Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (27 page)

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 tensed, 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.”

“You responded to my mind call. Even though she had stilled your voice to prevent you from responding, I realised you heard me. And all the beetles and spiders? They would be a silly device for two as powerful as you to use in combat. Elders of your experience would ignore such illusions easily, so why use the energy to deploy them except to fool onlookers?”

“I’m glad my lessons have taken root, Your Majesty,” Oron said with a bow.

Eilidh gave him a tired smile. She was glad to have been proven right but sad at all the death that had come because of this woman’s hatred for her. She looked at Galen, then turned to the Watchers who held her. “The sentence is to be carried out immediately.” With a meaningful glance to Oron she added, “I will witness and verify it myself, to be certain there is no doubt.”

She felt no satisfaction when Galen crumpled when the conclave severed her from the flows, nor when a Watcher swiped an elemental sword across her neck.

Flùranach woke a quarter-moon later, alone in what had been Rory’s room at the druids’ villa. She was prepared to disguise herself and trick the minds of any who came and went, but none entered this room, and Rory never returned. Then faeries arrived and began packing away the druids’ belongings. She gleaned from their conversation the druids were moving to a new home in the Halls of Mist. One of the druids, she heard, had died. The servants spoke of the Lord Druid with solemn respect, talking about the hundreds who had claimed the right to stand at his death rites. Her heart broke, fearing it was Rory. He’d been in a terrible state when she left him, but staying would only hurt him more. She blended in with the bustling activity, then went outside the main house to hide and wait until all had gone so she could weep for whichever of her friends had returned to the embrace of the Mother.

She’d thought about turning herself in to the queen’s Watchers many times, finding her grandfather, or ending her miserable existence. She doubted anyone was even searching for her. Why would they want her back after what she had done? Rory would never forgive her. She saw it in his eyes, heard it in his thoughts, even as he was asking her not to go.

Her gaze drifted south, toward the portal to the Halls of Mist. She imagined she could feel its shine. She’d seen the portal once but never passed through. Perhaps she should go look. A quick disguise would alter her features. To glimpse the druids one more time, that would be worth the risk.

Nearly a month after Galen’s death, Eilidh invited royals from every fae kingdom to the Caledonian Hall to celebrate the erection of the Druid Hall. In that month, Eilidh had many important things to attend to.

Phillip was given death rites worthy of his station. Because he had no remaining family in the human realm, his remains were returned to the Mother of the Earth in the tradition of the fae. Touching tributes poured out from all of Caledonia and beyond, and she and the druids all felt embraced by the kingdom.

Once the truth was known, the people of Nir Doute welcomed Eilidh to join the remembrance ceremonies for those who died at the hands of Cadhla and Galen. The queen did so gladly, endearing herself to the hearts of her people as she wept openly for every life lost.

Munro brought the fire druid Huck before her, and she granted him leave to travel through or reside in Caledonia as he wished. Every kingdom had bestowed similar generous offers to all druids, including Huck, even though he had not yet touched the Source Stone. Munro and the others had wisely begun to work on a training and education plan for new druids, assuming they would someday find more. They agreed the shocking introduction to power should not occur until each druid was committed to existence in the Otherworld and understood he, or she, would never be able to return to life in the human realm. Huck was eager, but Eilidh approved of their plan to take things slowly.

An effort was made to find Flùranach. Eilidh even went so far as to have her Watchers scour the borderlands for any sign, but the girl had vanished. It pained the queen and worried her, but she had to accept her failure. Oron bore the weight of responsibility, and losing his granddaughter aged him fiercely. The search would continue, but Eilidh held little hope. She commanded the Watchers to be on the lookout but scale back their efforts. Flùranach was powerful and skilled with illusion, not to mention deception. If she did not want to be found, there was little anyone could do to force her to return.

Eilidh breathed in and out slowly. She stood behind the opaque screen, which shielded her entry into the reception hall where her guests waited. So much had happened, and much of it filled Eilidh with sadness. But her outlook had improved. The tide that threatened to overwhelm her reign had reversed course since Cadhla’s capture and Galen’s death. Although Eilidh wasn’t thrilled the druids decided to take up residence in the Halls of Mist, she understood their reasoning. Rory was recovering better than she dared hope, and the druids seemed intent on forging their own path.