Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (18 page)

“Hey!” the guy called, excitement in his voice. “Hey!”

Munro turned to see smoke rising from the tiny tip of the toothpick. He hadn’t produced a flame, but he’d done something. Munro shook his head, but this time, his smile was genuine. He’d been afraid to hope finding more druids was possible. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take you, but not today.”

“What? You said you would.”

“You can’t pass through the Otherworld gates without the faerie queen’s permission. I have to tell her about you.”

“Okay.”

“And you need to put your affairs in order.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you cross through the gates, you can come back, but your life won’t ever be the same. You’ll look different. You think I was born in Scotland with ears like this?” He chuckled. “I had to quit my job. I can’t visit friends or family. They wouldn’t understand. Despite that, you can’t just disappear. We don’t want the police searching for you, wasting time and money. Notify your employer, speak to friends, write whatever letters you need to write, and make sure no one will report you as a missing person. Keep a bank account. We will provide you with a local address and a place to stay, but don’t expect to rejoin your life if you change your mind. You have to be sure.”

“I won’t change my mind. I know this seems crazy and fast, but I feel like my life is starting to fall into place. I need this.”

“I appreciate that,” Munro said, “but I’m going to give you the chance to back out anyway. You should at least say goodbye.” He regretted all the people he’d not said a proper goodbye to, and realised he was trying to make up for that. So be it. Making sure this new druid took his time was still the right thing to do.

“An hour after sunset,” the guy said.

“I’ll be there.”

“Huck.”

“What?” Munro was confused.

“That’s my name. Huck Webster.”

Munro chuckled.
Americans
. “Quinton Munro. I’ll see you Thursday, Huck.”

“Thursday.”

Oron appeared calm, but Flùranach sensed his anger. Her grandfather had dismissed the three faeries who had caged her magic on the journey to Canton Dreich. Now he held her flows in the iron vice of his substantial astral powers. His quavering fury frightened her into silence. The only sounds were the subtle swish of distant footfalls elsewhere in the house and Rory’s gentle moans in the next room.

At least she didn’t feel the druid’s agony. On the other hand, she was puzzled as to
why
. Both bonded pairs she knew claimed to sense one another’s emotions. The bonding with Rory had worked. He perfectly mirrored her own emotions, flinching every time her grandfather scowled at her, but although she sensed his presence, she couldn’t detect his state of mind.

The silence stretched until Flùranach cracked. “What will happen to me?” she asked.

“What do you think
should
happen to you?” Oron replied.

Remorse filled her at Rory’s pain, but the achievement thrilled her, despite being in so much trouble. They’d told her choosing a bond was impossible. She started to reply
nothing
but knew that wasn’t what her grandfather wanted to hear. “Rory will be all right,” she said. “Everyone says bonding is a shock at first.”

“What you did is an abomination!” Oron slammed his hand on a nearby table. “We will be fortunate if we do not lose every druid because of your actions.”

Flùranach levelled a gaze at her grandfather. “Then I will find more. I already located one in merely one day of searching. I could ensure every Caledonian azuri bonded a druid.”

“Do you not understand what you’ve done? You will be fortunate if the queen does not sever your powers or put you to death.”

Death?
“I love him. Don’t you understand?” Rory groaned in the next room, and Flùranach glanced in his direction.

Oron sat, looking haggard and old. “I have failed,” he said. With a sad tone he said, “You didn’t do this because you love him. You wanted to take what wasn’t yours.”

Flùranach winced. There was some truth in the accusation, but Rory wanted her too. He’d said he would bond with her if he could, and his own words revealed his desire for her. How had things gotten out of control? She needed a way out of the situation, for everyone to recognise what a remarkable thing she accomplished, both in finding a way to circumvent the bonding requirements and locating this new druid. “Tell me what to do.”

“Release Rory from your forced bond. He may have suffered irreparable damage from this violation, but the queen cannot show mercy as long as you hold him.”

Flùranach froze. Her grandfather didn’t understand what he was asking, what she had accomplished, both in terms of unprecedented magic and for her and Rory. Release him? She wouldn’t contemplate that. Magic joined them now. The process hadn’t worked precisely as she expected, but it had worked. She sensed his soul tethered to hers. He would recover from the shock. He would forgive her. He would come to his senses and tell the queen he wanted their bond and was grateful for what Flùranach had done.
That
was her solution. Rory’s love would prove she’d done the right thing.

“I can’t.” She needed time. The roaring of the never-distant time void moved toward her from the shadows. For a few dreadful moments, she couldn’t breathe. Rory cried out.

“Try,” Oron said, his voice stern. “You might kill him if you don’t. You are too young and arrogant to foresee the consequences.”

“I would never hurt Rory. Never.”

“Then release him.”

Even if she wanted to, Flùranach didn’t know if what her grandfather wanted was possible. Her bond with Rory didn’t look like the golden rope of Eilidh and Munro’s or the tangle of roots like Douglas and Tràth’s. Rather, one of the tendrils of her bonding cord had slipped around the neck of his and healed into it like a fresh scar. “His bud his withering,” she said distantly.

“Release him!” Oron shouted, projecting his voice into her mind with magical force. The sound made Flùranach pale. Her grandfather never yelled. She stared at him, wondering if he really didn’t understand. Unlike others though, she didn’t even detect a shadow of his thoughts. His mind was too disciplined.

Why wouldn’t he listen to her? She knew what she had to do, but he refused to consider her point of view. Nothing would change his rigid mind. As always, he dismissed her without even considering she might know something important. Finally, she nodded. “First, you must uncage my power.”

With a reluctant nod, Oron slowly withdrew the shield preventing her from touching the flows. Flùranach watched as he released his magic, memorising the patterns. When he finished, she experienced a surge of a new, unfamiliar power. She hid a smile. With Rory’s bonding, she gained access to earth flows. She didn’t know how to use them yet, but she would learn. And Oron wanted her to give this up?

Slowly, Flùranach built flows of her own, then with a sudden snap she repeated the pattern her grandfather used to bind her. His eyes flew open, but he was too late to erect defences. “You always underestimate me,” she said as she blocked his power. “If you would only listen!” she shouted. “Why does no one listen to me?”

With a hard thud, her grandfather’s power surged against hers. He was strong. The rush nearly knocked her grip loose, but she managed to hold him. “You are not a monster,” he said. “But if you won’t release Rory, I cannot protect you. Granddaughter, let me go.”

Flùranach laughed. “Rory does not want to be freed. Ask him.” She paused, but when her grandfather did not answer, she said, “That’s what I thought. You don’t care about Rory. You want all the power for yourself. If you had the ability to force a bond, don’t say you wouldn’t. Any of us would. You stare at them, wanting one for yourself. If you help me, I can give you one.”

“Not like this,” Oron said. “They are not our property.”

“Perhaps they should be!” Flùranach shouted, then cringed. She didn’t believe that. Rory would come around. He would. He had wanted her. She repeated the words to herself until she became convinced.

The thoughts distracted her until another wave of power rushed from her grandfather. This time, she pulled the web tighter, clenching her flows around his mind. He fought hard to protect a certain corner of his mind, and his efforts drew her like a beacon. “What are you hiding?” she asked.

“Stop this,” he commanded her. “I am your grandfather and the highest ranking azuri fae of the joint conclave. Your crimes are grave already, considering what you did to the human. You openly defied the queen. Your actions may cost this kingdom every druid under our care, including the queen’s own companion and that of her step-son. If you compound it by invading the mind of an elder, you will go beyond mercy and redemption. You will have no future unless you stop this madness.”

His condescension infuriated her. Madness? She threw open the door he tried so desperately to hide, and the shock of what she saw sent her reeling. In that one unguarded moment, she lost enough control to give Oron the upper hand. Within seconds, he reversed her flows and clamped down hard with his substantial astral magic.

Flùranach cried out at the sudden pain surging through her mind. Rory howled in the next room, but neither his cries nor the pain deterred her. “You betrayed the queen,” she said.

“That is a lie,” he snapped.

“I saw your memories. You faked Cadhla’s death and held her prisoner. Queen Eilidh is nothing but a false puppet.”

“You don’t understand what you saw. These are things beyond the comprehension of a child.”

The time void roared, begging her to return, to touch its secrets once more. Flùranach shook her head, trying to clear the unbearable noises from her mind. “I saw what you did. Protect me, and no one else needs to know.”

“No one will believe you, child. You are unstable, violent, and untrustworthy.” His tone held menace that frightened Flùranach. “And Queen Eilidh is no one’s puppet.”

“I saw the cage where you held Cadhla. I’ll tell Queen Eilidh where it is. She will believe me when she finds her predecessor in your prison.” Her confidence wavered when she saw his expression.

“Tell anyone you like. Cadhla is no longer in Caledonia. She escaped four moons ago.” His voice came out as a growl. “If the queen will allow it, I will sever your powers myself. You have disgraced me and every faerie in Caledonia, the Mother of the Earth, and the Father of the Azure.”

When he left her alone, her magic still bound, she listened as he entered the next room where Rory groaned and suffered. The druid’s voice quieted, as though he drifted off to sleep. Everything would be all right. It had to be.

Eilidh dreaded the moment when she would have to speak to Oron again. Whatever Flùranach and Rory had gotten up to, the outcome wouldn’t be good. Eilidh would need to take action. She heard the pair had been hauled back from the human realm, but little else, and their petty rebellion was one worry she could do without.

“Your Majesty?” the young scribe said. He sat in front of her in the small garden where she most liked to take care of the everyday mundane tasks her job required.

She ignored the interruption. She’d been dictating a letter but would finish in her own time, one of the benefits of being queen. The common scribe was a youth, not even past his first century.

A light breeze blew through the garden, and she smelled sweet honeysuckle. Canton Dreich was too enclosed, she realised. She had chosen this place as her main residence because its high walls and partially enclosed roof offered physical protection. But her human experience made her think that way. The more time spent in the Otherworld, the more she realised how human her mindset had become. Her safety would not come from walls, but in dealing with the root of her problem.

She had acted as a timid queen, reluctant to exercise power and authority. She hoped a gentle rule would gain her respect, thinking if she treated people fairly, they would love her. Obviously, her plan hadn’t worked out. No, she needed to show her strength. She also had more than six hundred azuri fae in Caledonia, the only kingdom where an azuri fae could openly train. If it weren’t for them, there would be direct challenges to her throne and not the shadowy attempts at subversion. She also had the druids. When the rest of the Otherworld learned they were draoidh
…
Securing their loyalty to Caledonia was imperative. Quinton promised to speak with them, but that
child
had caused Eilidh yet another headache.

“Your Majesty?” the scribe shifted slightly, and Eilidh met his eyes.

“Yes?”

“The letter? How would you like to finish it?”

“How old are you?” Eilidh asked.

“Fifty-seven,” he replied and glanced away.

She studied him. She wanted to be patient, merciful, all of the things no one had been with her when she was young and training as a Watcher. But she was a queen under attack from within, and the situation called for a will of iron, not tenderness. “Have you ever done an exercise called
counting rocks
?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Go tell your mentor I suggest you begin immediately and continue until you can sit in my presence without squirming like an infant.” She waved her hand, and he fumbled with the papers, uncertain whether to take them or leave them behind. How under the sun had such a boy been chosen to serve her? “Go,” she snapped.

After he left, she stood and straightened her dress. She didn’t like the clothing. The formal style didn’t suit her, and she felt as though she wore someone else’s gown. She needed to be a strong queen, but that didn’t mean stepping into Cadhla’s image. This would require some thought. Eilidh needed to become something else, not the angry porcelain doll her predecessor had been, but not the outcast in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt either.

Eilidh shook her head. Her wardrobe would wait, although this was about much more than clothing. For now, she needed to secure the druids’ loyalty. When she strode out of the garden, a pair of Watchers took their place a step behind her. She wheeled around. “What are you doing?” she demanded.