Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (26 page)

“Quinton,” she said, “Quinton, we must go. Can you stand?”

He was dazed but uninjured. Getting to his feet, his gaze went to Phillip. “Is he dead?”

Eilidh nodded. “I can’t feel his light anymore.”

“Goddamnit.” Munro scrubbed his hand through his hair, grief and pain etched into his features.

“We must go quickly,” Eilidh said. “The Watchers will take care of our friends, including Phillip.”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Someone brushed my mind. Someone with azuri powers, so not Cadhla.” She didn’t want to say it, but she knew she had to consider Oron. “Her accomplice, whoever he is, must have been nearby. I fear he may head for the kingdom. He will not want his true identity known, so he will have to use that of another. A Caledonian identity token could not be easily faked. The embedded rune is weak, as it is fae-made and not like the powerful draoidh runes, but illusion won’t disguise the magic within.”

Munro’s eyes narrowed. “Ríona. Someone disguised as her and bearing her token would be allowed to pass.”

“By shutting the Hall, I helped him escape,” Eilidh said with frustration. “Ríona bore the token of the keepers, and they travel into any kingdom with little challenge.”

“Let’s go,” Munro said. Before they left, he turned to the Watchers. “Protect them with your life,” he said, indicating Aaron and Douglas. “They are my friends, but they are also vital to our kingdom.”

“Yes, Lord Druid,” their leader replied with a salute.

“We must hurry,” Eilidh reminded him, and they rushed through the Hall toward the portal.

Rory woke as he often did: tired, weak, and full of fear and anguish. Flùranach dominated his confused and cloudy thoughts. He knew what she experienced every moment of the day and night. If she was distressed, the misery became his. Without a doubt, his only respite would come if he made her happy. His mind cried out against it, but he had to survive, and this was the only way. Sometimes life turned shitty, and this perversity was the lot he drew.

A figure stood in the half-opened door, and he immediately recognised Flùranach. She was like a bright light burning his eyes. He struggled to look away despite the pain. The burden in her heart weighed on his chest.

“Hi,” she said softly. The beauty that once enticed him turned his stomach.

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He stared, unflinching, doing his best to gather his strength. If he would survive, he had to make her happy. Giving the best smile he could muster, he said, “Sure.”

A choked sob escaped her lips, and his chest tightened with her dismay. She knelt beside his bed, and he fought the urge to scoot away. “Rory, please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t,” he said, but even to his own ears, the words sounded forced. Doing his best to shove aside his true emotions, he softened his tone. “I could never hate you.” He had to soothe her pain to get relief from his own.

She lifted a hand as though to touch his arm but hesitated, holding her fingers in mid-air a moment before withdrawing. “Munro talked to me before. Did you overhear?”

Rory shook his head. He vaguely remembered seeing his friend, but the recollection blurred. One thing he did recall was muffled voices from Flùranach’s room. Her anguish had sent barbed spikes of sorrow into his heart.

Whatever she’d expected, Flùranach appeared relieved Rory hadn’t heard the conversation. “I came to say goodbye,” she said, her voice small and childlike.

Panic rose in his chest. He remembered being shuttled through a portal and something cutting off his connection from Flùranach. He’d never experienced such pain in his life. “No,” he said. “You can’t go. Please. It hurts so much.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t let anything harm you.” This time she did touch his arm, but when he winced involuntarily, she stopped.

A thought came to him through the mist of his confusion. “Where’s Oron?” He knew the old faerie kept Flùranach not only separated from her power, but from Rory. No matter how he’d begged to be in the same room with her, Oron refused to relent.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I heard people talking, then shouting and faeries fighting. The shields holding me wavered. Then whoever came ran away. My grandfather unbolted my door and told me I must stay. He made me promise not to leave my room. I’ve never seen him like that. He held my power for a while, but I could feel him getting further away. Eventually, the shielding vanished.”

Rory’s mind reeled. He couldn’t imagine what would have made Oron go and leave Flùranach unattended.

“I had to try to see you, talk to you. I waited a while, wondering if he would come back, but he didn’t. So I used my power to unlatch the door. It was hard and took a long time. I’m not used to moving physical objects with my mind, but I managed.” She shivered. “There’s two dead bodies out there. My guards, I suppose. I didn’t know them.”

“You didn’t…”

“No,” she said quickly. “They were dead when I got there.”

Rory hated that her presence brought him relief. Two different emotions battled within him, leaving no room for him to wonder or worry about the fate of the faeries in the next room. Part of him wanted Flùranach imprisoned and punished for what she’d done to him. On the other hand, as long as they made her unhappy, his life would be unbearable, so much so that he’d considered ending it. The crazy thing was that his mind wouldn’t let him hurt himself because his death would hurt Flùranach. Wherever she went and whatever she did from now on, he had to follow and help her. This was his punishment for going against the queen’s orders and for lusting after Flùranach. “Are we running away again?”

She sighed but didn’t immediately reply. “Will you make me a promise?”

“Of course,” he said. As though he could refuse?

“Promise me no matter what happens, you’ll remember what our life was like before, back when we were happy and I was your giggle-goat.”

He tried to smile, but her sorrow weighed on him. The minutes stretched. It should be an easy promise to make. “Those were good days,” he said finally.

“Take my hand. One last time.” She held out her small hand and waited.

He couldn’t fight her. She held his will in a vice. His bear-like hand enveloped her smaller one. When they touched, the intensity of their connection increased. Her grief flooded his mind, and a groan escaped his lips. In the midst of it all, he sensed her determination. He clung to that as tightly as possible.

“Rory.” She said his name like a command. His attention snapped to her. “The words came to me. Quietly at first, but then more insistently. Two phrases. One might repair our bond and make the link more natural. I’d have to submit to you the same way you have to me. But we would become more like what we wanted.”

“And the other?”

“The other would release my hold on you. We’d be forever separated and possibly never able to bond with another.”

Rory’s mind spun. She found a way to release him?

“What if I offer you a choice? Do you want to stay my druid? If it didn’t hurt? You told me once you would like that. I’m starting to understand my gifts a little. I don’t think just any azuri could do what I’ve done. Nobody else can recognise the place the bond happens and touch the cords.” She paused, and when he didn’t answer, she repeated, “Do you want to stay my druid?”

He wanted to scream no. Even if it meant he could never bond another, he couldn’t bear the idea of being tied to her forever. But no matter the truth, the slave bond wouldn’t let him hurt her. “Of course I do,” he whispered. Hot tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t look at her.

She sighed, sadness bearing down on her heart. “
Betrale
to denna dem’ontar-che.”
The words left her lips like an incantation. Nothing happened. She watched his face, then frowned. “I was sure…”

The rest of her words were swallowed in a fog as Rory’s mind closed down. He couldn’t see or hear her, but for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. He didn’t want to leave the serenity of the moment, but the sensation passed. Opening his eyes, he stared into hers.

“Do you hate me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said and pulled his hand back from hers. When he saw the hurt on her face, he smiled with relief at not being forced to experience her pain. But then remorse flooded him. After all she’d done, all the damage she caused, and what she stole from him, why did he feel compassion for her? “But I don’t want to,” he added. The words were a half-truth, but it was the best he could do.

She turned to leave and he asked her, “Where will you go?”

She looked back at him, tears streaming down her face. “The human realm scares me, but I have little choice. No kingdom would have me after what I did.”

He hesitated, then said, “Don’t go.”

“If I stay, they’ll kill me. Now that you’re free, my death will hurt no one.”

He wanted to tell her to leave. What did he care? She’d ruined his life. Everyone knew what she’d done to him, and nobody would ever look at him the same. Worse than that, any hope he had of making a real bond was gone. He’d never be able to have that deep, loving connection he knew Munro and Douglas had with Eilidh and Tràth. “We need you,” he said finally. “You can find druids. Who knows how many more of us are out there?”

For the first time, a small light went on in her face. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

His words might mean the difference between building up the druid brotherhood and them being the only ones for a very long time to come. With more, they would develop their powers, learn, grow. He should lie. Never in a million years could he forgive her. He felt sorry for her, but he wouldn’t go back or forget. “We need you,” he repeated and looked away.

She nodded. “The door is open,” she said as she turned to leave. “You can leave too, if you like.” Then she was gone, and Rory curled up on his bed. He wept with relief but also with regret. He should have tried harder to convince her to stay, but in truth he never wanted to see her again. Part of him hoped they did catch her and kill her. What kind of man did that make him?

As soon as Eilidh and Munro stepped through the blue portal, she approached the head of the Watchers. “Has the scholar Ríona passed through this way within the last hours?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Eilidh grimaced. Every Watcher must learn to detect illusion. If Cadhla ignored illusions so successfully, at least some of them should be able to master it. Eilidh had grown complacent, thinking all azuri could be trusted. The events in the past month had caused her to doubt, and the realisation pained her. By teaching them to perceive illusion, she would lose one of her own most powerful defences. She would be foolish to think the practice would not spread, now that it was proven possible. “Ríona is dead. If you find someone disguised as her again, detain her.”

Together Eilidh and Munro ran for Canton Dreich, not sure what they’d find there. “Where do we begin?” Eilidh asked.

“Oron,” Munro replied.

“I cannot believe he would betray us, no matter what Flùranach claimed. He made the suggestion to raise me as queen. He trained me to defend myself and expand my power. So many times I was vulnerable to him. This conspiracy doesn’t make sense. He had the opportunity to kill me a hundred times over.” Even to her own ears, the argument sounded weak in the face of the evidence before her.

“If he kept Cadhla alive and imprisoned without your knowledge, we must admit we don’t know everything about him,” Munro said.

They ran the rest of the way in silence, and Eilidh churned the possibilities in her mind. If only she hadn’t doubted Flùranach. Perhaps Phillip would still be alive. The loss burned in Munro’s mind, filling him with anger and grief, adding to his exhaustion—and hers.

When they saw the towers of Canton Dreich in the night sky ahead, they turned and took the path to Oron’s home. The house was dark and silent, and Eilidh’s senses told her no faeries were inside. Munro insisted on going in, to look for signs of where Oron, his granddaughter, and Rory might have gone. The druid swept ahead, moving from room to room, heading to the lower level where Flùranach and Rory had been held.

Munro cried out for help, and Eilidh rushed downstairs. Shock filled her when she saw two faerie Watchers lying dead on the ground. In a small side-room, Rory lay on his bunk, a blade in his hand and his forearms seeping with bloody cuts. Munro knelt beside him and thrust the knife aside, then quickly tore material from the bedcovering to bind his wounds. “Hold on, Rory. Dammit, hold on.”

Eilidh used her astral powers to locate a healer at Canton Dreich and sent an urgent call for help.

Rory’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, if it isn’t Eastwood,” he said softly.

“We’re gonna get you help, mate. You hold on. Do you hear me?” Munro said. He turned to Eilidh. “We need a healer, now.”

“Already done,” she said and glanced toward the door. She hated to be insensitive, but she had to ask, “Rory, where is Oron?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Flùr told me there was some kind of fight, and he left.” He looked at Munro. “She let me go.” Tears streamed down his face, and he repeated, sobbing, “She let me go.” Munro held onto his friend.

“She’s not with him?” Eilidh said, alarmed. That girl would only add to their trouble.

“No, she said she was heading for Scotland,” Rory said. Shifting his eyes to Munro, he whispered, “You gotta let me go too, mate. It’s been a good run, but I’m tired. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Munro growled, “Bullshit. We’ll get through this. I promise you.”

“You planning to tell me everything is going to be all right?” Rory said bitterly.

“No, but things will get better.” He glanced up at Eilidh. “I’m staying here. Find Oron. I’m no use against astral power anyway.”

She hesitated. He was right. He couldn’t defend them against a trained faerie, and he would only be putting himself in danger for no reason. Still, she regretted he wouldn’t be beside her.

“Call for Griogair and the conclave,” Munro said.

Just then, a faerie’s presence approached the house. A quick scan told Eilidh it was the healer. “Help is here,” she said. Seeing Rory so pale and resigned, she knew Munro made the right choice. She had to protect the druids. They’d lost one already that day. At the moment, Rory needed Munro more than she did. “Stay with him.”