Azuri Fae (23 page)

The elder tilted his head. “Not as king, but perhaps as a prince. It is a role they would not find threatening.”

Eilidh tapped the table in frustration. “He must be king, or we will not be able to claim our place in the Halls of Mist. A kingdom must have a ruling monarch. Even if we deposed Cadhla, with only a prince, we would quickly be consumed by one of the other larger kingdoms that sensed weakness. It’s only a title. Surely a king is as good as a prince.”

The elder chuckled. “Not only a prince, milady. A prince-consort.”

Munro got the elder’s meaning before Eilidh did, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

She argued on. “That doesn’t make any sense. Griogair can’t possibly go back to Cadhla. She’s planning to murder him.”

“Eilidh, he doesn’t mean as Cadhla’s consort, but as yours.”

She turned and rolled her eyes at Munro. “That’s ridiculous. That would mean…”

Griogair’s face was perfectly still, and Munro couldn’t read him. He could read Eilidh clearly though. If she was in turmoil before, she was a hurricane of emotion now.

Oron’s face brightened. “You’re so right, Conwrey. It’s the perfect solution. The azuri will accept her, and the kingdom fae will accept him. He will balance any question about her experience and nobility, and she will counter any argument about his loyalty to the exiles. The ceremony should take place as soon as possible. No, we must crown her first. She is queen first, then she takes a mate. This way there can be no question of his status.” The room burst into conversation, each of the elders speaking over the others. Munro had never seen the fae in such a state. It was as though Eilidh herself had been completely forgotten.

She sat, shaking her head in disbelief. “No,” she said quietly, but no one paid any attention. Munro could feel her anger rising, gurgling inside her.
No
, she thought, and the room froze, everyone having heard it. “I will not force Griogair into another loveless, political marriage because it is convenient for us. I will not…” Then she stopped whatever she was going to say and stood. “I will not,” she repeated.

Relief washed over Munro. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“You would not have to force me,” Griogair said, and every eye turned to him. He stood facing Eilidh, and he bowed to her. “It would be an honour.”

Oron stood beside Eilidh and put his arm around her. “Of course no one would force anyone to do anything. It’s a lot to take in. It’s been a long day. Don’t worry. We will take care of everything.”

She started to argue, but Munro took her hand. “Eilidh, let’s get some air. Oron is right. You need food and rest.” His heart was pounding and his thoughts reeling, just like hers were, but he kept himself steady for her. To Oron he said, “I’ll take her to the druids’ house.”

Oron barely seemed to notice their departure, but Prince Griogair slipped out after them. As they stepped hand-in-hand to the side gate, he said, “Milady, I would have a private word with you, if you will. These things should not be decided in committee, but sadly, they often are, when one is a head of state.”

She glanced at Munro. “Where I go, my druid goes. Anything to be said to me can be said to him.”

Griogair hesitated, then nodded. “As you wish.” He followed them silently to the house. The other druids were nowhere about, so the three sat in the front room. When they got comfortable, he said, “This was not my plan.”

Eilidh inclined her head. “I know. This seems very much an idea that was conceived at a moment’s notice. It is not well considered. I don’t know what the conclave is thinking, trying to raise me, of all the azuri fae, as their queen.”

“No, that I understand. You are young, but powerful. You can mind-speak, which you demonstrated very nicely to all of us. You told Cadhla that was a rare talent only the most powerful can employ, did you not? Almost unheard of for one your age?”

“I don’t have power. I have potential.”

“That’s the most we can ask for in a young queen. Cadhla was as young and inexperienced as you when she took the throne. But it’s more than your potential power. Your popularity in the kingdom helps. They see you as self-sacrificing, where Cadhla has become a horror. Oh, she will try to contain the rumours as she always has, but with my whispers and those of my network of friends, she won’t find it so easy this time.”

“But—”

“I can, just with my word, make you noble. I can’t, however, make you royal, give you legitimacy in the Halls of Mist. Only taking me as your mate, or someone like me, would accomplish that. Is there another you think would be more suitable? The queen of Prow has a son.” Griogair sat back, thinking. “And they would be a powerful ally. They have restricted their azuri, but not been as harsh with them as Cadhla has. They may consider it. Then there’s the queen of Saldire. She has an elder brother. Yes, that might work. I know him. I can get a message to him. It might take some time since we have to go down to the Andenan gates to contact my messengers. Or maybe the sea fae would carry our request for parley to the Halls of Mist.”

“Sea…? Griogair. No. I won’t take any of them. Yes, I would be accepted as a royal, but they couldn’t bring me the hearts of the Caledonians the way you can.”

Munro remained quiet, watching the two of them talk.
Was she actually considering this?

“What about Trath?” she asked gently.

“Trath?” Griogair said thoughtfully. “Yes. It could work. He is younger, and perhaps not strong right now, but he will heal in time, and I would be on hand to advise you, if that’s what you wanted. Although Cadhla disowned him when she sent the death order, many would accept him as the legitimate heir.”

“What? No.” She shook her head. “I don’t mean I want to take Trath as my mate. By faith, Griogair, he’s been unconscious half the day, and even then, the kingdom might be nervous if both the queen and her consort had unprecedented talents in the Path of Stars. He needs guidance, teaching and care. What I meant was what about his feelings? Yes, fine, we can sketch out a plan, but we aren’t the only ones we’re affecting. Your son needs a father who can care for him, not one tied to an infant queen, a substitute mother even younger than he. I understand you would sacrifice your own desires for your people, and I admire that, but I love Quinton.” She didn’t look at Munro, but he could feel the swell of emotion as she kept her eyes on Griogair. “So, you see, I can’t do this.”

The prince met Eilidh’s eyes. “You must. Yes, Trath will need help, but he always has. With you on the throne, he would receive that help. I wouldn’t have to fear for his life. You speak about the feelings of others, but what about your father? If you take me as your mate, you could ensure he was never harmed or threatened again. Him and hundreds of others. You could save others like Trath, get them the training they need before they lose control.”

“Hey,” Munro interrupted. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” Griogair agreed. “It isn’t fair, but it is the truth.”

Munro stood. “Eilidh is tired, and she needs to sleep. Can you find your way back to Oron’s, or shall I walk you back?”

The prince looked from Munro to Eilidh. “Think about what I have said. I know you have endured a lot in your life. I share some of the responsibility for that. I didn’t fight Cadhla to try and convince her to accept those who follow the Path of Stars.”

Eilidh shook her head. “She wouldn’t have listened. If she would kill her own son, she was beyond redemption.”

Munro spoke up. “You said if I saved your son, you would do anything I asked in return.”

Griogair’s face froze. “I did. Is this what you ask? That I abandon my people in their most difficult hour? That I refuse the conclave’s request to become Eilidh’s consort? You are human.” He waved away the protest building in Munro’s chest that must have been evident on his face. “You are an important human, I see that, but I say this to remind you that you don’t understand our people as well as you will in a few centuries. I can see the winds blowing, druid. Eilidh will be queen at nightfall. She doesn’t belong to you. She belongs to her people. She will never be your housebound wife in a wee cottage in the heather. I gave you my word, and you gave me my son, but please don’t ask me to abandon my honour.”

Munro looked down. He had always known he and Eilidh would never be a typical couple, but he couldn’t see how he could give her up to another man.

Eilidh stood. “Good day, Griogair. Thank you for your counsel. I value your thoughts and your experience. No matter what I decide, I hope I can count on your support.” She smiled graciously, but Munro knew it to be a false smile.

“When you are crowned, my knee will be the first to bend. I made a promise to you as well. It’s the least I can do for the life of my only child.” He left without another word, closing the front door softly behind him.

Eilidh held out her hand to Munro, and he took it tentatively. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Ask me that at dusk. As Griogair said, I’ll be queen tonight. The conclave has made up their minds about that much, and I know I have little choice if I want to remain part of this community. All that remains is to argue over the details. My only choice would be to go back into exile, to abandon them and my father forever. I can’t do that.” A tear slid down her cheek. “For now, can we hold one another? Can we forget our worries, the things that will come, and spend the last daylight hours pretending we’re two young, carefree lovers?” She drew close and kissed him, but he could feel her sadness and desperation.

He returned her kiss, swept her into his arms, and carried her to bed. He did his best to distract her from her burdens and to ignore the weight he could sense in her mind.

Munro lay next to Eilidh and watched her sleep. Her pale eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. She murmured once in a while, and he could sense her disquiet, so he brushed his hand softly along her bare arm and whispered, “It’s all right. Shhh.” He placed a small kiss on her forehead.

“
Te’drecht
,” she muttered and nuzzled into his arms, but her thoughts grew calmer.

After a moment, Munro extricated himself from her embrace and stood, all the while trying not to swing the bed so much it would wake her. He paused briefly to take in the view of her perfect skin, the curve of her hips, the crooked smile that suddenly played across her lips. He tried to bury the grief he felt, knowing that if things went the way he feared and she married Griogair, this was likely the last time they would make love.

Sorting through the clothing they’d tossed on the floor, he found his jeans and slipped them on before making his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of berry juice from the fridge and thought about how adaptable the fae on Skye had been, learning to cope with human technology while preserving their own culture. They combined the best of both worlds. He had hoped that he and Eilidh would be able to do the same. Now she was set to be a queen and was considering marrying someone he wasn’t even sure he liked. He leaned against the counter and squeezed his eyes shut.

Could he go back to Perth? He hadn’t yet put his house up for sale, and Hallward hadn’t let him quit his job, so Munro didn’t have to worry about looking for work. Since Eilidh learned to shut off their emotional connection, perhaps she could maintain that. He would always feel her presence, but at least he wouldn’t have to endure feeling her so intimately within his mind. His chest got tighter as he thought about leaving her, but he didn’t see how he could stay and watch her make her life with another man. Surely that would be too much to ask.

The front door opened, and Aaron, Phillip, and Rory’s voices, lifted in good-natured banter, echoed through the house. They came into the kitchen, setting down bags from the supermarket. Apparently they’d decided to supplement the faerie cuisine with Jaffa Cakes and Irn Bru, an orange-coloured Scottish soft drink that was as much a part of the national identity as haggis and stovies.

“Douglas still with Trath?” Aaron asked.

Munro nodded. “Last I saw, yeah. What happened? I wasn’t really watching Douglas in Auchterarder, and then the next thing I know, nobody can budge him from Trath’s bedside.”

“I’m not sure,” Phillip replied. He gathered up the empty plastic bags from their shopping trip and, not finding a recycle bin, stuffed them into a drawer. “They drove with Eilidh and Prince Griogair. They got a bit ahead of us on the road though, and by the time we realised they’d gone to Oron’s instead of coming here, we were told the prince couldn’t be disturbed.”

“If the prince is bonding with Douglas,” Aaron said, “he’s already disturbed.” The others chuckled.

“So what’s going on?” Phillip asked. “There was some big pow-wow at Oron’s, but we couldn’t get past the crowd.”

“Looks like it might be war,” Munro said. He explained that some of Queen Cadhla’s people had attacked the island while their group was in Auchterarder. “They’re thinking about whether to counter-attack and try to take on the kingdom, or to defend and stay independent but argue for recognition from the Halls of Mist. Either way, they’re going to raise a queen. Eilidh.”