Azuri Fae (7 page)

“It’s like a promise to pay later.”

“Can I have one? So I will not have to steal?”

Munro chuckled. “We’ll see. For now, let me help you with anything you need.” He touched her lightly on the cheek, the harshness of their earlier exchange gone. She still had difficulty accepting the help of a human, even him, but she didn’t argue. He leaned in and kissed her lips softly. It flustered her, because they were standing in the middle of the street, people milling, going in and out of shops. She had not yet grown accustomed to allowing herself be seen by humans. She glanced around, but no one noticed. Her reaction made Munro chuckle again.

“Why are you laughing, Quinton?”

He ran his hand up her cheek and over a twisted ear, hidden by the illusion that made her look human. She hadn’t bothered to make it
feel
round, and she wasn’t very good at that anyway. “You are so powerful,” he said quietly. “And yet, something like a public kiss scares you.”

She shuddered at his touch. “I should tell you,” she said, biting her lip, “that touching a faerie’s ears is very…intimate.” Glancing down, she suddenly didn’t want to meet his intense blue eyes.

“Is it now?” He leaned close and whispered, “I’ll have to remember that.” He took her earlobe into his mouth for just an instant before backing away. He grinned and reached for her hand. “Let’s find someplace quiet to talk.”

She allowed him to lead her, wondering if he could tell how her stomach fluttered at the exchange. They hadn’t discussed or explored their relationship much over the months. He knew the kiss scared her, so he could at least glimpse into her emotions. She could only assume he knew the same things about her she could see in him. The idea left her feeling vulnerable.

They walked east, toward the sea and away from the small town of Portree, making their way up a small hillside. Below them were boats, tied in their harbour. Eilidh and Munro sat on the grass. She funnelled a bit of earth magic through him and warmed the air around them. It took more effort than usual, because of the enchantments on Skye, but oddly, being near the human settlement helped. After just a moment, he relaxed. He rarely complained about the weather, or about anything, she realised. She watched him looking out over the water. He seemed fascinated with it, but she could sense a knot of fear as well.

“You do not like the ocean?” she asked.

“I like the sound of it.” He didn’t elaborate on what he didn’t like. She was about to ask when he said, “So, what don’t you want Oron to know?” He took her hand, but he did it as though touching her comforted him.

She recounted her meeting with the queen, filling in pieces of what he’d not managed to gather from her conversation with Oron, this time including her thoughts and fears. She described Eirlioc Falls and recalled details. He let her talk without interrupting or asking questions, and she loved that. She could almost forget he was human at moments like these.

Then she explained how Prince Griogair took her aside to a guest chamber afterwards. Munro tensed inwardly, but he made no outward sign, which she found interesting. She would not have considered he would be so accomplished at deception. He did his best to hold his jealousy in check, but she could detect it as she described the magic the prince used to try to persuade her. She also felt a flash of annoyance directed at her.

But when she came to the story about Prince Trath, Munro’s focus shifted, and she felt his mind grow very ordered. His emotions almost completely disappeared.

“I told Prince Griogair I would bring the matter to you. I assured him you are respected among your people.”

Munro didn’t answer, but his thoughts moved like the mechanical ticking of a clock. His eyes flitted back and forth, as though reading. Finally, he said, “I need more information. I have to talk to this Griogair.”

“Quinton,” she said, “There is no way the prince-consort will come here. There is only one time the queen and her mate would ever leave the Otherworld.”

He looked up and met her eyes, his face serious. “When?”

She flushed. She did not want to explain the mating rituals of her people, how they came to the fringes of the human world to make a sacrifice to the Great Mother to ask for her blessing of fertility. “That time, I believe, has likely passed for the queen.” Of course, the queen was only four or five hundred years old, perhaps six at most, and
could
have more children, but considering what Griogair had told Eilidh, she didn’t expect the royal couple to make that journey again. “However,” she said thoughtfully, “I must return to the Otherworld to see the queen. I can question Griogair further, if you need me to, and I’ll tell him we’ll do what we can for him and his son.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re willing to help. I wasn’t sure you would consider it.”

“No,” Munro said, shaking his head. “I need to speak with him myself. It isn’t the answers to the questions as much as the
way
he gives them. I won’t know if he’s lying unless I see him with my own eyes.”

Eilidh felt the blood drain from her face. “I can’t risk bringing you to the Otherworld, Quinton, and even if we could travel to the fringes, I certainly can’t take you to the Falls.”

“He asked for my help, Eilidh,” Munro said. “This is what my help looks like. I have to talk to him face to face.”

“Very well,” she said, her mind turning. “I’ll relay the message. We should get back. I must speak to Oron again. I know he will want to talk about the gift you gave his granddaughter.” She paused. “That was very reckless of you. If your actions had been misconstrued as hostile…”

Munro looked up with a half-grin. “You’re jealous.”

Eilidh blinked. “Jealous?”

“That I made a stone with someone else before I tried it with you.”

“That’s absurd,” she said, but slowly and without conviction. Had she been jealous? She’d thought she’d been trying to protect the girl, but perhaps there was a kernel of truth in his words. All of their attention in the short time Munro spent in the colony had been used to test the magic of the bond. They’d devoted no time to Munro’s talismans, although she knew he crafted many on his own.

“Let me see your face,” he said, tracing his finger along her chin, tapping it upward so she would meet his eyes.

Even though they were alone, Eilidh cautiously glanced around before dropping the human illusion, revealing the curl of her ears and turning her hair brilliant white. She watched his smile grow as she revealed her true face. Although she didn’t alter her appearance much, just enough to pass for one of the younger race, it pleased her that he liked her real self better than the illusion.

He pulled her close, and his musky human scent mixed with the salty breeze blowing off the ocean. He kissed her again, this time fiercely and without reservation. She felt his love for her as though the sun had appeared from behind a cloud. He took his time, tasting, exploring, enjoying the sensations they shared. “You and I will make things together, Eilidh, my love. All kinds of things.”

Then as quickly as he had revealed himself, the light dimmed, and he reined his passions back. She had no idea how he did it, but he seemed well-practised. In all these months, he’d touched her tenderly, kissed her, and held her, but he’d never suggested they become lovers, not since that time soon after they’d first met, when she’d turned him down because of his race. So much had changed since then, yet he did not pursue it, even though she could sense his attraction for her. She couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Come on,” he said, standing and extending his hand to help her rise. “It’s getting late. We’d better get back.”

“You’re out of your fucking minds,” Munro said. At first, he’d been intimidated by all these old faeries. Eilidh had told him the youngest of the bunch was likely around six hundred years old. And this, apparently, was an “open conclave” meeting, so there were more in attendance besides the eleven members. Naturally, he’d always been nervous around them. He could sense Eilidh was too, and that made it worse. He’d gotten to know Oron and had run into others, but this was his first time before the whole conclave. As soon as he sat down that night, he saw they had an agenda beyond the queen’s offer of reconciliation. No, what they really wanted was more druids, and they expected him to deliver.

“Quinton!” Eilidh hissed between her teeth.

He turned and saw the warning on her face, but he held firm. “No, Eilidh. I’m calling a spade a shovel. These people expect me to go back to Perth, round up my human druid
friends,
and deliver them, so this lot can pass them around to see who can bond with whom.”

“Quinton,” she repeated, but softer this time.

The conclave sat there, staring smugly at him, as though he were an errant child who didn’t know any better than to piss in the potted plants. He met their eyes, one by one. “Surely you remember the last faerie who tried to bond with one of them also planned to kill them all.”

One of the conclave sat forward, his eyes flashing with anger. Obviously, they were used to getting their way. “The last faerie who tried to bond with one of them was Eilidh. They know of your bond, do they not?”

“Yeah,” he relented.

“It has given you fast healing, long life, power. Your speed and endurance will increase to match Eilidh’s. Your eyes will grow sharper, your senses will heighten.”

“All of this good stuff I’ve been promised will happen, hasn’t,” he argued. “Yeah, the healing happened fast, but after six months, I’ve seen no other physical changes.”

“Eilidh has gained access to earth power, something the azuri are usually denied, and not just one branch, but all four. Even you can understand what that means to her.”

“But that isn’t all. I’m in her head all the time. I know where she is. I feel her dreams, her fears, her anger right this minute.” He glanced her way and gave an apologetic smile. If he hadn’t thought it would embarrass her, he’d have taken her hand. He couldn’t explain why, but touching her comforted him. It quieted his mind. She didn’t smile back.

Munro went on. “When I met Eilidh, I thought faeries didn’t feel anything. But now I know better. I don’t suspect, I know. I know because I feel every inward flinch, every memory that floats by. Even if she is so familiar with an old pain that she doesn’t suffer with it, I do.” He lowered his voice, not wanting to say it, but knowing he had to. “When she went to her friend’s death rites last summer, her grief nearly killed me. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Oron looked to the others in the conclave. They didn’t seem moved by what Munro said. The elder turned to Eilidh. “And do you similarly experience Munro’s mind?”

Her silver-green eyes swirled, but she looked only at Oron. “He… he is turbulent, sometimes angry and jealous. Wild, like an animal. His mind is unfocused. It never stops. There are good things, of course, but I can’t choose. I sense it all.”

Oron leaned back in his chair. “And what if you could learn to quiet his voice? You will have a long time together. Your bond is new, and you are both exceedingly young. You will grow more disciplined and discover ways to wall off things you wish to.”

“There is…a sexual attraction,” Eilidh said, blushing slightly and still refusing to look at Munro.

The conclave members looked at one another. Munro realised they couldn’t imagine being sexually attracted to a human.

“The bonding magic fuels it, I’m certain,” Eilidh continued. “You might be able to resist it, but from what Munro tells me he learned from the other true druids, the blood faerie and his bonded druid indulged their bond in many ways.”

Munro felt slightly sick. He remembered vividly the way she’d told him months ago that a faerie and a human could never be together. He knew she cared for him, he could sense that, but he’d determined never to push, to wait for her to make the first move, even though keeping his distance had proven difficult. His heart ached, and she must have known. He did everything he could to harden himself against the pain of thinking her feelings for him weren’t real and focused on the present moment.

“I’ve been physically weak,” he said, “ever since we bonded. When Eilidh fought the blood faerie, she made a choice to sacrifice my life to kill him. She drew out my life force, using it to fuel her earth magic. She didn’t channel earth magic through me, she took it
from
me. She could kill me with a thought.”

Eilidh whipped her head around and met Munro’s eyes. He sensed her anguish, but he ignored it, looking instead at each of the conclave members. “If you think I’m going to deliver a bunch of humans into virtual slavery, so you can invade their minds and suck their lives away, you’re off your trolleys, every one of you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them. He was angry with Eilidh for what she said, and he’d lashed out. He had understood what he was getting into when he bonded with her. He knew she might never return his feelings and he’d told her he could handle it. He’d said the bonding words first, practically insisting she finish the ritual, swearing up and down that saving all those lives was worth the price. And it had been, but it cost them both.