“This is the seat of your bond. I saw Alyssa’s when I delved with her, and I wondered if I could manifest any faerie’s.” She continued to breathe with the flute, watching the pulsing of his flows.
He shuddered and opened his eyes. They were glassy, giving him a feverish appearance. “I have never experienced such a beautiful, intimate touch.”
“I believe I can forge a bond with you, by stimulating the flower and winding us together. Flùranach did as much with Rory, but she did not have his consent. I would never force or manipulate you. I would never have asked if you hadn’t said…what you did.”
A cloud of worry passed over his expression. When Lisle saw his reluctance, she began to withdraw. No one in their right mind would want what Flùranach and Rory had. Their bond had been unnatural, and her forcing it on him had been the culmination of rape. The years of struggle and emotional confusion that followed brought neither of them anything but heartbreak.
As Lisle unwound herself from Leocort’s magic, he placed his hand over hers. He stared deep into her eyes. “Don’t go,” he said.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, allowing herself to linger in the midst of his flows. “I wouldn’t have if I thought we would end up like them. We are older, more mature. We would be forging a consensual bond, one based in love and trust.”
“You are truly offering a bond with me?”
“I am,” she said, then blew into the flute once more, renewing her vision of his flows.
“But if you bond with me, you will never be able to have a natural bond, find one who is your soul-mate.”
“The same might be said of you. If you bond with me, you are committed to me for life. If you tire of me or wish to move on, there would be no way out. I am old, Leocort. With a bond, I would live longer, but I will always look old. I don’t think even a soul-mate’s bond would make me as lovely as a twenty-five-year-old again.”
He smiled. “I wish you would not denigrate your beauty. We faeries understand that with age comes a new kind of allure, one that a younger person could never emulate. The most desirable lovers are those with a lifetime of experiences. If you bond with me, you will know the truth of my desire for you.”
Her cheeks warmed at the husky tone his voice had taken on and the intensity of his gaze. Never in her life had any man expressed such sentiments for her, even when she was twenty-five.
“I can’t promise you this will work. I can’t even promise you I won’t accidentally injure you, leaving both of us incapable of bonding, but not yet bonded with each other. All I can offer is a chance.”
“One I never dreamed I would have. Are you sure this is what you want? To bond with a mere soldier?”
“I am frightened,” she admitted, “worried I’ll hurt you. But yes, bonding with you is what I want. You aren’t a mere anything to me.”
He took his free hand and caressed her face. “It’s worth the risk. I gladly give my bond to you, my lady druid.” The sensuality with which he said her title gave it an intimacy that made her flush.
Lisle tried to push aside the thoughts racing through her mind, all the emotions threatening to overwhelm the delicate process. She’d have plenty of time for that, but tried not to think about what might come later, of the many touches she might experience with this beautiful faerie. Closing her eyes, she blew on the flute, letting the magic guide her back to the seat of his bond. Holding it, she went in search of her own. Hers was easier to find, practically leaping as her creationist magic touched both at the same time. Leocort murmured her name again, responding in way that told her he’d felt it too.
“I need to come closer,” she said, slipping over to sit next to him on the couch. He turned to her, his eyes still shut, his mouth slightly open as he breathed in the tenderness of her hold on him. With each inch she moved, her own bond-seat quivered with anticipation. She saw Leocort’s magical housing begin to unwind and expose its delicate tendrils. She could only get so close sitting next to him. “I think our hearts need to draw together.”
“Where do you want me?” he asked.
She hesitated only a moment before she said, “Lie down.”
They shifted so he could lie on the long couch, and she positioned herself beside him. Pressing her chest against his, she smelled the sweetness of his breath. She blew on the flute one last time before letting it drop from her mouth. Using her maker’s magic, the same that she used when inscribing a rune or crafting an artefact, she lovingly embraced their most sacred places, the seat of their beings. His lips barely brushed hers as his bond flowered in response, open and ready.
She gazed into his eyes, a part of her still finding this so difficult to believe. Things like this never happened to her. Such happiness didn’t seem like it should belong to her. “I will always cherish you,” she said. “I give myself and my love to you completely. I will honour you, and you will not be my servant, but my partner. Dem’ontar-che.” The ancient bonding words came easily. Even when she’d been married as a young woman, it had never felt like this, so natural and right.
Her bond reached for his, and he inhaled with a ragged breath as their hearts slowly entwined. “Lisle, you are more than I could have dreamed of. I will protect you and cherish you every moment of my life. I would give my life for you. Dem’ontar-che.” The moment he formed the words, their bonds grasped each other, and she felt his emotions flooding over her. For the first time, she understood what it meant to be loved completely.
Their lips met as their bond cemented. She didn’t question if it was a real bond or a natural bond. It was one they had chosen, and that made it natural to her. Their kiss grew more passionate, and Lisle released Leocort’s magic and let his love pour over her.
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her body close as they kissed, sliding his hand down her thigh and pulling her leg up around his hip. She felt his body responding to their mutual desire, pressing against her. His wordless craving streamed through their newly formed bond. They struggled to remove their clothing without breaking their kiss, failing at times, then with matching smiles, diving back in to enjoy one another’s lips again. They twisted on the narrow couch, grasping at each other’s remaining garments and then their own, until at last, they were lying together, skin touching skin, revelling in every sensation as they joined body, heart, and bond.
For a moment, they had no worries or responsibilities. No one else existed as they gave in to their passion. For the first time, Lisle discovered what it was to be worshipped, and Leocort accepted the love he never dared hope for.
Chapter 18
Munro watched from the far side of the room as Griogair took Eilidh’s hand and kissed it. He was relieved but not surprised the prince had easily forgiven their mate. She’d asked Munro to come for moral support, but now seemed like a good time to slip away and let them have some privacy. On one hand, it seemed strange that he’d fought so hard for the man with whom he shared Eilidh’s love, but on the other, doing so had been the right thing to do. He and Griogair were like brothers, and Eilidh’s heart was big enough to love both.
Thank you, she sent to Munro’s mind. He sensed her relief and happiness, and that was thanks enough.
He returned to the main courtyard at a brisk walk, then turned toward the Mistwatcher’s Keep. He stopped one of their number on the stairs. “I need Leocort,” he said. “Can you fetch him for me?”
She stopped and bowed. “My lord druid, he is on leave tonight and may be out with the Hall. I can send someone to locate him, but it may take time. He didn’t leave word of his plans. He has left me in command in his absence.”
Leocort had been acting oddly lately, Munro thought, but he didn’t have time to ponder that right now. He made a mental note to corner the Mistwatcher and get some answers later. “No need,” Munro said. “I am going to Danastai and want an escort. Who can you assign?”
“I will attend you myself, my lord druid,” she said with a bow. As if reading his mind, she said, “I am
called Gitan.”
“Of course,” he said, relieved that she’d mentioned it. How could he have not bothered to learn the names of all the Mistwatchers who lived in and guarded his home? He realised how much he trusted Leocort to handle everything, to be the go-between and take care of recruitment and training. The faerie had done such a good job, the Mistwatchers often seemed invisible, or at least as though they were part of the Hall itself. “Can you leave now?”
“I will meet you at the Mistgate in a few minutes, if that pleases you,” she said.
“Fine.” While she trotted back down into the heart of the keep, Munro made his way up again. He lingered at the base of the main stair, thinking about Lisle. He really should go tell her about Alyssa’s death before she found out some other way. He’d been relieved to hear Leocort was gone, because the Mistwatcher would take the news as a personal failing.
Maybe Munro should tell Leocort and have Leocort tell Lisle. The idea appealed, because Munro was tired of bad news, but he knew that was a cop-out. He should be the one to break it to her, even if Lisle was annoyed with him and even if this would mean she resented him further.
With a shake of his head, he turned and made his way to the Garden of Mists. He would tell Lisle, but he’d wait until after he spoke with Ewain. For now, he’d let her rest.
A few minutes later, Gitan strode into the garden. “I am ready, my lord druid,” she said.
Munro nodded and adjusted the panel on the gate’s pedestal to set its destination to Danastai. “What is your element?” he asked her.
“Air,” she replied with a tilt of her head.
He nodded. He didn’t anticipate needing to delve into her power, but he wanted to know what his options were. Of course, Ewain would have Flùranach’s power, so if a confrontation came about, Munro wouldn’t stand much of a chance. Ewain had vowed never to harm a member of the Druid Hall, but Munro wasn’t sure how far to trust him.
The gate opened when he placed his hand into the pedestal’s recessed palm-print. “Follow me,” he said and strode through without another word. She trailed quickly on his heel. “Have you learned to detect illusion?” he asked.
“Of course, my lord druid,” she said. “Mistwatcher Leocort insists we all complete such training. Those who are not adept enough to do so are found positions serving the Hall outside the Mistwatcher corps.”
“Good. Flùranach is here. She’s one of the most skilful manipulators I’ve encountered. I want you to alert me if she’s using her power, even in a slight or seemingly insignificant way. My crown may reveal what she’s up to, but I want confirmation that I’m seeing everything.”
“How would you like me to inform you, my lord druid? I assume you do not wish me to announce the fact in front of our hosts. Shall I signal you?”
“Good idea,” he said. “Stand where I can see you, and cross your arms if you detect any illusion or manipulation.” They turned a corner and approached the stair leading up to Ewain’s palace. “If we run into trouble, I may delve into your power. Is that all right?”
The faerie hesitated only a moment before answering. “You have my permission,” she said, but when Munro glanced at her, he noticed she looked uncomfortable at the thought. He supposed that over time, the Mistwatchers would get used to it. Still, he did acknowledge taking control of someone’s flows was invasive. Ewain certainly never asked permission, but he was hardly a role model for ethics. The principled debate of using faeries for their power would wait for another day.
They didn’t encounter any illusions on the way, but delicate light trails indicated the use of magical flows ahead, so Flùranach, at least, was home.
By the time they reached the top of the stair, he sensed Flùranach moving toward them. When they approached the foyer, she walked into the room from the other side. “My lord druid,” she said to Munro. Illusions spread all over her like a thin film of magic.
Gitan bowed subtly to Flùranach and took her place to the side. When Munro glanced at her, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. With a nod, he turned to Flùranach.
“Please drop your illusions,” he said.
She waved his request aside. “Surely you will not deprive me of my small vanities in my own home?” He sensed a tiny branch of influence reaching toward him, and Gitan stiffened. He felt more confident knowing someone else sensed the same things he did.
“Stop it,” Munro said brusquely. “I will not have you trying to manipulate me.”
Her power retreated. “Forgive me,” she said. “I sometimes don’t realise I’m doing it.”
“I need to speak to Ewain immediately,” Munro said, deciding not to press the matter of her illusions. As long as he knew what she was doing, he didn’t mind if she wanted her clothing to sparkle and fake ribbons to appear in her hair. Vanities indeed. Though why she’d care what anyone here thought of her appearance, he couldn’t guess.
She bowed her head slightly. “He’s in the back. I’ll tell him you’re waiting.”
Turning with a fluid movement akin to a dance move, she swept out the way she had come. Munro turned to Gitan. “Good job,” he said. “Your talents are useful confirmation. When Ewain arrives, I’m going to ask to speak to him alone. With your abilities, you will be able to sense where Flùranach is at all times, as they are the only two who live here. Scout around as much as you can.”
“Am I looking for anything in particular?” she asked.
“Artefacts, any evidence of the type of crafting we druids do. I’d like to know if he’s working on any gates, specifically.”
She nodded her understanding as Flùranach returned, preceding Ewain by mere moments. “Munro,” Ewain said. “Did you bring the Cup?”
Munro chuckled. “Straight to the point, I see.”
Flùranach turned to Ewain. “Shall I bring refreshment for our guests?” Her eyes swept over Gitan with a look of disapproval.
“That’s not necessary. I’d rather get to the point as well,” Munro said. “I’d like to speak to you alone,” he told Ewain.
The elder druid waved Flùranach away, and she left with what could only be described as a pout. Her demeanour changed from visit to visit, so much so that Munro hardly knew who she was anymore. She didn’t seem unhappy though. Rather, she appeared to be very much in her element. Still, Munro had to wonder what she and Ewain did all day in this strange, desolate city. At Munro’s signal, Gitan bowed and returned the way they’d come. He didn’t really have high hopes that she’d find anything, but her efforts might yield interesting results.
“So,” Ewain said when they were alone. “The Cup?”
“The queen of Meditar had the most interesting story to tell about this particular artefact,” Munro said. He outlined what Grenna had said to them about Juno’s instructions and fears Ewain would someday regain the object she’d created for him.
“Juno,” Ewain muttered. “Bloody woman.”
“So you see, I know you’ve been bullshitting us. The Cup isn’t needed to open The Way. Do you even believe opening The Way will return our lost people? Or was this a scam to retrieve something you couldn’t take for yourself.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” Ewain said. When Munro opened his mouth to speak, however, the elder druid conceded, “Perhaps I didn’t reveal the whole truth.”
“I thought as much. What do you really need the Cup for?”
“It will heal Rory and Flùranach, as I said. Of course, I don’t care about him, but if I healed her, I could forge a bond with her.” He glanced in the direction she had gone. “The idea appeals to me. You may someday realise how much you’ve undervalued her abilities.”
“She is a compatible bond-mate to you?”
Ewain smirked. “Most every faerie can receive a bond, if you know how to prepare them. You young druids have all taken only the low-hanging fruit, the genetically perfect matches.” With a thoughtful frown, he said, “Sometimes, there are more important things to be considered. Like power and sphere.”
“You put us through all this so you could bond with Flùranach?” Remembering what Grenna had told him about Ewain’s power, he said, “I don’t buy that. I think you intend to resurrect your old plans, if you’ll pardon the pun. The other draoidh aren’t around to stop you and your undead army, so you are free to dominate the entire Otherworld. Isn’t that what you really have in mind?”
Ewain tilted his head and stared at Munro evenly. “No,” he said finally. “If I wanted to take over this modern Otherworld, I’d hardly need the Cup of Cultus to do it.”
“What then?” Munro asked.
“I’m leaving this place,” Ewain said with a disdainful glance around the dilapidated palace. “To get where I want to go, I need the Cup.”
The announcement came as a shock. “So tell me, where do you want to go so desperately, and why did Juno want to stop you? Not that it matters. Queen Grenna said she would destroy the Cup as soon as she returned to her homeland. If the thing is as dangerous as you say, it’s safer if it doesn’t exist at all.” Munro still hadn’t worked out how Juno knew what would happen, but so much about the draoidh was a mystery to the modern druids.
Age of Druids Page 23