When the last group of faeries were safe in the present, Munro could barely stand. Leocort arrived, looking as tired and haggard as Munro felt. Like Eilidh and Munro, the Mistwatcher had worked without rest. “My lord druid,” he said with a salute. “The last soul we could find has been evacuated. I believe you can release the gate.”
No words had ever sounded sweeter. Although Flùranach had slept on and off during the day, Munro hadn’t had that luxury. The Mistwatcher helped Munro to his feet while Eilidh and Flùranach stood. He couldn’t believe it was over, but then he’d never truly appreciated how many people a city and its outlying areas would hold until he held a temporal door open for them.
Still, he felt sad. There would likely be people elsewhere in Danastai that he didn’t save. He said as much to Eilidh.
She smiled sadly. “You can’t rescue everyone,” she said. “You saved an entire city, and more besides.”
Leocort nodded. “They said when the flows stopped, many people came into the city from smaller villages, hoping to find relief. They didn’t understand what had happened. We evacuated everyone we could, my lord druid. If there are others, they are forever beyond our reach.”
With a heavy sigh, Munro had to concede the fact. It was time to close The Way. “I’d feel better,” he said to Eilidh and Leocort, “if you two would stand back. Just in case.”
A flash of concern spread over Eilidh’s face, but she nodded.
Munro turned to Flùranach. “I hope you’ll forgive me someday for everything that happened. I didn’t want it to be this way.” He slowly released the influence on Flùranach’s mind.
Flùranach spat. “Your bitch of a daughter arrested my lord, and for what reason? What right did she have?”
“I don’t know,” Munro said, burying his anger. “You were there. She couldn’t tell us about the future.”
“So she claimed.” Flùranach looked for a moment like she was going to burst into tears, but her features hardened with resolve.
Munro nodded tiredly and with sympathy. He didn’t know what had happened between Ewain and Flùranach, but he wasn’t inclined to judge. He needed to get home and climb into bed. He could deal with her another time. “Are you returning to the Druid Hall? You’re welcome to come and rest until you figure out what you want to do. I can’t imagine you want to stay in Danastai alone.”
She laughed with a mocking tone. “As if I would want to be under your influence ever again.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, she leapt at him. She ripped the crown from his head, and the dancing flows in front of his eyes began to vanish. “The Iron King indeed. You’ll not wear this crown, at least.”
He felt time shift, but without being able to see her flows, he couldn’t tell where to delve to stop her. With a rush of power, she sent him reeling backward. Eilidh shouted something he couldn’t quite make out, and Leocort’s strong hands pulled him outside the circle of stones.
The ground trembled, and Flùranach’s face warped in front of him, as though everything inside the gate was a chalk painting fading in the rain. She vanished as a loud crack sounded and rocks burst, the smaller ones first. Eilidh had the presence of mind to throw up a shield of air to keep the three of them from being pelted with rubble.
The destruction carried on until The Way had been completely demolished. Without his crown, Munro felt as though one of his natural senses had been obliterated, disorienting him further than his exhaustion already had. He fought not to black out, even as the last of the rocks fell. When the explosions ceased, he felt Leocort supporting him. “I can carry you, my lord druid,” the Mistwatcher said.
“No,” Munro said. “Eilidh, please give me strength. I want to go home on my own two feet.”
“Of course,” she said, and she slipped a hand to his face. He felt an immediate infusion of vitality. The clearing of his mind was only an illusion, but he’d just saved a city, dammit. He would return home with his head held high.
∞
Two days passed before Munro felt strong enough to leave his suite, and even then, he was weary. Eilidh had attended him night and day, which he enjoyed despite his exhaustion. They talked about Maiya and what he’d glimpsed of the future. The one thing Munro didn’t tell her were the ominous words Maiya had spoken in one unguarded moment: I miss you, Daddy. And Jago called her my queen. He didn’t know when it would happen, but that could only mean one thing: some time in the next five hundred years, he would die.
Whether Eilidh survived him or not, he had no way of determining. Would he die of old age? Was Maiya sitting on her mother’s throne, or was Eilidh still living in Maiya’s time and the girl reigning in the druid kingdom of Rìoghachd nan Ceòthan? He’d never believed in fate, but how could he deny what he’d seen with his own eyes?
He had, however, told Eilidh how beautiful and fierce Maiya had become. His mate’s eyes had glistened with pride when he described her power and confidence.
“How much do you think I should tell the others?” he asked her on the morning he’d finally decided he was strong enough to go down and see everyone else.
Eilidh squeezed his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. “You mean about Maiya saying you would be the first druid king?”
“Aye,” he said. “I’d feel like an arse if I just went and announced I’d changed my mind. And what if they don’t think I should be the one? I think I’d near enough convinced everyone that Demi was the best choice. Now that they know Jago and Maiya are bonded, maybe people won’t want to vote for me. I don’t want to campaign for the job.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about it. Let things happen as they will.”
He nodded, seeing the wisdom of that. “Are you ready?” he asked her.
She hesitated. “Yes, the others are waiting for you. I told them you’d be down tonight.”
“Oh god,” he said. “I hope it’s not a party. I’m not in the mood for that.”
“Not exactly,” she said. “They are planning to meet us in Ceòthan. Are you feeling strong enough to walk down?”
He exhaled loudly. “I suppose I’ll have to be. Bloody hell. Why couldn’t we just get together in the workshop?”
She smiled. “They had something for you. The Danastai faeries are well recovered, and they wish to honour you.”
“Okay. Are you coming?”
“Certainly. I have a feeling this will be a memorable day.”
When they walked through the Druid Hall, Munro was struck at how empty it was, even for this time in the early evening. He saw barely a soul all the way down to the wide stair that led to the city. Holding Eilidh’s hand, he enjoyed the walk. It felt good to move and stretch again.
Even from a distance, he could see the immense difference in Rìoghachd nan Ceòthan now that so many thousands of new faeries had come to fill its streets. He worried about how they were going to feed and shelter them all, but he trusted that the ones who had begun building the city had welcomed the new residents. As they got closer, he stared at the beautiful lights that festooned the streets in beautiful, magical garlands. Flowered wreaths hung on every door, and he heard bells ringing, growing louder as they reached the bottom of the stair.
The pair walked together down the wide road, and Munro glanced at Eilidh. “Are they having a festival?”
“It looks that way,” she said.
“That’s great. I was worried how the Danastai faeries would be settling in. The place looks beautiful.” There was still an enormous amount of construction to be completed, but the activity and life within made it feel like a complete city, not an abandoned shell. It was almost as though they’d been waiting for the Danastanis all along.
As Eilidh and Munro passed into the city, faeries stopped and stared, bowing low as they walked by. A crowd soon formed, which grew into a throng. But they never got too close. They parted in front of the pair, even as the streets filled all around them. “Where are we going?” Munro asked softly.
Munro kept a smile plastered on his face as he waved at the faeries as they continued their slow procession through the streets of Ceòthan. “I thought you said there wasn’t going to be a party.”
“You said that,” Eilidh said with a smile. “It will be the first of many. If you are to be the Iron King, you will have to get used to more ceremony than when you were merely my mate.”
If Munro didn’t know better, he’d think the situation amused her greatly. He suppressed a groan as he thought about the fancy clothes he’d have to wear and all the functions he’d be expected to attend. Maybe he could convince the fae that jeans were formalwear.
When they arrived at the palace, gates opened for them. Inside the grounds, Munro was stunned to see Watchers wearing the colours of many kingdoms. “Some of the queens have come?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
Eilidh cleared her throat. “Not some. All.”
“All?” he repeated, acknowledging the salutes of the Watchers as they passed.
She turned a soft smile on him. “All, my love.”
“God. So this isn’t going to be a barbeque.”
Eilidh barked an unexpected laugh. “No. I don’t think so.”
The palace foyer was filled with minor royals, lords and ladies, a hundred faces he didn’t recognise. “I don’t know these people,” Munro muttered, nodding politely as they greeted him.
“You will,” Eilidh said.
He was relieved when they arrived inside and found Aaron waiting in the foyer. “Hey,” he said. “Feeling okay today, then?”
“Aye,” Munro said. “Quite a crowd. You just had to throw a big bloody do?”
Aaron chuckled. “It wasn’t my idea, mate,” he said. He greeted Eilidh then asked her, “Mind if I steal him for a bit?”
“Not at all,” she said, bowing her head. “I’ll go to the garden and wait with the other queens.”
She gave Munro’s hand a squeeze, then walked off as though she knew exactly where she was going. Whatever was going on, she was clearly in on it, Munro thought, vowing to get her back for sending him to a big party without warning him.
“Come on,” Aaron said. “We’re in the new council room.”
They walked back together. “How are Demi and Huck? Is she recovering?”
“Oh aye,” Aaron said. “You’ll see for yourself in a minute.”
They took a curving corridor deep into the palace, then Aaron stopped at a wide set of double doors. He nodded to a Mistwatcher standing outside. She reached over and opened the door for the two men.
Inside was a grander room that Munro had ever seen, even in the Caledonian castles he’d stayed in with Eilidh. All the druids were inside, as well as the entire druid conclave, led by the former head-keeper, Fiyr. The conclave bowed politely when the pair entered.
The atmosphere felt strangely stiff, and no one spoke for a few moments.
“What’s going on?” Munro asked.
“It’s really a formality now,” Aaron said. “Huck told us everything Maiya told you. Yesterday, we held a vote. It was unanimous.”
“You voted already?” Munro said with a frown.
“Come now,” Lisle said, walking up to him with a smile. “You know you wouldn’t have voted for yourself. No matter what Maiya said.”
“Look,” Munro began. “I don’t believe in fate or destiny. We can make our own decisions. We do what we think is right for Ceòthan and now for the Danastanis, for the Otherworld.”
Huck chuckled. He was standing at the side of the room, next to Demi, who was seated. She looked pale, but a million times better than she had two days before. “We are doing what we think is right.”
Demi put her hand over the one Huck had draped on her shoulder. She nodded to Munro. “The vote was unanimous.”
“If I recall,” Sheng said, “you promised to accept a two-thirds majority vote. We have more than that.”
“Was it unanimous?” Munro met Rory’s eyes. The red-haired druid had been quiet and subdued and sat a little away from the others.
“Aye,” Rory said. “It was.” His contrite expression spoke volumes.
Douglas grinned. “Better you than me, mate.”
For the first time, it all seemed real. He was going to be a king. Before, he’d somehow just regarded it as happening sometime off in the future, one possible future among many. The weight of the decision rested firmly on his shoulders. So many lives would become his responsibility.
Aaron clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re all here for you. We won’t let you do anything stupid.”
Munro grinned. “Thanks for that.”
“My lord druid,” Fiyr said. “Your mate and the other queens await us in the garden.”
“Right. So, some kind of party?” He exhaled, not quite sure he was ready to face all those powerful women and all their expectations of him as a new king.
“We celebrate later,” Fiyr said. “For now, we have to attend to your words.” The head of the druid conclave smiled at Munro. He nodded to Aaron. “Give me a few moments with Lord Druid Munro. We will join you shortly.”
“We’re doing this now?” Munro said, stunned.
“Aye,” Aaron said. “Before you have a chance to talk your way out of it.”
Those few moments went by in a buzz as Fiyr talked to Munro privately about the words he must say, the commitment he was making to his new people, to all the citizens of the Otherworld. Traditionally, the oath was made to the Mother of the Earth. Eilidh had been the first queen in a long time to also include the Father of the Sky in her ceremony, but now that Munro had met him, he didn’t really want to make a vow that included Ewain. After all, both of the ancient draoidh were only human, despite the fact that centuries and millennia had turned them into legends of gods.
The pair discussed the changes, and Fiyr finally agreed what he should say. He waited as Munro undressed, then he led him to the adjacent garden. The druid conclave was there, the other druids, and all the Otherworld queens, including his mate. She beamed at him with pride as he walked in. Each person present bowed their heads, and the crowd parted, forming a circle in front of a large stone altar that had been covered with a cacophony of wild flowers. At its base was a small silver knife. Munro knelt.
As Fiyr had instructed, and as Munro had seen Eilidh do when she took her vows as queen, he cut both of his palms and squeezed them together, letting his blood fall into the earth.
Somewhere over the walls, Munro could hear the voices of the people of Ceòthan, raised in cheerful celebrations for what they must by now know was happening in this garden. He thought about them. They deserved better, but he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to be worthy of their trust.
Munro breathed deeply for a moment before speaking his vow. “I come before you humbly, citizens of the Otherworld, and swear with my blood to serve you, to act with justice and mercy, to remember always that my life belongs to my kingdom, from this day until the last of all days, in this realm and beyond.”
Overwhelmed with love for the people he’d just promised to serve, Munro paused, fighting back tears. He felt Fiyr’s hands helping him rise, and Munro opened his eyes, meeting those of all the queens, of his friends, of the conclave that would be beside him as he ruled. With their help, he could do what needed to be done. He gave a half-smile, and they each returned it.
Queen Grenna stepped forward, holding a runed wooden box. She bowed to Munro as Fiyr opened it. Inside rested an Iron Crown, identical to the one Flùranach had stolen from him just before the Way was destroyed. Munro looked at Grenna.
“It was one of the five artefacts entrusted to the people of Meditar by our Lady Juno,” she said.
Munro’s mind whirled. Somehow, his crown had gone back those ten thousand years and been recovered, then entrusted to Grenna’s ancestors. How it had gotten there and who had brought it back
to him, he had no idea. That was someone else’s story, but one he’d like to hear someday. “Thank you,” he said and tilted his head.
“It has been my honour, and that of my mother, and all those who came before,” she replied with a smile.
Fiyr took the crown from the wooden case and lifted it over Munro’s head. “In the name of the citizens of the Otherworld, we consecrate Lord Druid Quinton Munro of the Druid Hall and Scotland as their holy servant and lift him up as first among us.” Eilidh handed Fiyr a long cloak of black wool trimmed in silver fur. The conclave leader placed it over Munro’s shoulders. “His Majesty King Quinton Munro,” he said.
Age of Druids Page 27