Azuri Fae (4 page)

With his back still to her, Griogair asked, “Do you know of my son? He’s barely older than you. He recently marked a hundred and seventy-five years.”

“I know little about Prince Trath.”

Griogair turned. “You are being diplomatic,” he said, but waved his hand. “You will not offend me. The Great Mother blessed us with a child, but even the royals do not get to choose.”

Eilidh concentrated on her food and chewed. She did not want to have to recount to the prince-consort the things she’d heard about his son. That as a boy Trath had little talent in magic or craft, that he was undisciplined and lazy, rarely showed his face in public, and when he did, it didn’t reflect well on the queen. He was hardly a model faerie. But then, seeing his parents close-up, the rumours surprised her less. The queen appeared angry and volatile and her mate equally expressive, even though it was a different emotion he showed.

“But I love my son. Should the Mother bless you with a child of your own, you will understand.” Griogair sat across from Eilidh at the table. “A child will move even the most dispassionate of the fae to extremes. Look at your own father. It is said he broke his vows as a priest, lied to the conclave, travelled the kingdoms…all for you.”

Eilidh tilted her head in acknowledgement. It surprised her how much the queen and prince-consort knew about her.

“I would do no less for Trath. In fact, I would go further. I will commit treason and risk death or exile.”

“And why would you need to take such risks for your son?”

Griogair smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on the tablecloth. “He is missing.”

“Missing, Your Highness? How can he be…missing?”

“We have already searched our kingdom, and discreetly done the same for friendly kingdoms beyond the Halls of Mist. In as much as was possible, without alerting the Watchers as to the truth, we have searched the borderlands as well. It has taken time, but both Cadhla and I are satisfied he is not anywhere we can reach him. He simply vanished.”

“How long ago?”

“Four new moons. It is growing increasingly problematic to cover his absence. For now, we have spread the rumour that he is in a meditative retreat. Somewhat difficult to believe, but Cadhla would not agree to anything that might cast a questionable light. As weeks go by, more questions are asked, and the lies become more challenging.”

Eilidh put down her food and looked at Griogair. “And why do you think I can help you? I assure you, my astral talents will be of little use. Do you wish me to speak with the azuri conclave? See if one of their number has some power that would locate him?”

“No!” Griogair said sharply. “No one must know. No one but you.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I don’t know what I can do.”

A silence hung between them for a while as Griogair seemed lost in thought. “It is said you have bonded with a human. Is that true?”

Eilidh met his eyes. “Yes.” So many of the fae seemed to find it somehow disgraceful, but these were only the ignorant among the kingdom fae. Only one who followed the Path of Stars could bond with a true druid, and Munro had magic of his own. He was no ordinary human, and she wouldn’t be shamed at their connection. It saddened Eilidh that centuries of ignorance caused the kingdoms to lose such a powerful magic as the druid-fae bond.

“And he is a Watcher?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. He is what they call a policeman.”

“And is he powerful among his kind? He has rank and influence?”

Eilidh considered. She didn’t understand so much of human society. “He is what they call a Police Constable. He has been honoured among his people.”

“I see.” Griogair scratched his chin, pondering, but sounding impressed.

“And does your bond ensure his loyalty?”

Without thinking, Eilidh looked away, probing her mind, feeling for Munro’s presence. When she reached for it, it responded like rippling water, and its warmth came over her. She nearly told the prince Munro’s love ensured his loyalty, not any magical bond, but she wasn’t certain Griogair would understand. Love was not a word the fae used often, especially not in the romantic sense. Once again, she was reminded how different the two races were, and how much she had been wedged between two worlds. She simply replied, “Yes,” then added, “but as I’ve already said, I don’t see what I can do that your own trusted advisors can’t do better. My powers are untrained and untested.”

“There is one place we have not been able to search for him. Although Queen Cadhla denies the logic of my reasoning, there is one place I believe the most likely for him to be. There, you and your druid are more suited than any to find his trail.”

Eilidh glanced up sharply. “You think Prince Trath has gone to the human realm?” The idea shocked her. Even journeying to the borderlands, the place where the two worlds overlapped, was rare for any other than fae Watchers. Before her exile, like most fae, she stayed on her own side of the boundaries.

“Left, perhaps, or was taken. We do have enemies who would think nothing of harming us…or our family. On the other hand, it’s the one place he could get away from all this.” Griogair gestured around her. “Away from the guards, the court, the advisors, the politics…the rumours.” He frowned, his violet eyes growing dark. “From his mother.”

There was so much Griogair wasn’t saying that Eilidh hardly knew what to ask first. “And the queen would not want me to search for Prince Trath?”

“She does not even want
me
to continue looking for our son. She has begun to thwart me at every turn, now even forbidding me from speaking to our advisors on the subject.” The prince-consort took Eilidh’s hand, a shockingly intimate gesture. “Find my son. Please.”

His plea was moving, but she felt certain he had not told her everything. “I must think on it. I believe you are sincere, but you are asking me to subvert the queen’s will, to risk
another
death sentence. I was fortunate to escape the first one.”

Griogair nodded and released her hand. He stood. “I understand. If you cannot do this, I’ll find another way. I will…” His voice trailed off.

“Give me a few days. I must travel to Skye. The queen expects me to deliver her message to the azuri conclave. I can promise you this much. I will think on what you’ve said, and I will speak to my bonded druid.”

The prince went to the door. “I’m sure you are eager to be on your way. I will keep the queen occupied until morning, and she will make her excuses for not asking you to dine as our guest.”

Eilidh tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Griogair put his hand on the door, then turned, his brow furrowed. “I will give you anything you ask if you bring my son back to me. I swear it.” With that, he left her alone.

Soon after Prince Griogair left Eilidh’s room, an attendant arrived and conveyed the queen’s regrets. Eilidh was welcome to stay as long as she liked, but she instructed the attendant to thank Queen Cadhla for her generous hospitality and to let the queen know Eilidh would be leaving immediately for Skye.

She could move much faster in the Otherworld than in the human world. Only a scant three hours later, Eilidh arrived at the Otherworld gate parallel to her borderlands’ destination. The closest she could get to the Isle of Skye was Fionn Lighe. Winter had set in, and the highland forest air held a crisp chill. Here, in the woods and in the dark, the scent of the Otherworld still lingered, but she knew she would keenly feel the loss soon. The azuri fae of Skye had blocked the one Otherworld gate on the island and lived completely outside the kingdom’s influence. All but a few had been born after the rebellion a thousand years ago. They never knew the world that should have been their home.

Perhaps, Eilidh thought, she could help set things right. The faeries of this colony were safe, protected for years by secrecy and now in part by fear of their mind powers, but they could never leave this small island without danger. The borders to the Otherworld expanded at night, leaving little beyond the holes burned into it by the encroaching human society. To avoid the kingdom that would have ordered their deaths, the Skye fae had to stay in their secure little corner of the human world.

Only one faerie had agreed to help Eilidh when she faced the blood faerie that killed so many this past summer: Beniss, an elder, had earned Eilidh’s respect. Now Beniss was dead, and Eilidh had delivered the news to her sister, her children and her grandchildren. It was a terrible moment, one from which the community hadn’t fully recovered. They took Eilidh in and began training her in the Path of Stars, but she did not feel entirely trusted or at home.

As she moved through the forest, she called on earth magic, which had been alien to her before joining with Munro. Through him, in addition to her astral talents, she had access to air, water, stone and fire, spheres of power that kingdom fae could touch naturally, although most could only master one. Although she was not yet adept, the lessons of her childhood, forced upon her because her father and teachers could not acknowledge, much less encourage, her real abilities, came back with clarity.

The stones trembled with the slightest touches as animals passed around her. She felt the life of the river nearby and could sense the flows of magic pulsing cold within it. The air carried sounds to her ears, buzzing, whistling, chirping forest noises. In the distance, she detected the hum of a heavy farm vehicle. After she crossed the sound that separated Skye from the rest of Scotland, skating across the water on a gust of air power, she used a lick of fire to dry her leather shoes in an instant. She singed them slightly, not being accustomed to wielding the force. Before she’d bonded with Munro, fire had been her weakest element. She could not help but revel in her new competencies.

As she made her way toward the centre of the island, her earth powers drained away. An enchantment cast by the azuri fae rendered the powers of the kingdom useless. She hadn’t been affected on her first visit, because her abilities had been so insignificant then that the loss didn’t affect her deeply. But this time, it was as though a dark cloud passed between her and the sun.

Eilidh headed for the community centre building the faeries had taken over. She assumed they would be wrapping up the conclave meeting around this time. Even though the Skye fae had taken to disguising themselves as humans, even dressing like them and eating what human food their systems could tolerate, they kept to the night. It didn’t take long for Eilidh to revert to her natural nocturnal rhythm after coming here to train.

Hesitating only a few moments at the door, Eilidh walked in. The notice boards were filled with papers advertising local events, and the small kitchen just off the entry held a kettle, a coffee pot, and polystyrene cups. The only clue that this place was anything other than what it pretended to be was the faint smell of kliesh, a strong drink brewed from a plant that grew only in the Otherworld.

As Eilidh approached the back of the building, she saw a familiar face.

“We have been expecting you,” Oron said.

Quinton Munro sat on the floor of his spare bedroom, the walls covered with shelf after shelf of small stone and metal talismans, crafted over the months by his emerging druidic powers. The earlier works rested on higher shelves, more crude than his recent efforts.

His current project had properties that still eluded him. The material was once a plain, brass house key. Now, it stretched into filament-thin wings, which he delicately shaped onto the back of a shimmering dragonfly. He could feel the earth power thrum within it, vibrating hard enough to send a tremor through the wings. Even he could appreciate its beauty and craftsmanship, for which he took no credit. But somehow, it frustrated him.

He and the other druids he knew felt something close to a compulsion to create. Since his primary element of power was stone, metal and rocks responded to his touch easily. The others were all water druids, so their talismans were wooden or sometimes made of reed. Phillip had tried to make one of cloth, but failed. Rory found cotton responded to him, while silk didn’t. They wondered if perhaps it had to do with Rory being able to touch air flows, where Phillip’s talents leaned toward the stone end of the spectrum. There was so much they didn’t understand about their own abilities, none of them having more than a year or two of experience.

But neither they or the other two druids they knew had constructed anything with life in it, and therein lay Munro’s frustration. He could feel something missing, but couldn’t draw out whatever was locked inside his creations. With a sigh, he put the tiny brass dragonfly on one of the shelves.

The craft provided such a contrast to his other life, his
real
life, where he worked as a beat cop in his hometown of Perth, Scotland. In that life, he found order, even in the chaos of dragging drunks off the street, breaking up fights, or the simple activity of giving directions to a lost tourist. Those things made sense. That world was simple in comparison to the elusive and foreign realm of magic he’d discovered quite by accident last summer.