“However, let it not be said that I am without mercy. Of your own accord, you dispatched a menace who, by all accounts, fancied himself worthy of this throne.” The queen laughed sharply, sending an echo through the immense room. “For ten thousand years, my family has ruled this kingdom. I wonder why this blood faerie of yours considered he had the power to break that trend.” When Eilidh did not immediately reply, the queen added, “You may speak.”
Eilidh took her time formulating an answer. It would not do to insult every faerie present with an idea they would consider unthinkable. Yet she had little choice but to offer the truth. “Although it pains me to say it, it became clear to me that the one of which you speak suffered greatly in his ability to reason.”
“Insane? Are the fae so weak of mind that they could succumb to this human malady?” The queen scoffed, and an uncomfortable titter of laughter went up around the chamber.
Eilidh looked up. “It is difficult to contemplate, but the ritual this dark faerie sought to perform, of which the conclave has implored me to say little, exacted a terrible price. I saw this with my own eyes. He killed for pleasure, even murdering his own father. He spoke with phantoms from his past and said little that was rational.”
“And would this…impaired faerie, do you think, have been a threat to the royal house?” The queen smirked, twisting her glossy red lips with disdain.
“Yes,” Eilidh said, silencing all onlookers.
Fury flashed in the queen’s brilliant blue eyes. “You believe a deficient faerie could challenge the throne, Eilidh, daughter of Imire and Eithne?”
A thrum of magic swirled around the queen. Eilidh had to summon every ounce of her courage to continue. “Your Majesty, the blood faerie was deficient in reason, but not in power. With little effort, he dispatched four strong kingdom Watchers and another of the azure, an elder and master of astral powers. The dark ritual could have increased his power ten-fold, had he succeeded in his efforts.”
The queen leaned forward. “And yet
you
defeated him.” The unspoken question hung in the air: If he had been powerful enough to challenge the throne, did Eilidh think she could do the same?
“I was fortunate to survive.”
“And modest too, it seems. I understand this elder deemed you to have considerable power.”
How had she learned that?
Beniss, the elder faerie, would not have said that to anyone she did not trust. “I am young and barely trained, Your Majesty. I believe she sought to bolster my confidence, considering what we faced.”
The queen sat in silence for a long time, making Eilidh nervous under the scrutiny. Finally, Queen Cadhla spoke, her voice low. “Show me an illusion.”
Eilidh hesitated. Her astral talents were, at best, unrefined.
“Now!” the queen shouted. Thunder boomed overhead, and Eilidh jumped. The unexpected volatility unsettled her.
“Forgive me. As I said, I am unpractised.” Eilidh put her mind to a simple illusion she had learned as a part of a meditative exercise. She held out her hand and opened her mind. The power of the Path of Stars swept over her like an ocean wave. She focused on the space above her palm. A pinpoint of pure blue light appeared in her hand. It flickered at first, then grew until it was larger than a fist. She sent it floating upward to the ceiling. A few gasps scattered throughout the chamber. Eilidh blinked and the glow disappeared.
“I have heard you disguise yourself as human using illusion.”
Eilidh hadn’t dared show the court that trick, even though she practised it the most often, turning her brilliant white hair a duller shade of yellow, rounding her twisted ears, adding flaws to her skin. The queen might have been insulted, as the kingdom fae would no doubt consider it demeaning to appear human.
Eilidh looked down at her human clothing and focused her thoughts. She altered the shape and colour, until her attire matched that of Teasair, the royal messenger who’d brought her here.
The queen frowned and glanced up at the handsome faerie behind her, who squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
“You can alter yourself further if you choose? Your face?” she asked.
“An astral faerie such as myself cannot make a true alteration, Your Majesty, only an illusion that fools the eye. Only one of blood talents could truly alter their features.”
“What of the other talents? The temporal or spirit magic also offered by the Path of Stars?”
“Those lines are long extinct. None living are known to possess those powers, and we have lost even memory of that lore.”
The queen nodded, then knitted her eyebrows as she considered Eilidh’s response. “You and your kind possess dangerous magic. How can we trust anyone, even our own mates, when they might be a spy in disguise?”
The question lingered for a moment before Eilidh offered, “Much magic has dangerous potential. But as you have suggested, the fae are a noble race. To use these abilities for an ill purpose is as alien to those of the azure as it would be to one gifted with earth talents.”
“Do these azuri fae not bear a grudge for their exile from our kingdoms? Do you?”
“My exile was a source of sadness and pain, but I am glad to be home.”
“Tell me. Can you read my thoughts? Send words into my head without my consent? It is said the most talented of your kind have such abilities.”
“No. Mind-speaking is beyond my knowledge, and I know of none who can read thoughts.”
The queen questioned Eilidh for some time, asking her to repeat the events of the most recent summer, and also to divulge information about the azuri colony on the Isle of Skye. The group had begun as three exiles a thousand years ago, but their number had grown over the centuries. They took in others as they found them, and the Great Mother blessed them with many children over the centuries, many more than Eilidh would have imagined possible, considering how rare fae children were in the kingdoms.
When Eilidh first met Oron, the head of the azuri conclave, he warned her against betraying their weaknesses and number to the kingdom. But now, she’d been invited to be part of the kingdom once more. To whom did she owe her loyalty? To a kingdom that cast her out, but was ultimately her home and that of her father? Or to the exiles who’d invited her to learn from them?
Rather than answer directly, Eilidh said, “Your Majesty, since the conclave has determined I am no threat to the kingdom, perhaps it is only a matter of time before all on Skye are brought home.”
“That is why I summoned you, Eilidh. I will enter into talks with this azuri colony. If they are willing to dissolve their conclave and submit to the crown, we will consider them each for entry into the kingdoms. You will relay this message and report their response. Any action taken by the kingdom will be made slowly, as we must be assured they are as noble as you claim them to be, and not…corrupted, as this blood faerie had become.”
Eilidh wasn’t sure Oron and the others would be so easily brought into line, but it was the answer she hoped for. The unification of the azuri and the earth fae would right a grievous wrong.
“I will serve however I can,” Eilidh said, bowing slightly. It was only then she realised she still appeared to be wearing the clothing of the royal messenger, and she dropped the illusion.
The queen stood and towered over everyone on the dais. Her power shone. She glanced around the room briefly, then flicked her eyes to the faerie who had touched her hand. Without another word, she turned and walked through a small archway behind the throne. At her departure, a murmur went up in the room, and chattering in small groups grew louder.
The faerie behind the throne stepped toward Eilidh. He was slightly taller than she, with straight black hair and the most remarkable violet eyes. He wore a fur-collared black wool cloak draped over his shoulders and fastened slightly off-centre by a golden chain. His clothing, from the black tunic and trousers to his high leather boots, must have been hand-made by the finest craftsmen. Even Eilidh could see the beauty in the details. He stopped in front of her and gave a quirk of a smile. “I am Prince Griogair, consort to Queen Cadhla,” he said. “You have had a long day. Please accept the hospitality of the kingdom.”
Eilidh curtsied without grace. “Your Highness. Thank you.”
“A room has been prepared for you. I will show you the way.” He led her to a door beyond the dais, and she followed him through. She wasn’t eager to stay any longer than necessary in this forbidding white maze. Being in Queen Cadhla’s presence had tired her, and Eilidh wanted to speak with her father again before travelling to Skye. Yet it would be unwise to refuse the offer.
When they came to a nearly deserted corridor, the prince-consort spoke in a low tone. “There is a matter of some urgency about which we must speak.”
“Of course,” Eilidh said, watching him closely.
He stopped in front of a large red door inset into a white wall. Like most of the palace, it had an open roof, but the walls loomed high above, showing only the stars. “But before I confide in you, I must know where your loyalties lie.”
She felt his power swell. Tightness built in her chest. He used air flows, wrapping them around her. Six months ago, she might not have detected it. But thanks to having a bonded druid in Munro, she could see the earth forces as easily as any kingdom faerie. She did not resist, but let the prince hold her. He stepped closer, searching her eyes. He would have no power to delve into her thoughts. Kingdom fae could not touch the astral plane, where powers over the mind lay. He seemed intent on trying anyway.
Frustration rippled over his features. “Faith,” he swore. “I have no choice. I must trust you.” The pressure in her body released. He opened the door and motioned her inside.
The chamber was large and luxurious, with an immense swing bed, in the style favoured by the fae. A table had been set with delicate fresh foods, as though it had been prepared in the moments before her arrival. Lighting orbs glowed with earth magic. Despite the room’s size, it felt small. The prince-consort stepped close to Eilidh, his violet eyes swirling. She fought not to step back. The fae were conservative in their displays, and yet both he and the queen seemed on edge, showing more emotion than Eilidh would have expected. Perhaps the royals indulged their emotions, she thought, since few would dare criticise them.
Eilidh’s skin prickled with goose bumps at the intensity of his presence.
“Eilidh,” he said, “I need your help. If you will aid me, I will owe you a great debt. One I’m not sure I could repay.”
“Your Highness,” she said, flushing. “Just tell me what I can do.”
“Before I do, I need you to swear you will tell no one.” He turned from her for a moment and breathing became easier. He stepped toward the table and took a fig from a golden platter. “Not even the queen.” He put the fig in his mouth and chewed.
Eilidh stared at him. “Your Highness—”
“Griogair,” he interrupted. “If I’m going to involve you in a conspiracy, you should call me by my name, at least when we are alone.”
A rush of thoughts overwhelmed Eilidh, and she couldn’t sort them out. Only one summer ago, she was an exile, living among humans, perhaps even falling in love with one. Today she’d met the faerie queen and was now standing alone with the queen’s mate. Her heart thumped at his powerful presence. “What are you doing?” she asked sharply, suddenly suspicious. “What magic is this?”
The prince shrugged, but the air cooled and his presence dimmed. “I will do what I must to secure your help.” He lowered himself into a chair and ate another fig.
“You do not have to seduce me. Only ask.” If it had been anyone else, she might have been insulted. After seeing the worry so plainly etched on his features, though, she couldn’t muster the indignation.
“Will you keep my secret?” he asked.
“If I am caught lying to the queen, I could be convicted of treason. At best, I would be exiled again. Is it likely she will question me about this secret you wish to keep?”
“Not if you are careful, no. It would not occur to her I would come to you.” He paused. “Not about this anyway.” A smile flitted across his lips.
Although the fae did not practise monogamy the way many humans aspired to do, it surprised her he would even allude to infidelity, since the royal family by tradition took mates for life. She suddenly felt very much a naive child.
Eilidh considered her words carefully. “I will keep this conversation private, but I will fulfil no treasonous request. I was exiled, but I am no traitor to the fae.”
Griogair smiled. “I would expect no less.” He walked toward one of the hanging light-globes and tapped it with his finger, causing it to flicker.
Realising she was hungry, Eilidh sat at the table and waited. It seemed as though he would take his time getting his story out, and she thought she may as well eat. She doubted it would fit with the rules of decorum, but after all, she was the guest, and he the host.