Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (11 page)

Munro never considered Griogair might resent him. Six months ago, the prince suggested their arrangement, and they had a friendly relationship. He knew Munro and Eilidh shared an ancient magical bond. But if Griogair loved Eilidh, seeing her with Munro, being asked to step aside day after day so she could bed another man, would torture him. “I’m sorry,” Munro said and looked away. He breathed in deeply, taking his turn to switch topics. “I’ve missed Caledonia. The air in the Halls of Mist is thick. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Griogair replied. “I do.”

Munro wasn’t sure which question the prince was answering. Yes, he loved Eilidh? Or yes, he understood about the air being thick on the other side of the portal? Munro knew, if he was honest with himself. Why else would Griogair take such delight in spreading rumours about Munro’s supposed escapades? “She cares deeply for you. I think if we hadn’t bonded first…” Munro didn’t like to admit it, but he knew he was right. If he and Eilidh had never met, she might be happy with Griogair. On the other hand, if he and Eilidh hadn’t met, Griogair would still be married to Queen Cadhla, Eilidh would be an outcast, and Munro would have been murdered six months ago.

He pushed aside the remnants of food. His appetite had abandoned him.

“Shall we go meet the queen?” Griogair rose and gestured toward the door.

Munro followed suit but wasn’t ready to let the subject drop. “I know everything you do is for her benefit, even sending me away. You wouldn’t if you thought it would hurt her.”

Griogair inclined his head. “I serve her always.”

“Serve her any way you need to. I can be a selfish git sometimes. But, like you, I’ll always put her first.”

“
Any
way?” The question rang with an equal measure of disdainful disbelief and a challenge.

Would Munro really give Griogair permission to bed Eilidh? Not that
Eilidh
needed permission. She was the bloody queen. But he doubted Griogair would pursue it behind Munro’s back. He hadn’t really intended his words to come out this way, but there was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for her. She wasn’t a regular woman. Hell, she wasn’t even a regular faerie. “Whatever she needs. Besides, who are mere mortals like you and I to refuse a request from a queen?” Munro asked with a chuckle.

“A request she’ll never make. She is bound to you in ways none of us fully understand. But thank you for your attempt at camaraderie. I can see how it has pained you to be apart from her this past moon, and how much your offer cost you, despite your sincerity. One thing I find refreshing about humans is how bad you are at lying.”

Munro grinned. “We’ll have to share our pain like brothers then.” He’d intended it as a joke, but despite the surprised look on Griogair’s face, he meant it. They were brothers, of a sort. They shared more than Eilidh. They helped her carry burdens and secrets no one else understood.

“What pain?” Griogair said with a smile, then added, “brother.”

Rory did his best to follow Flùranach despite her head start and nimble feet. He knew where she usually hid when in trouble or upset, and she headed there now. His mind muddled with confusion. A couple of weeks ago, he would have sworn he thought of her like a little sister. Then everything changed. She even acted different. Whatever she saw in the time vortex transformed more than her appearance.

He came to the little cave opposite a huge copse of pine and took the precarious climb down. Water flowed on nearby rocks, making them slippery and uninviting, but he had to find her. Her heart had broken, and it was his fault. Confusion plagued her. The once confident, delightful girl had become a frightened, yet powerful, young woman. The way everyone was looking to place the blame made him angry. Nobody tried to help her cope with the terrifying changes. His own adolescence hadn’t been the easiest, but at least he had the normal number of years to deal with it. Flùranach had skipped adolescence altogether.

He heard her sobs echoing on the stone walls before he’d even entered the cave’s mouth. Glowing mushrooms and lichen lit his way into the rocky waterside cave. “Flùr?” he called. “It’s me.”

“Go away!” she shouted, her high-pitched voice echoing around them. She sounded eight years old again. For a moment, he could almost pretend none of this had happened and he’d find her safe and restored to her former self.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. I gotta make sure my princess is all right.” He crept forward. He still trusted her, but she had grown impetuous and unpredictable. Ever since her change, she’d become as emotional as an angsty teenager.

She stopped crying. “You’re going to drag me back to my grandfather,” she said. “You want them to make me little again.”

“I’d get in trouble if they knew I’d followed you here,” Rory said, inching closer to the arch of stone, which led to the cubby-hole where she so often hid. “You heard what they said. They’re afraid of what might happen. But I’m not,” he added. “You’d never hurt any of us.”

He stuck his head around and found her in a heap, her red hair wet and tangled around her face, her damp dress clinging to her body. She’d outgrown the tiny hiding place, a tight squeeze for the two of them even when she was small. “Not sure I’ll still fit in here.” He chuckled. “Life has changed a lot in a couple weeks, hasn’t it?”

She nodded, wiping silvery tears from her cheeks. He couldn’t help but notice how lovely she was with her pale skin and red hair. He had red hair too, but his was more orange. At least his skin had changed since he’d come to the Otherworld, fading the freckles that had once covered his face. He’d always hated his ginger hair, but her flaming mass of long, soft locks made her more beautiful. Something in him feared touching her. This sudden desire filled him with guilt. Only two weeks ago, she’d been a little kid, and now fear and confusion tore her apart. What kind of pervert would think about being attracted to her?

“Everyone hates me,” she said with a sniffle. “I didn’t mean to do this, but are the changes so bad? Am I really so awful?”

Rory opened his arms and took her into an embrace as she wept again. “Nobody hates you, duckling. You’re not awful.”

She tilted her head up. “Aren’t you mad at me? I got you in a lot of trouble.”

“Nah,” he said. “Faeries don’t like surprises, and you gave them a wee shock is all. The problem is the time magic. The astral part is scary enough. You’re young,” he said, “but they’re really old. They liked things as they were. You saw how they treat Eilidh. The azuri fae love her, but some of the earth faeries hate the changes she’s brought.”

“I hate her,” Flùranach said.

“Shh,” Rory said, pulling her close. “I know. She’s not trying to be mean. She’s just worried about a lot of things.”

“Nobody believes me about you druids. I bet I could pick out a druid from other humans, if they’d let me try. Of course, nobody would now, because of her.”

“You think you could?” Rory said and pondered. The five druids who’d come to Caledonia were the only survivors of a horrific encounter with a blood faerie. That faerie’s father had collected them, but nobody knew how he’d done so. Logic said the ability must exist in others as well.

“If only I could prove it,” she said.

“There’s no rush,” Rory replied, but she struggled out of his embrace and looked him squarely in the face.

“They’re not threatening to make
you
a prisoner. You are the only one who loves me,” she said, blinking through long, damp eyelashes. “You do love me, don’t you, Rory?”

He fought against the sudden pull toward her and blushed to the roots of his hair. “Of course I do, Flùr. We’re like family, you and me.” He tried to put distance between them, but she snuggled in close, not letting him back away in the cramped quarters.

“I love you too,” she said softly. “I wish we could bond.”

“Flùr—”

“I know,” she interrupted, suddenly sounding serious. The way she switched between adult and child made him dizzy and kept him confused. “Maybe there’s a druid out there for me,” she said.

“Maybe,” Rory said. “If you’re right, and you can sense us, then someday after all this has died down, we’ll go to Scotland or England, maybe even across the Channel. I can help you find him.”

“You would?” she asked, meeting his eyes again. A tear streaked down her face. “I can’t imagine I’ll ever feel about anyone the way I do about you.”

He touched her cheek. “You’re special to me too,” he said. “Of course I’ll help you.”

“Why wait? I’m an adult. That’s plain to see.”

He couldn’t argue with her. She certainly did look the part. Maybe if he helped her find someone to bond with, she would settle down. The process might heal her mind like it did for Tràth. When he and Douglas bonded, the prince gained earth powers, which grounded him and kept the temporal magic from haunting him. “The queen said you’re supposed to stay here under your grandfather’s protection so they can figure out what happened.”

“So they can try to
reverse
it,” Flùranach said. “I don’t want them to. They’ll hold me prisoner for decades while they pretend I don’t exist.” Her voice sounded distant and haunted. “I didn’t understand before. I feel at home around you druids, but I also have this longing that may never be satisfied. I can sense a bud in each of you, waiting to be enveloped by a faerie’s power, but none of you are for me.” She pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. “No matter how much I might want you.”

He felt more confused than ever. What they planned to do to her wasn’t right. They probably would keep her locked up and do tests on her, and now she wouldn’t be allowed to visit the druids’ villa for a bit of music and company. He didn’t want to see that happen to her. Someone had to be on her side. But would she be okay in Scotland?

“You’re thinking,” she said with a teasing giggle. “I can practically hear the wheels turning.”

“I’m not sure about going beyond the Otherworld gate. The human realm might not be safe.”

“Are you forgetting I was born on the Isle of Skye and spent nearly all my life in Scotland? When you and the other druids stepped foot in the Caledonian Otherworld, it was my first journey too. The human realm is more home to me than this place. We can travel through the gate, look around, and see what happens. We don’t have to be gone more than one night. If I’m wrong and I can’t sense any difference between druids and other humans, we’ll come right back and no one will even realise we went anywhere.”

“Maybe we should wait until things settle down,” Rory said.

Flùranach shook her head. “That will be too late. My grandfather plans to move me away from Canton Dreich. He’s sending me to Riverglade. If we don’t go soon, I’ll probably never see you again.”

“You’re leaving?” Rory said incredulously. Oron shouldn’t do that, even if he was her grandfather and a conclave elder. Flùranach felt like family to Rory too. So the feeling was twisted up and confused right now. She’d turned from a playful child into an alluring woman. The thought of her leaving forever made Rory’s stomach churn, and he suddenly wished he could bond with her. That would solve so many problems.

“Will you take me?” She glanced down. “Or should I pack my things for Riverglade?”

“No,” he said. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’ll take you. No, don’t go pack.” If he wasn’t meant to bond with her, perhaps they would find someone who could. Or maybe they would find more druids and bring them back, show Eilidh and the others they needed her. Then Oron couldn’t ship her away.

She flung her arms around him, and heat swelled between them. He tentatively kissed her forehead, then squeezed her tight. They’d make this all right. Somehow.

Munro knew instantly that Eilidh had just received bad news. This time, their connection didn’t convey alarm, so he didn’t worry. As queen, she often dealt with serious issues, and she took her duty to heart. She cared deeply about every faerie in her domain. Her every choice was made to try to serve her people well, even those who questioned her right to the throne and her ability to hold it.

The bond led him straight to Eilidh, and when he and Griogair arrived at the informal receiving room, they found elders gathered. When Munro saw her stricken expression, his heart clutched. Something terrible must have happened. Once again, he couldn’t rush to support her. He took his place in the background and watched Griogair stand by her side.

“What’s happened?” Prince Griogair asked, his eyes locked on his mate.

“Fifty deaths in Nir Doute,” she said softly. “Twenty of them children not yet past their first century.” Fae children were rare, and for some reason, even more so among the earth faeries. The azuri from the Isle of Skye had been blessed more often than any would have thought possible, but they never lost their instinct to treasure and protect their young. This kind of loss would bring true heartbreak to the kingdom.

“Dead? How? Did they suffer an attack?” Griogair directed the last question to the elders.

“Poison, we think.” Galen said. Her delicate brow crinkled into a concerned frown.

“You think?” Munro interjected.

The elder cast a disapproving glance at the druid. “There are many rumours, of course. Our healers need more time to be certain. They have encountered nothing like this illness before.”

Griogair took a more diplomatic stance. “No doubt, all are working tirelessly. Tell us about these rumours.”

“Some say,” Eilidh began with a humourless laugh, “I have displeased the Mother of the Earth, while others believe I turned the city’s water sour with my ill magic.”

Galen explained. “The first illness came to light mere hours after Her Majesty supped with the Nir Doute elders at the local Festival of Stars two nights ago. A hundred still suffer the effects, and more may die.”

“I should go back,” Eilidh said. “If I don’t, some will take this as proof I have something to hide, or worse, say I don’t care about the fate of my people.”

Galen shook her head but tutted with sympathy. “That would be most unwise, Your Majesty. What if this assault was aimed at you? The entire kingdom knew you would attend the festival. We must consider your safety, for the good of Caledonia, no matter how kind your intentions.”