Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae Page 9

  He heard her sobs echoing on the stone walls before he’d even entered the cave’s mouth. Glowing mushrooms and lichen lit his way into the rocky waterside cave. “Flùr?” he called. “It’s me.”

  “Go away!” she shouted, her high-pitched voice echoing around them. She sounded eight years old again. For a moment, he could almost pretend none of this had happened and he’d find her safe and restored to her former self.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. I gotta make sure my princess is all right.” He crept forward. He still trusted her, but she had grown impetuous and unpredictable. Ever since her change, she’d become as emotional as an angsty teenager.

  She stopped crying. “You’re going to drag me back to my grandfather,” she said. “You want them to make me little again.”

  “I’d get in trouble if they knew I’d followed you here,” Rory said, inching closer to the arch of stone, which led to the cubby-hole where she so often hid. “You heard what they said. They’re afraid of what might happen. But I’m not,” he added. “You’d never hurt any of us.”

  He stuck his head around and found her in a heap, her red hair wet and tangled around her face, her damp dress clinging to her body. She’d outgrown the tiny hiding place, a tight squeeze for the two of them even when she was small. “Not sure I’ll still fit in here.” He chuckled. “Life has changed a lot in a couple weeks, hasn’t it?”

  She nodded, wiping silvery tears from her cheeks. He couldn’t help but notice how lovely she was with her pale skin and red hair. He had red hair too, but his was more orange. At least his skin had changed since he’d come to the Otherworld, fading the freckles that had once covered his face. He’d always hated his ginger hair, but her flaming mass of long, soft locks made her more beautiful. Something in him feared touching her. This sudden desire filled him with guilt. Only two weeks ago, she’d been a little kid, and now fear and confusion tore her apart. What kind of pervert would think about being attracted to her?

  “Everyone hates me,” she said with a sniffle. “I didn’t mean to do this, but are the changes so bad? Am I really so awful?”

  Rory opened his arms and took her into an embrace as she wept again. “Nobody hates you, duckling. You’re not awful.”

  She tilted her head up. “Aren’t you mad at me? I got you in a lot of trouble.”

  “Nah,” he said. “Faeries don’t like surprises, and you gave them a wee shock is all. The problem is the time magic. The astral part is scary enough. You’re young,” he said, “but they’re really old. They liked things as they were. You saw how they treat Eilidh. The azuri fae love her, but some of the earth faeries hate the changes she’s brought.”

  “I hate her,” Flùranach said.

  “Shh,” Rory said, pulling her close. “I know. She’s not trying to be mean. She’s just worried about a lot of things.”

  “Nobody believes me about you druids. I bet I could pick out a druid from other humans, if they’d let me try. Of course, nobody would now, because of her.”

  “You think you could?” Rory said and pondered. The five druids who’d come to Caledonia were the only survivors of a horrific encounter with a blood faerie. That faerie’s father had collected them, but nobody knew how he’d done so. Logic said the ability must exist in others as well.

  “If only I could prove it,” she said.

  “There’s no rush,” Rory replied, but she struggled out of his embrace and looked him squarely in the face.

  “They’re not threatening to make you a prisoner. You are the only one who loves me,” she said, blinking through long, damp eyelashes. “You do love me, don’t you, Rory?”

  He fought against the sudden pull toward her and blushed to the roots of his hair. “Of course I do, Flùr. We’re like family, you and me.” He tried to put distance between them, but she snuggled in close, not letting him back away in the cramped quarters.

  “I love you too,” she said softly. “I wish we could bond.”

  “Flùr—”

  “I know,” she interrupted, suddenly sounding serious. The way she switched between adult and child made him dizzy and kept him confused. “Maybe there’s a druid out there for me,” she said.

  “Maybe,” Rory said. “If you’re right, and you can sense us, then someday after all this has died down, we’ll go to Scotland or England, maybe even across the Channel. I can help you find him.”

  “You would?” she asked, meeting his eyes again. A tear streaked down her face. “I can’t imagine I’ll ever feel about anyone the way I do about you.”

  He touched her cheek. “You’re special to me too,” he said. “Of course I’ll help you.”

  “Why wait? I’m an adult. That’s plain to see.”

  He couldn’t argue with her. She certainly did look the part. Maybe if he helped her find someone to bond with, she would settle down. The process might heal her mind like it did for Tràth. When he and Douglas bonded, the prince gained earth powers, which grounded him and kept the temporal magic from haunting him. “The queen said you’re supposed to stay here under your grandfather’s protection so they can figure out what happened.”

  “So they can try to reverse it,” Flùranach said. “I don’t want them to. They’ll hold me prisoner for decades while they pretend I don’t exist.” Her voice sounded distant and haunted. “I didn’t understand before. I feel at home around you druids, but I also have this longing that may never be satisfied. I can sense a bud in each of you, waiting to be enveloped by a faerie’s power, but none of you are for me.” She pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. “No matter how much I might want you.”

  He felt more confused than ever. What they planned to do to her wasn’t right. They probably would keep her locked up and do tests on her, and now she wouldn’t be allowed to visit the druids’ villa for a bit of music and company. He didn’t want to see that happen to her. Someone had to be on her side. But would she be okay in Scotland?

  “You’re thinking,” she said with a teasing giggle. “I can practically hear the wheels turning.”

  “I’m not sure about going beyond the Otherworld gate. The human realm might not be safe.”

  “Are you forgetting I was born on the Isle of Skye and spent nearly all my life in Scotland? When you and the other druids stepped foot in the Caledonian Otherworld, it was my first journey too. The human realm is more home to me than this place. We can travel through the gate, look around, and see what happens. We don’t have to be gone more than one night. If I’m wrong and I can’t sense any difference between druids and other humans, we’ll come right back and no one will even realise we went anywhere.”

  “Maybe we should wait until things settle down,” Rory said.

  Flùranach shook her head. “That will be too late. My grandfather plans to move me away from Canton Dreich. He’s sending me to Riverglade. If we don’t go soon, I’ll probably never see you again.”

  “You’re leaving?” Rory said incredulously. Oron shouldn’t do that, even if he was her grandfather and a conclave elder. Flùranach felt like family to Rory too. So the feeling was twisted up and confused right now. She’d turned from a playful child into an alluring woman. The thought of her leaving forever made Rory’s stomach churn, and he suddenly wished he could bond with her. That would solve so many problems.

  “Will you take me?” She glanced down. “Or should I pack my things for Riverglade?”

  “No,” he said. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’ll take you. No, don’t go pack.” If he wasn’t meant to bond with her, perhaps they would find someone who could. Or maybe they would find more druids and bring them back, show Eilidh and the others they needed her. Then Oron couldn’t ship her away.

  She flung her arms around him, and heat swelled between them. He tentatively kissed her forehead, then squeezed her tight. They’d make this all right. Somehow.

  Chapter 12

  Munro knew instantly that Eilidh had just received bad news. This time, their connection didn’t c
onvey alarm, so he didn’t worry. As queen, she often dealt with serious issues, and she took her duty to heart. She cared deeply about every faerie in her domain. Her every choice was made to try to serve her people well, even those who questioned her right to the throne and her ability to hold it.

  The bond led him straight to Eilidh, and when he and Griogair arrived at the informal receiving room, they found elders gathered. When Munro saw her stricken expression, his heart clutched. Something terrible must have happened. Once again, he couldn’t rush to support her. He took his place in the background and watched Griogair stand by her side.

  “What’s happened?” Prince Griogair asked, his eyes locked on his mate.

  “Fifty deaths in Nir Doute,” she said softly. “Twenty of them children not yet past their first century.” Fae children were rare, and for some reason, even more so among the earth faeries. The azuri from the Isle of Skye had been blessed more often than any would have thought possible, but they never lost their instinct to treasure and protect their young. This kind of loss would bring true heartbreak to the kingdom.

  “Dead? How? Did they suffer an attack?” Griogair directed the last question to the elders.

  “Poison, we think.” Galen said. Her delicate brow crinkled into a concerned frown.

  “You think?” Munro interjected.

  The elder cast a disapproving glance at the druid. “There are many rumours, of course. Our healers need more time to be certain. They have encountered nothing like this illness before.”

  Griogair took a more diplomatic stance. “No doubt, all are working tirelessly. Tell us about these rumours.”

  “Some say,” Eilidh began with a humourless laugh, “I have displeased the Mother of the Earth, while others believe I turned the city’s water sour with my ill magic.”

  Galen explained. “The first illness came to light mere hours after Her Majesty supped with the Nir Doute elders at the local Festival of Stars two nights ago. A hundred still suffer the effects, and more may die.”

  “I should go back,” Eilidh said. “If I don’t, some will take this as proof I have something to hide, or worse, say I don’t care about the fate of my people.”

  Galen shook her head but tutted with sympathy. “That would be most unwise, Your Majesty. What if this assault was aimed at you? The entire kingdom knew you would attend the festival. We must consider your safety, for the good of Caledonia, no matter how kind your intentions.”

  Munro turned to Griogair. “Didn’t you say the queen had received threats?”

  Griogair nodded slowly, “Yes, but I doubt this poison was intended for the queen. It’s more logical to assume this is an attack on her credibility. The deaths will trouble the superstitious and those who wish to cling to the old ways. This tragic event will strike fear in many.”

  Galen tilted her head to concede the point. “Already some wish to cancel planned royal visits, while hoping not to anger Her Majesty, in case she can strike from afar.”

  “I must find a way to make this right, to soothe their fears,” Eilidh said.

  “Now is not the time, my love,” Griogair said gently, sitting beside her. “I know your heart bleeds.” He glanced at Munro, who felt solidarity with the prince despite his own feelings for Eilidh. “Send me. I represent the old ways because of my family and my earth talents and the new because of our union.”

  “Galen?” Eilidh asked.

  With a thoughtful nod, the elder said, “I agree with His Highness’ suggestion. A thoughtful plan.”

  Eilidh glanced at the other conclave leaders, who indicated their agreement one by one. “Very well,” she said with a soft sigh.

  Griogair squeezed her hand then kissed it. “You may rely on me.” He stood. “By your leave, I will prepare for the journey.”

  She offered a weak smile. “Thank you, Griogair. Take a contingent of Watchers with you. Both for your safety and to offer some show of protection for the people of Nir Doute, in the event this does prove to be an outside attack.”

  “A good idea,” Setir said. “And more healers.”

  “Agreed,” Griogair said. With a sharp bow to the queen, he left.

  “As long as you have his support,” Galen said, “his influence will go a long way to protecting your throne.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Munro said, sensing a subtle threat.

  With a raised eyebrow, the elder faerie said, “Exactly what I said.”

  Eilidh held up a hand to interrupt the exchange. “I am indeed fortunate to have such a devoted mate.” Switching tacks, she said, “The conclave should discuss what kind of memorial will be appropriate for the dead of Nir Doute. They should be honoured. I will leave the families to hold private death rites, but the entire kingdom will grieve such an enormous loss to our people. Please keep me informed of your ideas and decisions.” She respectfully signalled their dismissal.

  Munro sensed her exhaustion. Thinking how much she carried alone pained him. When the last of the elders left, he approached and sat beside her. He slipped his arm around her and let her lean on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.

  “I’ve missed the reassuring strength I feel through our bond,” she replied. “I hadn’t thought the portal to the Halls of Mist would so strongly affect our connection. I found the loss unpleasant.”

  “But necessary?” he asked. After his chat with Griogair, Munro recognised he hadn’t been sent away just because the prince wanted time to seduce Eilidh.

  She moved to stand, but Munro held her hand, not letting her step too far away from him. She looked away, confirming something troubled her.

  “You have been implicated in Leith’s death,” she said.

  “What?” Munro stood and turned her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

  “When I looked into the Watcher’s mind,” she said, “I saw some of what he did. You visited the prisoner moments before his death. The Watcher did not consciously recall your face, but I saw the memory plainly.”

  “Impossible,” Munro said. His mind reeled. “Eilidh, you can’t think I would do anything like that. I swear to you—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “Someone of azuri talents committed this murder. I’m certain on that point. Otherwise the Watcher would not have forgotten your face. He appeared disoriented and confused but unaware of what had been done to him. Leith’s killer was clever enough to disguise himself, but not clever enough to realise he left obvious marks of his talent behind. On the other hand, perhaps he was simply too arrogant to believe anyone would detect such subtle traces. He burned the empty rune on the prison wall, likely hoping to implicate someone ignorant of our writings.”

  “In other words, me,” Munro said flatly.

  “But he made the mark using a fire incantation, where you possess no fire talents. He forgot that unlike the fae, druids have not even a drop of ability outside their own spheres. So he knows of you, but he does not know you well.”

  “Then why choose me? Why not another faerie?”

  “Likely because of your association with me. The true nature of our intimate relationship isn’t known, and yet the strength of our bond is plain for all to recognise. Perhaps he hoped if he implicated you, he might drive a wedge between us, perhaps even force the conclave to expel you from the kingdom or worse.”

  Munro sensed her deep concern and realised she was only speaking half the truth. “If they had me executed…”

  “Without you, I am weaker.” Bonding with a druid gave Eilidh access to all spheres of earth power, where azuri only possessed weak ability with earth flows. The ancient linking magic also increased her astral abilities by four-fold at least.

  “You sent me away to protect me,” he said.

  “Partly,” she said but didn’t explain further. “Spending all your nights in the library must’ve been boring for you. Unless you found some other diversion.”

  He took her letter from his pocket. “This helped,” he said, unfolding the pape
r gently and running his fingers over the rune. “I could practically feel your passion thrumming.” He was surprised no one had ever mentioned Eilidh had developed some talent in rune-making. On the other hand, a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have understood how special the ability was.

  “You had it translated? Quinton, no one can know.”

  “I didn’t have to,” he said.

  “What?”

  He wasn’t sure how to explain without sounding a fool, and he remembered the keepers’ warnings about revealing what he read on the Killbourne Wall. But he and Eilidh already kept too many secrets from one another. He would at least share what he’d discovered about himself. “I have something for you in my room. Let me bring it to your chamber.”

  She shook her head. “Griogair has gone. He cannot help us cover for your presence alone in my private rooms. Even in this receiving room, we shouldn’t linger too long.” She glanced at the door.

  “Nothing will keep me away from you come dawn,” Munro said. “I miss you, and the Watchers and servants and any gossip-mongers can go to the devil, for all I care.” He took her hand and planted a kiss on her palm.

  She traced her fingertips along his face and gave a weary smile. “What will I do about you, Quinton?”

  “Take me to your bed, Your Majesty. Making love is the only cure for what ails us tonight.” He slipped a hand to the small of her back and drew her close. “Confuse the Watchers. Make them think I left. Just this once, I think no one will notice if they can’t find me.”

  Eilidh nodded, appearing relieved at the suggestion. “Just this once.”