with traditionalists, from my mother to her entire conclave. When I rule Zalia, certain things will change dramatically.”
“No doubt,” he said and reminded himself to smile. From a distance, Alyssa bolstered his mental calm. She didn’t have the deft and almost invisible touch Eilidh possessed, but she kept him on an even keel.
“Tell me about your gifts,” she said. “Until recently, azuri fae were silenced in Zalia, much as they were once exiled or executed in Caledonia, I’m sad to say.” She gestured for them to sit across from one another on a pair of long, low seats.
He took his place and tried to relax. Alyssa must have noticed, because she pushed calm into his thoughts. How much did she know about what he was doing? Did her gifts allow her the same access to his emotions that Douglas had?
“Tràth?” The princess raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry. It’s difficult to know where to begin. I’ve observed that my earth faerie friends’ talents developed differently than mine. I am at a loss for how to explain the dissimilarity. Time is a strange place.”
“Place?”
“To me, the time stream appears as a place, or perhaps a thing. It follows me, and I constantly hear its rhythm.”
A frown creased her jewelled brow. “Like an apparition?”
He shook his head as he considered. “More like a window I can always see, no matter where I stand or whether my eyes are open or closed.” As he talked about the time stream, it seemed to grow more present, thrumming a perpetual invitation. “If I gaze through that window, an endless universe of possible futures manifests in my mind.”
“I regret I cannot behold this myself,” she said.
“No,” Tràth replied, more sharply than he intended. He paused a moment to breathe. “Forgive me. Some time ago, I took another into the time stream with disastrous results. She nearly died and was forever changed. Her magic has been altered, and she is often plagued by the same shadows haunting my mind. I wouldn’t wish such a fate on a friend.”
The princess sipped her wine, seeming to consider his words. “Like my mother and most Zalian nobles, my primary gift is fire. I confess, it’s one of the reasons I’m entertaining suitors from without the kingdom.”
“I don’t understand,” Tràth said.
“Inbreeding, I suppose you might say.” The princess chuckled, but the humour was false. “We have been too long sequestered, tried too hard to stamp out any vestiges of azuri talent, shunned those families with water or stone lines. Is the habit not the same in Caledonia? Do your people not favour one line over another?”
He shook his head. “Before Eilidh, I’d say one’s strength in an earth talent was the important thing. Having talents in several was considered even better. So nobles tend to be the strongest in the flows, regardless of focus.”
“So as a master of five spheres, you must be desired by all.” She emphasised the word desired with a shuddering breath.
Tràth emptied his glass and set it aside. “I wouldn’t say that, no. I’m a dabbler in five, not a master. I’m untrained in my newfound earth abilities and unpredictable in my temporal ones.”
“How many summers have you seen?” she asked.
“A hundred and seventy-seven.”
“Then you are young still. You have centuries to develop your talents. The strongest fire fae in the Otherworld are Zalians. Perhaps as part of our agreement, we might arrange for you to fill in any gaps in your early training with their help.”
Tràth smiled. “A generous offer. I’m not at the point where I need to learn from a master. I would be more suited to start in the nursery, as far as my earth powers go.”
“You are too modest,” she said, her tone serious. “I mean that. You are a Prince of Caledonia.” She softened her expression. “I don’t intend to criticise, but I find myself wanting to help you. I think you will be a powerful prince.” She untied her robe and let it fall open. Tràth could see a pattern of tiny diamonds affixed around the cleft between her legs. “And by my side, a most formidable prince-consort.”
Tràth noticed the servants had left. He’d missed whatever signal she’d given and their silent departure. He let his eyes wander her body. “A remarkable and unexpected invitation,” he said.
“Is it really unforeseen?” She beckoned him closer. “Your reticence somehow makes you more irresistible.”
Taking her hand, Tràth moved next to her. He kissed her fingertips. “I wish you would believe me when I say you do not want me to pursue you.” Not wanting to discuss Douglas, he simply said, “I have disappointed everyone who has loved me and shattered the existence of the one person I have loved.”
“Who is talking about love?” she asked, her tone playful. “I am inviting you for a moment of pleasure and asking you to consider becoming my mate. As to the former, my reasons should be obvious. You are an attractive and compelling faerie. As to the latter, you would advance your position and influence, and I would gain a mate of considerable power.”
“A dozen highly eligible faeries no doubt pursue that honour,” Tràth said.
“Closer to a hundred. I’ve turned most away without consideration. Not one of them have I invited to my bed.”
Eilidh had warned him this might happen, but he hadn’t taken her caution seriously. If he hadn’t still hoped for successful trade negotiations, he would tell Imena the truth. He had neither the training, the mental stability, nor the desire to hold such rank. More to the point, he did not want to enter into a mating ceremony, knowing one party was in love with a third, as Eilidh and his father had. They had been fortunate, and Eilidh had grown to love Griogair, but Tràth was not so naïve as to think that possible between him, Imena, and Douglas. The idea was unthinkable. Even if the other two might, by some miracle, be amenable, he would not. Douglas was out of his life. For Tràth’s sanity, he needed to stay there.
“I’m afraid, Your Highness, Caledonia cannot open a dialogue for something as vital as a mating ritual while we have not even begun our trade talks.”
She blinked, then suddenly laughed. “You’re saying you will not consider my offer until we conclude our negotiations?”
He tilted his head. “I promised Queen Eilidh I would let nothing distract me. Despite my failings, she has shown me great trust.”
Imena shook her head, still chuckling. “Very well. I shall have to hope our other business is concluded swiftly and successfully.” She stood and kissed him. “Will you at least lie with me? I confess, I have asked about you, hoping to learn something that would help me understand you. I suspect you are as talented in the bed chamber as you are handsome. You have a wild reputation in that arena.”
“Do forgive me,” he said, looking into her lovely dark eyes. “I am weary from our journey.”
“Of course,” she said. Her disappointment was evident, but she was polite about his refusal. Imena kissed him again. He didn’t resist, but neither did he encourage her.
“Good morn, Imena,” he said, making an effort to sound warm and genuine. He didn’t want to play her false, but something about her relentless pursuit unsettled him. Why had she become so fixated and why the rush? Was it, as Eilidh suggested, a matter of the princess wanting what she could not have?
Outside the reception room, a steward waited to lead him back to his suite. When they approached their d
estination, Tràth saw Aaron pacing in the corridor a short distance from their doors, looking perturbed. “What is it?” Tràth asked him.
Aaron flashed a look at the steward. “Leave us.”
“Yes, my lord druid,” he said, and walked backward a few steps before turning and retreating in the direction he had come.
“Aaron?” Tràth asked.
“There is an azuri nearby,” Aaron said.
“Other than me?”
Aaron didn’t smile at the joke. “Yes.”
Because druids could not sense the flows as fae did, Tràth had to assume one of the Mistwatchers warned Aaron someone was casting shadows. Like Caledonia’s Watchers, they were likely trained to sense illusion.
“Perhaps one of the servants.”
“I’ll keep the Mistwatchers close,” Aaron said. “I suggest you stay alert as well.” The suggestion didn’t surprise Tràth. The druids knew no combat magic. If Aaron felt threatened, he would want his guard at hand.
“I don’t think the Zalians brought us here to harm us.” When he saw Aaron’s sharp look, he said, “Of course, we should be watchful, but whatever your people sensed may mean nothing. It might be as innocent as a vain faerie changing his hair colour or covering a scar. A million things might explain the use of azuri magic that have little to do with us.”
Aaron nodded, but he didn’t appear convinced. Tràth sensed nothing malevolent in the way the Zalians had received them. The queen had been abrupt, bordering on rude, but not menacing. Aaron should be more afraid of Tràth than some unknown castle resident. After all, Tràth was the one with the record of shocking accidents.
Weariness weighed on Tràth. He wanted to go to bed. “Good morn, Aaron,” he said. “I am tired, and I need to sleep.”
“Good morn,” Aaron said, glancing either way down the corridor, as though trying to pinpoint a distant sound.
Tràth returned to his suite. Petroc greeted the prince when he entered.
“Good morn, Your Highness,” he said. “The others have retired for the day.” The servant closed the heavy door behind the prince and followed him to the bedchamber to help him undress. “Did you enjoy your time with the princess?” he asked.
Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid Page 11