Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae

by India Drummond

  When they arrived at the room, he showed her the facilities. She’d grown up on the Isle of Skye, so she understood flushing toilets and electric lights, but she’d never slept on a mattress with springs. She bounced on the bed, laughing and giggling, but stopped when Rory refused to join in. He was too taken with the sight of her to know what to say, and he hated himself for the way his mind spun in circles.

  “Are you very angry with me?” she asked, letting the illusion of her human appearance drop. The seductive way her spiralling ears curled before his eyes made his heart thump.

  “No,” he said. “I’m just tired.” It was mostly a lie. True, he had grown accustomed to the nocturnal habits of the fae but was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. He wanted to take a shower but didn’t feel comfortable with either of them getting naked. That couldn’t lead anywhere good. “We should rest until dawn, then we can get breakfast and walk by the shops and the businesses in the city centre. There should be more people around.”

  “Okay,” she said. Her hair was dishevelled from bouncing on the bed. She’d never looked more beautiful. “Will you lie with me?” She scooted over to make room on her double bed. “I’m not sure I can sleep with the stars overhead.”

  Rory paused but held his resolve. “No,” he said gently. Taking off only his shoes, he lay on the bed and turned his back to her. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stay strong if she came to him in the darkness.

  He heard her shuffling pillows and blankets, and eventually she settled in for the night on her own side of the room. Neither of them slept, but at least Rory could close his eyes and rest, believing he’d done the right thing.

  Chapter 14

  Beyond telling Munro that the Watchers had discovered a blood trail leading back toward Canton Dreich, Eilidh refused to discuss the murder investigation with him. She gently insisted he not pursue it further. He understood, but he didn’t like it. If people learned the Watchers saw someone disguised as Munro near the cottage, his involvement would only make him appear suspicious.

  He and Eilidh took their midnight meal together, an unusual occurrence because typically her advisors absorbed every moment of her night-time hours. The pair ate in a companionable silence, and Munro enjoyed the quiet feel of her presence. Eilidh had always been a passionate and skilled lover, but he noticed an intensity about her that afternoon he very much appreciated.

  Their brief respite shattered when a steward padded in.

  “I do not wish to be disturbed.” Annoyance flashed in Eilidh’s silver-green eyes.

  “I offer a humble apology, Your Majesty. However, a message arrived from your consort, and the head steward commanded me to inform you immediately.” The young male faerie flicked his eyes toward Munro, then lowered them again. Six months, and the earth faeries still didn’t know what to make of a human dining alone with the queen. Most were friendly enough, especially the advisors and elders. The servants had the most issue with his lack of station because they didn’t seem to understand how they should treat him.

  Eilidh tilted her head in subtle acknowledgement, and the steward placed a sealed parchment on the table beside her plate. “Shall I wait for your reply?”

  She waved him off. “I can contact my mate directly if I need to.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. Munro could almost hear the thoughts spinning in the poor guy’s mind. He’d obviously forgotten his queen’s ability to mind-speak, and appeared to be deciding if he should apologise. Eilidh waved him away and saved him the embarrassment.

  After the young faerie left, she ran a finger along the edge of the parchment but made no move to open it. “Do you think the druids would want their own land?” she asked. “Houses? They’ve appeared happy in the villa, but it doesn’t belong to them. What if I grant them the property? I thought perhaps they should have more space. They need room for servants and their own messengers. I’d like to offer scribes to document their work, and we should arrange for materials to be brought to them.”

  “That sounds like a village,” Munro replied, watching Eilidh closely. “I think they’re fine where they are, but I can ask.”

  Eilidh nodded. “And you, my love,” she said, reaching across the table to put her hand on his forearm. “You should have a place of your own, not merely a modest room in the castle.”

  Munro put down a soft piece of bread and slowly wiped his hands on a square of linen. Why would she want him to move? Did she need some space? They’d had a great day together, barely getting any sleep at all, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t giving him a subtle hint. “You don’t need to give me anything, Eilidh. That modest room down the corridor is nearly as big as my entire house back in Perth.” Maybe, he realised, she wanted privacy with Griogair, not that any of them had any privacy with so many servants and Watchers. He couldn’t tell her it was okay to be intimate with her husband and then act like an arse if she wanted to take him up on the offer. He felt a little hollow at the thought though. “I suppose sometimes I wouldn’t mind being closer to the other druids if we’re working on a project or something. Once I tell them about the runes, they’ll probably want to do some experimenting.” This would require getting used to.

  “I don’t offer because I want distance from you, Quinton,” she said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You and the others deserve something suited to your station.”

  “Our…” Then he realised this whole conversation was about the draoidh translation. He needed to read more about the ancient sorcerers to find out why everyone reacted so strongly. Sure, the draoidh used to be powerful, but he wasn’t convinced he and the others would be important now.

  “When elders and other kingdoms learn of your heritage and the ability to imbue runes, many things will change. You will be in great demand, and not only by scholars. I must do everything I can to make certain you’re happy here.”

  “Eilidh, you can’t think we’ll leave. Where else would we go?”

  Her smile was tight. “You and Douglas are bonded to Caledonia fae, so perhaps not, but what of Aaron, Rory, and Phillip? If other kingdoms offered them titles, riches, land? In ancient times, draoidh wielded influence. Even queens would not dare cross them.”

  Munro decided they’d gotten ahead of themselves. “Listen, we don’t truly understand what this means. It could mean some old texts have been misinterpreted.” He hadn’t even told her about the Killbourne Wall. Its maker talked about fashioning the portal that first led to the Otherworld and referred to his circle as the creators of a new race. In Munro’s mind, this bit of news would prove the real bombshell. “For all we know, it’s a typo.” She wouldn’t get the expression, never having seen a typewriter.

  Eilidh frowned. “Perhaps your discovery means little, but I don’t believe that.” She absently tapped Griogair’s letter. “The druids must stay in Caledonia.”

  Something about the statement made him uncomfortable. On the other hand, she had enemies, and for them to gain influence over the druids would be a disaster. If it turned out they had the same political power as these ancient sorcerers, other kingdoms would take notice. “Listen, I’m going to tell the guys about creating rune stones, sure. But until we get more information, I don’t see any reason to get into this political stuff with them. I know these guys. We want to work and create. You don’t have to buy our loyalty.”

  Eilidh nodded. “You’ll talk to them about the new houses though?”

  “Sure,” he said. “If you like.” Nodding toward Griogair’s letter, he asked, “Are you planning to open that?”

  A sigh escaped her lips. “I already know what the message says. There are more disturbances in Nir Doute. The unrest has gotten ugly. Scores more have died.” Eilidh picked up the letter. “If my consort had pleasant news, he would have returned already.” She broke the seal and her gaze scanned the script within. For a moment, her expression became vacant, and Munro suspected she was mind-speaking.

  Within moments the young attendan
t returned. “The conclave has been informed of the assembly as you requested, Your Majesty.”

  She nodded and stood. “Tell them I will attend presently.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. If I may, two guests requested an audience with your druid.”

  “Oh?” Eilidh asked, raising an eyebrow. Munro never had visitors except other druids, and they didn’t announce themselves and wait. They’d have wandered around until they found him.

  “Keeper Oszlár, Your Majesty, and the scholar Ríona.”

  “The head keeper?” Eilidh said, her tone sharp.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The steward looked nervous. “They arrived within the hour and are waiting in the south reception room.”

  “Tell the conclave I have been delayed on a matter of urgency. No. I’ll tell them myself.” Munro sensed her jangling nerves. Was this draoidh stuff really so important that she’d put off a meeting about civil unrest to talk to a librarian, for goodness’ sake?

  The attendant bowed and left, and Eilidh marched into the hall, looking every inch the queen. Munro followed on her heels. He wanted to ask her what was going on, but between her brisk steps and her tight, focused thoughts, he did well to keep pace.

  The short walk to the south reception room didn’t take long. Eilidh strode through a tall archway into the reception room where Oszlár and Ríona sat. The pair stood the moment they saw her, and Ríona dipped into a curtsey. Oszlár gave a respectful nod, which Eilidh returned. “Keeper,” she said. “I hope you have not waited long.”

  “Not more than a trice,” he replied with a smile. “It is an honour to see you, Queen Eilidh. We only expected to meet with your druid. I’d hoped not to trouble you.”

  Her smile was gracious, but Munro sensed her inner tension. “Our bond means we keep little from one another, as I’m sure you understand.”

  Ríona watched the queen with a peculiar expression. Munro thought it bordered on dislike, but he couldn’t imagine why. As far as he knew, the two women hadn’t met before.

  “Of course,” Oszlár said. “Speaking with you is an unexpected delight.” He bowed again, deeper this time. Munro wished he understood the nuances he was missing here. The keeper said nothing for a few moments, almost as though he and the queen had engaged in a battle of wills.

  Determined to break the ice, Munro stepped forward. “Hey, Oszlár. Good to see you. You too, Ríona. You didn’t have to run all this way. I’d have come to you. I admit, I’m looking forward to digging into the archives again when I get the chance.”

  Oszlár chortled. “Greetings, druid.”

  Eilidh scowled. Let me handle them, she sent to Munro.

  He fought not to roll his eyes. The guy was a librarian, for Christ’s sake. They had come to speak to him, anyway. Couldn’t he have conversations without her wanting to take over? He realised just how uncomfortable her tension over the whole thing made him. Ignoring Eilidh, Munro went on. “You know, I was on my way to talk to the other druids. Do you want to meet them? They’ll want to learn about runes too. You will be better at showing them how imbuing works. Ríona was a good teacher, but I’d probably botch the explanation. The guys are probably down by the river. We’ve been working on linking our flows to create a talisman.”

  Eilidh turned to Munro. She kept her voice low, but not so low everyone didn’t hear. “The keeper would certainly not like to go tromping by the river. I will arrange a dinner tonight so he can meet the others in a more suitable setting.” Turning to the visitors, she asked, “When the lantern crosses the boar?”

  “Your Majesty,” Oszlár said. “We are most honoured by the generous invitation, but we must return to the Halls of Mist. I came merely to invite your druid to speak with the keepers.” Turning to Munro he said, “We have something to show you, something you will find most educational.”

  “A rune?” Eilidh asked.

  Oszlár shook his head, looking slightly peeved at her interruption. “An artefact,” he said.

  Ask him the name of the artefact, she mind-spoke to Munro.

  “I’d love to,” Munro said. “I need a few minutes to get some things together first.”

  Ríona hid a half-smile behind her hand. She seemed to have no difficulty picking up the disagreement between Munro and Eilidh.

  “Excellent,” Oszlár said. “Your Majesty, I hope we will have an opportunity to dine with you another time. Before long, we’ll want to become acquainted with all the druids currently under your protection. We have so much to learn from our human brethren. Perhaps we can offer them our knowledge as well. In time, they may even choose to make a place among the keepers, if all are as gifted with listening to runes as Quinton Munro.”

  Eilidh radiated dread. She was petrified at losing them. Munro wished he hadn’t teased and ignored her. “I know you have a meeting you need to attend, Eilidh. Let me walk you there, and we can finish our earlier discussion. Afterwards I’ll get my things and go with Oszlár and Ríona. Unless you need me here? I’m sure this artefact can wait.” He said the last part softly, hoping she would hear the genuine care in his words.

  “Keeper, please accept the hospitality of Caledonia during your visit. I regret you do not have more time. We are always honoured to host you.” Eilidh inclined her head to Oszlár. Her deferential tone surprised Munro almost as much as the rude way she ignored Ríona. Without waiting for a reply, Eilidh turned toward the archway and strode into the corridor.

  “One second,” Munro said to the visiting pair. He trotted after Eilidh. Halfway down the hall, he hissed, “Dammit, Eilidh. I’m sorry, okay? Do you want me to stay? I don’t need to go.”

  She slowed her walk and let him catch up. “No, you should go. Just don’t promise anything, all right? Be careful.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Anything. No matter what they request of you, tell them you’ll have to think about it, and we’ll discuss it first. For me?” She sent him the message, Please, Quinton. I beg you.

  He wanted to sweep her into his arms more than anything, but propriety and watching eyes held him in place. He leaned as close as he dared and whispered, “You never need to beg me for anything. I love you.”

  I love you too. Now go.

  Munro went toward his room but caught the attention of one of the many attendants who constantly roamed the corridors. “I want to send a message to the prince-consort. Can you help?”

  “Of course,” the attendant replied, and Munro gave him instructions as they walked.

  Chapter 15

  Munro stepped through the portal to the Halls of Mist with Oszlár and Ríona, bracing himself for the shock of losing Eilidh’s presence in his mind. She’d been troubled since she’d gotten word of the deaths in Nir Doute. If he was honest with himself, the worries had floated around for a while, even before Leith’s murder. Pretty much since the day of her coronation, she’d had detractors. They’d expected resistance from the other kingdoms, but even Caledonia had grown divided. Despite her worries, Munro missed her the instant their connection wavered.

  The trip had been uneventful, but Munro still didn’t understand why the keeper had come to invite him personally. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had other business in Caledonia, or if seeing Eilidh was as much of an accident as Oszlár suggested. After all, she seemed shocked he’d come without her knowing. Munro made a mental note to ask Griogair to explain at the next opportunity. On the other hand, the keeper’s possible political manoeuvring made Munro understand Eilidh’s warning not to make promises.

  They took the long staircase down to the library slowly. Oszlár was the first faerie whose age appeared to slow him down, which must have made him very old indeed. Oron was over a thousand, and he was spry, even if he did sport more than a few wrinkles.

  By the time they arrived at the bottom, Munro’s curiosity had brimmed. Suspecting Oszlár wanted to work up to something, he refrained from asking. Instead he decided to watch things play out.

  Once inside the librar
y, the keeper turned to Ríona. “Thank you,” he said.

  Ríona inclined her head in response. With a meaningful glance at Munro, she nodded to him as well and walked away, toward the corridors at the rear of the room.

  “This way,” Oszlár said, gesturing to a wide arch on the right.

  To Munro’s surprise, the arch led to a downward staircase, spiralling even further below the surface of the Halls of Mist. They descended in silence for long minutes until they came to a wide, open room with about twenty faeries in it. He recognised some from his earlier visits to the library.

  Something about the place felt old. Runes covered the stone walls and looked like they’d been placed there over centuries by many different hands. The symbols called to Munro. He wanted very much to touch them, to try to decipher their meaning.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “We call this the vault,” Oszlár said and took him toward the centre of the room. The others had stepped aside to invite them into their circle. “Keepers,” he said. “I would present to you Draoidh Quinton Munro.”

  Oszlár gestured to one of the others, and the keepers began to chant slowly. Munro stepped back as the sound of stone scraping against stone filled the room. A six-foot circle of solid rock rose from the centre of the ground until it protruded three feet.

  The artefact didn’t look any different from the stone of the floor at first, but Munro’s heart began to beat a little faster as he stared at it.

  “What do you think this is?” Oszlár asked quietly.

  The question seemed innocuous, but Munro could tell by the eager looks on the others’ faces that they expected something profound. He had no clue what they wanted, so he didn’t say a word. The stone drew him forward.

  Then, from somewhere deep in the rock, a glow formed. The change was subtle. At first Munro thought the radiance a trick of the light. It grew until no one could mistake the source.