That’s when she realised that even though the enchantment that would have sapped their earth powers had been lifted, they had spent little time outside the Otherworld. As time went on, they would grow more uncomfortable in the human realm. During her first exile, it had taken years to adjust to the thin air in this plane. It gave her hope that the rafta would not want to stay longer than necessary to verify that the azuri were nowhere to be found.
The stars swept across the sky as the night wore on. The kingdom fae waited restlessly. Patrols were sent out in a spiderweb pattern over the island, but Eilidh always managed to slip away and only once did she have to manipulate a commander into not questioning why she stayed behind.
She managed to work her way closer to Griogair, who had moved on to speaking with a different officer, and then another. As soon as she got near him, he turned from them and approached her, presumably so she couldn’t overhear what he was saying to them. Surely he wouldn’t betray her, she thought. But he had to ensure that she and the druids lived—if he wanted to get his son back. Her suspicions mounted, but she couldn’t puzzle out what he hoped to accomplish. As she had predicted, Cadhla was nowhere near Skye.
He lowered his head and straightened his uniform, looking for all the world like he was flirting with her. She repeated her earlier question in a hushed tone. “What in the name of the rising sun are you doing?”
“I’m disguising myself as a soldier who is flirting with another, quite beautiful soldier.”
Eilidh didn’t smile, although it was difficult. “I know the face I created. It is not lovely,” she said. “I thought it best not to attract any attention.”
“Ah, but I know your inner beauty.” He watched their surroundings carefully, and she realised, not for the first time, how practised he was at deception. It went against everything she’d believed about the core of her people, and again he made her question the philosophies of her youth.
“How long will they stay and search?” she asked, careful to keep her voice barely above a whisper.
“The rafta have already received the reports from the patrols that there are no azuri fae on the island. Their only concern is Oron’s house.”
“What?” Eilidh met his eyes, alarmed.
“Remember in Auchterarder, when I said the earth was lying to me? They have the best trackers with them. They will sense Tràth’s trail and the other azuri hidden there as well. So many in one location.”
“I will send a message to Oron. He and the elders can perhaps confuse the minds of those who search that area.”
“No,” Griogair said. “Not yet.”
“What are you planning?” she asked, then understood. “By sun and stars, it’s not that you expected Cadhla to lead the charge. You are plotting to lure her here. You want your revenge.”
“Not revenge. Justice. An end to this once and for all.”
Eilidh had to fight not to show her anger. “At what cost?” she hissed. “Your own life? If you touch her, they will cut you down before you can take one step.”
“Maybe not,” he said.
“And if you die, how will I get Tràth back?”
“I believe in you,” he said. “You used my connection with him last time, but now you’ve forged your own. You can do it.”
“My one hour with him is nothing compared to a father’s love.”
A soldier approached and glanced at Eilidh, then raised an eyebrow at Griogair.
“It’s all right,” Griogair said. “She knows me.”
“Your Highness,” the soldier said, his voice low. “Word has been sent through the gate. The queen comes.”
Your Highness? Eilidh bit back the words she wanted to scream at Griogair. By telling them his true identity, he had risked everything—the fate of every soul hidden at Oron’s and a rich vein of astral power. How many would die if the army turned on itself?
Patrols continued to arrive at the island, and some even travelled over the sound to the Scottish mainland and to the other nearby islands. Eilidh picked up enough conversations nearby to understand that the queen’s forces surrounded the island before the assault, which was the reason for the long delay before the attack. She was grateful now they hadn’t tried to escape as Oron suggested, or they would have been easily netted. Now she prayed to the Father of the Azure that Tràth’s time bubble would hold.
Eilidh and Griogair managed to work their way toward Oron’s house in the hour it took Cadhla’s retinue to arrive. The queen shone magnificently, dressed for battle with an elemental sword that gleamed like ice, hanging from a sheath at her hip. She was surrounded by six rafta, who moved with her like a fluid barrier of protection. She approached the elder’s house, and the vast crowd grew hushed behind her. “This hovel?” she said with disdain.
One of the commanders approached. “Yes, Your Majesty. We believe this to be the home of the renegade conclave leader Oron. It is where the trail is strongest.”
“Could they be invisible? The filthy creatures can perform all kinds of tricks.”
“My Watchers have covered every inch, swords swinging. It is as though they have turned to mist.”
“Invisible mist?” the queen said, her ruby lips curling into a sneer.
Eilidh stood close to Griogair, hidden in the crowd. She leaned close and whispered to him, “Can she sense them?”
He subtly shook his head. “She is gifted with water and air, with the slightest touch of fire, but she cannot wield the stone flows. She will have to rely on others for that.”
Cadhla scowled. “Bring me the trackers again.”
The rafta gathered and brought twenty of her soldiers before her, and she questioned them relentlessly. But they described the scene much the same as Griogair had when he sensed Tràth in Auchterarder, insisting that the trail deceived them.
Griogair whispered to Eilidh, “Now would be a good time for Oron to confuse the issue, but delicately.”
Eilidh hadn’t been able to find Oron and the others again, but then she’d been carefully avoiding the rafta. She hoped they were safe, hiding as they’d agreed. She sent him the mind-speak message: Muddle the queen’s trackers. Be subtle.
Eilidh wanted to aid them, but she left the work to Oron’s people. She worried her unpractised skills would call more attention than they wanted.
The queen looked to the rafta. “Send out more patrols. This could be a ruse to keep us rooted to one place.”
“Your Majesty,” one of the trackers said. “The trail we sensed here. It’s fading. I fear you may be right.”
Cadhla waved the wen-lei over. “See, it is as I suspected. You have let your weak minds be fooled by enchantments, which likely broke as soon as the azuri got too far away.” She growled. “They’re probably in Andena by now. That bitch of a queen Vinye will no doubt give them refuge.” She glared at the rafta leader. “Take your men and make one last sweep of the island to be certain, then return to the Otherworld to meet your replacement. You have disappointed me.”
He bowed before the queen. “I hear and obey.” He signalled to the other rafta . Most followed him, but Eilidh noticed a few did not. Oron , she thought with relief. It comforted her to know he was near.
The queen, unfortunately, noticed too. “You,” she said, pointing across the crowd to one of the rafta who had not moved to follow his leader. “Come before your queen.” She stepped forward, her voice quiet and menacing.
“It has to be now,” the prince muttered. Griogair moved to intercept her, brushing off Eilidh’s hands as she tried to hold him back. She couldn’t help but notice his barely perceptible signals to others in the crowd. When he stood just a few feet in front of the queen, he bowed and said, “Show my face.”
For a moment, Cadhla looked confused. “What?” she demanded.
He rose and looked the queen in the eye. “Show my face!” he shouted.
Eilidh hesitated out of pure fear. This could ruin everything. Two soldiers stepped to either side of Eilidh, and one whispere
d, “Please, do as he asks. We will protect you.”
“Griogair?” the queen said, staring in disbelief. “You sound like my mate.”
Eilidh concentrated on dropping his illusion, but maintaining her own. It took some care, and the result was that his false face melted away slowly, revealing the prince’s identity. The crowd of soldiers gasped.
“I am not your mate,” Griogair said. “Remember? You severed our relationship so you could order my death.”
“Where is your little dog, Griogair?” she spat. “She must be near to have worked her twisted illusions on you.”
Soldiers looked around uncomfortably, as though just realising any one of them could be an azuri in disguise.
“You mean the azuri queen? Her Royal Majesty, Eilidh of Skye?”
Cadhla laughed. “That exiled so-called conclave has raised a false queen? That insignificant commoner? They deserve her.”
“They do,” Griogair agreed, which caused her laughter to cut short. “And she is twice the queen you have ever been.”
The queen looked to the nearest soldiers. “What are you doing gawping?” she shouted. “Arrest the traitor.”
A few moved forward, but much to the queen’s shock, the commanders shouted for them to stand down. A ring of senior soldiers formed around the queen and Griogair, swords raised and pointed at Cadhla. The air crackled with unspoken magic.
Eilidh heard rumbling in the crowd as word went back through the ranks.
Suddenly an elemental sword appeared in Griogair’s hand. It gleamed like polished silver, but green light shimmered inside its core. He stepped up to the queen and before she could react, he held it to her throat. “Goodbye, Cadhla. This is for Tràth.”
“No!” Eilidh shouted. She shoved her way through the ranks to the ring of soldiers. “Griogair, no!” She met Cadhla’s eyes. “Surrender to me, and I will spare your life.”
“So it is you,” the queen said, her face tilted away to avoid the sharp blade at her neck.
Suddenly Eilidh’s illusion began to shift, but it was not her doing. Her soldier’s uniform turned to a long gown of deep blue, its bodice covered with diamonds. Long sleeves trailed the ground in points at the backs of her wrist, and she felt the weight of a crown on her temple. Shimmering wings sprouted from her back, sending a murmur of awe through the crowd.
Griogair glanced at Eilidh, staring, as though unable to take his eyes off her. “Cadhla must die for her crimes against our people. For the darkness and ignorance she has worked to spread. For the lives she took. For the lost fae children. For the execution of innocents. For the division in our people that never should have come to pass.” With effort he looked back at Cadhla. “For our son.”
“Your son,” Cadhla spat. “Do it,” she taunted him. “I’ve always known you wanted me dead, wanted my power for your own.”
The prince brought back the sword to swing it, but Eilidh sent the shout No in her thoughts, the word echoing in the minds around them.
“Griogair, you made me a promise.” Eilidh raised her voice to quiet the murmuring crowd. “To give me anything I asked in exchange for finding and restoring your son to you. I have done my part. This is what I ask. Release her to me, and I will accept her surrender and keep the kingdom whole. Let the kingdom’s own conclave declare her crown broken. She will be allowed to live in exile in the Halls of Mist, or any other kingdom she chooses, but not Caledonia and not the realm of men.”
“Eilidh,” Griogair pleaded. “Not this.”
“If you kill her, you are no better than she is. Show your people that you are merciful. Let them see you look for justice, not revenge.” Then she added, “Or show me that your promise was empty.” She hated to manipulate him, but he was too overwrought to see the consequences killing Cadhla would bring, how much that action would complicate their position.
The prince’s inner struggle played out across his features, twisting his brow into a deep scowl. Cadhla closed her eyes, defeated. She clearly expected the sword to fall on her neck. But the prince withdrew the earth power that conjured the sword, and the weapon disappeared.
“Cadhla,” Eilidh said. “Speak the words of surrender and I will spare your life. If you do not, I will not weep at your passing as Griogair takes your head.”
Cadhla looked from her former mate to Eilidh, then to the commanders around her. “It was clever,” she said to Griogair, “to trick me into sending my rafta away, the only ones with whom you have no influence. I’m shocked to see so many have fallen for your lies, that the corruption of our people runs so deep.”
Eilidh pushed her fear aside with some effort, even though the queen had been surrounded. Eilidh knew Cadhla, with her centuries of experience, more than matched her own untrained abilities. “Your words of surrender and no others,” she said. “I am tired of your speeches.”
Cadhla shouted, “Remember your loyalty. This usurper cannot be trusted. She lies and changes her words as easily as she changes her face. She is twisting your minds, making you question your rightful queen. Resist. Be strong of mind and resist her deceits.” Then the queen smiled at Eilidh, a gleam in her eye. “My rafta have returned.”
A volley of blue-flamed arrows went up overhead. Eilidh was jostled to the ground as soldiers moved quickly and hands grabbed her roughly from all sides. The queen yelled, “Kill the traitors. Steel your minds against their illusions!”
Eilidh was dragged away from Griogair and the queen, but not before she heard him let out a long, anguished shout. She couldn’t see for all the faeries around her, pulling her this way and that, or hear for all the shouting and chaos. Swords clashed, arrows flew, the earth shook, and lightning flashed in the sky. Monster dragons flew overhead, and Eilidh knew Oron and the other elders were taking part, trying their best to scatter any soldiers still loyal to Cadhla.
It broke her heart to hear the screams and sickening sounds as faeries fell to the ground dead. Although she had access to earth magic through Munro, Eilidh never learned combat with the elements. Still, even though bodies pressed in around her, some trying to defend her, some wishing to attack her, she had no desire to spill one drop of fae blood.
Suddenly the soldiers around her, who fought to protect her, melted away, and six rafta descended on her. She felt anguished. They would kill her, and she would never be able to save Tràth and the hundreds of others hidden with him. She only hoped Oron and the druids survived, praying they would be able to help him where she had failed.
The rafta grabbed her and one said, “Tell them the queen is dead. Quickly.”
“What?” she said, dazed. “Cadhla is—”
“Mind-speak, Eilidh. Tell them their queen has fallen, so we can save as many lives as possible.” The face in front of her changed to that of the elder Qwe.
Eilidh nearly wept with relief as she closed her eyes and sent the message to every mind within a hundred miles.
Chapter 21
The battle ended quickly with word of Cadhla’s death. The commanders loyal to Griogair took control, and he regained some semblance of order. Amnesty was given to all except the rafta , and Eilidh was pleased that Griogair proved to be even-handed and merciful.
Although many looked to her to give orders and take control immediately, Eilidh refused, saying the Caledonian conclave should raise a queen to replace Cadhla from among the Caledonian nobility, with no suggestion of who they should choose.
“They will choose you,” Griogair said to her after she delivered the message to his commanders, asking them to convey her offer of peace to their conclave. A cheer went up around them, as hundreds of soldiers waited to hear her response.
The elders and Griogair had orchestrated this moment, as well as given her the proper response. “If asked to serve my people, I will do so,” she said, bowing slightly to the prince. “On one condition.”
The cheers stopped, and a hush went through the crowd.
“What is that, Lady Eilidh?”
“That you become
my prince-consort and rule by my side.” She smiled at him, doing her best to hide how tired she felt. “If the conclave wills that I serve.”
Griogair returned her smile and bowed deeply, but his answer was drowned out by further cheers. Eilidh knew the jubilant reaction wasn’t universal, that many had yet to be won over. Some fears would take a long time to quiet, but it was a start.
Only then did she see Munro staring at her from the crowd. She wanted nothing more than to run to him, but she carefully maintained her bearing. Relief flooded over her when he smiled and began to push his way through the fae soldiers, followed by the other druids. She whispered to one of those who still guarded her to tell the others to let the humans pass.
When they approached, Munro bowed low. “My lady,” he said, then rose, meeting her eyes boldly. She had to smile at the way he spoke the words so possessively, asserting that even though she’d just publicly proposed to another, she would always be his lady.
Azuri Fae - Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae) Page 21
