“And you trust hers,” Demi said.
“Yes. She believes your people are important to our race and accepts your claim to the title draoidh,” he hesitated, trying and failing to meet Demi and Huck’s eyes. “I hope they are right.” Flicking his gaze to the door, he walked along. “Stay here a moment. I’ll scout ahead.”
He slipped into the corridor, and Huck glared at Demi. “I hope your trust in this clown doesn’t get us killed. He might be going for backup. He might return with fifty faeries. If that happens, all the ward stones in the world won’t help us. All he has to do is throw a shield over this door, and we’re stuck.”
Worry churned at Demi’s stomach. Had she made a terrible mistake? She opened her mouth to respond, but Leocort reappeared. “The way is clear,” he said. “Stay in the shadows. The most dangerous part will be the keep. Once we come close to the Watcher base, walk confidently and don’t hesitate, even for a moment. With a bit of luck, no one will want to look at you.”
“The effect of our ward stones is limited,” Huck told him. “If someone sees us from a distance, they’ll not have any problems recognising exactly who we are and what we’re doing.”
Leocort raised an eyebrow. “Interesting,” he said. “Very well. We’ll avoid open areas. That’ll mean going around the central hall of the keep, but that’s easily done.”
“All right,” Demi said. “Let’s go get my boy.”
∞
Munro let attendants help him put on the finely embellished tunic Eilidh had picked out for the ceremony. The whole process struck him as an elaborately staged farce. In all the time he’d lived with Eilidh in the Otherworld, he’d never been as acutely aware of her royal status as he was at that moment. In his younger days, he’d envisioned himself having a simple civil ceremony. But even in his bachelorhood back in Scotland, he’d understood, deep down, he’d be unlikely to get that wish. He’d compromise, he’d told himself. He’d planned to agree to a hundred or so of his and his then-unknown bride’s closest friends and family. Maybe have a nice reception over at the Huntingtower Hotel.
He blew out a sigh as nimble fingers wrapped a sash around his middle. Really? A sash? A hundred of their closest friends seemed a distant dream. A hundred wouldn’t even count the stewards and attendants involved in this production.
Although it was her second wedding, Eilidh didn’t seem any more relaxed than he was. Oh, outwardly she was lovely and gracious. But she kept sending little messages telepathically, sometimes reminding him they had to hurry to a new location, festival, or feast, or things like,
Why have none of the druids come?
or
Try not to look as though you’re in pain.
Fortunately for both of them, he couldn’t reply the same way, or he’d be tempted to tell her to can it. They were both nervous. And having all those other queens around with their entourages didn’t help.
The smiling and waving and acknowledging the cheering crowds when they went from place to place…his face hurt from the plastered smile. He was tired. And they hadn’t even had the actual ceremony yet.
“Your boots, my lord druid,” one of the attendants said with that eternally patient tone the servants often used with him.
“What?” He looked down and saw the faerie was holding out a pair of elegant leather boots. Elegant. Him. Seriously. He would never let Eilidh pick his clothes again. He’d drawn the line at flowers in his hair. No bloody way. “Right,” he said. He took the boots and sat down, shoving his right foot into one and then his left into the other. The attendant looked politely appalled. Munro fought not to roll his eyes. He was
not
letting some guy put his boots on for him. “Now what?” he asked.
“This way, my lord druid,” the attendant said. The whole affair was so choreographed. The upside, however, was Munro didn’t need to remember anything. The attendant led Munro into a long corridor. The green of the forests shone beyond a graceful arch festooned with tiny pink roses. They walked down the hall, followed by dozens of other attendants and servants. Why, he had no idea. He walked, and they followed.
Once they arrived outside, thousands of faces greeted him. The scene reminded him of a sea of faeries. Sparkling lights wove through moonbeams on a central dais and danced in flowing swirls.
“Her Majesty will approach from the other side. You meet in the middle,” the attendant explained as though Munro were a very dim-witted child.
“Right,” Munro said. Of course, someone had walked him through all this before, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. He scrubbed his hand through his hair and turned to the attendant. He had planned to ask something, but his mind went blank.
“May the Mother bless your union,” the attendant said and bowed. Munro stared at him, then back at all the others, who mimicked the motion.
“Thanks,” he said, ignoring the flicker of amusement on their faces. He knew he must look a right idiot, but this was for Eilidh. He could stand wearing this preposterous getup in front of two thousand of the most influential people in Caledonia and from across the Otherworld kingdoms if it made her happy. That didn’t even include the tens of thousands of common faeries who lined the streets to catch a glimpse of them when they departed the castle. His legs carried him forward. He didn’t remember taking the steps, but somehow, he managed without staggering like a drunk.
When he came closer, he recognised Elder Oron waiting for him on the dais. Oron had been Eilidh’s mentor before she became queen and was now her most trusted ally on the Caledonian joint-conclave. Her father and mother, whom Munro barely knew but had met a few times, and a couple other faeries she counted as her closest friends were also with them. The one face that surprised him was Prince Griogair’s. Munro didn’t mind Eilidh’s other husband. In fact, they were pretty good friends. They’d saved each other’s asses more than once, and were both committed to Eilidh, heart and soul. Even still, Munro hadn’t expected him to stand on the dais with them.
As Munro approached, Griogair moved to meet him at the bottom of the steps. In a low voice he said, “Eilidh asked me to be ready, in the event the other druid lords were unable to attend. It would be most awkward to have no one stand for you during the ceremony.”
Oron cast Griogair a glare. Munro remembered someone saying that no one except the officiator was supposed to talk on the dais. Technically, they weren’t on the dais yet, so Munro ignored the look.
“Thanks. They didn’t show?” Munro replied. He’d been kept so busy, being ushered from place to place the previous day and night, he had no idea none of his friends had come. Anxiety flickered through his mind.
“No.” Griogair seemed worried. “And something else. There have been ripples.” Munro glanced over at Eilidh, who was just stepping up from the other side. She looked resplendent in a sapphire blue gown shimmering with diamonds.
“Ripples in what?” Munro asked Griogair, both men’s eyes fixed on Eilidh.
Griogair tore his gaze away and gave Munro a minute shake of his head. “In the Otherworld.”
Munro tried to mask his surprise, certain this meant something was happening with the druids and their work with the Source Stone. He should be there. He glanced up at Eilidh. Despite her smile, her hidden concern heaved through their connection. “Why is no one reacting?” Munro whispered.
Griogair gave a tiny shrug. “Only the strongest will have sensed the undercurrent so far, and the disturbance has been intermittent. It started about an hour ago.”
The druids had to be responsible. In their investigation with the Source Stone, they had either discovered something important or their attempts had gone wrong. Nothing else would have kept them away. “We have to go on with the ceremony,” Munro said, knowing Huck counted on them to keep Konstanze and her entourage from returning to Ashkyne as long as possible.
“Precisely what my mate said,” Griogair chuckled. They turned towards Eilidh and began to ascend the steps. The prince whispered, “Soon to be your mate as well, my friend. I am proud to stand with you.”
Munro gave him a grateful glance. “Thanks.” He looked up at Eilidh, and a smile tugged on his lips. Even with so many crazy things happening all around them, tonight was a good night. Finally, after all this time, she’d be his wife.
When the two men reached the top of the dais, Munro reached for Eilidh’s hands. He took them and kissed the backs of each one. “I love you,” he said softly.
Oron grumbled. “You aren’t supposed to speak yet,” he muttered.
Eilidh grinned. “I love you too.” Her silver eyes shone in the moonlight.
Munro turned to Oron. “Okay. Let’s do this, then.”
The elder shook his head with dismay, but amusement shone in his eyes. He raised his voice and intoned formally, “Under the blessing of the Mother of the Earth and the watchful guard of the Father of the Sky, I bind these two in thought, spirit, and flesh.” Oron lifted his hand and recited an incantation in the ancient fae tongue.
Everyone else disappeared for Munro. The worries faded to the background. His skin tingled as the joining magic danced around them. He’d understood faerie mating ceremonies weren’t merely a formality, that he was entering a compelling magical contract, but he’d not anticipated the depth of the experience. As Oron spoke, Munro’s will and commitment to the union were tested. He may have spoken. He wasn’t certain.
Sudden silence swept around them. A reverent hush quieted the crowd as lights danced. Time seemed to stand still. Only the Elder’s voice, reciting words Munro didn’t understand, made him aware any time had passed at all.
“Quinton?” Eilidh said after Oron’s voice faded away.
“Yes?” he replied, feeling slightly dazed.
“It’s time to go,” she said. “Are you ready?”
“The ceremony’s over?” he asked.
With a musical laugh, she said, “Yes. Come. Now time for the fun part.” She laid her hand on his forearm. “Or am I going to have to guide you to the tents where we’ll disrobe? You appear slightly stunned.”
“Oh, no,” Munro said. “This part I’m ready for.” He reached over and swept her into his arms and kissed her. A cheer went up around the crowd.
Eilidh flushed. Even still, she’d enjoyed the kiss as much as he had. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she suddenly paled and stiffened. Panic stabbed through her aura.
“What’s wrong?” Munro asked. Gasps sounded around them.
“I don’t know,” Eilidh said. “Another ripple. This time,
much
stronger.”
She looked at Oron, who snapped his fingers at one of the nearby attendants. “Gather the conclave,” he said. He turned to Eilidh. “Your security is paramount, Your Majesty. We should get you to safety until we know what’s happening.”
The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the crowd’s mood shifted. What had been a happy celebration suddenly felt like a barn full of horses had been spooked in a thunderstorm.
Munro hated to even consider leaving, but he had little choice. “I should go to the Halls of Mist,” he told her. “Will you come with me?”
She glanced towards the crowd and shook her head. “My people need me. If I leave, they might panic. When you know what’s going on, send word. I’ll join you when I can.”
Munro didn’t like it, but they both had obligations. He kissed her again. “I’ll see you soon. I promise. We have unfinished business,” he said quietly.
Be careful
, she sent to his mind as he rushed down the steps and through the frightened crowd.
Demi held Huck’s hand as they stood in utter darkness, pressed against a cold stone wall, waiting for Leocort to appear from the other side of the keep. She could hear Huck’s breathing, even though she couldn’t see him. Turning her face towards him, she whispered, “Thank you.”
His eyes cast a strange glow when he looked in her direction. He blinked slowly and squeezed her hand.
They’d gotten past the keep with little trouble, doing exactly as Leocort instructed them. Once or twice, Watchers had wandered in their direction. The first time, the faerie shuddered as he walked right by them. The second time, the guard approached, but hesitated, then turned around as though he remembered he needed to be somewhere else. The two druids had been lucky. As Huck said, the wards didn’t render them invisible.
After several minutes past, Demi shifted her weight. “He’s taking too long,” she said quietly. “He might be in trouble.”
“He’s adult faerie, with more magic in his little finger than you or I will master in a lifetime. He can take care of himself,” he whispered. “If he doesn’t return soon, we’ll find our own way.”
“I can’t leave him behind. I don’t want him to suffer for my escape.”
Huck didn’t answer. She suspected he thought she was being sentimental for no reason, especially considering what was at stake. But reaching out to Leocort felt right to her. He was more than her jailor. In only a few days, he’d become her friend. The situation was strange and unlikely. Before her arrest, she’d never known any faerie but Ulrich. He hadn’t inspired anything but fear of his race.
The sound of voices came from farther down the corridor, slowly growing louder. “Why are you asking about the boy?”
“The human woman will die tonight. I think it’s only right that she goes to the Mother knowing her boy is well.” Demi recognised Leocort’s voice.