Age of Druids (6 page)

“Of course,” Oron said.

“About what?” Eilidh snapped.

Munro gave her a level look. He thought about telling her it was druid business. See how she liked being kept in the dark. But once again, he tempered his reaction. “I discovered an ancient monument in The Bleak unlike any I’ve ever seen. Even drawing on the spirit power of Lady Joy and the astral talent of my azuri Mistwatcher, I wasn’t able to make much of the runes. I’d like their counsel.”

A light shimmered in Oron’s eyes. “Fascinating,” he said. “Of course we’ll help.” The others nodded in eager agreement. With a bare glance to the queen, the elder said, “We were just about to wrap up here. I think we all agree we should take no action on the matter of Prince Griogair just yet. We acknowledge that although we abhor the idea the queen’s mate was killed, we must examine the facts with cool reason.” Munro doubted very much that Eilidh, at least, had made any such agreement, but even she couldn’t argue against patience and deliberation.

She looked pointedly at Munro. “I will see you in my private chambers. Now.” With that, she stood and marched out, her long skirt rustling as she walked. Out in the corridor, Munro heard the Watchers fall in step behind her as she strode away.

Munro glanced at Elder Oron. “I should go,” he said.

Oron shook his head. “Be patient with her, my lord druid. She feels betrayed by one she has grown to love deeply. Queen Eilidh has always done what is right by our kingdom. In this, let us allow her to grieve that loss and trust she will continue to serve her people justly.”

“Are you certain Griogair is responsible for Koen’s death?” Munro still couldn’t believe it.

“The Watchers each give the same testimony.”

“Does Griogair deny the charge?”

Setir, the eldest of the earth contingent of the joint conclave, replied, “He has said little.”

Munro sighed and muttered, “I don’t have time for this shit.”

A weary smile stretched across Oron’s face. “Nor do we, my lord druid. Yet, this is the way of tragedy. It never waits for a convenient moment to strike.”

Of all people, Munro understood that truth. “Do me one favour, if you would. Ask around about the Watchers who spoke out against Griogair. I find it difficult to believe he would defy Eilidh directly.” He paused, almost stopping himself from voicing the thought in his head, but he trusted Oron and knew his sentiments were shared by the conclave. “Koen really was a worthless sack of shit. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”

Oron nodded. “I will order questions to be asked, but please discourage your mate from taking rash actions. Make a decree if you must. We cannot let Prince Griogair come to harm if he was under some influence we haven’t discovered. Perhaps he has a reason for his behaviour he hasn’t yet divulged.”

Munro blinked. He wasn’t prepared to order Eilidh around in her own kingdom. No good would come of that. He hoped she wouldn’t force him to. “I’ll do what I can. I suppose our talk of ancient gates will wait.”

“For now, perhaps,” Oron said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “But not too long. The Bleak is one place we know little of, and I confess to a morbid fascination with that dark realm.”

Calling America a
dark realm
seemed a touch melodramatic, but Munro had learned not to tell faeries their superstitions were unfounded. They viewed themselves as logical beings, and nothing could convince them otherwise. “Agreed,” Munro said. “If I can, I’ll come find you after I speak with Eilidh. I want to discuss Maiya as well.”

“I look forward to our chat,” Oron said. “As always, the conversation promises to be interesting.” He put a lilt on the last word, leaving Munro uncertain what the elder truly thought.

Munro said farewell and followed the path Eilidh had taken. With each step, he tried to send reassurance through their bond.

When he arrived at her private chamber, he made himself comfortable in her sitting room. He heard running water and the soft movements of attendants helping Eilidh in the bath. She often bathed when she wanted a moment alone to think. She’d ordered him to follow, but he decided he’d wait, give her a moment to breathe. Slipping a hand over one of the lounge chairs, Munro reflected that had been Griogair’s favourite spot. How many times had the three of them sat in here, enjoying the few private moments they had? They, plus Maiya as well as Griogair’s son, Prince Tràth, had been a family. So much had changed.

Quinton, please come.
Eilidh’s mood had softened, and her telepathic message had a conciliatory feel.

He stood and went through her immense dressing room and into the bathing chamber. On his arrival, Eilidh signalled her attendants to leave. One by one, they filed out, and Munro took to a seat near the large, round bath and kicked off his shoes. Almost the instant they were alone, Eilidh began to cry.

Thinking back over the time they’d known each other, he couldn’t recall seeing her cry. Not through all the tragedies and upheaval. Watching the shimmering tracks make their way down her cheeks, he felt lost and helpless. He rushed to kneel beside her and took her into his arms. Water soaked into his clothing as it sloshed over the side of the tub. After a long moment, she lifted her red-rimmed eyes to meet his. With a tender gesture, he used a finger to sweep the tears from her face. “You’re getting salt in the bath,” he said softly.

She gave a small, unexpected laugh. As quickly as the smile had come to her face, it vanished and she looked away. “I lost you, then Koen, now Griogair too. I admit Koen was no prize, but it’s too much,” she said. “I’ll stand as the only queen in history to have three mates die in less than a year.”

“Hey,” Munro said, cupping her cheek in his hand and gently turning her face toward him. “I only died temporarily, and now I’m back, so that doesn’t count. I’ll grant you Koen, but nothing is settled about Griogair yet. We will investigate further before you reach a final decision, surely.”

She sighed. “I’d be forced to order the execution of
anyone
guilty of such a crime.” When Munro started to argue, she stopped him. “I hate it too, Quinton. You must believe that. But the Andenan population in Caledonia is stirred up about Koen’s death. They treated him as their leader and were perhaps more loyal to him than to me. They demand justice. I left behind additional Watchers at Eirlioc Falls since Koen had so many supporters there. With so much upheaval in the kingdoms after the return of the Father of the Sky and the reunification of the Otherworld, uncertainty is rife.”

“You’d execute Griogair just to stop a riot?” Munro sat back on his heels, staring at her.

“I may have no choice. We each disliked Koen, may the Mother forgive us, but he was under the protection of my royal bloodline. The law is clear.”

“Eilidh, Griogair loves you. He never would do this, at least not without good reason.”

Eilidh took his hand, her fingers dripping more water on the floor. “My love,” she said, her heartbreak keening through their bond. “Griogair confessed.”

“What?” Munro’s thoughts buzzed. “But he knows the law as well as anyone. He would have known what would happen, what it would do to you. It’s just not in his character to be violent or careless of consequences.”

“I agree, but I can’t change the truth.” She glanced away. “I’ve never felt so angry, so betrayed. I trusted him completely.”

Munro’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing about this makes sense. Griogair must be protecting someone. Or someone is influencing him, forcing him to confess.” He looked into Eilidh’s eyes. “Don’t do anything. Don’t issue any commands you can’t take back. We will get to the bottom of this.”

Eilidh shook her head. “You aren’t a policeman anymore. I have Watchers, elders, and others investigating. They will do their jobs well.”

“There must be something I can do,” Munro said. “What if I take him under the protection of the Druid Hall?”

Eilidh stiffened. Every queen bore some resentment over the way the druids could and sometimes did interfere in their kingdoms. Even Eilidh was not immune to taking a protective stance concerning Caledonia’s sovereignty.

Sensing her reaction, he quickly added, “I don’t intend to undermine your authority, Eilidh. I just want to protect Griogair until we find out the truth. Your people can’t blame you if I make a command.”

With a sigh, Eilidh rose from the bath and stepped onto a sodden rug. Using her air and fire talents, she dried herself with warm gusts of wind. “You are a druid lord, but you are also my mate. As such, you are under my authority, at least in Caledonia.”

He knew she couldn’t enforce her claim and wasn’t convinced she would try. But more importantly, he loved her and didn’t want this to turn into a division between them. She was heartbroken and felt alone. How could he be a good partner to her, remain loyal to his friendship with Griogair, help her maintain stability in Caledonia, and not cede an inch of the authority of the Druid Hall? And what of Huck and Demi? He wasn’t prepared to slow down his search for them. “I love you, Eilidh, but you’re dead wrong about this.”

“Dead wrong?” she repeated, her voice distant. She shook off her moment of reverie and slipped on a day robe. Even though the sun was hours away from rising, she clearly had no intention of continuing her work for the night. Considering her usual dedication to duty, that worried Munro more than her tears had.

“I’ll talk to Griogair, then meet with Oron and the other azuri members of your conclave about their options, as well as the concerns that brought me here in the first place.”

Eilidh gave him a half-hearted smile. “You didn’t come just because I asked you to?”

He kissed her forehead. “No.” The exhaustion overwhelmed him. He’d been tired more often since returning from death, and this new stress threatened to push him over the edge. Just when he thought he couldn’t cope with one more thing, couldn’t juggle one more ball. “I will do what I can to help you, even if that means countermanding your orders and giving Griogair asylum at
Rìoghachd nan Ceòthan
.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, but her voice betrayed her lack of conviction.

“As always, we’ll both do what we must,” he said.

She nodded, looking worried at the prospect.

Chapter 4

Rory turned the dial on the Mistgate to point to the Danastai rune Ewain had carved on it three months before. The faeries worshipped the geezer, and Munro confirmed he had been, in fact, the same person once known as the Father of the Sky. Still, Rory didn’t trust him. Truth be told, he didn’t trust much of anyone these days.

Placing his palm onto the carved pedestal, he called on his water magic, letting a pool form around his fingers in the hand-shaped indentation. Only druids could open this gate because only they possessed the power to make the sacrifice required. Rory didn’t understand how druid magic was different from fae magic, except that where faeries
used
magical flows, druids created and stimulated the power.

He turned to Sheng. “Ready?”

“Absolutely,” the Aussie druid replied. His brown eyes gleamed with anticipation. Sheng was the newest member of the Druid Hall, having only been with them a couple of months. He’d learned faster than any of them had, and he worked tirelessly. Rory was surprised he’d agreed to leave his current projects at Ceòthan, but Sheng said he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to meet one of the original twelve draoidh.

Flùranach entered the garden just as Rory had begun considering whether to leave without her. He wouldn’t, of course, but he indulged the thought anyway. “Sorry I’m late, my lord druids,” she said, lowering her eyes. He sensed in their half-formed bond that she expected to be reprimanded. She seemed to
want
him to scold her. All this time, and he didn’t understand her one bit.

Rory turned to the gate. “Let’s go,” he said. With a nod to the Mistwatcher on guard, Rory stepped through. Sheng soon followed, and Flùranach came last. The transition was effortless, unlike journeys through their early attempts at gates. He did, however, require a moment to orient to the new surroundings.

They’d arrived in a ruin of a city. Rory didn’t know what he’d expected: a forest, a desert, maybe some desolate wilderness, but not this. Grass was interrupted by patches of cobble. The spot where they stood had clearly once been a wide road. The shimmering image of the Mistgate stood and would remain open for a few minutes until Aaron came to shift the runes back to the original destination. Light gleamed from the reflected image of the gate, casting shadows over crumbling pillars and into darkened rooms on either side of the street. Vines and weeds covered many entrances and animals rustled. A cacophony of birds shouted at them from atop a nearby collapsed roof, then they all took flight at once.

Sheng’s hand went to one of the talismans he wore around his neck. Rory wondered what good he thought they’d do. Neither of them knew how to delve into Flùranach’s magic the way Munro could. Without that ability, they were little more than human.

The large moon shone blue over the rooftops, casting long shadows across the road. The place seemed strangely alive for a city so obviously abandoned. Rory turned to Flùranach. “Do you sense druids nearby? Or fae?” She had the useful talent of being able to detect druids, even those with dormant abilities.