Chapter 13
Flùranach sat by a stream, scraping the inside of a hide with a long, curved knife. Since coming to Danastai, her work consisted of tending their basic needs: food, clothing, shelter. Her magical skills helped with hunting, but she wished she’d retained more of Rory’s earth talents to aid with growing food. Fortunately, the jungle provided abundant resources.
The ruined city was lonely, but not quiet. Monkeys screeched and frogs sang, birds called constantly in a chaotic symphony. The forests of Caledonia whispered in comparison. Flùranach felt like an interloper in a place reclaimed by the wilderness. She wondered if faeries native to the Otherworld might react similarly and if her discomfort was due to having been born in human civilisation.
Born on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, she was only in Caledonia a short while before the temporal accident aged her so dramatically, turning her from a child to a grown woman in the space of a week. Soon after her transformation, she and Rory found Huck, and then came that terrible night when she’d attacked Rory. She cringed at the memory, flushing with humiliation as she remembered what she’d done. She made no excuses. She’d been a child in a woman’s body, but her actions had been wrong. Over the following years, she’d tried to make him forgive her by begging, using her wiles, and at times, her astral talents, desperate to erase the mistake that ruined everything. When none of those efforts worked, she attempted to change herself, striving to become whatever Rory wanted. That only irritated him more.
With a sigh, she put the finished hide aside. Leaving the Druid Hall had been the right choice. She couldn’t repair the damage done, but Ewain had that power. If she stayed with him, he would heal Rory, then maybe the druid would forgive her. He would never love her again. She doubted he ever would have in the first place without her manipulating his emotions. But she might, at least, give him the peace he desperately wanted, a chance to bond with someone else, and a new life.
She wasn’t unhappy with her lot. Who would not wish to serve the Father of the Sky? The fae revered Ewain as a god, and he had chosen her. Of course, like all druids, he was mostly interested in her talents. Still, he appreciated her spirit, her desire, the things that made her an individual.
She sensed him approaching the river, despite her long reverie. His druid talents shone like no other’s. Putting aside her tools, she washed her hands in the river and tidied her clothing. By the time he reached her, she was ready. She bowed as he emerged from the brush. “Lord Ewain, I—”
“Yes, yes,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Come with me.”
She followed, startled at the way he’d touched her. He had practiced delving into her power several times, and each instance culminated in an intense sexual experience. Outside of those moments, however, he didn’t make physical contact with her. Leading her by the hand was simple, but unnecessary.
Ewain was, for the most part, a mystery to her. He was ancient, but even though manipulating the time flows had made him appear younger, some things physical changes couldn’t disguise, not to her, not when she’d surrendered so much to him.
In their brief time together, she’d discovered he didn’t like being questioned. If she intruded on his thoughts, he withdrew. He gave only what he wanted of himself, which wasn’t much. Rory had shared everything with her, his thoughts and fears, things he didn’t want the other druids to know, ideas that confused her sometimes. Although she’d been raised around humans, she barely felt more at home with their ways than she did with those of the fae. Running through the forest, holding hands with the Father of the Sky, she wondered if she would ever fit in anywhere.
After a time, the jungle opened onto the Plains, and she knew where they must be going: to see The Way. “Lord Druid Munro visited while you were gone,” she said, glancing aside at Ewain’s face, hoping he wouldn’t be angry at her for speaking with Munro.
“Did he try to take you with him?” Ewain asked. “I suspected one of them might.”
“He offered. When I declined, he gave me supplies.” Interesting. So he’d told her not to have anyone in the palace not because they might ask about his work, but because he worried they would take her away? In his strange way, Ewain did care. The idea warmed her. “I tried to keep him out, but he had an artefact that enabled him to see through my illusions. He walked right up to me unhindered.”
Ewain didn’t respond to her revelation. “What else did he want? I assume if the only goal had been to secure your return, Rory would have come.”
Flùranach snorted. “If they wanted me back, he would have been the least effective agent.” She sensed a ripple of pleasure from Ewain at the statement. Could someone so powerful as the Father of the Sky have been jealous of her previous relationship with Rory?
Before she wondered too long, she realised Ewain must have been delving into her flows. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have detected his emotions. Disappointment poured over her when she had to acknowledge this was the reason he’d held her hand. How stupid she could be, imagining that an ancient and powerful druid might have more personal reasons for wanting to touch her?
In the distance, Flùranach saw an enormous ring of stone pillars, many of which had crumbled and broken. Ewain didn’t speak again until they arrived. The structure was much bigger than she’d imagined, and she commented on its size.
“Time warps The Way’s appearance,” Ewain explained.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Look,” he said, leading her in a semi-circle around the artefacts.
As she watched, she noticed that sometimes, in certain light, The Way seemed whole, but with one more step, the stone had crumbled almost into dust. “The light warps my vision, the same way water appears to bend a branch.”
“Not the light, child,” he said. “Time. The Way is both whole and broken, depending on when you look at it.”
“So if I see the pillars as whole, I am looking back in time?”
Ewain gave an awkward smile, as though unaccustomed to the expression. “Precisely. You are a clever faerie.”
The praise sent warmth through her. “How will the Cup of Cultus help? Do you not merely need to be here at the right time?”
“With you, the right time is always at hand.”
“So why do you need the Cup?” she asked. He closed his connection to her, and she regretted the question.
As he often did when she asked something he didn’t want to answer, he ignored her. Instead, he released her hand and indicated her clothing. “Undress,” he said.
She untied her shirt without hesitation, a thrill of anticipation rushing through her. “Yes, my lord druid,” she said. While she removed her trousers and boots, he took off his robes. His body looked so different from the first time she’d seen him nude. He’d grown younger, stronger, but the change made little difference. Her attraction was to the raw power that raced through her when he touched her.
“Stand here,” he said, indicating a spot directly in front of the stones but not within the circle. She moved herself where he’d asked, and he took her by the shoulders, turning her to face the inside of the circle. He stood behind her, wrapping his right arm around her body and resting his hand over her heart. His other arm entwined her waist and pulled her close. When he touched her temporal flows, she felt like a glove on his hand. “Without your power, I never would have attempted this.”
“What is special about my power? Would not a natural temporal faerie perform even better?”
He chuckled and inhaled deeply. She realised he was smelling her hair. “No,” he said. “Within you, the astral and temporal combine in one. With my spirit power and the blood of the Cup of Cultus, joining together, we two might do what four could not.”
“The Cup gives blood power?” she asked, enthralled by his touch.
“More,” he said.
As he manipulated her temporal power, the circle of stones filled with darkness, then exploded with a light of stars as though the circle contained a galaxy. He
moved his hand over her body, like one playing an instrument. With every glancing touch, the scene shifted. At first, there was nothingness, then shadows danced within the gates like dark spirits. They whispered, their voices warping in eerily exaggerated tones.
He continued to realign their position, time flowing forward at incredible speed, whirring with lights like rushing meteors. When a different type of creature, a tall and mangled aberration, appeared, Ewain stopped. The hideous monster growled. It turned and stared at her, and Flùranach held her breath. When the thing rushed forward, Ewain held her still. With the merest brush of his hand, he shifted them ahead a few moments, and the creature passed through her. A chill made her shudder, but when it passed outside the circle, it vanished.
Her heart pounded, but Ewain’s strong arms gave her comfort. “What was that?”
“When I have the Cup of Cultus, I will heal the seat of your bond. You will be free to give yourself to another,” he whispered into her ear.
“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps someday, if the Hall continues to seek out druids, I will find one who will be a compatible bond-mate.” Turning her head, she brought her lips close to his. “Until then, I am content.”
“You do not realise, but you have the power of druids in you. You must be descended from my brethren, otherwise, you would not be able to detect our power.”
“Am I?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“Your ability to bond with any druid is a gift only imparted to our descendants. I’m astonished such a rare talent has resurfaced after so many generations.” He paused, looking at her face as though studying something he saw beneath the surface. “Some bonds are a natural fit and call out to two as soul-mates, but one who knows how can forge a bond. Such a pairing can be a strong one. Its gifts are different, but not less. These young druids understand so little of bonding magic. The bond is a gift of the blood, the spirit, the mind, and yes, time. The injury to your former bond-mate was caused by your inexperience. It is possible to forge such a bond without pain.”
“I hurt him,” she said.
“Yes. I have seen men die from such violence.” Her heart ached with the sting of his casual indictment. “Flùranach.” He said her name like a command, drawing her out of the remembered pain. “I will give you what you most desire. I will heal the druid and restore the temple of your bond.”
“Why?” she asked. “You promised to heal Rory so he will bring you the Cup. But I am a danger to druids. If I am left scarred, I remain unable to inflict such damage on another.”
“You think yourself a danger to me?” His voice lilted with amusement.
The question hung in the air. How dare she presume she could harm someone as powerful as Ewain? “I have done wrong in the past,” she said.
He pressed his eyes closed and kissed her shoulder. “As have we all, child.”
“My lord druid, when you heal me and I am able to bond again, will you take me for your own bond-mate?” She shivered, feeling exposed to him as he caressed her skin.
He guided her to turn, and she leaned forward and gripped the tall stone monument in front of her. His hand gently parted her legs as he moved close behind her. “Yes,” he said, gripping her hips as he entered her. “I will take you.” Her body responded instantly, pleasure setting her flesh alight.
∞
When Aaron and Sheng returned from Meditar, Joy stood waiting for them alongside Munro. Aaron hadn’t stepped two feet inside the gate before Joy flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Silvery tears streamed down from her sightless eyes.
“Whoa,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He’d sensed her worry while he’d been gone, but the emotional impact had been distant. By then, he’d been on his way back. They had allowed themselves an hour, but their journey stretched closer to two. Both men had been relieved to find the Mistgate still open when they returned to the small ruined house under the sea, although Munro looked none too pleased about the delay in their return.
She put a hand on either side of his face, staring with her spirit vision. “I was so worried,” she said. “If I hadn’t sensed your calm through our bond, we were going to send people to search for you.”
He regretted having upset her. Joy’s confidence had come a long way since she moved to the Druid Hall. He knew her biggest fear was losing him, a thought he both loved and hated. With that in mind, he and Sheng should have hurried Grenna, but once she got talking about artefacts, she hardly wanted the druids to leave. Queens were notoriously difficult to rush. “I’m sorry,” he said to her, then glanced up to Munro to make sure the other druid knew he was included in the apology. “Grenna turned out to be a bit of a chatterbox.”
“You met the queen?” Munro asked, eyes wide with surprise. “That’s good news.”
“Aye,” Aaron said. “They were expecting us.”
“In more ways than one,” Sheng added.
“Did you get the Cup?” Munro asked.
“I’m afraid that’s complicated,” Sheng replied as he unzipped his wetsuit and pulled it back, letting the top hang from his waist.
Aaron took Joy’s hands and unwound her from his neck, kissing her fingers. He sensed she wasn’t ready to let go, and he focused on reassuring her through their bond. “We should call everyone together,” he said to Munro.
“Okay,” the other druid answered. “Lisle’s still in Caledonia, but Douglas and Rory are around somewhere. Why don’t you two go get cleaned up and I’ll find them. We’ll meet in the workshop.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron said. That meant druids only, a subtle cue to leave Joy behind.
Munro went to the gate’s control panel and closed the gate to Meditar. He checked the schedule and opened the gate to the appropriate kingdom. “I’ll be glad when each kingdom has their own gate,” he said. “I’m tired of fiddling with this bloody thing. Will be nice when we can use it just for our own travels.”
Aaron chuckled. “Even if we had twice as many druids, we’d have trouble filling all the queens’ requests for gates and artefacts. Grenna has begun a list already as long as the others combined.”
“I’m looking forward to working on the Meditar projects though,” Sheng said as they walked toward the Hall. “No other kingdom is as reliant on druidic runes. In my opinion, Meditar should take priority. The other queens want runework, but Grenna’s people need our pieces to keep their kingdom intact.”
At the base of the stairs in the main foyer, Munro broke off from the group and went to look for Rory and Douglas while the other three headed upstairs. Joy was mostly silent on the walk, but Aaron could feel her mind turning.
When they arrived at their suite, he peeled off his wetsuit, handing it to their personal attendant, Jalail. “Thanks,” he said to his servant.
“Of course, my lord druid. Do you wish to bathe before you dress?” The subtle wrinkling of his nose told Aaron he should take the hint.
“Aye, probably a good idea.” He glanced over, only to find Joy’s silver eyes turned in his direction, a thoughtful look etched across her crimson features. When Jalail left to see to preparing Aaron’s bath, he apologised again. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I should trust you,” she said with a sigh, approaching him and taking his hand.
“Something else is on your mind. Did anything happen while I was gone?”
She shook her head and bit her dark lower lip. When Jalail came to tell Aaron his bath was ready, Joy said to the servant, “I will tend the druid lord. You may go. It will be dawn soon.”
He looked as though he might argue. Fae attendants did not like leaving their charges to fend for themselves, but Aaron gave the faerie a sharp shake of the head. Jalail bowed. “Yes, Lady Joy. Thank you.”
After he’d gone, Joy went with Aaron into the bathing room. She sat on a low, soft seat across from the tub. Aaron felt a flush of disappointment when he realised she wasn’t actually going to tend him as promised. Although they shared a deep sense o
f intimacy, they hadn’t commenced a sexual relationship. He wanted one with her, very much so, but he didn’t want to push her if she wasn’t ready. She had a lot to recover from and adjust to, so he was waiting for her to make the first move. Although she often hugged and even kissed him, she hadn’t come to his bed.
He lowered himself into the bath and picked up a soft cloth, hoping he could wash the smell of seaweed and salt water off with one go. “What’s on your mind?”
“The crown of Rìoghachd nan Ceòthan,” she said.
The admission surprised Aaron. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Ever since the meeting of the druid council, I’ve been thinking about it.” She gazed at him in a way she often did, one that nearly convinced him she could see through the silver film over her eyes. “The crown should be yours.”
Age of Druids Page 16