Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords (22 page)

“Who’s next?” Douglas asked.

“Not me,” Huck said. “I want to help, but I’m afraid I can’t control my fire magic enough. I might burn the whole thing down.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Aaron said. He pulled a small reed talisman from his pocket, one trinket of many they had crafted and carried around with them. The pen-shaped instrument fit Aaron’s hand perfectly. When he touched the surface of the cupboard’s doorframe with it, water spouted from the end. Rather than dripping onto the floor, however, Aaron guided the water into a flow of intricate rivulets. As the water wended over the surface, minerals crept along behind the receding trails and the wood slowly transformed.

The process ate up a chunk of their allotted hour, but the druids were too fascinated with his work to try to hurry him. When Aaron finished, Huck immediately ran his hand over the still-damp surface. “It’s like stone,” he said.

“Petrified,” Aaron said. “It would take a long time to do the whole thing. Right now, the minerals only cover the surface. But it should be enough to prevent your flows from burning through.”

Flùranach fluttered around upstairs. Rory could sense her looking on him. Usually his dim perception of her wasn’t that strong, but right now she focused on him like a laser sight.

“That’s amazing,” Huck said. “Perfect. What rune should I write?”

Aaron thought for a moment. “We want to go to Amsterdam, right? You’ve spent more time there than the rest of us. So, you should inscribe the location, I think.”

“Should I choose the nearest gate? The one in Germany? Or do we want to try to go someplace where a gate doesn’t yet exist?” He looked to the others for input.

“We don’t really understand how to make a two-way gate,” Aaron said. “I have no clue if we need to build something on the other side and tune them together, or if the gate only exists in one place.”

Douglas spoke up. “When I wrote the rune for the Isle of Skye, I’m pretty sure I connected to the gate already there. I couldn’t swear to it, though. I didn’t get a clear view.”

“On the other hand,” Rory began, “the borderland gates are patrolled on the human side by fae Watchers. We’ll risk being seen by Konstanze’s people.”

“You must connect to an existing gate. The structure will already possess the strong energies you need to transport bodies so far,” Lisle said. Everyone turned and looked at her, each face as stunned as the next.

“How do you know?” Aaron said, his expression fluctuating between excited and suspicious.

She shrugged. “I don’t.”

Rory didn’t believe her. She knew something, all right. “It does seem the safest option,” he said. “What about Eilidh’s new gate in Belgium? If it’s not working, it probably won’t be guarded, and it’s a lot closer to Holland than England would be. We’ll need to rely on Flùranach to hide us from any Watchers we encounter in the borderlands.”

Flùranach raced around upstairs, searching for Rory, pricking at his mind with her exuberance. She was driving him up a tree. “Will you excuse me?” he said to the group. No one replied. Their focus was firmly fixed on the stone-like frame of their new gate.

“Right.” Huck took the stylus from Rory and picked a spot on the right-hand side to begin his inscription.

By the time Rory ducked out and headed to the main corridor, Flùranach had reached the large stone staircase leading down to the spot where the druids were working. He stepped to the landing just as she scampered down. Her swirling eyes lit up when she saw him. “Lord Druid Munro said you needed me.” Her tone rang with hope.

Rory stifled a sigh. That’s why she was so excited. She thought
he
needed her. “Let’s sit down somewhere,” he said, glancing around.

He led her into a side room, one of the many small reception rooms dotted around the Hall. They’d built the Hall to house hundreds, so with their current compliment, the vast structure seemed strangely deserted. A cold fireplace sat on the far wall, and they took a pair of chairs in front of it. Flùranach leaned forward in her seat. “I came the instant I heard.”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into the barren grate on the blackened stone. She was practically bouncing. What had her all aflutter? Surely the prospect of him taking her to the human realm again wouldn’t cause so much excitement. For some reason, it filled him with dread. “Do you have some news?” he guessed.

She beamed. “Keeper Oszlár said I’ve handled the move to the Druid Hall better than expected.”

“That’s great, Flùr,” Rory said. “Will you have to continue reporting to him?” Rory didn’t know exactly what those meetings would entail.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “He told me something else.” She bit her lip as though trying to decide whether to tell Rory or not.

“Oh?”

“He was…very encouraging. About us. About our bonding. And I understood his words meant you’d been considering what I said, that you had decided to forgive me and move forward.” She radiated happiness. “I’d been afraid to hope.” He opened his mouth to speak, wanting to slow her down. Where had Oszlár come up with all this?

Before Rory had a chance to say a word, she blurted out, “I love you so much, Rory. I always have.” He knew what was coming next. The world moved in slow motion, and he felt like a crash victim whose life was flashing before his eyes. “
Dem’ontar-che
,” she whispered. The ancient words, proclaiming her love and commitment to the bond. Her presence wormed towards him as she touched the warped stub of his scarred inner-self.

He hadn’t heard those words since she’d forced him to say them when she’d attacked him six months before. He reeled and an energy pulsed between them as the force of her pledge blinded him.

Nothing could stop the horror coiling within. “What are you doing?” he said. “Sweet Jesus.” He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He’d tried so hard to move beyond the injuries of the past, but once again, she put what she wanted ahead of what he needed.

“But…” For the first time, she seemed to grasp his reaction.

“For fuck’s sake,” he gasped, struggling to breathe as his heart pounded.

“But you told Lord Druid Munro you needed me.” Echoes of her pain and confusion rippled towards him through the half-formed bond.

“I needed you to come to the human realm with us. To work. To use your illusions to protect us. Not this. You don’t listen. You hear what you want, and you always have.” Anger stormed in his chest. “You haven’t changed a bit.” He stood and stalked to the entryway. As furious as he was, he would be forced to deal with her. He refused to let his emotional state and Flùranach’s selfishness endanger Demi’s life. “Stay here until you’re called,” he commanded her. Meeting her eyes with intent, he added, “Don’t say a word about this to anyone. Not a soul.”

She nodded rapidly, her worry and fear playing across her face and into his mind.

He walked out of the room, wishing it had a door he could slam.

“What is your name?” Demi asked her guard when he brought her another tray of fruit.

He hesitated before tilting his head slightly. “Leocort.”

“Do you have children?” she asked.

A flicker of surprise passed through his swirling violet eyes. “My daughter is a scholar,” he said. “She lives at the Ashkyne Hall and has worked with the keepers on rune study for two hundred years.”

Demi blinked. “I forget that faeries age differently,” she said. “You must be proud of your daughter. My father was an archaeologist.”

Leocort leaned in the entryway. “I do not know this word.”

“He studied humanity’s past by recovering and studying ancient artefacts, documents, and art.”

“He is dead?” the faerie asked her.

The bluntness of his question startled her, but she nodded. “He had heart disease and died three weeks before his fiftieth birthday. When I was younger, I’d hoped to pursue the same kind of work.”

“Why did you not?” Leocort asked.

She looked away. “Ulrich,” she said quietly. “I was a student in Berlin when I met him. I’d gone to my family’s home in the south of Germany for the winter holiday. My mother was still alive then.” Demi had to fight the urge to lose herself in the memories. Leocort stared at her relentlessly, waiting for her to go on. “I think I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. He was so beautiful, so elegant. When he spoke, I felt light-headed. I couldn’t stay away. He became like an addiction.”

Leocort had gone perfectly still. The palpable silence tightened around Demi. She shivered, exposed and laid bare by his unwavering gaze. No matter how uncomfortable she felt, she had to go on. That she’d recently told the story to another stranger, Huck, made recounting the tale somewhat easier. But Huck had listened with sympathy and tenderness. Leocort stood in front of her, immobile and unreadable.

“My studies fell by the wayside, and I came more and more often to my mother’s home so I could see him. No matter how she worried, I refused to stop seeing Ulrich, regardless of how cruel he’d become, the way he whipped and choked me and taunted my weakness. My mother died before I became pregnant with Jago. When Jago’s life sprang up within me, Ulrich’s domination was broken. My son’s blood protected me. Only then did I realise how strange and tragic my mother’s death had been. I think she died from anxiety over me. My grief and shame would have overwhelmed me, but for my son growing inside me.

“I had to get away while my son’s soul shielded me from Ulrich’s influence. He followed us to the North. Somehow he found us in Austria, then in Switzerland. We chose large cities. My grandmother told me the fae don’t like cities, but eventually, he always found us. We stayed in Holland the longest.” She paused, hating the light she cast on her actions, but she had to tell him if she wanted to gain his trust. “He promised he would kill me if I didn’t give up Jago. How could I? How could any mother let a cruel, monster of a man take the light of her life?” She detected a glint of sympathy in Leocort’s eyes. “I’m not a violent woman, but his blood is on my hands.” She looked down at her palms, fingers outstretched. No matter what had happened that day, she carried the blame. Her hands dropped into her lap, and she met Leocort’s eyes. “I had no choice,” she said fiercely. “As you would do anything for your daughter, I did what I had to for my son.”

The faerie guard said nothing, but he gave her a respectful bow. “My lady druid, thank you for sharing your story with me,” he said and silently slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her tray of fruit.

Demi looked at the food and sighed. She wished he’d brought her a steak and potatoes instead of pomegranates and pears, that she didn’t feel so weak and helpless, that she’d never met Prince Ulrich.

∞

The moment Munro and Eilidh were outside the library, he voiced his frustrations, careful to keep his voice low so passers-by wouldn’t overhear. “When are you going to tell me why you’re blocking our connection? Didn’t Elder Oron tell you not to do that?” He was being unfair, bringing up her teacher and advisor and his warning not to disrespect their bond by keeping Munro out of her mind.

She turned towards the Druid Hall. “How does this new portal work?” she asked.

“What aren’t you telling me? I touched your thoughts down there. You’re a mess. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“You are to become my mate in two nights’ time,” she said softly, nodding to a group of faeries who bowed as she passed.

“And meanwhile you’re trying to get pregnant with Griogair’s kid,” he said, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Despite her efforts to mask their connection, her surprise rippled through his thoughts. “You agreed when I told you about my intention. You said you didn’t even understand why I would be worried.” She slowed her pace and touched Munro’s arm. “I took Griogair to the altars as a show of respect for him as my first mate. I thought you understood.” She stopped, then glanced back towards the portal. “So much changed because of Vinye’s death. I will take a third mate next year, a faerie I do not particularly like. He and his father push me constantly, always jockeying for position.” She sighed. “I’m tired, Quinton.”

Munro touched Eilidh’s face and saw the way her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I love you,” he said, not caring who heard him. The one thing his new position as a so-called
druid lord
afforded him was the position in society to officially become Eilidh’s mate, to publicly declare his love for her, to touch her without creating a scandal.

She smiled with relief. “I love you too.”

“Now,” he said, “how about letting down that wall between us? I miss having your thoughts in my head.”

She bit her lip, an endearing but uncertain gesture he’d never seen from her before.
Inside
, she sent to his thoughts.

He took her delicate hand in his, and she squeezed his fingers lightly. Whatever was bothering her had her trembling. He grew more worried with every step.
What didn’t she want him to know so much that she didn’t want him learning the truth where anyone would observe their conversation?

Once in the Druid Hall’s courtyard, she let go of his hand and stood opposite him. She furrowed her eyebrows a moment, as though considering. After a pause, she straightened her posture and looked him in the eye. As she did, she released the barrier between them.