Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (21 page)

On the way to Canton Dreich, Munro lost himself in his thoughts and walked slowly, watching the sky lighten with the coming dawn. Throughout the conversation with the druids, he’d been virtually unaware of Eilidh’s presence in his mind, as often happened when he was focused. He turned his thoughts to their bond, and warmth radiated from her, giving him confidence. The warmth grew more intense, the way it did when they flirted and teased one another. He loved those moments and was glad she had found momentary relief from her burdens.

He stumbled when the truth hit him. She was with Griogair. What they were doing, Munro couldn’t tell, but the happy vibrations were unmistakably those of genuine affection. He searched his emotions and was surprised he didn’t feel jealous. Her happiness rippled through him, and rather than resenting that she’d found it with someone else, her delight spread through him. Perhaps their bond made the normal human tendency toward possessiveness less biting.

He considered what Tràth had said about the draoidh. His words mirrored Ríona’s. They were respected and feared, could claim any property and any mate.
Any
mate? Would he be able to claim a place beside Eilidh? He wanted to. He hated hiding his love and having to sneak and lie. But their relationship was complicated, and now she was growing to love Griogair. Would Munro demanding a place by her side upset the delicate balance they fought to maintain? If he forced Griogair to step aside, would Eilidh hate Munro for it?

Eilidh’s delicate rush of joy was replaced with a more subdued gratification as he approached the castle. He followed the familiar path to her private rooms, where he so often met her at dawn. Today no Watchers guarded the entrance. He found the change curious, but in truth she likely didn’t need them. Much of faerie society and its rules were deeply ingrained in them. He couldn’t imagine anyone intruding uninvited. He hesitated outside the entrance. Should he leave them alone? Torn between not wanting to shatter Eilidh’s moment of happiness and needing to speak with her, he decided to wait. He needed to check on Rory anyway.

Come in, my love.
Her voice tickled his mind. He couldn’t help but smile.

He walked through the twisting archways and saw Eilidh draped across a long settee, her head resting on Griogair’s thigh. The prince stroked her white hair and had a tender expression Munro had never seen before. They were both dressed in the loose lounging robes faeries preferred during the day. Their attire was another signal daytime was for resting, even though they didn’t sleep as often or as long as humans tended to.

Griogair glanced up, a slight look of worry creasing his forehead.

“I can come back another time,” Munro said. He retreated toward the archway. It both pleased and surprised him that he didn’t feel jealous. Wasn’t he was supposed to be upset? Shouldn’t he be storming about, outraged?

“Please don’t go,” Eilidh said.

Griogair made an exasperated noise, and Munro laughed. “Eilidh,” Munro said. “Haven’t you learned yet? Queens don’t beg.”

She sat up with a satisfied stretch. “Is that so?” She batted her eyelashes at Griogair who gave a playful nod.

Munro rolled his eyes. “Dear god above, woman. Tell me you did not just flutter your eyelashes.”

Ignoring the comment, she asked her mate, “So what are queens supposed to do? You’re the expert.”

“Queens command,” Griogair said. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“No,” Eilidh said quickly. “You’ve demonstrated quite enough for one day.”

Munro didn’t know what she was referring to, but he chortled along with the prince.

Eilidh stood and walked toward Munro with a slow, seductive sway. Her robe gaped at the front, revealing the curve of her breasts. She’d never looked more beautiful. Slipping her hand up his chest and neck, she ran her fingers toward the nape of his neck. She grabbed his hair just hard enough to tilt his head. “Stay,” she said, putting potent authority into her tone that may’ve been magically enhanced.

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Munro said, meaning every syllable down to his socks.

She kissed his mouth, lingering indulgently. When she released him, she smiled and turned back to Griogair. “Better?”

The prince chuckled. “If this is your method, no doubt all your servants will enjoy receiving your orders.” He added quickly, “Not that you are anyone’s servant, draoidh.”

Munro started to laugh again, then realised Griogair was serious. “I’ll always be Eilidh’s,” he said lightly, hoping to diffuse the prince’s worry. He wondered if all the fae would react to his title that way. It was little more than a title, based on a memory of some powerful druids a long time ago. Aaron had been right. All Munro and his friends had done so far was make a few trinkets, hardly the stuff of legends.

He sat across from Griogair, and Eilidh resumed her seat beside her mate, resting her head on his shoulder. She seemed tired, so her contentment made him glad, especially when this moment of respite couldn’t last.

“I wanted to ask a favour,” Munro said to Griogair.

The prince raised an eyebrow, his wariness returning. Griogair had to worry Munro would try to come between him and Eilidh. Watching them together, Munro wasn’t certain what he wanted anymore.

“I’ve gone through some changes,” Munro said.

Griogair nodded. “I sense some of them, see the evidence of others. Your skin is like gold. You are, if I may say so, becoming quite beautiful.”

Munro chuckled. The more he resembled a faerie, the more faeries liked it. “I’m more concerned with my abilities. Up until now, the only thing we druids could do is make things, but the gift is getting more complicated, the more I learn.” He took the small frog out of his pocket and held it out. The stone creature gave a little hop. Eilidh and Griogair glanced at each other, then back at Munro. He told them about the Killbourne Wall, Ríona and the keepers’ reactions, and his belief that druids were somehow part of the Otherworld creation story. Stroking the tiny frog’s back, he said, “It’s not really alive. For that, we’d need a blood druid, maybe astral and spirit too.”

A tickle of fear rippled through Eilidh’s bond, but he didn’t understand why. It was just a frog. “I need a mentor,” he went on. “Someone who can teach me stone magic. I realise I might not have the aptitude. I mean, I’m not fae. I’m something else. But with my work, I’m going on instinct alone. There might be some benefit to learning how you use magic.”

Griogair nodded. “I’m sure any number of fae tutors would be happy to teach you anything they can.”

“Ah,” Munro said, sitting back. “Okay.” He didn’t want to admit his disappointment in the prince’s reaction.

Eilidh turned to Griogair and rested her hand on his arm. “I believe my druid wishes you to teach him.”

“It’s okay,” Munro said. “You’re pretty powerful, and I’m way below your level. Besides, you’re busy with this royal stuff.”

Eilidh laughed. “Don’t be silly. He didn’t suggest another mentor because he considers teaching you beneath him.” She wrinkled her nose at Munro, a distinctly unroyal but adorable expression. “Shall I call for a translator? You two appear to be having difficulty.”

Munro scrubbed his hand through his hair, confused. Was Griogair’s reluctance because of Eilidh?

“I’m deeply honoured at your request,” Griogair said. “Although I possess strong abilities, I have no experience in how to teach another. You can choose from the most adept instructors in any kingdom, once word of your achievements spreads.”

Achievements. Yeah, making a frog that can hop. Tremble at my feet.
“I’d rather you help me,” Munro said. “If you have time.”

Griogair tilted his head. “Of course I will, brother. And perhaps you’ll find an opportunity to show me how you did this.”

“Sure. I used a combination of moulding stone and imbuing a rune.”

“Which rune?” The prince leaned forward, fascinated by the still-moving creature.

“I can’t remember. I’d need to show you. It disappeared into the talisman as soon as I finished.” He looked around for something to draw on but then realised he didn’t even recall the lines. “I would need something I want to imbue motion into. The process came naturally before. I hadn’t planned to do it. To try to duplicate the rune would be empty.”

“Another time then. Once we begin our studies together,” Griogair said softly. “You told your friends of their potential?”

“Yes.” Munro related his conversation with the other druids. “I think I’ve convinced them to stay.”

Eilidh exhaled with relief. “I was worried we’d lose you all.” Behind her words, Munro detected the more personal statement that she was worried he would leave as well. Surely she had to know better. They’d been through so much together. “They were furious when we told them about Rory, and fearful others might try to force a bond on them as well.”

“How is Rory?” Munro asked. “He was a wreck when I sent him back from Aberdeen.”

“Better,” Eilidh said. “But still suffering. We’re doing everything we can for him. What of your time in Aberdeen? Was the man a druid, as Flùranach believed?”

Munro nodded. “I told him I’d ask your permission to bring him here. He wants to join us. The timing is awkward, but I didn’t want to leave him hanging. Having these powers unlocked suddenly is confusing. I don’t want him to go through that alone.”

Eilidh appeared deep in thought. “I’m glad we’ve found another, but it complicates things.”

“Because of Flùranach?” Munro asked.

She nodded. “What she did was unthinkable. She might’ve killed Rory.” Her anger flashed like a whip snapping within his mind. “Whatever happens, we must keep the girl secure. I’ve ordered Oron to do whatever is required to ensure she does not escape again. Who knows how many humans possess druidic talents. Every single one is of immeasurable value to our race.”

Munro nodded. An interesting choice of words. Usually, even queens did not
order
conclave members, but no one could doubt her sound reasoning. “I have an idea how we can help Rory,” he said, changing the subject slightly. “He can’t return to the human realm, but perhaps he can go to the Halls of Mist. The portal would dampen their connection, and he might not be so deeply affected. Being separated from her might offer some peace.”

Eilidh shook her head. “The druids need to stay here. Even Rory. In the Halls of Mist, I don’t have the same influence to protect you from the coming onslaught of attention. The rules of diplomacy are quite different in the Halls. He should be fine here, and the astral fae will keep his mind quiet.”

Munro believed there was more behind her resistance, that she also wanted to keep the other druids from bonding someone outside the kingdom. He began formulating his argument. Although he didn’t want to fight with her when she had so many other things to worry about, he also thought someone needed to consider Rory’s needs.

Griogair stepped in. “If the draoidh wants to take his companion to the Halls of Mist, we are in no position to refuse,” he said gently.

“I think of this as a retreat,” Munro said. “The move might not be permanent.”

“And you?” Eilidh asked, her gaze down. “Will you go with him?”

“We can take him together. The other druids want to visit the Source Stone and you and Griogair can accompany us.”

Eilidh sighed. Munro didn’t like backing her into a corner. He also didn’t like that, according to the other druids, Rory was kept semi-conscious in a room next to Flùranach.

“I want to visit Rory before we decide anything. Would you like to come? We can ask him what he wants to do,” Munro said.

Eilidh crinkled her forehead with worry, but she relented. “Very well.”

Rory lay in the small, narrow bed affixed to the wall. Similar to the faerie swing beds, the pallet moved when he did, but it felt more like an unstable bunk bed than a hammock. His mind was dopey and thick, as though he’d woken suddenly from a deep sleep and hadn’t adjusted yet. Somewhere in the fog, he believed he wouldn’t ever adjust.

Flùranach filled his mind. She was wracked with anguish. He needed to comfort her, but the faeries wouldn’t allow him near her, and the soothing mist in his thoughts didn’t let him protest.

In the next room, the sound of approaching voices floated to Rory’s ears. One voice was Oron’s. The elder rarely left Flùranach’s room, and every word he said agitated her more. A moment later, the other voices got loud enough for him to make out Munro and Eilidh’s. Then another. Griogair? Rory didn’t have a lot of contact with the prince and didn’t much care for him. After all, he’d stolen Munro’s girl. How Munro could stand being around them, Rory had no clue. If someone took Flùranach away… Rory grew numb. Far away, another thought struggled to intrude, but he couldn’t understand. Instead he tried to shut it out. Its meaning was too painful to bear.

The group came into his room, but Rory refused to open his eyes. He wanted everyone to go away. Pain and shame burned through him. They knew what she’d done to him. He couldn’t stand them looking at him, knowing, pitying him. Relief washed over him when they finally went away.

“If I may make a suggestion, Your Majesty,” Oron said when they left Rory’s room. “Speaking to Flùranach may prove helpful. She’s remorseful but not particularly cooperative. Given your experience with bonding, you may glean something that will help you understand Rory’s condition. All we can do is keep him calm.”

Eilidh paused and mind-spoke to Munro.
What do you think?

He gave a brief nod, assuming her private communication meant she didn’t want the others to be aware she’d sought his advice. Would she behave differently when the world knew he was draoidh?

“Very well,” Eilidh said. “Her powers are completely subdued?”

“Of course,” Oron replied. He sounded tired and testy.

“Your irritation is understandable, elder,” Eilidh said, “but we have learned some things about her ability to detect druidic talent. I will explain further when we have more time, of course. For now, it is enough to know that she must be kept absolutely secure. She should not be allowed to harm anyone, of course, but she needs to be firmly protected as well as detained.”