Azuri Fae (2 page)

“Time?” he said with a sad laugh. His accent sounded so strange. Probably some immigrant. “That’s
all
I’ve got.”

With a pop, a blue flash blinded her, and the last thing she felt was her finger squeezing the trigger.

One week earlier…

“Ah, child, you look tired,” Imire said, holding the gate open for his daughter Eilidh.

She stepped into his garden and sank into an oak chair he’d carved with his own hands. In addition to being a scholar, Imire was a true artisan. The canopy of green overhead revealed the glow of starlight. “Life has become complicated.” She sighed. “I never understood humans before, thinking they were silly little ants, running around, rushing and using words like
complicated
.” A wry smile curled her lips.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Imire had aged greatly over the twenty-five years Eilidh had been exiled. Her crime had been simply to be what had come to be called an
azuri fae
, named after the Father of the Azure, who granted a few of her people the ability to cast the Path of Stars. The talent had been forbidden in the kingdom for a millennium. Like all other azuri fae, Eilidh had been sentenced to death. Her father risked everything and used his position as a priest to help her escape. A twist of fate allowed her to return to her homeland six months earlier, but her homecoming didn’t yet feel real. She shied away from those who would treat her as a hero, preferring to visit her father privately in the quiet of his home, rather than seek the attention of those who wanted to make a fuss.

Eilidh inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of the Otherworld. She spent most of her time in the human realm on the Isle of Skye, studying, practising, learning what she should have mastered a hundred years ago when she was a little girl. But she made the point to see her father when she could. If she let them, the azuri fae on Skye would have her learning incantations day and night. She looked around, watching fireflies appear and then vanish in the darkness. “It feels strange to me now. Everything is so familiar, and yet…”

“Give it time. Within a year, it will be as though you never left. Maybe if you spent a few months or even a few weeks here with me. Rest. Heal. You’ve gone through so much.”

Eilidh smiled at her father. He was too wise a faerie to believe she was not changed forever by her experience, but she could feel him willing her to be happy. “I can’t stay,” she said. “Not yet.”

With a sigh, Imire nodded. “I wish I had known about the azuri colony a hundred years ago. If I had sent you there as a child, so much grief could have been avoided.”

“Wasn’t it you who used to say there was no good done by dwelling on the past?”

Imire chuckled. For a moment he looked younger, his face less haggard and drawn. “I did indeed. However, the older I get, the more difficult it is to take my own advice. I have more memories than I once did, you know.” He brushed a speck off his long green robes. “But let us talk and eat and enjoy the hours we have left before sunrise. Then stay the day, sleep under the sun in the tallest bough like you did as a little girl.”

She opened her mouth to answer when a uniformed faerie strode through the gate. The fae did not observe the same rules of privacy humans did, and Eilidh noticed even the fae of Skye had adopted more human ways. They still kept to the night and slept during the day, but they had box-like houses and doors that locked. So it startled her to see an unannounced visitor invading their private conversation. She was doubly surprised by the uniform that identified him as a royal servant.

The young and handsome faerie had gleaming golden hair braided down his back. He addressed Imire with a slight incline of his head. “I am Teasair. I have a message for Eilidh, daughter of Imire and Eithne.”

Imire nodded. “Welcome. May I offer you refreshment?”

The messenger slipped his hand inside his cornflower-blue doublet and produced a small coin-like token, carved into complex scrollwork around an ancient rune. He held it out to Eilidh, who stared.

“A summons?” she said in disbelief.

The messenger inclined his head politely. “Queen Cadhla requests your presence.”

Eilidh stood and accepted the small disc, which fit into the palm of her hand. The queen’s sigil thrummed with earth magic.

Imire raised an eyebrow. “In all my years, I’ve never met the queen. I’ve only caught glimpses of her from a distance. This is quite an honour.”

Eilidh paused in worried silence. The queen was notoriously reclusive, but that seemed to be what people expected. She was a distant, almost symbolic figure in Eilidh’s mind, more of an emblem than a person. “Of course,” she finally managed to say. “I will attend. At what hour?” She glanced at the stars above, gauging the time before sunrise.

“Now,” Teasair said, gesturing toward the door.

“I need time to prepare. I am not suitably dressed.” Eilidh’s mind whirled. She had no idea what to wear. She had little fae clothing left after her long exile, only what she’d left behind a quarter century ago. Most of it suitable for a child, not a woman past the century mark of adulthood. At the moment, she wore the human clothing she’d worn during her exile: jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. All the fae on Skye dressed similarly and even cast illusions to disguise any distinctively fae features, such as twisted ears, so they would blend into the human realm. They lived apart from the humans, in a small village populated only by their own kind. Away from the Otherworld, though, they were ever cautious.

“Queen Cadhla realises the suddenness of the summons, and along with the entire kingdom, celebrates the sacrifices you made on behalf of our people. Her Majesty will no doubt be most forgiving of any slight lapse in protocol that might, on any other day, cause offense.” He said it with mild disdain, as though Eilidh should be grateful the queen extended such understanding.

Eilidh glanced at her father, who nodded. She had no choice. One did not refuse a summons from the faerie queen or delay when ordered to appear immediately. “The Halls of Mist?”

“No,” Teasair said, leading Eilidh through the gate. “Her Majesty is in residence at Eirlioc Falls in the North.” Once out of earshot of Imire, he lowered his voice. “She will be well protected. One whiff of the Path of Stars, and you will be cut down where you stand.” His tone held menacing promise.

Eilidh bristled. “I am no threat to anyone, least of all the queen.” She held the messenger’s gaze, refusing to look away as he stared into her eyes.

He blinked slowly, a subtle gesture of acknowledgement, one so slight, a human would not have understood the exchange. Eilidh’s thoughts went to Quinton Munro as she and the messenger set off on a slow lope north through the Otherworld. She wanted to show her bonded druid this place, but not until she could promise him safety. She didn’t know if a human had ever set foot in the fae realm and lived to tell of it. But it was home, as much a part of her as Perth, Scotland was of him.

Although the time of exile had led to a sense of alienation from her kinsmen, when she breathed in the magic of the kingdom, she felt whole again. The pair jogged through mighty trees that reached hundreds of feet into the air. In many ways, the forests of the Otherworld were similar to the forests of the Scottish highlands, with towering pines and a soft floor of moss and fallen evergreen needles. The differences, although subtle, meant no faerie could wander outside the Otherworld and not keenly feel the loss. The faerie realm had vibrancy and colour, a strength that made the human world seem dead by comparison.

Besides lacking the unpredictable and untameable weather that haunted the human realm, in the Otherworld, magic swirled like mist, touching every plant and creature. Humans were clever with their machines—held in disdain by the fae—but Eilidh had come to appreciate industry in her time among the humans. But even the smallest things had great beauty in the Otherworld, where raindrops shone like diamonds. The human world could feel grey, lifeless, and empty.

After a short, moderately paced run of a few hours, the messenger stopped atop a hill and gestured ahead to a gap in the trees. Eilidh stepped forward and looked into the valley. Just beyond a low, snow-blanketed landscape, Eirlioc Falls rose like a towering flow of ice, carved into granite mountains beyond. Although she’d seen many wonders in her lifetime, this astounded her. Tall white spires rose into the northern sky, reflecting luminous blue moonglow.

She smiled at Teasair. “Thank you for showing me this moment of great beauty.”

He tilted his head, as though uneasy with her gratitude. “Come. Queen Cadhla does not wait easily.” They trotted down the hill and joined a main road, where many fae walked slowly to and from Eirlioc Falls. Eilidh’s human clothing and short-cropped hair caught a few glances, but otherwise, no one paid them any attention.

On close inspection, the falls were even larger than they had appeared from the hilltop. They were not true ice, but carved from brilliant white stone. Eilidh could detect no seams or a single tool mark on the surface. The entrance was wide and open, with no visible doors or barriers. Eilidh knew this to be a deception. The queen would be well protected, as Teasair had remarked so pointedly. Eilidh could not imagine any of the kingdom wishing harm to their queen. Loyalty to her was loyalty to the Caledonian kingdom itself. However, theirs was not the only kingdom in the world. In fact, it was a small one. Peace had been kept during Eilidh’s lifetime, but her father had known wars in centuries past.

As they moved into a wide courtyard, Teasair motioned for Eilidh to follow him up pure white steps softened by an ice-blue tapestry. She hated to tread on something so beautiful. As they climbed several winding staircases and proceeded down long pathways through the high-walled but open-topped corridors, her thoughts returned, as they often did, to Quinton Munro. The human druid was part of her now, their minds joined through ancient magic, making him literally difficult to forget. Because of that bond, her magical powers had increased many times over. She could now learn the earth magic kingdom faeries knew naturally, but was difficult for azuri fae. His presence, heavy and pulsing, filled a corner of her mind. Along with his happiness, his pain, grief, or even flashes of jealousy that spiked from time to time, causing a distraction she had not yet learned to cope with since the bonding put them in touch with each other’s emotions. Despite the difficulty, she also felt his love. He was so unlike the calculating fae. The intensity of his primal emotions shook her to the core.

Her thoughts had wandered, and she was startled when she realised they had arrived at an immense chamber. The arched entryway opened onto a curved promenade, which led to a dais raised twenty feet above.

As Eilidh and Teasair travelled, the darkest part of the night passed, but the canopy of stars still sparkled overhead. The blue-cast moon illuminated the room. On the dais sat a woman who could only be the queen. Dressed in a filmy gown of iridescent white, she watched the approaching pair with interest, then turned to whisper to a tall faerie who stood behind her. She glowed with power.

Eilidh walked beside Teasair half way up the promenade. He paused and bowed, and she dipped into a low curtsy. The movement felt awkward, but she could no longer bow or salute as she might have done in her days as a kingdom Watcher. They stayed that way, immobile, until the room grew silent and voices in the chamber stilled. The queen said, “Rise and come forward,” her voice clear, with a soft, haunting tone.

The pair rose and Teasair spoke. “Queen Cadhla, may I present Eilidh, daughter of Imire and Eithne, born of the Caledonian kingdom and follower of the Path of Stars.”

A murmur went up in the room at the mention of her forbidden talents. Eilidh fought the urge to cast a glare at Teasair, who had said it as a warning to all in the chamber, to brand her as dangerous before the court.

“Thank you, Teasair,” the queen snapped. “You may go.” She turned her brilliant blue eyes on Eilidh, taking in her appearance, as though evaluating every nuance. “Eilidh, come forward. We wish to speak with you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Eilidh walked up the ovoid steps that led to the dais.

Something about the faerie queen would not let Eilidh look away as she approached. She was vaguely aware of the man dressed in black, who stood behind the queen, and the many others in the chamber: bodyguards, advisors, courtiers, attendants, servants, and those whose roles she could not guess. But even with the crowd of unfamiliar faeries, Eilidh’s eyes were locked on this unbearably beautiful creature, seated on a swing that appeared to be carved out of glass. It hung in the air, supported by nothing, swaying slightly, as though a breeze blew through the room even though the air remained still.

Finally, when she ascended the last step and stood only feet from the queen, the heavy compulsion to meet the queen’s eyes lifted, and Eilidh dropped her gaze to the floor. “Your Majesty,” she said.

“The decision to lift your sentence of death was that of the conclave,” the queen said. “I, on the other hand, am unconvinced. Your past actions have been both devious and violent.”

Eilidh stayed motionless, eyes down. She could think of no response, so she kept her silence.