“We’ll be perfectly safe,” Aaron said. “I’ve passed through the portal a hundred times.”
She didn’t seem comforted, making Aaron doubt Cen’s translation.
Finally, holding Aaron’s hand, she consented to travel through. The portal pulsed hard when they entered, but the sensation quickly passed.
When they arrived in the Halls of Mist’s courtyard a few seconds later, Aaron was surprised to see Lisle and Douglas. “What’s up?” he asked Douglas, who looked particularly distressed.
The relief on Lisle’s face was evident. “Oh thank god,” she said. “We were just debating about coming through.”
“I still have to go to Zalia,” Douglas said.
“Why?” Aaron asked. “What’s going on?”
Neither replied, however, because they were staring at Joy. She had been hiding behind Aaron, but she peered out as they moved away from the portal.
Douglas asked, “Where’s Tràth? Why isn’t he with you?”
“He’s still negotiating a trade agreement with the Zalians. I thought he’d told you he expected to be gone for a couple of weeks. I only came back sooner because of Joy.” He indicated the faerie beside him.
Cen had continued a running translation for Joy’s benefit.
“This is Lady Joy,” Aaron said. After a short pause, he added, “She is to be my bonded faerie. She doesn’t understand English and signs in the fae tongue. Cen will act as translator until I can learn to do so myself.”
No one said a word for a moment, then Lisle said, “Congratulations to both of you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Joy.”
With Cen’s help, Aaron introduced the two druids. He could see their hesitation and the many unasked questions in their expressions. Her missing eyes and the scars over her body, especially the ropy, black gash at her throat, would give anyone pause. Aaron recognised that even though she was blind, Joy easily interpreted their reaction.
Joy made some signs with her hands, bowing to Douglas and Lisle.
Cen translated, “I am honoured.”
“Please tell her she doesn’t have to do that,” Aaron said to Cen.
Cen gave her the instruction, but she only became more uncertain.
“Please,” Douglas said. “Is Tràth all right?”
Aaron hardly knew how to answer the question. Tràth had been visibly upset at Joy’s condition, but he didn’t think that’s what Douglas was referring to. He also believed it wasn’t his place to tell Douglas Tràth was considering a marriage proposal. “Yeah, he’s fine. I just saw him. He seemed tired, but that’s all.” Looking at Joy and thinking about their potential bond, he realised Douglas might have sensed Tràth’s distress. “We can talk back at the Hall. Tràth was upset earlier, but I’m sure he’s calmed down by now.”
Douglas shook his head, looking confused. “I need to step through, check for myself.”
Aaron suspected Douglas didn’t know Tràth had wanted to close the bond. After the way he’d ignored Tràth, how could he be surprised?
“Listen, I think I understand what’s bothering you. Let’s talk back at the Hall, where we can find some privacy.”
Douglas nodded. “All right.” He glanced at the portal with distrust.
Lisle sighed. “We have bad news.” She gave Aaron a significant look. “Very bad.”
His heart clinched. From her expression, something terrible must’ve happened. “What is it?” he asked. “Is everyone all right?”
“Come on,” Lisle said, trying unsuccessfully to mask her worry. “We’ll get Lady Joy settled, then we’ll talk.”
Prince Koen took it as a good sign that Queen Konstanze of Ashkyne received him in a small private room rather than a larger public arena. Her response to his request was as he expected: reserved but curious.
He bowed deeply. “Your Majesty,” he said.
She tilted her head in reply, taking the measure of him with her eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you. There are whispers that your mate has taken ill. Nothing serious, I hope.” Her tone betrayed her wariness.
The queen’s eyes flickered with annoyance when he sat without waiting to be invited. Although she outranked him, he didn’t want her believing she had the upper hand. “I’m afraid it does seem to be. I’d like to take you into my confidence. You are a powerful queen. I’m sure you’ll know what I should do.”
“Of course,” she said, narrowing her gaze.
“You see, Eilidh’s second mate, the druid lord Quinton Munro, died two nights ago.” He heard the slight intake of breath Konstanze tried so hard to disguise.
“Is that so?” she asked with a frown.
“The Druid Hall is not announcing the loss, and Eilidh’s first mate Griogair hopes to keep the tragedy quiet. I’m not sure what purpose that serves, except to deceive the Caledonian people about their queen’s condition.” He had Konstanze’s complete attention. “I’ve come to you because I made a grievous mistake. When Eilidh offered me the protection of her bloodline after my mother’s death, I believed I had little choice. The Source Stone had chosen her, after all. I should have accepted your offer instead.”
“Oh?” Konstanze asked. She sat back in her chair, considering every word.
“Eilidh hardly speaks to me. She has no intention of bearing my child, so I will have no opportunity to produce an heir. But that matters little at this point. I believe soon Eilidh will be dead.”
Konstanze raised an eyebrow. “She suffers because of her bond?”
“Suffering is inadequate a word to describe her state. She’s inert and fades more with each passing hour. The Caledonian conclave intends to crown Princess Maiya, with Griogair as regent until she comes of age. You understand my dilemma?”
“I believe so,” she said. “However, I would be surprised if Griogair exiled you.”
“Truly? Your Majesty, you underestimate how jealous he is. He encourages if not instigates Eilidh’s harsh treatment of me. He manoeuvres to keep me away from her. I think he’s been planning for this moment. We only have his word about what happened to Munro. A few Caledonian servants did witness the attack, but they would repeat whatever story he commanded them to. In fact, he’s sworn them to silence about the event. Consider this: As her first mate, he expected to father her heir. Instead, she shunned him in favour of one she deemed more powerful. He’s even more jealous of Munro than of me. Princess Maiya’s birth made the matter worse.”
Konstanze sipped her wine as Koen went on.
“So what better solution than to murder the druid lord? They are physically weak, even if they do control the Source Stone. As further evidence, I offer you this bit of information: no body was recovered.”
“No? How can you be certain he is dead?”
“Only Prince Griogair’s word. He claims our mate believes him dead and says her bond would reveal the truth to her. However, he refuses to allow me to visit her to verify the claim. Princess Maiya has been isolated, her nurses not even allowed to leave the child’s chambers. For all I know, she, along with those who serve her, may be dead as well.”
“I would not have suspected Griogair could be so…ruthless.”
“Believe me, Your Majesty. I have witnessed his work. Somehow, he convinced the joint conclave to put him on the throne. If Maiya, by the grace of the Mother, still lives, with Munro and Eilidh out of the way, can she possibly stay untouched? How long before Griogair goes from accepting the regency to becoming the first Caledonian king in generations?”
“An interesting theory,” Konstanze said. Her words remained conservative, but Koen knew he had piqued her interest. “Why did you risk so much to bring me this information?”
“I made a mistake in throwing my lot in with Caledonia. Had I realised what a nest of scorpions that house concealed, I never would have done so. I had hoped you could provide advice. How can I survive with such a madman on the Caledonian throne?”
“What do you expect Ashkyne to do?”
“Whatever you deem wise, Your Majesty. Maybe nothing. Perhaps all you need to do is wait for the Source Stone to name you queen of Caledonia and my former kingdom of Andena too. On the other hand, when you verify my tale, you may arrive at a more proactive plan. I believe you should have been named ruler of both Andena and Caledonia. You may be soon, when the Source Stone recognises the harm done by Prince Griogair. When that happens, I can help you. Although Eilidh claims she tried to assimilate the Andenans into her kingdom, she alienated many, including the elders and former conclave members. They will listen to me, and I will bring them into your service, as they always should have been.”
A smile twitched across Konstanze’s mouth. “Will you be staying in Ashkyne a while? I offer you the hospitality of my house, naturally.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Koen said, rising. “I should return to the Halls of Mist before my absence is noticed. I can aid you more from within Caledonia. The moment the tide shifts, I will be waiting for your call, I assure you. I am hoping after Eilidh’s death, I will find a place in Ashkyne, should you believe me worthy.”
“I will, as you say, verify your most compelling tale.”
“There is one other piece of information I must share. Consider this: did you know Griogair has sent his son to court the Zalian heir? It appears he wishes to expand his reach beyond the two kingdoms he already plots to control.”
“I heard Prince Tràth was negotiating a trade treaty with Zalia. There is more to his visit?” she asked with a frown.
“Oh yes, Your Majesty. I heard Griogair instruct his son how to gain Princess Imena’s confidence by feigning disinterest. The plan worked, too. Her invitation to negotiate a treaty arrived the next night. If I weren’t so repelled by the deception, I would be in awe of Griogair’s expertise at both politics and seduction. Add to that the fact that he sent a disguised astral faerie along on the trade delegation, one who could easily use her talents to manipulate Princess Imena… Well, it isn’t difficult to draw a disturbing conclusion.” He bowed to Konstanze. “Thank you for receiving me. I look forward to hearing from you soon. I fear my days of safety in Caledonia will quickly run out.”
Konstanze tilted her head. “Give me a little time to contemplate your news, Prince Koen. Speak of this to no one. I will make a decision soon.”
∞
When the elder druid showed Munro what he called the
shadow portal
, a chill crept over his lifeless skin. “I feel like part of me is still trapped inside,” he said. His mind had grown foggier again, making the sensation even more unpleasant.
He’d seen something like this black, solid image of the portal before, on the day Eilidh was chosen to rule Andena after Queen Vinye’s death. He told Ewain about the event, and the elder druid nodded. “I remember. I sensed the ripples even here, although I was mostly dormant at the time.”
“What woke you?” Munro asked, running his hand over the smooth, marble-like surface of the shadow portal.
“You druids,” he said. “When you began to feed the Stone, a trickle of power seeped through for the first time in centuries. Not enough to allow me much freedom, but it gave me hope.” The furrows in his skin clenched as he grimaced. “Expectation is an emotion I had long since given up.”
“What is the Shadow Stone you mentioned before?” Munro asked.
“I will show you later. It resembles the Source Stone in every way other than colour. Like all objects in this realm, the artefact is only a reflection of the real thing, but it is the anchor connecting this place to the Otherworld.”
“I’d like to see,” Munro said.
“Soon,” Ewain replied. “We shouldn’t waste time. We must begin to construct a new gate to transport us to the Halls of Mist.”
Munro sighed. “I don’t think I can,” he said. “I didn’t build the Mistgate alone. I can shape the stone and even write the runes, but my power wouldn’t be enough. Every one of the other druids, bar the children, contributed their essence.”
“Then build the gate’s structure. It need only be large enough to fit our bodies through. We will at least do that much before we give up. I have more knowledge in this weakened state than you have ever dreamed of. As long as Douglas feeds the Stone, I will grow stronger. I may need months to gain the necessary power from his feedings, but time is a small price to pay. Still, we mustn’t delay. The trees grow thinner in the Shadow Wood. In another year, they may become depleted. With two souls to bind, our resources will run out more quickly.”
Months
? Munro was already losing track of time and his memories. He couldn’t fathom years, decades, century after century in this place like Ewain had already endured. He needed to return to the Otherworld before he forgot his life completely.
Ewain led him to a clearing and indicated a likely spot. Munro dug into the earth with a blackened branch while the elder druid returned to his house for more of the silvery tonic. Ewain was gone quite a while. Long before he returned, Munro hit stone. His lifeless body didn’t experience fatigue, but his mind did drift. Sometimes he found himself waist-deep in earth, leaning against the mud bank he’d created, his thoughts cold and blank.
I don’t like death
, he thought and worked to uncover the stone again.
When Ewain reappeared, Munro noticed something different about him. Still bent and worn as a rotting trunk, Ewain had the tiniest tinge of a glow. “Did you bring tonic?” Munro asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I had to fashion some containers. I couldn’t carry open bowls this far.”
He handed Munro a hollow gourd with the narrow top sliced off. “Thank you,” he said. He drank without hesitation this time, looking forward to the sharpness returning to his mind. “Don’t you need some?” he asked.
“I drank some at the house. Besides, you’re doing the heavy work. Your body will require more than mine.”
Munro nodded and went back to clearing off the stone at the bottom of the ditch. He’d only reached one stone. Twice the size of a loaf of bread, it took effort to raise. Ewain did not offer to help, but he watched eagerly.
Straining to control his uncoordinated muscles, Munro managed to heave the rock to the surface. He lifted himself up to sit on the side of the ditch, longing to lie down.
“No!” Ewain said sharply. “You mustn’t sleep.”