Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords Page 22

  Although she had no view of the outside, Demi suspected night had fallen again. The hour of her execution approached, marching towards her like a dreadful spectre. Leocort must have arrived to begin the final night’s watch. She could tell because a glowing haze appeared in the centre of her cell. She waited, expecting him to walk in momentarily. Perhaps, since this was her last night on earth, he’d bring her something solid to eat, even though she hadn’t asked. Sighing, she pushed the thought aside. She wasn’t on earth anymore, technically speaking. As she had every night before, she closed her eyes and prayed for Jago, that he might be healthy and happy, and that he wouldn’t be afraid. Whispering in the dark, she begged her maker to forgive the boy for what he had done. The blame was hers alone.

  Time ticked by, but Leocort didn’t come. She worried for him, despite the concern seeming irrational. He’d been good company. She wanted to ask him to attend her execution so his would be the last face she saw. The request seemed selfish. Who would want to witness a death? But something told her he would agree. If she was going to die, she deserved one self-centred wish.

  Minutes stretched into hours. Her stomach complained loudly. Sighing, she gathered the blanket and lumped one end into a pillow. She’d wasted her time thinking about her final meal. There wouldn’t be one. Maybe he couldn’t face speaking to her, since the conversation would be her last. Feeling alone and abandoned, imagining someone cared comforted her. How long, she wondered, before they’d come for her?

  A muffled noise sounded in the corridor. Demi sat bolt upright. Had she fallen asleep? A heavy thud followed several louder crashes. The light in the centre of the room dimmed, then winked out, plunging her into complete darkness. She crawled to the back wall, drew her legs up, and hugged her knees.

  A hiss came from the doorway. “Demi?”

  She leapt to her feet, but stayed against the wall. For the first time in days, hope surged in her chest.

  “It’s me. Huck.” He stepped closer. His eyes shone in the darkness, just like the fae’s. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve come to get you out.”

  “Where’s Leocort?” she said.

  “Who?” Huck moved towards her in the darkness.

  “The guard,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of him.”

  A remote part of her brain told her she shouldn’t care, but Demi couldn’t help worrying. “You’ve killed him?” A groan escaped her lips.

  Huck hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, stumbling towards the doorway.

  “I dragged him to another cell,” Huck said. “Look, we have to go. I brought ward stones for you, but they don’t make us invisible. We should leave before someone sees us.”

  “You have a stone imbued with my blood?” Demi asked. “Give it to me.” She didn’t know how to make Huck understand. Leocort had been kind to her. She wouldn’t let him suffer, not because of her.

  Holding out her hand in the darkness, she felt the small weight of two stones drop into her palm.

  “I’m not sure which is which,” Huck said.

  “Take me to him,” she said, then added, “Please.”

  To his credit, the druid only gave a small grumble before following her instructions and leading her past the empty watch station. His hand was meaty and rough, but she relished his touch. Only then did she realise how long it had been since she’d touched another person.

  They ducked into another cell on the opposite side. “He’s in here,” Huck said. “Can you see?”

  “No,” she told him.

  “On the floor. About three feet in front of you towards the left wall.”

  “Guide me,” she said. The last thing she wanted was to kick Leocort in the head.

  Huck did as she asked and took her into the room. “Right in front of you,” he said.

  Demi crouched and extended her hand, reaching for the faerie’s still form. She found his chest first, and she groped around until she followed his arm up to his face. His skin was still warm. He was alive.

  “Leocort,” she whispered. “Leocort, please.” She took one of the stones, the one that resonated with her magic, and she pressed the rock against the side of his neck. The process was more difficult with someone who didn’t share her blood, but she had to try. “What did you do to him?” she asked Huck.

  “Goddammit, Demi,” Huck said. “With the crowds and the guards, it’s taken me more than a day to get here. I’m trying to save your life. Can we leave, please?”

  “He knows where Jago is.”

  “So do I,” Huck told her. “I was allowed to visit him the day I came to see you, remember?”

  Demi still couldn’t leave until she knew Leocort wasn’t dead on her account. “What did you do to the Watcher?” she repeated.

  Huck didn’t answer at first, but then said, “I hit him on the head.” A pause. “A couple of times. He’s tougher than you’d think.”

  Demi had never healed more than one of Jago’s occasional scraped knees. Even though Lisle had insisted the magic was safe, Demi had feared using the flows would alert the faerie who had hunted her for so many years. She understood the fear to be unreasonable, but she refused to take risks with Jago’s safety.

  Allowing the stone to guide the flows, she stopped the small amount of bleeding, but she had no idea what to do about the probable concussion. Anything she might try could make his injury worse. “Oh, Leocort. I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

  His eyes fluttered open, shining green in the darkened cell. “I hear you,” he croaked. “But I cannot look at you. Why do I not see you? Is this druid magic?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Is Jago still at the nursery where Huck and Munro first saw him?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Where is he?”

  “I cannot betray my queen. I’m sorry.”

  Huck stepped forward. “I’ll get him to tell us,” he said, his voice terrifyingly flat and grim.

  “No!” she shouted, then winced at how the sound echoed. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she hissed, “We’re not going to hurt anyone.”

  “I know what happened in Amsterdam,” Huck said. “How long before another accident? How long will Jago be safe? If this guy knows where your son is, don’t you think we should use whatever means necessary to find out?”

  Demi pressed her eyes closed and breathed. “No,” she said. “Leocort was kind to me. I won’t repay him by beating information out of him.”

  “Even if it saves your son?” Huck asked.

  “Wait outside, please,” Demi said.

  Huck grumbled and strode towards the entry, but he didn’t go through.

  “You healed me,” Leocort said weakly.

  “I tried. My gifts are undeveloped. There are stories of great healers in my family, but I don’t know their methods. I was always too afraid to explore the flows more. They reminded me too much of Ulrich. I learned what I believed would protect us and nothing more.”

  “It would be easier on me if you let your companion torture the information out of me. I could tell you what you want to know without betraying my queen. I want to help you,” he said. “I have from the beginning.”

  “I know.” Demi sighed. “You’re a good person. You brought me flowers and told me stories. You gave me blankets and kept me company. You didn’t have to do any of that. I’m sorry for your injury.”

  Huck interrupted. “We have to hurry, Demi. This isn’t a game.”

  Anger surged within her. “You think I don’t understand the stakes?” she hissed. Thoughts buzzed in her head. How could she convince Leocort to help her? “Leave with us,” she said. “Come be a part of the Druid Hall. There must be lots of faeries there, right, Huck?”

  “Yeah, there are. Stewards, scholars, teachers, scribes, cleaners, builders, gardeners, cooks…I’ve lost track of everyone that lives there,” Huck said.

  “No Watchers though,” Leocort sai
d.

  Demi put her hand on his face. “You’ll be the first. You can work for me if you want. Do whatever you please. Be my Watcher or become something new.” She paused and bowed her head. “Even if you won’t tell me where Jago is. I owe you this much. You were kind to me. I’ll protect you from Konstanze.”

  He laughed weakly. “You amaze me, my lady druid,” he said, then after a pause added, “Your boy was moved to the castle.”

  “Why?” Panic almost choked her. “Did something happen?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It is unusual for an infant under ten years to live outside the nursery compound.”

  Tears stung at her eyes, but Demi blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time.

  “Where exactly in the castle?” Huck asked.

  Leocort hesitated. “I could find out. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” Demi said.

  “No,” Huck said at the exact same moment.

  “Can you stand?” Demi asked, extending her hand to help him up.

  “Yes, my lady druid,” he said. “I think so.” He clasped her forearm and she lifted him to his feet. A dim light appeared in the room. Leocort stepped back a few paces. “If I may say so, your aura is most disturbing. How have you altered it?”

  “Come to the Druid Hall, and I will show you anything you want about my magic. For now, I need to reach my son.”

  “Of course,” he said. He gave a wary glance towards Huck, but quickly lowered his eyes. “At least now I don’t feel so foolish that you managed to sneak up on me. I thought I heard something, but I felt a strong compulsion to resist turning around.”

  Huck peered into the corridor. “Is there anyone else nearby?”

  “Not immediately, but as we go deeper in, we’ll encounter others. Stay in the shadows and follow. I suspect your magic will shield you well, at least for now.”

  “Deeper in?” Huck said. Suspicion rang in his voice. “Why would you want us to go farther into the holding area? Isn’t going out and around closer?”

  “If we go through the cells and past the Watcher’s keep, the distance upward to the royal living quarters isn’t far. I suspect the boy is somewhere in there, either in the queen’s wing or possibly in the guest area. I’ll stop at the Watcher’s keep to learn what I can.”

  “Are there any other Watchers we can trust?” Demi asked.

  “No, my lady druid. Konstanze inspires great loyalty.”

  “But not in you?” Huck said, a challenge in the question.

  Leocort gingerly touched the back of his head where Huck’s heavy blows had landed. “My daughter is a scholar. She aspires to become a keeper someday. The keepers support the druids’ claim, and she trusts her mentors’ judgement.”

  “And you trust hers,” Demi said.

  “Yes. She believes your people are important to our race and accepts your claim to the title draoidh,” he hesitated, trying and failing to meet Demi and Huck’s eyes. “I hope they are right.” Flicking his gaze to the door, he walked along. “Stay here a moment. I’ll scout ahead.”

  He slipped into the corridor, and Huck glared at Demi. “I hope your trust in this clown doesn’t get us killed. He might be going for backup. He might return with fifty faeries. If that happens, all the ward stones in the world won’t help us. All he has to do is throw a shield over this door, and we’re stuck.”

  Worry churned at Demi’s stomach. Had she made a terrible mistake? She opened her mouth to respond, but Leocort reappeared. “The way is clear,” he said. “Stay in the shadows. The most dangerous part will be the keep. Once we come close to the Watcher base, walk confidently and don’t hesitate, even for a moment. With a bit of luck, no one will want to look at you.”

  “The effect of our ward stones is limited,” Huck told him. “If someone sees us from a distance, they’ll not have any problems recognising exactly who we are and what we’re doing.”

  Leocort raised an eyebrow. “Interesting,” he said. “Very well. We’ll avoid open areas. That’ll mean going around the central hall of the keep, but that’s easily done.”

  “All right,” Demi said. “Let’s go get my boy.”

  ∞

  Munro let attendants help him put on the finely embellished tunic Eilidh had picked out for the ceremony. The whole process struck him as an elaborately staged farce. In all the time he’d lived with Eilidh in the Otherworld, he’d never been as acutely aware of her royal status as he was at that moment. In his younger days, he’d envisioned himself having a simple civil ceremony. But even in his bachelorhood back in Scotland, he’d understood, deep down, he’d be unlikely to get that wish. He’d compromise, he’d told himself. He’d planned to agree to a hundred or so of his and his then-unknown bride’s closest friends and family. Maybe have a nice reception over at the Huntingtower Hotel.

  He blew out a sigh as nimble fingers wrapped a sash around his middle. Really? A sash? A hundred of their closest friends seemed a distant dream. A hundred wouldn’t even count the stewards and attendants involved in this production.

  Although it was her second wedding, Eilidh didn’t seem any more relaxed than he was. Oh, outwardly she was lovely and gracious. But she kept sending little messages telepathically, sometimes reminding him they had to hurry to a new location, festival, or feast, or things like, Why have none of the druids come? or Try not to look as though you’re in pain. Fortunately for both of them, he couldn’t reply the same way, or he’d be tempted to tell her to can it. They were both nervous. And having all those other queens around with their entourages didn’t help.

  The smiling and waving and acknowledging the cheering crowds when they went from place to place…his face hurt from the plastered smile. He was tired. And they hadn’t even had the actual ceremony yet.

  “Your boots, my lord druid,” one of the attendants said with that eternally patient tone the servants often used with him.

  “What?” He looked down and saw the faerie was holding out a pair of elegant leather boots. Elegant. Him. Seriously. He would never let Eilidh pick his clothes again. He’d drawn the line at flowers in his hair. No bloody way. “Right,” he said. He took the boots and sat down, shoving his right foot into one and then his left into the other. The attendant looked politely appalled. Munro fought not to roll his eyes. He was not letting some guy put his boots on for him. “Now what?” he asked.

  “This way, my lord druid,” the attendant said. The whole affair was so choreographed. The upside, however, was Munro didn’t need to remember anything. The attendant led Munro into a long corridor. The green of the forests shone beyond a graceful arch festooned with tiny pink roses. They walked down the hall, followed by dozens of other attendants and servants. Why, he had no idea. He walked, and they followed.

  Once they arrived outside, thousands of faces greeted him. The scene reminded him of a sea of faeries. Sparkling lights wove through moonbeams on a central dais and danced in flowing swirls.

  “Her Majesty will approach from the other side. You meet in the middle,” the attendant explained as though Munro were a very dim-witted child.

  “Right,” Munro said. Of course, someone had walked him through all this before, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. He scrubbed his hand through his hair and turned to the attendant. He had planned to ask something, but his mind went blank.

  “May the Mother bless your union,” the attendant said and bowed. Munro stared at him, then back at all the others, who mimicked the motion.

  “Thanks,” he said, ignoring the flicker of amusement on their faces. He knew he must look a right idiot, but this was for Eilidh. He could stand wearing this preposterous getup in front of two thousand of the most influential people in Caledonia and from across the Otherworld kingdoms if it made her happy. That didn’t even include the tens of thousands of common faeries who lined the streets to catch a glimpse of them when they departed the castle. His legs carried him forward. He didn’t remember taking the steps, but somehow, he managed without staggering lik
e a drunk.

  When he came closer, he recognised Elder Oron waiting for him on the dais. Oron had been Eilidh’s mentor before she became queen and was now her most trusted ally on the Caledonian joint-conclave. Her father and mother, whom Munro barely knew but had met a few times, and a couple other faeries she counted as her closest friends were also with them. The one face that surprised him was Prince Griogair’s. Munro didn’t mind Eilidh’s other husband. In fact, they were pretty good friends. They’d saved each other’s asses more than once, and were both committed to Eilidh, heart and soul. Even still, Munro hadn’t expected him to stand on the dais with them.

  As Munro approached, Griogair moved to meet him at the bottom of the steps. In a low voice he said, “Eilidh asked me to be ready, in the event the other druid lords were unable to attend. It would be most awkward to have no one stand for you during the ceremony.”

  Oron cast Griogair a glare. Munro remembered someone saying that no one except the officiator was supposed to talk on the dais. Technically, they weren’t on the dais yet, so Munro ignored the look.

  “Thanks. They didn’t show?” Munro replied. He’d been kept so busy, being ushered from place to place the previous day and night, he had no idea none of his friends had come. Anxiety flickered through his mind.

  “No.” Griogair seemed worried. “And something else. There have been ripples.” Munro glanced over at Eilidh, who was just stepping up from the other side. She looked resplendent in a sapphire blue gown shimmering with diamonds.

  “Ripples in what?” Munro asked Griogair, both men’s eyes fixed on Eilidh.

  Griogair tore his gaze away and gave Munro a minute shake of his head. “In the Otherworld.”

  Munro tried to mask his surprise, certain this meant something was happening with the druids and their work with the Source Stone. He should be there. He glanced up at Eilidh. Despite her smile, her hidden concern heaved through their connection. “Why is no one reacting?” Munro whispered.

  Griogair gave a tiny shrug. “Only the strongest will have sensed the undercurrent so far, and the disturbance has been intermittent. It started about an hour ago.”