Age of Druids

by India Drummond

  Muime started with surprise. “He can’t leave the nursery,” she explained.

  Joy tutted the woman’s worry aside. “We won’t journey far. We just need a quiet place.”

  Jalail spoke up. “My lady, there is a small river just beyond the gates. You could sit with the boy and still be within sight of the nursery.”

  “That sounds perfect.” When Jago approached, Joy leaned down to draw him into a warm embrace. He was such a sweet child, precocious and quick-witted, but in his heart, a tender soul. Before Muime could object, Joy allowed Jalail to lead them away toward the sound of the flowing water. “How are you?” she asked the boy in English.

  “I’m very well,” he replied in the fae tongue. He took her hand, and they sat together. She sensed Jalail standing guard a short distance away.

  Although her English had improved, his command of the fae tongue far outstripped her talent with the human language, so she switched to her more comfortable native tongue. “And Princess Maiya?”

  “Good,” he said. “She wants to see you again.”

  Joy smiled at him. “I wish that were possible, but I am not allowed without her parents’ permission. It’s difficult enough to manage to visit you.”

  He paused. She sensed him studying her. “Your eyes are fine,” he said finally.

  Lowering her voice, Joy said, “Please, Jago. Please try again. I want to see. You gave me my voice back.”

  “I restored your eyes too,” he said softly. “They’re whole. I’ve told you before.”

  She bit her lip in frustration. It wasn’t the child’s fault. She shouldn’t even be here. He’d healed her throat after the Zalian Watchers had cut it, stealing her voice. He’d removed terrible scars. Aaron told her some had gone completely, and others were mere white lines. But in her own mind’s eye, she was still the disfigured monster she’d been for so long.

  Reaching into her pocket, she took out a wrapped sweet roll and handed it to him. “Takani says they’re your favourite.”

  “Ooh,” he said. “I love these. Thank you.” He smacked his lips as he ate the sticky treat. “Have they found my mama yet?” he asked.

  Her voice caught. She knew he’d ask, but she hated being the one to tell him no. “I’m sorry,” Joy said. “Munro took me to the human realm to help look for her and Huck, but we haven’t found them yet.”

  He sighed softly. “Okay.” The resolute tone in his voice broke her heart. He had so much courage for one so small. She wished she had even a fraction of his bravery.

  “I’ll bet when she does come back, she’ll come straight here. I’m sure she misses you as much as you miss her.”

  He didn’t answer, but instead set into licking his fingers. “How is Omi?” he asked.

  “She’s doing well, but like you, she’s worried about your mama. I think it comforts her knowing you’re busy, safe, and happy here.” Joy didn’t know what else to say. She’d come one last time, hoping he might have thought of a way to restore her vision since her previous visits. She’d believed that maybe as he got older, he’d learn something that would help, something to give her hope she might see again. She hated being so dependent on others. “I guess I should go before Muime comes and carries you back to your studies,” she said. “Your language is coming along remarkably well.”

  “I do okay,” Jago said. “I know I make a lot of mistakes and I still miss some words, but the fae tongue is easier than English. Harder than German though.” He sat for a moment, and she felt him watching her. His aura filled up her vision as he leaned in close. She smelled the sweet nutty scent of the roll on his breath and felt a slight stickiness as he swept his hand over her eyes to close them. With a jolt, his blood power surged through her eyes, but unlike the first time, she experienced no pain. Sensations flooded into her head, tracing through the minute web of the optical network.

  After a moment, he removed his hand and Joy opened her eyes. Still, she saw nothing but the glow of her spirit vision. She forced herself to smile, despite her disappointment. “Thank you for trying.”

  He placed his hands on her arms. As he brushed downward, burning pain seared through the scars there. Gritting her teeth hard, she fought not to cry out, instead muffling the pain into a low growl. The boy was growing more powerful. He wiped the scars off her arms in a mass, where before he had to trace them one at a time. Why, then, couldn’t he restore her vision?

  “I have to go,” he said. “Muime will be coming in a minute.”

  Joy glanced in the direction of the nursery but didn’t detect an approaching aura. Still, it was likely the boy knew something she didn’t. Her spirit vision only revealed one dimension.

  “Is there anything you want me to bring you next time?” Joy asked as the pair stood.

  “You don’t need to come back,” he said. “Tell my Omi not to worry. Maiya says Mama is alive.”

  “Does she?” Joy frowned, caught between understanding that he didn’t welcome her constant requests for healing and the bizarre proclamation that a child only fifteen months old knew Demi’s fate. Of course, Maiya had shocked them all before with her power, so Joy didn’t doubt the girl at least believed it to be true. “How does she know?”

  Joy heard Jago move and assumed the boy must have answered with some silent motion. People often forgot she couldn’t see their expressions and gesticulations.

  “You would prefer it if I didn’t come back?” Joy asked softly. “I never meant to bother you.”

  “Your eyes are fine,” he said. “The silver is very pretty.”

  “Silver?” she said. “My eyes are dark brown, almost black.” She turned to her attendant. “Jalail? What colour are my eyes?”

  “I think he means the mist, my lady.”

  “Mist?” she glanced between their presences, confused and bewildered.

  “The silver film over your eyes,” Jago said. “I guess you can’t see it. It was there when I healed them the first time.”

  Zalian Watchers had burned out her eyes ten years ago as a punishment. Before that happened, though, she hadn’t had any kind of mist over her eyes. What had the boy done?

  Muime called to Jago from the nursery gates, as though loath to step outside the compound boundaries. Joy turned in the direction of the voice. With a sigh, Joy leaned down and hugged Jago. “I’ll give your love to your Omi.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you didn’t tell her you were coming. Maybe you shouldn’t.” Returning her hug, he said. “You can come back if you want to. Bring more rolls next time. I’ll sneak one to Maiya.” He planted a sticky kiss on her cheek and skipped off toward the nursery gates.

  “He’s waving,” Jalail said.

  Joy raised her hand and waved in return until her attendant told her the boy had gone. “We should go home,” she said. “Aaron will be wondering where I’ve gone.” She could feel his presence in the distance. The Halls of Mist was on a mountainside, hundreds of miles away. Since the Binding of the Otherworld, that day three months ago when the strange power separating the Halls of Mist from the rest of the Otherworld was broken, they felt each other’s presence constantly except when Joy was in the human realm.

  “Of course,” Jalail said, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. “Shall we run?”

  “Yes,” Joy said. “That sounds nice.” The road between here and Canton Dreich was smooth, and she should be able to manage well. “I need to clear my head.”

  ∞

  Munro arrived at the Caledonian Hall, and he was surprised when the Watchers informed him Lady Joy had passed through a short time before. When he stepped to the other side, she approached, looking downcast and thoughtful. Munro greeted the Watcher who guarded the gate and waited for Joy to draw near.

  “Hello, Joy. It’s Munro,” he said.

  She tilted her head, clearly resisting the urge to bow. She still hadn’t gotten used to being one of them. “I recognise your aura, my lord druid.”

  He paused, wondering if he shoul
d question her about why she’d come to Caledonia, but his curiosity would wait. Now that he was closer to Eilidh, her presence pulled him through their bond. His wife was annoyed, and delaying would make it worse. As he moved to depart, Joy gently put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more in the human realm. Perhaps I can return with you next time. We should try again.”

  “Thank you, but for now, Aaron needs your help. He’s going to ask the Keepers about the gate we saw, and he wanted you to describe it for them,” he said. Joy’s mouth twisted at the word saw, and he regretted his word choice. He realised what brought her to Caledonia. Likely she’d asked Jago to attempt to restore her sight once more. How many times had the boy attempted to heal her?

  “I’ll go to Aaron at once,” she said, this time completing the deferential bow. Then she added, “My lord druid, Maiya insists Jago’s mother is alive.”

  He stopped short. “You visited my daughter?”

  “No, of course not,” Joy said quickly, visibly shrinking back. He wished he hadn’t spoken harshly. He’d felt so protective since Maiya’s life had been threatened a few months before. He hated not having her with him every day. “Jago told me. I repeat what he said because I wondered if she could aid you in your search for Huck and Demi. I assume you haven’t thought to ask her.”

  Munro frowned. “She’s only fifteen months old,” he said. “On the other hand, she’s proven to possess extraordinary senses and intuition. I confess, I’m looking forward to her being able to communicate more clearly.”

  Joy bowed again. “Those will be remarkable days, my lord druid.”

  Before Munro could remind her he’d said a dozen times that she didn’t need to bow and call him by his title, she headed through the gate, her attendant close behind.

  With nothing else to delay him, he walked through the large series of gardens to the back portcullis, leading into the castle at Canton Dreich. He pondered what Joy had learned. Could Maiya offer some answers in his search? No one understood the child’s gifts, not even her parents. They went beyond what Eilidh herself could manage. Elders took a hand in the princess’ education, saying they learned as much from her as she did from them.

  Once within the walls, he waved for one of the house stewards to approach. The tall, dark-haired faerie bowed and awaited instruction.

  “I need to speak with the joint conclave, particularly the azuri elders who came here from Skye,” Munro said. “Send a message with my request. I’ll be with my wife.”

  “I believe Queen Eilidh is meeting with them now, my lord druid.” The servant glanced up at the stars. “They arrived not an hour ago.”

  “Good. In that case, I’ll speak to them myself.” He strode toward the wide stair leading to the upper levels, Watchers saluting as he passed. Eilidh was growing more agitated by the moment, her anger vibrating through their connection in a way he’d never experienced before. Feeling the tension build, he regretted having taken the time to eat and bathe before coming.

  Although the queen’s meetings with the conclave were typically closed to all unless explicitly invited, the Watchers did not try to stop Munro when he went inside. One of the perks of being a druid lord, he thought.

  An uncomfortable silence hung within the vast meeting chamber. The twenty-four joint conclave members were present, twelve azuri and twelve earth elders. A few acknowledged his entrance, but most appeared lost in thought or were busy exchanging uncomfortable glances. Eilidh sat on a throne at the head of the room, just one step above the advising council, her posture stiff and her expression grim.

  Her eyes flicked to Munro. I expected you hours ago. The telepathic message conveyed a biting tone.

  Judging by the cheerless atmosphere, his tardiness wasn’t what upset her. He drew close to her throne and bowed his head formally. “What’s happened?” he asked softly.

  With a minute flick of her head, she signalled for him to take a place standing beside her. Once he moved to the appointed position, she said quietly, “My third mate is dead.”

  “Koen?” Munro furrowed his brow. “How?”

  “Killed by my first mate.”

  None of this made sense. “What does Griogair say?”

  “He is in custody,” she said, her voice flat. Their bond betrayed the roiling emotion beneath the calm surface.

  She hadn’t answered his question, which was telling. “You’ve already arrested him? What happened?” Munro turned to look her in the eye. In the beginning, Munro and Griogair hadn’t known what to make of each other. Being married to the same woman, a queen, no less, gave them shared goals. Eventually, they became like brothers, together shouldering a burden no one on the outside could understand. Eilidh loved them both.

  Her sense of betrayal burned, and her silver eyes glinted with fury. “I gave explicit orders that Prince Koen, may he rest in the embrace of the Mother, was to be kept for my judgement. I confided to Griogair I was inclined to let Koen live out his days at Eirlioc Falls. My first mate disagreed with my decision. Vehemently.”

  “That doesn’t mean he killed him,” Munro said. The weight of the news bore down on Munro’s shoulders. He had so many worries right now. Despite being overwhelmed by his duties in the Druid Hall, he couldn’t let Griogair take the fall for Koen’s death. If only Eilidh would calm down, surely she would see reason. “I’d like to talk to him.”

  “No,” Eilidh said almost before the sentence was out of his mouth.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Koen might have been a greedy, manipulative little shite, but Griogair wouldn’t murder him.”

  “You will not speak of my third mate that way. He has passed beyond the judgement of the Otherworld.”

  “Are you serious?” Munro stared, and Eilidh returned the look with anger so fierce, her eyes narrowed. “Koen was guilty of treason. He tried to sell you out to Konstanze. He even threatened Maiya. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone.”

  Eilidh stood, her hands shaking. “This is a closed meeting,” she said and pointed to the door at the rear of the chamber.

  Munro wanted to tell her she wasn’t being reasonable but thought better of it. If she was this angry over hearing the truth about Koen, whom she never liked and took as a mate on purely political grounds, then calling her moody wouldn’t help. He’d been married long enough to grasp that much. He’d reason with her once he got her alone. With a tilt of his head, he turned to go. Before leaving, he said, “I need to speak to the azuri elders on the conclave.” He nodded to Oron. “Perhaps after you’ve finished?”

  “Of course,” Oron said.

  “About what?” Eilidh snapped.

  Munro gave her a level look. He thought about telling her it was druid business. See how she liked being kept in the dark. But once again, he tempered his reaction. “I discovered an ancient monument in The Bleak unlike any I’ve ever seen. Even drawing on the spirit power of Lady Joy and the astral talent of my azuri Mistwatcher, I wasn’t able to make much of the runes. I’d like their counsel.”

  A light shimmered in Oron’s eyes. “Fascinating,” he said. “Of course we’ll help.” The others nodded in eager agreement. With a bare glance to the queen, the elder said, “We were just about to wrap up here. I think we all agree we should take no action on the matter of Prince Griogair just yet. We acknowledge that although we abhor the idea the queen’s mate was killed, we must examine the facts with cool reason.” Munro doubted very much that Eilidh, at least, had made any such agreement, but even she couldn’t argue against patience and deliberation.

  She looked pointedly at Munro. “I will see you in my private chambers. Now.” With that, she stood and marched out, her long skirt rustling as she walked. Out in the corridor, Munro heard the Watchers fall in step behind her as she strode away.

  Munro glanced at Elder Oron. “I should go,” he said.

  Oron shook his head. “Be patient with her, my lord druid. She feels betrayed by one she has grown to love deeply. Queen Eilidh has always done what is right by
our kingdom. In this, let us allow her to grieve that loss and trust she will continue to serve her people justly.”

  “Are you certain Griogair is responsible for Koen’s death?” Munro still couldn’t believe it.

  “The Watchers each give the same testimony.”

  “Does Griogair deny the charge?”

  Setir, the eldest of the earth contingent of the joint conclave, replied, “He has said little.”

  Munro sighed and muttered, “I don’t have time for this shit.”

  A weary smile stretched across Oron’s face. “Nor do we, my lord druid. Yet, this is the way of tragedy. It never waits for a convenient moment to strike.”

  Of all people, Munro understood that truth. “Do me one favour, if you would. Ask around about the Watchers who spoke out against Griogair. I find it difficult to believe he would defy Eilidh directly.” He paused, almost stopping himself from voicing the thought in his head, but he trusted Oron and knew his sentiments were shared by the conclave. “Koen really was a worthless sack of shit. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”