“Of course,” Tolbin said. “Anything we can do to help.”
“The process may take a few moments. I would send for refreshment, but the kitchen will be in disarray as the Watchers continue their search. We do have some fine honeyed froth to offer, if you’re so inclined.”
“Thank you, my lord druid,” Tolbin replied, and the five of them went to the other side of the reception room. They chatted softly. The faeries wanted to hear about what happened to Ríona, and Munro was surprisingly forthcoming. Eilidh wondered if he realised the significance of the title Tolbin used. A few Watchers and servants had begun calling him my lord druid, but for faeries of these scholars’ influence to use the phrase showed a significant acceptance of his status. Their choice also indicated they already knew about the keepers’ assessment.
Eilidh continued her sweep of the Hall. This small group, at least, was in good hands. She sensed the Watchers roaming the corridors and the alarm of the servants, but nothing stood out. She touched the minds nearby. All were in the precise state she might predict: shocked, worried, frightened, and in the case of the Watchers, energised and determined. None had the frame of mind she would expect from a killer, and she detected no unusual surges of earth or azuri power.
The lack of success frustrated her. The killer might be in a different kingdom’s Hall, and she had no right to search or question anyone outside her small domain. Could another kingdom be intentionally harbouring the killer? The assassin who killed Leith may have come from without Caledonia if another kingdom had trained azuri. Although some were more tolerant than Caledonia once had been, that seemed a stretch. Caledonia had grown into a haven for azuri since she became queen. Refugees arrived from every single one of the other nations. Had one of them simply been a spy, sent to Caledonia to attempt to destabilise it?
With chagrin, she realised her concentration had lapsed and she’d lost track of the search. It mattered little. She was finding nothing. Only the druids’ guest suite where Aaron, Philip, and Douglas lay vulnerable and unconscious showed any strange magical activity. The druids’ encounter with the Source Stone caused a massive shift in their being. The remarkable transformations fascinated Eilidh and caused a glowing in her mind that distracted her, but they were of no relevance to the search for Ríona’s killer. The two Watchers who had guarded Ríona’s room now secured the sleeping druids, so Eilidh moved on without worry.
She turned her thoughts to the four scholars. They were, she saw instantly, exactly what they appeared. She detected their earth powers with ease. None were strong, as was common with scholars, but all were undoubtedly earth fae and none gifted with air.
With a glance at Munro, she shook her head. These scholars could offer no help. He said a quiet word to the group. The faerie men appeared as though they almost enjoyed the scandal and dread.
Munro walked over to Eilidh. “Nothing?” he asked quietly.
“Not a single thing is out of order. Perhaps the killer is of another kingdom and within their Hall.”
Munro shook his head. “I can’t see it. This attack was too personal. Ríona’s only crime was being attached to me. This killer went a long way to implicate me in two deaths. Would another faerie queen really go to that trouble?”
Eilidh shook her head. “Many would gain if my reign fell, especially because I have no obvious successor.”
“Who the most?” Munro asked.
“Our nearest rival is Vinye of Andena. It always causes difficulty when two kingdoms share borders in the human realms. The islands are small, and her territory tiny, even compared to Caledonia. The human wastes encroach on the Andenan lands more than ours. But Vinye has been remarkably friendly, surprising everyone with her public support and gifts to Caledonia. Besides, no outsider would have cause to implicate you, especially as the first murder happened before even you knew of your draoidh status.” With a sigh she said, “This is no use. We will not find our killer today. He has gone.” She sent a thought message to all within the Hall. Open the doors and return to your duties.
Within moments, five Watchers appeared at the reception room. Eilidh repeated her command and showed them her elemental sword. They disbursed to spread the word to stand down. Reluctantly, the four scholars also departed, chattering excitedly about the night’s events.
A presence brushed against Eilidh’s thoughts, a slight flutter she may not have noticed if her senses weren’t heightened from her recent intense use of the astral flows.
“Quinton,” she hissed. “He is here.” Her gaze went to the door. She nearly expected the killer to burst in. Without thinking, she raised a clumsy shield of air around her. Her practice in the earth powers was less sophisticated than her refined training in astral flows.
“Where?” Munro asked, rushing to her, stopping only when he reached the barrier surrounding her.
“I can’t tell,” she said, frustration welling. She hurried to scan the Caledonian Hall again, but the complex was large, and she had little time. “I find no anomalies other than in the druids’ rooms.”
Without missing a beat, Munro burst into a run, moving with the startling speed of the fae.
Eilidh sent out one more mind-speak message. I know who you are. She sent the thought to all, knowing it would only have significance to one. Then she followed Munro to the East Wing, arriving quickly behind him. The two Watchers who had guarded the corridor lay dead between the two suites, angry red marks encircling their necks.
Munro moved toward the arch. The flux of power still surrounded the druids within. “Wait,” she said. “You are unarmed and ill-equipped to face this killer. I will send for Watchers.”
“You want me to leave my friends alone and unconscious in the hands of someone who’s killed twice already?” His face flushed with anger.
“Yes,” Eilidh said.
“I don’t think so,” Munro replied and stepped into the room.
Only a second behind, Eilidh stopped short when she saw who was inside.
Cadhla stood in the centre of the three unconscious druids. She wielded a sword of elemental ice and summoned a crackling shield of air around her. The druids hung in the air, propped upright as though by invisible strings. The former queen of Caledonia was dressed as a servant, but none would mistake her delicate features and curved red lips, no matter how dull her hair or grimy her hands. Why was she not disguised? Had her azuri conspirator abandoned her or had Cadhla ordered him to drop the illusion that would allow her to pass for a servant?
“Cadhla,” Eilidh spat. “What are you doing to them?” Eilidh’s mind raced. So Flùranach had been telling the truth. Cadhla was alive. Did this mean Oron had betrayed her as the girl claimed? Why would he hate her so much? It had been his idea to raise her as queen. Why would he do such a thing only to tear her down again? Was this about revenge against Caledonia itself, the kingdom that had exiled him for a thousand years?
“Getting rid of the only thing that could bolster your failed reign.” Her eyes flicked to Munro. “We did our best to discredit this one, but unfortunately you’re too smitten with him to see what an evil force he is.”
Eilidh resisted the urge to look at Munro. She sensed his presence beside her, strong and focused, and that was enough. “Release the druids, Cadhla. Let them go, and perhaps I will let you live. I extended mercy to you once before.”
“Mercy?” Cadhla spat on the ground at Eilidh’s feet. “That is what I think of your mercy.” Her mouth twisted into a cruel sneer. “If your beloved Oron had not freed me from my captivity, I would still be there, tortured and broken.”
Eilidh hid her pain under a perfect mask, but inwardly she was in turmoil. Why would Oron carry on such a deception? Why secretly keep Cadhla alive, torture her, and then release her?
“Oron would never betray the queen,” Munro said calmly. “Your lies are pathetic.”
“You dare speak to me?” Cadhla shouted. “You human filth. Do you know what’s pathetic? You and these other weak creatures prepari
ng to parade around as though you were the draoidh of old.” The former queen shifted her eyes to Eilidh. “And you would allow them to do this, to destroy the kingdom I worked my entire life to build? You would jeopardise our race to justify your disgusting affair with him. Ríona told me Griogair doesn’t even lie with you. He might have been a worthless whore of a prince, but he never complained about coming to my bed. As cold as an empty rune, he called you.” Cadhla laughed at the stricken expression on Munro’s face. “And you never suspected she was spying on you, reporting every conversation to me.” She turned her gaze to Eilidh. “Just as you never suspected Oron, who served me from even before you were raised.”
Eilidh’s mind rejected the idea of Oron’s betrayal. None of this made any sense.
“If she was your spy, why did you kill her?” Munro said, his voice even but low and dangerous.
Cadhla’s smile faded. “Because you and the other humans infected her mind with your ridiculous draoidh lies. She actually started to believe you are what you pretend to be. I was content to work quietly and in the shadows until she told me of your relentless ambition. I might let Caledonia crumble to rid itself of the puppet queen, but I will not permit you to bring our entire race to its end.”
Eilidh conjured illusions of Griogair and Tràth, of Oron and the other conclave members. They all began speaking to Cadhla at once, but she ignored them and stared directly at Eilidh. The illusions shifted to nightmares, but still Cadhla seemed unfazed.
Four Watchers entered, elemental swords appearing in their hands. These were no illusions, and somehow Cadhla sensed the truth.
Cadhla took her sword and without warning, thrust it through Phillip’s belly. Thick red blood bubbled out of the druid’s midsection. Still unconscious, he didn’t make a sound. The warping magic around the three druids dimmed substantially as he hung mid-air, dying.
“You won’t get out of here alive if you kill them, Cadhla,” Munro said, his voice tight and his fury roiling.
Eilidh probed the shield around Cadhla and the druids. No physical attack would penetrate.
The former queen smirked. “I won’t get out of here alive then. I’ve already died once. I can do so again. I have strong allies. Ones that would certainly surprise you. Ones you trust.”
Cadhla had clearly trained to recognise illusions, confirming she did have at least one azuri aiding her, but that didn’t mean she was immune to all astral magic. With one quick strike, Eilidh sent a penetrating slice of pain into Cadhla’s head, a trick Oron had only recently taught her. The queen gasped and faltered enough that the three druids fell to her feet in heaps. Recovering quickly, Cadhla raised her sword again.
Desperate to save the druids’ lives, Eilidh did the only thing she could think of. Without her illusions and with pain induction barely fazing her opponent, Eilidh screamed. With her mind-speaking ability, she sent an extended, siren-like shriek directly into the former queen’s mind, coupling it with ear-popping pain. Her attack was desperate and unfocused, and Munro and the Watchers were crippled by the sound. Although Cadhla did not collapse, her shield of air faltered. Eilidh instantly replaced the barrier with one of her own, holding Cadhla in a tight grip. Without hesitation, Eilidh delved for the source of Cadhla’s magic. Severing was a fate worse than death for any faerie, but Eilidh had to strike quickly and fearlessly. She found the process more difficult than expected, like trying to cut down a tree with her fingernails. Usually such a manoeuvre would require five well-trained elder faeries. But Eilidh didn’t let up on her assault on the queen’s mind, and eventually Cadhla buckled. With one final strike, Eilidh severed Cadhla’s connection to the flows of magic.
Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Eilidh. Although she wobbled, she managed to keep to her feet. The men groaned in pain all around her.
Cadhla wailed as she realised her magic was gone completely and irrevocably. “Why don’t you kill me?” she screamed.
“Shut up,” Eilidh said. Weary and tired, she bound her former rival’s mouth with air. Going to each of her Watchers and trying to soothe the pain she’d caused with her scream, she charged them to take custody of Cadhla. Without her magic, she would hardly be a threat, but she was still violent and devious. Eilidh cautioned them not to underestimate her.
“Quinton,” she said, “Quinton, we must go. Can you stand?”
He was dazed but uninjured. Getting to his feet, his gaze went to Phillip. “Is he dead?”
Eilidh nodded. “I can’t feel his light anymore.”
“Goddamnit.” Munro scrubbed his hand through his hair, grief and pain etched into his features.
“We must go quickly,” Eilidh said. “The Watchers will take care of our friends, including Phillip.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Someone brushed my mind. Someone with azuri powers, so not Cadhla.” She didn’t want to say it, but she knew she had to consider Oron. “Her accomplice, whoever he is, must have been nearby. I fear he may head for the kingdom. He will not want his true identity known, so he will have to use that of another. A Caledonian identity token could not be easily faked. The embedded rune is weak, as it is fae-made and not like the powerful draoidh runes, but illusion won’t disguise the magic within.”
Munro’s eyes narrowed. “Ríona. Someone disguised as her and bearing her token would be allowed to pass.”
“By shutting the Hall, I helped him escape,” Eilidh said with frustration. “Ríona bore the token of the keepers, and they travel into any kingdom with little challenge.”
“Let’s go,” Munro said. Before they left, he turned to the Watchers. “Protect them with your life,” he said, indicating Aaron and Douglas. “They are my friends, but they are also vital to our kingdom.”
“Yes, Lord Druid,” their leader replied with a salute.
“We must hurry,” Eilidh reminded him, and they rushed through the Hall toward the portal.
∞
Rory woke as he often did: tired, weak, and full of fear and anguish. Flùranach dominated his confused and cloudy thoughts. He knew what she experienced every moment of the day and night. If she was distressed, the misery became his. Without a doubt, his only respite would come if he made her happy. His mind cried out against it, but he had to survive, and this was the only way. Sometimes life turned shitty, and this perversity was the lot he drew.
A figure stood in the half-opened door, and he immediately recognised Flùranach. She was like a bright light burning his eyes. He struggled to look away despite the pain. The burden in her heart weighed on his chest.
“Hi,” she said softly. The beauty that once enticed him turned his stomach.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He stared, unflinching, doing his best to gather his strength. If he would survive, he had to make her happy. Giving the best smile he could muster, he said, “Sure.”
A choked sob escaped her lips, and his chest tightened with her dismay. She knelt beside his bed, and he fought the urge to scoot away. “Rory, please don’t hate me.”
“I don’t,” he said, but even to his own ears, the words sounded forced. Doing his best to shove aside his true emotions, he softened his tone. “I could never hate you.” He had to soothe her pain to get relief from his own.
She lifted a hand as though to touch his arm but hesitated, holding her fingers in mid-air a moment before withdrawing. “Munro talked to me before. Did you overhear?”
Rory shook his head. He vaguely remembered seeing his friend, but the recollection blurred. One thing he did recall was muffled voices from Flùranach’s room. Her anguish had sent barbed spikes of sorrow into his heart.
Whatever she’d expected, Flùranach appeared relieved Rory hadn’t heard the conversation. “I came to say goodbye,” she said, her voice small and childlike.
Panic rose in his chest. He remembered being shuttled through a portal and something cutting off his connection from Flùranach. He’d never experienced such pain
in his life. “No,” he said. “You can’t go. Please. It hurts so much.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t let anything harm you.” This time she did touch his arm, but when he winced involuntarily, she stopped.
A thought came to him through the mist of his confusion. “Where’s Oron?” He knew the old faerie kept Flùranach not only separated from her power, but from Rory. No matter how he’d begged to be in the same room with her, Oron refused to relent.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I heard people talking, then shouting and faeries fighting. The shields holding me wavered. Then whoever came ran away. My grandfather unbolted my door and told me I must stay. He made me promise not to leave my room. I’ve never seen him like that. He held my power for a while, but I could feel him getting further away. Eventually, the shielding vanished.”
Rory’s mind reeled. He couldn’t imagine what would have made Oron go and leave Flùranach unattended.
“I had to try to see you, talk to you. I waited a while, wondering if he would come back, but he didn’t. So I used my power to unlatch the door. It was hard and took a long time. I’m not used to moving physical objects with my mind, but I managed.” She shivered. “There’s two dead bodies out there. My guards, I suppose. I didn’t know them.”
“You didn’t…”
“No,” she said quickly. “They were dead when I got there.”
Rory hated that her presence brought him relief. Two different emotions battled within him, leaving no room for him to wonder or worry about the fate of the faeries in the next room. Part of him wanted Flùranach imprisoned and punished for what she’d done to him. On the other hand, as long as they made her unhappy, his life would be unbearable, so much so that he’d considered ending it. The crazy thing was that his mind wouldn’t let him hurt himself because his death would hurt Flùranach. Wherever she went and whatever she did from now on, he had to follow and help her. This was his punishment for going against the queen’s orders and for lusting after Flùranach. “Are we running away again?”
Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae Page 20