Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae Page 21

  She sighed but didn’t immediately reply. “Will you make me a promise?”

  “Of course,” he said. As though he could refuse?

  “Promise me no matter what happens, you’ll remember what our life was like before, back when we were happy and I was your giggle-goat.”

  He tried to smile, but her sorrow weighed on him. The minutes stretched. It should be an easy promise to make. “Those were good days,” he said finally.

  “Take my hand. One last time.” She held out her small hand and waited.

  He couldn’t fight her. She held his will in a vice. His bear-like hand enveloped her smaller one. When they touched, the intensity of their connection increased. Her grief flooded his mind, and a groan escaped his lips. In the midst of it all, he sensed her determination. He clung to that as tightly as possible.

  “Rory.” She said his name like a command. His attention snapped to her. “The words came to me. Quietly at first, but then more insistently. Two phrases. One might repair our bond and make the link more natural. I’d have to submit to you the same way you have to me. But we would become more like what we wanted.”

  “And the other?”

  “The other would release my hold on you. We’d be forever separated and possibly never able to bond with another.”

  Rory’s mind spun. She found a way to release him?

  “What if I offer you a choice? Do you want to stay my druid? If it didn’t hurt? You told me once you would like that. I’m starting to understand my gifts a little. I don’t think just any azuri could do what I’ve done. Nobody else can recognise the place the bond happens and touch the cords.” She paused, and when he didn’t answer, she repeated, “Do you want to stay my druid?”

  He wanted to scream no. Even if it meant he could never bond another, he couldn’t bear the idea of being tied to her forever. But no matter the truth, the slave bond wouldn’t let him hurt her. “Of course I do,” he whispered. Hot tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t look at her.

  She sighed, sadness bearing down on her heart. “Betrale to denna dem’ontar-che.” The words left her lips like an incantation. Nothing happened. She watched his face, then frowned. “I was sure…”

  The rest of her words were swallowed in a fog as Rory’s mind closed down. He couldn’t see or hear her, but for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. He didn’t want to leave the serenity of the moment, but the sensation passed. Opening his eyes, he stared into hers.

  “Do you hate me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said and pulled his hand back from hers. When he saw the hurt on her face, he smiled with relief at not being forced to experience her pain. But then remorse flooded him. After all she’d done, all the damage she caused, and what she stole from him, why did he feel compassion for her? “But I don’t want to,” he added. The words were a half-truth, but it was the best he could do.

  She turned to leave and he asked her, “Where will you go?”

  She looked back at him, tears streaming down her face. “The human realm scares me, but I have little choice. No kingdom would have me after what I did.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Don’t go.”

  “If I stay, they’ll kill me. Now that you’re free, my death will hurt no one.”

  He wanted to tell her to leave. What did he care? She’d ruined his life. Everyone knew what she’d done to him, and nobody would ever look at him the same. Worse than that, any hope he had of making a real bond was gone. He’d never be able to have that deep, loving connection he knew Munro and Douglas had with Eilidh and Tràth. “We need you,” he said finally. “You can find druids. Who knows how many more of us are out there?”

  For the first time, a small light went on in her face. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

  His words might mean the difference between building up the druid brotherhood and them being the only ones for a very long time to come. With more, they would develop their powers, learn, grow. He should lie. Never in a million years could he forgive her. He felt sorry for her, but he wouldn’t go back or forget. “We need you,” he repeated and looked away.

  She nodded. “The door is open,” she said as she turned to leave. “You can leave too, if you like.” Then she was gone, and Rory curled up on his bed. He wept with relief but also with regret. He should have tried harder to convince her to stay, but in truth he never wanted to see her again. Part of him hoped they did catch her and kill her. What kind of man did that make him?

  Chapter 24

  As soon as Eilidh and Munro stepped through the blue portal, she approached the head of the Watchers. “Has the scholar Ríona passed through this way within the last hours?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Eilidh grimaced. Every Watcher must learn to detect illusion. If Cadhla ignored illusions so successfully, at least some of them should be able to master it. Eilidh had grown complacent, thinking all azuri could be trusted. The events in the past month had caused her to doubt, and the realisation pained her. By teaching them to perceive illusion, she would lose one of her own most powerful defences. She would be foolish to think the practice would not spread, now that it was proven possible. “Ríona is dead. If you find someone disguised as her again, detain her.”

  Together Eilidh and Munro ran for Canton Dreich, not sure what they’d find there. “Where do we begin?” Eilidh asked.

  “Oron,” Munro replied.

  “I cannot believe he would betray us, no matter what Flùranach claimed. He made the suggestion to raise me as queen. He trained me to defend myself and expand my power. So many times I was vulnerable to him. This conspiracy doesn’t make sense. He had the opportunity to kill me a hundred times over.” Even to her own ears, the argument sounded weak in the face of the evidence before her.

  “If he kept Cadhla alive and imprisoned without your knowledge, we must admit we don’t know everything about him,” Munro said.

  They ran the rest of the way in silence, and Eilidh churned the possibilities in her mind. If only she hadn’t doubted Flùranach. Perhaps Phillip would still be alive. The loss burned in Munro’s mind, filling him with anger and grief, adding to his exhaustion—and hers.

  When they saw the towers of Canton Dreich in the night sky ahead, they turned and took the path to Oron’s home. The house was dark and silent, and Eilidh’s senses told her no faeries were inside. Munro insisted on going in, to look for signs of where Oron, his granddaughter, and Rory might have gone. The druid swept ahead, moving from room to room, heading to the lower level where Flùranach and Rory had been held.

  Munro cried out for help, and Eilidh rushed downstairs. Shock filled her when she saw two faerie Watchers lying dead on the ground. In a small side-room, Rory lay on his bunk, a blade in his hand and his forearms seeping with bloody cuts. Munro knelt beside him and thrust the knife aside, then quickly tore material from the bedcovering to bind his wounds. “Hold on, Rory. Dammit, hold on.”

  Eilidh used her astral powers to locate a healer at Canton Dreich and sent an urgent call for help.

  Rory’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, if it isn’t Eastwood,” he said softly.

  “We’re gonna get you help, mate. You hold on. Do you hear me?” Munro said. He turned to Eilidh. “We need a healer, now.”

  “Already done,” she said and glanced toward the door. She hated to be insensitive, but she had to ask, “Rory, where is Oron?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Flùr told me there was some kind of fight, and he left.” He looked at Munro. “She let me go.” Tears streamed down his face, and he repeated, sobbing, “She let me go.” Munro held onto his friend.

  “She’s not with him?” Eilidh said, alarmed. That girl would only add to their trouble.

  “No, she said she was heading for Scotland,” Rory said. Shifting his eyes to Munro, he whispered, “You gotta let me go too, mate. It’s been a good run, but I’m tired. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

  Munro growled, “Bullshit. We’ll get t
hrough this. I promise you.”

  “You planning to tell me everything is going to be all right?” Rory said bitterly.

  “No, but things will get better.” He glanced up at Eilidh. “I’m staying here. Find Oron. I’m no use against astral power anyway.”

  She hesitated. He was right. He couldn’t defend them against a trained faerie, and he would only be putting himself in danger for no reason. Still, she regretted he wouldn’t be beside her.

  “Call for Griogair and the conclave,” Munro said.

  Just then, a faerie’s presence approached the house. A quick scan told Eilidh it was the healer. “Help is here,” she said. Seeing Rory so pale and resigned, she knew Munro made the right choice. She had to protect the druids. They’d lost one already that day. At the moment, Rory needed Munro more than she did. “Stay with him.”

  She left as soon as she directed the healer inside, confident Rory was in good hands. Phillip’s death troubled her, and Rory had been deeply wounded in more ways than one. Clearly Rory’s injuries were self-inflicted. She carried the responsibility for his distress as she did for Phillip’s death. Phillip had been the one she knew the least. She should have made an effort to befriend them all. He had just been so quiet, never one to speak first or try to stand out from the crowd.

  Griogair, she called in her mind as she left Oron’s house. I need your help. The South garden wall. Quickly.

  Running as fast as possible, loss and loneliness pressed down on her with every step. Severing Cadhla had exhausted her, and Eilidh didn’t know what to do. Had Oron been attacked unprovoked, or had he fought with his fellow conspirators?

  When she approached the south garden wall, not only was her mate there, but a full complement of Watchers accompanied him. The pair who had been her personal bodyguards only a few days before led them. Feeling reckless and not caring about appearing regal, she flew into Griogair’s embrace. “The girl spoke the truth,” she said after a few moments. “Cadhla is alive. She killed Phillip in the Halls of Mist.” A ripple of gasps went through the ranks.

  Griogair squeezed her reassuringly and then let her go. “Quiet your mind, Eilidh,” he said softly. “Tell me from the beginning.”

  She breathed for a moment and cleared her mind, trying to ignore that it was Oron who taught her these techniques. Then, in an ordered manner, she told her mate everything that happened after he left them at the portal.

  “Munro was right,” Griogair said. “We need to call the entire conclave. Are you able?”

  She nodded. Seeking out every mind on the joint conclave of twenty-four, she sent them the message that they were urgently needed. The effort taxed her already flagging strength. She saved Oron for last, calling him but holding out little hope he would appear. “I cannot be certain what happened at Oron’s house, but I have to consider he may have betrayed me. The thought cuts deeply. I don’t understand why he would hate me so much. On the other hand, Cadhla confirmed he helped her from the beginning, before I was even raised.”

  Griogair frowned. “I trust your instincts more than the words of this mad woman. What does your heart tell you?”

  “My heart?” Eilidh repeated bitterly. “My heart tells me Oron would never betray me. He treated me as a daughter. Yet Flùranach swore he kept Cadhla alive, and her words have proven true.”

  The prince-consort inclined his head. “I believe that, yes. She would have proven a valuable resource as a prisoner. Oron’s hatred of her may have convinced him she did not deserve a quick death. He could both use her and have some measure of revenge. But, remember, Cadhla is a liar. If you ignore her words, where does that leave you?”

  “Thinking Oron kept Cadhla alive, but was not the one to release her and not her conspirator?” Her mind raced from one impossible thought to the next. “Then who? Which azuri would hate me enough to want me deposed?”

  “One powerful enough to deceive many eyes at once, enough to touch your mind and think you wouldn’t notice. Someone close to you.”

  “Someone on the conclave,” she said, looking at Griogair with surprise.

  “Someone who hates not only you but Oron and Munro, both cruelly implicated in the plot.”

  “Oron is old and powerful and many resent my rise to the throne, but who would hate Munro? Has he not brought us druids? Given our kingdom hope of a strong future? There are twelve azuri on the joint conclave.”

  “One is new, only raised in the past year.”

  “Yes, to replace Beniss…” Eilidh began.

  “Beniss who died by your side, fighting to save Munro. She has a sister on the conclave, Galen, and a grandson as well.”

  Eilidh’s mind reeled. When Munro had brought the druids to the Isle of Skye, before Eilidh was queen, Galen gave the druids Beniss’ house. She had become Eilidh’s staunchest supporter, and yet, her grief for the loss of her sister had ended so suddenly. One day, she hated Eilidh. The next, she was by Eilidh’s side every moment, offering advice and supporting her every decision, even when Oron disagreed.

  “Galen,” Eilidh said. “It must be Galen. I believed she had abandoned her hatred, but she has cause to hate all three of us.” She looked at Griogair. “Good cause. No one would blame her.”

  “You are the queen of Caledonia,” Griogair said sharply. “She owes you her life and loyalty.”

  Eilidh nodded, but twinges of guilt burdened her.

  “If she did ally with Cadhla, she was likely responsible for the deaths of hundreds at Nir Doute. What cause would justify that?”

  “None,” Eilidh said grimly.

  “None,” Griogair agreed.

  One by one, conclave members arrived, demanding to know why they’d been summoned. Eilidh ignored their protests, instead insisting she would explain when all had arrived. She needed to question both Oron and Galen to get to the truth, but she believed in her heart Galen had betrayed her. The eldest female on the conclave wormed her way into Eilidh’s confidence by supporting her staunchly at every turn. Eilidh’s fears were confirmed when all arrived but those two. They waited, but after a short while, Eilidh knew they wouldn’t come.

  She signalled to Griogair it was time to reveal the truth to the conclave. While he told them the bare bones of the story, she cast her mind to Oron, reaching for his thoughts. If you are being held, show me some sign of how to find you, if you are able.

  A blue beam flashed in the sky from the north, then disappeared almost as suddenly.

  “There!” Eilidh shouted. She turned to the Watchers. “With me, but do not act until you hear my command.” She didn’t need to remind them Galen and Oron were the most powerful of all azuri in Caledonia.

  They saluted their response, and the conclave had no choice but to fall in as Eilidh directed them toward Oron’s signal.

  The long, tense minutes stretched as Eilidh led the group through the forests outside Canton Dreich. She tried not to think of the tragedy that would occur when she had to confirm what must be a death sentence for Galen. Despite her crimes, Galen, Beniss, and Oron had been the three eldest azuri on Skye, each over a thousand years old. Their knowledge of astral flows could never be replaced. Beniss was dead, and soon Galen would be too. How many such losses would Caledonia endure? It seemed as though vital resources were slipping through Eilidh’s fingers unabated.

  Soon the group came to a large hollow in the woods. Oron and Galen faced one another in the centre, surrounded by strange spiders and beetles, menacing creatures of illusion attacking both elders. Eilidh marvelled as the astral plane shook with the power of their battle. The air filled with whispers, and she struggled to hold her concentration as a deep aversion made her want to flee.

  “Oron!” she shouted, but neither combatant looked her way. Oron! she sent into his mind.

  Galen’s head whipped in her direction, and she opened her mouth, but Oron grabbed her, stopping her before she could speak or incant.

  “We must help him,” one of the conclave elders hissed at Eilidh. The Watchers te
nsed, waiting for the word from their queen.

  “Wait!” she commanded them. Her mind reeled. She had to be sure. Watching the pair in the hollow battling so violently, she couldn’t delay. “It’s Oron,” she said. “Aim your attacks at Oron!”

  Without hesitation, the Watchers rushed in, bravely cutting through the illusions they couldn’t dispel and surrounding Oron, doing their best to bind him, body and mind, while dodging his defences. Oron did his best to fend off their attacks, but within seconds, he was overcome. Galen fell back, resting against a tree, her pale blue eyes fixed on Eilidh, a soft smile on her face.

  Oron stood, bound and gagged with ropes of air, struggling against the fracturing shield that held his substantial power at bay.

  Griogair looked at her. “Your Majesty?”

  “Reveal,” Eilidh chanted to the night. In the air around them was the most complex illusion Eilidh had ever encountered. It had even achieved a kind of permanence, so that when the caster was cut off from the astral flows, the false images remained. Slowly, as Eilidh added her power to the Watcher’s, she was able to find its root. Galen’s face wavered, revealing the elder Oron beneath it. The captive’s face melted next, revealing the hateful glare of Galen.

  Eilidh stood strong, but inwardly her emotions swirled. “For crimes against the crown, for high treason and the attempted murder of a leader of the joint conclave, for complicity in the murder of a draoidh lord and that of Leith, a prisoner in the care of Caledonia, I sentence you to be severed from the flows of magic and put to the sword.” Without turning her eyes from Galen, she asked, “Does the conclave commend my words?”

  One by one, they all gave their assent. Even Beniss’ grandson, Galen’s nephew, did not withhold his vote. When all behind Eilidh had spoken, Oron added, “I commend the wisdom of the queen.” He stood straight and bowed. “How did you know? There were so many illusions filling the hollow, she thought it would be impossible for you to detect the presence of such a minor trick as a simple mimic.”