Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid (7 page)

“The demons there could have driven our race to extinction,” Leocort explained. “The only way our people survived was through the destruction of the Danastai gates. The entire kingdom disappeared, and its people were annihilated. Tens of thousands of faeries died.”

“How long ago did this happen?” Huck asked.

The faerie tilted his head. “Over ten thousand years ago,” he said.

Huck chuckled. “A lot has changed since then. There are no demons in America anymore. I think I would have heard.”

Leocort sighed. “When are you leaving?”

“I don’t know. The wedding is on Saturday. As soon as we can.”

“I’ll need a couple of hours to organise a team of Mistwatchers. At least four, but I’d be happier with twelve.”

“We’re flying,” Demi said. Leocort looked puzzled, so she elaborated. “Munro doesn’t want us to connect the Mistgate to the Americas, so we’re going on an aeroplane. A flying machine? The flight is a long one, too. At least half a day in the air.”

The Mistwatcher paled.

“Sorry, Leocort,” Huck said. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take you on a flight like that. The human government requires papers.”

Despite his obvious fear of the idea of a flying machine, Leocort pressed on. “We’ll take Flùranach,” he said. “She can use her powers of illusion and persuasion to get us past their security.”

Huck shook his head. “She isn’t available. She’s working with Rory.” When Rory opened his mouth to object, rather liking the idea of a couple of weeks on his own, Huck didn’t let him get a word in. “Even if she were, the human security uses machines to detect intruders. Even if she could fool all the eyes of the men around us, she couldn’t trick the machines. They’re immune to illusion.” Huck clapped Leocort on the shoulder. “Really, we’ll be fine. I promise you, America isn’t dangerous. Not any more so than any other human realm. Whatever these demons were, they must be gone.”

Leocort bowed to the druids. “If you’ll excuse me.” He left quickly.

Huck stared after him. “Well, that was strange and abrupt. What’s he going to do, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Rory said.

Demi smiled at Huck. “I’m sure Omi won’t mind taking care of Jago, but I should check. And I need to pack.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Huck’s cheek, gave Rory a wave, and flitted out of the room, looking pleased with herself.

Huck followed her with a mutter, leaving Rory on his own. He cringed when he heard Flùranach’s voice calling to Huck, asking him if he’d seen Rory.

Rory really wasn’t in the mood. He’d come in here just to get a breather. Sometimes they got along great, more than great, even. Other times, she wouldn’t leave him alone about bonding. She begged, argued, flirted, and cajoled. Occasionally she even refused to speak to him. She never stayed angry long, but Rory hated the drama. Couldn’t she just accept their relationship and enjoy it for a while? What was her bloody rush?

She stepped into the library, her eyes fastening on Rory. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you were looking for Munro.”

He stood. “I haven’t had a chance yet. I just stopped in to grab a book, in case we have any downtime while we’re staying in London.” He guided her out of the library. By tradition, only the druids went in there. He wanted to keep it that way. They needed
someplace
that was theirs alone.

Flùranach batted her eyelashes. “Is reading really how you want to spend our downtime?”

Relief washed over him. The fractious mood she’d been in earlier seemed to have dissipated. “Absolutely not,” he said. He kissed her, and she leaned into him.

“Just think how much better
everything
will be,” she said in a low, sultry voice, “once we’ve bonded.”

Rory stiffened.
Bloody hell.
“I need to look for Munro. The whole point in coming back was to tell him about Sheng.” Sheng was a Chinese translator from Australia and an air druid, according to Flùranach’s magical senses. They’d discovered him at London Heathrow airport, but only made initial contact. They planned to meet with him again later to reveal the truth about the Otherworld and invite him to join them.

“I still think we should have just waited to tell everyone else after we convinced Sheng,” Flùranach said. “I don’t understand why you insisted on coming back here first.”

He grumbled. He’d done so because he didn’t want to spend the six-hour gap alone with Flùranach, considering the mood she’d been in earlier. “We aren’t going to manipulate any new druid. If Sheng doesn’t want to join us, he doesn’t have to.”

“Of course not,” Flùranach said. “But he’ll want to. Now that I’ve activated his dormant druidic powers, he’ll want to be part of the Hall.” She flashed Rory a smile. “No one can resist me long.”

Rory sighed at her attempt at humour. It rankled, partly because he knew she believed what she said.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s nearly time. You can talk to Munro tomorrow or the next day. There’s no rush.”

“Fine,” Rory said, tired of arguing. “Can you promise me one thing, though? Could we just go this trip without talking about bonding?”

Flùranach hesitated. “I thought it was good for us to talk about our feelings.”

“We have,” Rory said. “I know how you feel, and you know how I feel. Now we need to let it rest for a while.” He sighed again.

“How
do
you feel?” she asked with a frown.

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I love you,” he said tenderly. Whether his feelings had been caused by magic, manipulation, or they were his own, he wasn’t sure, but he
did
love her.

“But you don’t want to bond with me?” Her voice trembled.

God.
If there was one thing he couldn’t handle, it was her tears. “I’m not ready,” he said softly. “I need time.”

She nodded. “I understand. I will agree to not talk about bonding while we’re in London,” she said.

Rory felt relief wash over him, and he wondered if there was any way he could extend their time away.

∞

Munro leaned against the balustrade, his jaw set in grim determination. He couldn’t believe what Aaron had just told him he’d overheard. Munro’s face must have looked as thunderous as he felt because any servant who appeared in the corridor vanished when they caught his expression.

A few words flitted through his thoughts:
Send word if you need me.
Eilidh must have sensed his dark mood through their bond.

Munro glanced up when Tràth walked into the corridor from Douglas’ suite. The faerie prince appeared shaken and pale. He broke his stride when he saw Munro waiting for him.

Munro stood up straight, wracking his mind for the right words. He had to do something. He couldn’t let his best friend’s son get swallowed by the darkness looming at every turn. Douglas’ harsh words might send Tràth into a downward spiral. The prince would never confide in Munro nor anyone else, but help had to be offered anyway.

Tràth slowed his steps but kept walking until he came face to face with Munro. “Judging by your countenance, I assume Douglas spoke with you?” he asked.

“No. Aaron did.”

“Ah. He heard everything?”

Munro nodded. “Near enough, I expect.” He watched the emotions play over Tràth’s face. He’d never seen the faerie so unguarded, but trauma had that effect on people. Munro turned his head toward the staircase behind him. “Hon!” he shouted. The steward would be lurking nearby, as always. Tràth jumped at the sound of Munro’s powerful voice, another sign he was not himself.

The faerie steward rushed up the stairs. “Yes, my lord druid?”

“A glass of whiskey for Prince Tràth, please. To be served in…” he glanced around. “Not my suite. It’s full of Maiya’s toys.”

After a pause, Hon said, “Might I suggest the third floor reception room? The fire is lit, and it’s private.”

The Hall had more rooms than Munro could keep track of. “Very well.” Munro gestured to the back stairwell at the opposite end of the corridor. “After you,” he said to Tràth.

Tràth looked as though he wanted to do anything other than chat with Munro, but he was trapped. Despite their personal relationship, Munro was a Druid Lord. One didn’t refuse their requests. The prince sighed. “Hon, if you please, make my drink water. I’d like to try staying sober.”

Munro nodded, but the faerie’s choice concerned him. As a former cop, he wouldn’t ordinarily suggest alcohol to deal with problems, but Tràth was a special case. Munro worried the time stream would overcome the prince when in such a vulnerable state. Nobody understood what else might keep the temporal magic at bay.

The pair went upstairs, and, as promised, they found a lit fire in the small reception room. The chairs were the low, reclining style the fae favoured. Tràth seated himself but didn’t relax. When Hon arrived with the water, Tràth took the glass in silence but didn’t drink.

“Thank you, Hon,” Munro said and gestured for the steward to wait outside. Once the servant had gone, the druid turned to Tràth. “Want to talk?”

Tràth stared at his glass. “Not really.”

“What are you planning to do?” Munro asked.

“Do?” Tràth touched the side of the glass, using his barely-trained control of water flows to create a tiny whirlpool within.

“So, you and Douglas have broken up. In my experience, the best short-term treatment is to stay busy. Find something to occupy your mind while your heart sorts itself out.”

“Is that what happened?” Tràth’s voice trailed off, and Munro worried he was losing the prince’s attention, but Tràth went on. “We were never partners to begin with. He never wanted to bond with me, much less be my lover.”

“You’re forgetting,” Munro said. “I was there when we met you for the first time, when we recovered you and all those villagers who’d disappeared. Remember? Nobody who saw him that night could deny Douglas was drawn to you. When we took you to the Isle of Skye, he refused to leave your side. He cares about you. He has from the beginning, lovers or not.” Munro paused. “You need to understand the way he was raised. Being gay wasn’t an option. His father, who sounded like a right arsehole anyway, would have killed him if he’d thought Douglas was attracted to a man.”

Tràth frowned. “Why? In the fae tongue, we do not have such words as
gay
…or
queer
.” He looked away. “I’d never heard that word before tonight. I can guess what it means.”

Munro shrugged. “I can’t explain the attitude in a way that would sound rational. It’s partly cultural, upbringing, and a lot of religious teaching.”

“Did you not have the same upbringing?”

Munro shook his head. “Not quite the same, no. Unlike Douglas, I wasn’t taught loving another man would lead to damnation in the afterlife. But I didn’t tell my family my wife has three husbands, either. They wouldn’t understand.” He sighed. “Douglas is young, and it takes time to sort out the truth from the fictions our parents taught us. He cares a bit too much what other people think, or what he imagines they think. Do you even remember what it’s like to be twenty years old?”

Tràth winced. “I barely remember what it’s like to be a hundred. Twenty…I look back at the boy I was, and he seems like someone else.” He set the glass of water on a nearby table and relaxed into the chair. “Why are you trying to help me? I’m sure Douglas would tell you it’s no concern of yours who he beds…or doesn’t.”

“Your father is like a brother to me. Your step-mother is my wife. My daughter is your sister. Whether you like it or not, we’re family in a dozen strange ways. Not only that, your bonded druid is my friend. You’re the only temporal faerie known to exist, and therefore you’re important to every fae kingdom. Besides who you are to other people, I’d like to think you and I are friends. In those early days, you were one of the rare faeries who accepted me and the others, back when we were treated like talking farm animals. And I haven’t forgotten it was you who stepped in when Queen Konstanze threatened my life.”

Tràth stared into space for a long time before saying, “I can’t let him go. Breaking the bond would drive me insane, if not kill me.”

“I know,” Munro said. “He doesn’t want that, either. Just because he’s not ready to deal with his feelings doesn’t mean he doesn’t want the bond.”

“That’s
not
what he said.”

“Ignore his words. What did the bond tell you?” Munro asked. “I can often sense Eilidh’s true feelings, even when she tries to mask them.”

“My bond with Douglas is a lie,” Tràth said. Under the weight of Munro’s stare, he reluctantly answered the question. “Over the time we’ve been together, I have, at times, sensed some discomfort in him. I feel a fool for misinterpreting it. I thought his reticence was a reflection of his youth and sexual inexperience. I never had an inkling that he resented the bond. He must have buried the thought deep.”

“Perhaps,” Munro said, not sounding convinced. “What did you sense today?”

“At first, affection, then desire. Despite his claim that the emotions were false, caused only by the bond, they seemed real to me.”

“Then Aaron came in?”

“Yes,” Tràth said, looking surprised. “I understand humans are private. Douglas used to be shy, but I thought he’d gotten over that.”

“Aaron gives him shit about you. He doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just his way. He would give me shit about Eilidh if he dared. Fortunately for me, the others are still intimidated by the fact that I used to be a cop.” He paused. “What did the bond tell you when Aaron came in?”

“Douglas revealed he was ashamed of me.” Tràth’s eyes looked haunted, as though he was reliving the moment. “He hated me.”

“No—” Munro began, but Tràth cut him off.

“I know what I sensed!” A flash of anger darted over Tràth’s face.

“He’s ashamed of
himself
. Not you. He hates
himself
. Not you.”

Tràth frowned, knitting his dark brows together as though working on a puzzle he couldn’t comprehend. “Why?”

“He’s twenty years old and an idiot. He needs time. He needs to grow up. He might come around, or he may not ever want to be lovers.” Munro shrugged. “But you and I both know the bond is about a lot more than sex. I could give up sex with Eilidh, because our connection is deeper than that. Sex is superficial. Love is forever. That’s not going away.”