Azuri Fae (5 page)

He stood and stretched his back from the long hours sitting in one position. Time passed strangely when he worked on his talismans. He would go into a trance-like state, and everything else faded away. Even if he couldn’t unlock the secrets within the things he made, the activity helped focus his mind, something he and Eilidh had been working on. A smile stole across his lips as he thought of her, and he felt a tug in his chest in response. She was thinking of him too. With every week that passed, their bond grew stronger, her emotions a little more clearly defined.

This weekend, he’d planned to stay home and potter about with his trinkets, to see if this time he could finally manage to find the missing element. Eilidh planned to spend a few days in the Otherworld with her father, and he wasn’t comfortable on Skye without her. The faeries were friendly enough, but like with his talismans, something was missing.

But when he felt Eilidh touch their bond, he knew she had returned to Skye. His mind pointed northwest. He didn’t know if it was their bond, or simply that he had fallen in love with her, but he couldn’t resist her pull. Before he realised what he was doing, he’d grabbed a bag and headed for his car.

Eilidh stood before the Higher Conclave, the twelve faeries who ruled the azuri fae on Skye. At first, she found it difficult to treat the back room of a village community centre as a seat of power, but the faeries were each more than five hundred years old, most closer to seven or eight, two had passed a thousand, and all immensely powerful. She concentrated on keeping her voice clear and her thoughts uncluttered. “While in the Otherworld visiting my father, I was summoned before the queen.”

Oron leaned forward. “Is that so?” He was the eldest among them and the conclave leader, in addition to being Eilidh’s main tutor in the astral arts. He looked at the others, and they exchanged glances she could not interpret. “And what was the nature of your conversation?”

Eilidh outlined the queen’s offer, couching it in as friendly terms as possible, but careful not to distort the intent behind the message. She very much wanted them to accept and reunite the kingdom, but she knew it would not be as easy as saying yes and reopening the Skye gate. Centuries of distrust would take time to heal.

“Have they lifted the death orders?” one member asked. He’d been quiet throughout much of her questioning, but now he turned his dark, penetrating eyes on Eilidh and held her gaze intently. “Is it not still a crime to even
be able
to touch the azure?”

Eilidh offered a small shrug. “Queen Cadhla said each would be considered, and I took her at her word. She did not strike me as deceptive, although she was not telling me everything. One thing that seemed odd; she asked for a demonstration of my abilities. As you know, I’m unpractised, but I did what I could. I showed her a ball of light, and when pressed, altered my clothing. She seemed shocked, even horrified. I wondered if she was not also considering what it would mean to have hundreds of azuri fae, all more practised than I, at her disposal. If I were queen, the thought would have crossed my mind.”

“Would it now?” The elder seemed amused, and Eilidh quickly assumed a delicate illusion to hide her reddening cheeks.

“I don’t mean to presume, of course,” she said. “It seemed an obvious thought. Prince Griogair mentioned that they have enemies. I admit I don’t know everything that goes on in the royal gatherings in the Halls of Mist, but the fae have been known to employ machinations.” The Halls of Mist formed the intersection of magical worlds. Each kingdom joined there, no matter where in the human world that kingdom had its borders. Any faerie of any kingdom could walk the stronghold without fear, and many spent as much time as they could there. Within it was the source of fae power, the quality of magic that spread throughout the kingdoms, even seeping into the edges of the human world through open Otherworld gates.

The conclave sat in silence for a time, as though each was lost in his or her thoughts. Eilidh’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. She had not eaten, except for a few bites when she spoke with Prince Griogair. She’d spent hours without respite and endured two gruelling sessions of questioning.

She had become aware of Munro’s approach an hour into her questioning. At first, she attributed the feeling to the renewed intensity of his presence, which came over her when she crossed into the human realm. As time passed, she realised he was moving toward her, and at enough of a pace that he had to be in a car.

Although Munro visited most weeks, she missed him. She didn’t know if their bond was responsible for her need to be close to him, but she also enjoyed his company, his odd, human sense of humour, his insight and talent. He hadn’t told her he would come that day, but it made her heart lighter to feel his approaching presence. Not to mention that even though her magical capacity had grown because of the bond, it would gain her little from people like the queen or from the conclave. She appreciated having an ally.

Her thoughts turned to Griogair. As promised, she didn’t mention their conversation to the conclave, but she had considered it. He’d tried to manipulate her. On the other hand, she believed he’d told her the truth. She looked forward to consulting with Munro. He would know what to do.

Eilidh felt her strength wilting. Oron stood and came to her. “My dear child, you are about to collapse. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed at the weakness. “I haven’t been sleeping well since…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to mention the deaths that still haunted her: Saor’s, Beniss’, the druids—the other fae who died last summer. Beniss had been an elder and a member of this conclave. Beniss’ sister Galen, still held Eilidh responsible.

“Come,” Oron said. “Let’s go home.” While she was in training, she stayed with Oron. She should have accepted it as a great honour, but instead it reminded Eilidh that many of the others might have refused to work with her. Oron put a hand on either side of her face, and warmth flooded into her. The ache in her bones subsided. “There. You need rest, but this will soothe your mind.”

She slumped onto his shoulder. Not yet asleep, but not far from it. It surprised her, she thought distantly, that one as ancient as Oron had such physical strength. He was an oak, and not nearly as frail as he appeared.

He guided her to his house, a short walk from the centre. Her eyes were heavy, and she could barely fight to keep them open. Once inside, she heard voices, but couldn’t even muster the energy to be polite. A soft hand took hers and led her to her room in the back, where she sank into her swing bed. She fell asleep before the hands finished pulling a blanket over her.

Eilidh awoke to find Munro on the floor between her bed and the door. He lay with his back to her, as though guarding her. His presence filled the room and her heart. She felt certain now that the bonding magic was responsible for her responses to him. It swirled around the room, knitting their minds even more tightly. How long, she wondered, before their thoughts flowed into each other as though coming from one mind? Eventually, they would not even have to speak.

She watched him breathe, taking in his sleep-tousled hair and the curve of a rounded ear. It had freckles on it, and for no reason she could explain, the sight made her smile. Turbulence filled his mind, and she realised he was dreaming. This bond held so many unexpected twists. She couldn’t help but wonder if the faerie who developed or discovered this magic millennia ago had understood what the consequences would be. Of course, in those days, the relationship between humans and the fae was quite different. Time, technology, religion, fear—all had eroded the path from both sides.

Eilidh was tempted to touch Munro’s mind even deeper, to see if she could somehow access his dream, to know what visions made his mind tumble. Did he fight a battle? Argue with someone? Or did his heart race because he dreamt of more pleasant things, perhaps even of her? She had felt his desire surge many times when they were alone together, and she found its primitive strength enthralling.

His mind, heart and body seemed locked in perpetual battle. It gave her newfound respect for him, and all humans. The fae kept their emotions tightly controlled; it seemed second nature. Humans, on the other hand, made continuous choices.

His mind rushed toward wakefulness, and he sat up suddenly, whispering “Eilidh” into the darkened room. Knowing he could not see well in the dim early morning, she created a pale glow over her hand and sent it to rest in a corner. As his eyes adjusted, she increased the luminance.

He turned to her, and she could feel the fog of sleep lift from his thoughts. He gave her a smile, and she could not help but return it. “Good morning,” he said with a stretch that turned into a full-body shudder.

She couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. He must have driven through the night.

“You’re doing it again,” he said. “Reading my mind.”

“I constantly explore our bond,” she replied and stood. “I am glad you are here, Quinton.”

He stood and folded his blanket. “I felt… Did something happen in the Otherworld?”

She felt a twinge in his question. “Yes, several things. While visiting with my father, I was called before the queen and then had to report to the Higher Conclave. There is something else, but before we speak, I must have your word that nothing I say to you will be repeated, ever, to anyone.”

He cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course.”

Suddenly aware of where they were, she said, “Not here. We must have absolute privacy.”

“Is everything all right?”

She gave a brief shake of her head and focused a thought toward him.
Trust me.
Not being trained with mind-speaking, she doubted he would hear her, but she hoped he would at least feel the emotions behind it.

“Come,” she said. “I will check in with Oron, then we can find a quiet place to talk.”

Eilidh led Munro to the front of the house. It was, in structure and layout, much like a human home, enclosed and squared-off, but with high ceilings. Its interior walls and floors were stone. Fae tapestries covered the walls, and the furnishings were hand-crafted and of fae design. A mural of crystals had been fashioned into one wall in the main room. She could see the magic resonance moving around it in a beautiful harmony she doubted Munro would be able to sense.

An adolescent faerie, who couldn’t have been much more than fifty years old, came in from a side room. She was a lovely girl with eyes the colour of rich earth and long hair twisted down her back. “Grandfather is in his meditation chamber. I’ll tell him you’re awake.” Eilidh had never met her before. Oron had the largest family of any faerie she’d ever encountered. This girl could be a granddaughter, or even the granddaughter of one of his grandchildren. In the six months Eilidh had spent on the Isle of Skye, Oron kept her busy and practically locked away with her studies.

“No need to disturb him,” Eilidh said.

The girl smiled shyly, not yet having mastered the art of polite disagreement, and without another word went up the winding stone stair on the opposite side of the room.

“Hello,” came a small squeak from the side room. Eilidh turned, shocked to see a faerie child inching toward them. Children were so rare among the kingdom fae, that babies under ten years old were closely guarded. She stepped back. Somehow the Skye azuri had been blessed many times, growing their numbers to a proportion no kingdom faerie would believe.

Munro, on the other hand, reacted quite differently. “Hello, Princess,” he said with a grin. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.”

“Quinton,” Eilidh whispered, wanting to warn him to stay back. If any fae thought their baby was in danger, they might become terrible indeed. The last thing she wanted was to draw Oron’s ire. Even after months in his household, she never forgot her place. As a student, she was lower than any servant. Oron tried to tell her the azuri colony’s way was different, and besides, she was no longer a child, as most students would be. He tried to treat her as a guest, but the habits of her kingdom life were too deeply ingrained.

Munro went down to one knee and hunched a little, so the child could look him in the eye. She skipped up to him fearlessly. He held out a hand, and she took it. “I’m Quinton Munro,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Fluranach,” she said. “You’re not supposed to cast illusions in the house. Grandfather says so.”

Munro grinned. “You mean these?” He flicked one rounded, freckled ear.

The child nodded.

“Feel,” he said.

She reached up and grabbed the top of his ears with her small hands. “That’s pretty good,” she said. “I can usually tell when Alyssa does it.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m seven. How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“You don’t look like a little boy,” she said, obviously not believing him.

“I’m not. I’m human. We age up fast. And you don’t sound like a little girl.”

“I’m little, but I’m clever. Everyone says so.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”