Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid (13 page)

On one side stood Tràth’s Caledonian Watchers and on the opposite, Aaron’s Mistwatchers. They came to attention when the trio approached. The head of Tràth’s guard stepped forward. “We have inspected your quarters, Your Highness. The Zalians have provided shelter in the keep. With your leave, we will go settle in,” he said, saluting Tràth with a fist to his chest.

“Of course,” Tràth said. “We are among friends. You caution is admirable, but not warranted, I’m sure.”

His guard left, moving in perfect time and utter silence. Not even the leather straps on their clothing made a sound.

Aaron, on the other hand, did not dismiss his guard. He spoke to his captain. “I’ll take your report in my chambers, Mistwatcher,” he said, then hesitated. “Before I do that, Prince Tràth, I’d like a word if you have a moment?”

“Of course, my lord druid.” Turning to Princess Imena, he added, “Thank you again for your kind invitation, Princess. Seeing you is truly a pleasure.”

She cocked one eyebrow. “If you keep up this behaviour, Prince Tràth, you will lose your reputation as an
unsuitable royal
.”

Tràth chuckled. “I doubt that very much.”

“You are both invited to join me for refreshment in two hours. The wines we produce in the south are perhaps not as famous as those of the Andenan vineyards, but I hope you will find them interesting.”

Aaron tilted his head. “Thank you, princess. I’m afraid we druids cannot drink alcohol of any kind. Besides, I am tired. I will rest long today if that will not offend.”

“Of course,” she said. “I will see you at dusk then, my lord druid.”

“At dusk,” he repeated, and a steward opened the door to his suite. “Tràth?” Aaron gestured within.

Tràth nodded, then turned to Imena. “I’d be delighted to accept your invitation.”

“Good,” she said, smiling at him. “Your steward will show you the way at the appointed hour.” She indicated a red-skinned faerie with light brown hair. Before leaving, she paused to bow to Aaron uncertainly.

Once inside, Aaron dismissed the hovering servants. He exhaled loudly and flopped down onto a lounge chair. “Oi, that was an ordeal,” he said. “It’s going to take some getting used to, acting posh and serious all the time.”

Tràth laughed. “You play the part well, my lord druid.” He gave a deep bow.

Aaron shook his head. “I felt like a right eejit. I always do at these things. Do you know what my job was before I meet Cridhe and learned about my magic? I worked at a cinema.”

Tràth had heard the word before, but wasn’t certain exactly what it meant. “That’s a type of entertainment house?”

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “Between shows, I picked up the trash other people left on the seats.”

The two of them had never really chatted. Aaron’s sudden openness concerning his life in the human realm came as a surprise.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked.

“Douglas.”

Just hearing the name sent a pang through Tràth. He hadn’t spoken to his druid since Douglas told him he’d never wanted the bond. Every day, Tràth worked hard to find a way to close their connection. He was getting closer, but he hadn’t yet achieved the goal. Still, going through the portal to Zalia had helped. Somehow, the gate between realms prevented him from experiencing Douglas’s emotions in such an intimately present way.

Tràth hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about Douglas with anyone, but particularly not with Aaron, so he remained silent.

“It’s none of my business, of course,” Aaron said. “I need to say I’m sorry, especially walking in on you guys the way I did. If something I said made problems between you, I hope you believe I never meant that to happen.”

“My difficulties with Douglas are not your fault,” Tràth said. He paused for a long moment but couldn’t come up with the words.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “I can be a right git sometimes. If I’d known my teasing him was making him unhappy…well, I wish I could take it back.”

Tràth considered Aaron. How different he was from the self-assured draoidh who’d confronted Queen Naima a few minutes before. Tràth put his hand to his heart and bowed slightly. “Think no more on the matter.”

Aaron stared at him a moment, seeming to understand he perhaps wasn’t forgiven, but the apology was appreciated. At least, Tràth hoped that’s what Aaron’s thoughtful expression meant. He was never completely certain with the druids. For all their boundless expressiveness, he found them difficult to read.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Tràth said. “I should wash before I meet the Princess.”

When Tràth returned to the hallway, a steward closed the door to Aaron’s suite. Another opened the door to his. He stepped inside to find Petroc still putting his things away. Alyssa, the astral faerie Eilidh assigned to help him with meditations, also waited as did the three diplomats who’d come under the formal guise of a protocol steward, a translator, and a scribe.

“I need a bath,” Tràth announced. They responded with stunned silence. “You talk. I’m listening.” He needed only a moment to locate the bathing chamber. “Petroc!” he shouted.

His personal attendant dropped what he was doing and approached the prince. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Warm the water for me, will you? I need to get clean or I won’t be able to think.” The road to Tafgul had been long and dusty.

“Of course,” his servant said.

Tràth undressed while the diplomats asked questions about Tràth and Aaron’s encounter with the queen. They discussed possible strategies as Petroc helped the prince wash, and continued as Petroc used his fire talents to dry Tràth’s skin afterwards. Even Alyssa entered the conversation, and Tràth was surprised to find her well versed in protocol, if not in trade. She was intelligent and quick to point out that although Lord Druid Aaron was in a superior position to Queen Naima, Tràth was not. He would do well, then, to try to tie as much of Caledonia’s fortunes as possible to that of the Druids. The others thought this a risky strategy, considering how inexperienced and impulsive the druid appeared to be. Lord Druid Aaron might have survived the first round, and he had the queen intrigued. If her good humour faded, they pointed out, she might find his tactics annoying.

Alyssa shook her head. “You speak of the druids as though they have no real power. That is a mistake. No, the queen will respect Aaron no matter how he behaves because she must. Zalia may be an independent kingdom, but she does not want to be the queen who stands against the draoidh.”

After they argued back and forth a while longer, Alyssa said, “If you’re going to meet with the princess before dawn, Your Highness, I suggest we practice meditating beforehand. It will do you good to have clear thoughts.” She admired him with a half-smile. “And you may want to put on some clothing.”

Tràth hadn’t realised he had gone through the entire conversation about the upcoming negotiations while completely nude. Even the fae didn’t conduct business naked. He really was bad at this, he thought. “Good idea,” he said and signalled for Petroc.

Just then, a knock came at the door. A steward entered and murmured something to Petroc. The attendant turned. “It’s time, Your Highness.”

“Dear Mother of the Earth,” Tràth said. “I’m going to be late. Again.”

Griogair stood in the doorway, staring into the private chamber where priests and healers surrounded Eilidh and Elder Oron, who tended her. She’d hardly moved since the incident in the square. He replayed the event, wishing he had a memory like his son’s so he could go over the finer details. With only the mind of an ordinary faerie, the blur of events in his mind was foggy at best.

So many questions remained unanswered. The Caledonian Watchers reported that no other kingdom portals seemed affected. Douglas had been working with the Source Stone beneath the library. He said he experienced a surge of power which pushed him away from the Stone for an instant, but he’d recovered quickly. He hadn’t even realised something was amiss until the Watchers arrived, telling him to return to the Druid Hall at once.

Fortunately, Griogair had so far been able to keep Eilidh’s state of mind quiet. Most of the faeries in the courtyard that evening were loyal Caledonians. He’d sworn them to secrecy, and they’d readily agreed. The others were scholars working for the library. The Keepers convinced them to hold their tongues. For now.

Elder Oron approached, breaking the prince’s train of thought. “Your Highness,” he said. “I think we should return the queen to Caledonia. My hope is that familiar surroundings will comfort her mind.”

“Have you been able to reach her?” Griogair asked.

The expression on Oron’s face told him everything. The elder shook his head. “She’s in an intense state of shock and grief.”

“So you believe as she does, that Quinton Munro is dead?”

Oron frowned, flicking his gaze to the inert queen. “I can’t say for certain, of course. I’d like to think not. The bond is an ancient magic we understand little about. We elders know some, but our knowledge comes mostly from religious texts, not histories, and those are notoriously unreliable. These young humans bring constant change to our understanding of our own beliefs and philosophy.”

Athair.
The voice intruded quietly in Griogair’s mind as it had done periodically since the attack.
Father
, in the language of the fae. He nodded, even though he’d taken in little of the elder’s ramblings. “If he is dead, will my mate recover?”

The elder glanced at Griogair, his expression tight. “Time will tell. For now, we must hope Lord Druid Munro somehow survived this strange attack. I can only guess what force was behind the move, based on your description. I’ve never seen anything like it in my lifetime, nor read of a similar event.”

“Could the assailant be one of the other queens?”

“If one had such supremacy with the flows, I’d expect we’d have seen evidence of her power by now.”

Griogair tilted his head. “Admittedly, the queens are the only ones who have a motive to attack the druids. They are a threat to the status quo. Their actions in the past year have disrupted the balance of power in the Halls of Mist.”

“True,” Oron said. “Assuming the force was deliberately targeting Munro.”

Griogair raised an eyebrow. “You believe it was a random attack?”

Oron paused, choosing his words. “We have to consider all possibilities. There is no evidence either way. On the other hand, we also must concede Princess Maiya may have been the intended target.”

Griogair blanched. “Who would attack a child?”

“Someone who does not want her to be the heir to the Caledonian throne, perhaps?”

“Koen?” Griogair didn’t like the other prince much, but he wouldn’t have thought him capable of hurting a child. “I can’t imagine he would. I admit that I don’t trust him, but I’d wager he doesn’t have the capacity to pull off such a strange event. He comprehends even less of the Stone than I do.” He furrowed his brow. “No, you had to see this thing to understand. The apparition was immense and powerful. It terrified me. Only Eilidh maintained her cool, rescuing Maiya when Munro attempted to throw her to safety.”

Athair.

Oron nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. Still, with Eilidh’s condition uncertain,” he said, lowering his voice, “I would suggest keeping guard on the princess. It is said that if the fae in a bonded pair dies, the human will always perish soon after. If the human in a bonded pair dies, the fae will live, but only as a shadow of herself. These druids have confounded our beliefs many times, so I do not know if these tales are to be believed. However, Maiya is Eilidh’s heir, and we must face the possibility that the queen may not recover from this blow.”

The stark warning shocked Griogair. He wanted to argue that only one night had passed. How could Oron give such a bleak outlook in so short a time? Of course, he realised this was his heart talking. He didn’t want to believe Munro was dead and that Eilidh would be lost as a result. “What should we do?” Griogair asked. In addition to being Eilidh’s mentor, Oron was head of the joint conclave, the advising and law-making body of Caledonia.

“For the immediate term, we move Queen Eilidh to Caledonia. We will need to announce she is suffering from a mild illness. Something innocuous enough not to cause concern in the populace, but enough so we can clear her schedule for a while.”

“What about the portal? If this thing which attacked Munro did so at random, it may strike again. Shouldn’t we warn the other kingdoms?”

“Because you sent Watchers to every kingdom, we informed them that we observed an anomaly with no further explanation. For now, our concern is our queen and our kingdom.”

Griogair stared at his mate. She looked so pale, as though frost might form on her cheek at any moment. “What of Maiya?” he asked quietly.

“At the princess’ birth, Queen Eilidh and her mate appointed you Maiya’s guardian, should anything happen to both of them.”

“Did they?” Griogair blinked. He had never considered something might happen to both Eilidh and Munro, or what the consequences might be. A foolish oversight on his part. Of course Eilidh and Munro would have considered such an eventuality, despite their youth.

“As such, the conclave would have no qualms appointing you as regent, should we be forced to declare Eilidh incompetent to rule.”

A chill crept up Griogair’s neck. He felt disloyal to think in these terms. He wanted nothing less than to spend the next ninety-nine years on Eilidh’s throne while she wasted away in grief. “It’s only been one night and one day.”

“Yes,” Oron agreed.

Athair.

Griogair sighed. “I’ll order Princess Maiya to be secured in the Caledonian Hall. I won’t risk taking her near the portal. If another queen did this to attack Caledonia, Maiya will be safest here. Would you advise me to lock down the Hall?”

Oron shook his head. “Doing so would attract too much attention. No one will think twice about not seeing the child or her nurses, but if you forbid scholars and citizens free movement in the Hall, that would cause a stir.”

Although Griogair didn’t like the risks of keeping the Hall open, he agreed with the elder’s reasoning. The Caledonian population might panic if they thought their queen had been rendered incapable. The uncertainty would undermine the stability they’d enjoyed for the past year. “I’ll call more Watchers to the Hall and neither the princess nor her nurses will leave the royal wing until further notice.”