Azuri Fae Page 4

  Oron leaned forward. “Is that so?” He was the eldest among them and the conclave leader, in addition to being Eilidh’s main tutor in the astral arts. He looked at the others, and they exchanged glances she could not interpret. “And what was the nature of your conversation?”

  Eilidh outlined the queen’s offer, couching it in as friendly terms as possible, but careful not to distort the intent behind the message. She very much wanted them to accept and reunite the kingdom, but she knew it would not be as easy as saying yes and reopening the Skye gate. Centuries of distrust would take time to heal.

  “Have they lifted the death orders?” one member asked. He’d been quiet throughout much of her questioning, but now he turned his dark, penetrating eyes on Eilidh and held her gaze intently. “Is it not still a crime to even be able to touch the azure?”

  Eilidh offered a small shrug. “Queen Cadhla said each would be considered, and I took her at her word. She did not strike me as deceptive, although she was not telling me everything. One thing that seemed odd; she asked for a demonstration of my abilities. As you know, I’m unpractised, but I did what I could. I showed her a ball of light, and when pressed, altered my clothing. She seemed shocked, even horrified. I wondered if she was not also considering what it would mean to have hundreds of azuri fae, all more practised than I, at her disposal. If I were queen, the thought would have crossed my mind.”

  “Would it now?” The elder seemed amused, and Eilidh quickly assumed a delicate illusion to hide her reddening cheeks.

  “I don’t mean to presume, of course,” she said. “It seemed an obvious thought. Prince Griogair mentioned that they have enemies. I admit I don’t know everything that goes on in the royal gatherings in the Halls of Mist, but the fae have been known to employ machinations.” The Halls of Mist formed the intersection of magical worlds. Each kingdom joined there, no matter where in the human world that kingdom had its borders. Any faerie of any kingdom could walk the stronghold without fear, and many spent as much time as they could there. Within it was the source of fae power, the quality of magic that spread throughout the kingdoms, even seeping into the edges of the human world through open Otherworld gates.

  The conclave sat in silence for a time, as though each was lost in his or her thoughts. Eilidh’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. She had not eaten, except for a few bites when she spoke with Prince Griogair. She’d spent hours without respite and endured two gruelling sessions of questioning.

  She had become aware of Munro’s approach an hour into her questioning. At first, she attributed the feeling to the renewed intensity of his presence, which came over her when she crossed into the human realm. As time passed, she realised he was moving toward her, and at enough of a pace that he had to be in a car.

  Although Munro visited most weeks, she missed him. She didn’t know if their bond was responsible for her need to be close to him, but she also enjoyed his company, his odd, human sense of humour, his insight and talent. He hadn’t told her he would come that day, but it made her heart lighter to feel his approaching presence. Not to mention that even though her magical capacity had grown because of the bond, it would gain her little from people like the queen or from the conclave. She appreciated having an ally.

  Her thoughts turned to Griogair. As promised, she didn’t mention their conversation to the conclave, but she had considered it. He’d tried to manipulate her. On the other hand, she believed he’d told her the truth. She looked forward to consulting with Munro. He would know what to do.

  Eilidh felt her strength wilting. Oron stood and came to her. “My dear child, you are about to collapse. You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed at the weakness. “I haven’t been sleeping well since…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to mention the deaths that still haunted her: Saor’s, Beniss’, the druids—the other fae who died last summer. Beniss had been an elder and a member of this conclave. Beniss’ sister Galen, still held Eilidh responsible.

  “Come,” Oron said. “Let’s go home.” While she was in training, she stayed with Oron. She should have accepted it as a great honour, but instead it reminded Eilidh that many of the others might have refused to work with her. Oron put a hand on either side of her face, and warmth flooded into her. The ache in her bones subsided. “There. You need rest, but this will soothe your mind.”

  She slumped onto his shoulder. Not yet asleep, but not far from it. It surprised her, she thought distantly, that one as ancient as Oron had such physical strength. He was an oak, and not nearly as frail as he appeared.

  He guided her to his house, a short walk from the centre. Her eyes were heavy, and she could barely fight to keep them open. Once inside, she heard voices, but couldn’t even muster the energy to be polite. A soft hand took hers and led her to her room in the back, where she sank into her swing bed. She fell asleep before the hands finished pulling a blanket over her.

  Eilidh awoke to find Munro on the floor between her bed and the door. He lay with his back to her, as though guarding her. His presence filled the room and her heart. She felt certain now that the bonding magic was responsible for her responses to him. It swirled around the room, knitting their minds even more tightly. How long, she wondered, before their thoughts flowed into each other as though coming from one mind? Eventually, they would not even have to speak.

  She watched him breathe, taking in his sleep-tousled hair and the curve of a rounded ear. It had freckles on it, and for no reason she could explain, the sight made her smile. Turbulence filled his mind, and she realised he was dreaming. This bond held so many unexpected twists. She couldn’t help but wonder if the faerie who developed or discovered this magic millennia ago had understood what the consequences would be. Of course, in those days, the relationship between humans and the fae was quite different. Time, technology, religion, fear—all had eroded the path from both sides.

  Eilidh was tempted to touch Munro’s mind even deeper, to see if she could somehow access his dream, to know what visions made his mind tumble. Did he fight a battle? Argue with someone? Or did his heart race because he dreamt of more pleasant things, perhaps even of her? She had felt his desire surge many times when they were alone together, and she found its primitive strength enthralling.

  His mind, heart and body seemed locked in perpetual battle. It gave her newfound respect for him, and all humans. The fae kept their emotions tightly controlled; it seemed second nature. Humans, on the other hand, made continuous choices.

  His mind rushed toward wakefulness, and he sat up suddenly, whispering “Eilidh” into the darkened room. Knowing he could not see well in the dim early morning, she created a pale glow over her hand and sent it to rest in a corner. As his eyes adjusted, she increased the luminance.

  He turned to her, and she could feel the fog of sleep lift from his thoughts. He gave her a smile, and she could not help but return it. “Good morning,” he said with a stretch that turned into a full-body shudder.

  She couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. He must have driven through the night.

  “You’re doing it again,” he said. “Reading my mind.”

  “I constantly explore our bond,” she replied and stood. “I am glad you are here, Quinton.”

  He stood and folded his blanket. “I felt… Did something happen in the Otherworld?”

  She felt a twinge in his question. “Yes, several things. While visiting with my father, I was called before the queen and then had to report to the Higher Conclave. There is something else, but before we speak, I must have your word that nothing I say to you will be repeated, ever, to anyone.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course.”

  Suddenly aware of where they were, she said, “Not here. We must have absolute privacy.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  She gave a brief shake of her head and focused a thought toward him. Trust me. Not being trained with mind-speaking, she doubted he would hear he
r, but she hoped he would at least feel the emotions behind it.

  “Come,” she said. “I will check in with Oron, then we can find a quiet place to talk.”

  Eilidh led Munro to the front of the house. It was, in structure and layout, much like a human home, enclosed and squared-off, but with high ceilings. Its interior walls and floors were stone. Fae tapestries covered the walls, and the furnishings were hand-crafted and of fae design. A mural of crystals had been fashioned into one wall in the main room. She could see the magic resonance moving around it in a beautiful harmony she doubted Munro would be able to sense.

  An adolescent faerie, who couldn’t have been much more than fifty years old, came in from a side room. She was a lovely girl with eyes the colour of rich earth and long hair twisted down her back. “Grandfather is in his meditation chamber. I’ll tell him you’re awake.” Eilidh had never met her before. Oron had the largest family of any faerie she’d ever encountered. This girl could be a granddaughter, or even the granddaughter of one of his grandchildren. In the six months Eilidh had spent on the Isle of Skye, Oron kept her busy and practically locked away with her studies.

  “No need to disturb him,” Eilidh said.

  The girl smiled shyly, not yet having mastered the art of polite disagreement, and without another word went up the winding stone stair on the opposite side of the room.

  “Hello,” came a small squeak from the side room. Eilidh turned, shocked to see a faerie child inching toward them. Children were so rare among the kingdom fae, that babies under ten years old were closely guarded. She stepped back. Somehow the Skye azuri had been blessed many times, growing their numbers to a proportion no kingdom faerie would believe.

  Munro, on the other hand, reacted quite differently. “Hello, Princess,” he said with a grin. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.”

  “Quinton,” Eilidh whispered, wanting to warn him to stay back. If any fae thought their baby was in danger, they might become terrible indeed. The last thing she wanted was to draw Oron’s ire. Even after months in his household, she never forgot her place. As a student, she was lower than any servant. Oron tried to tell her the azuri colony’s way was different, and besides, she was no longer a child, as most students would be. He tried to treat her as a guest, but the habits of her kingdom life were too deeply ingrained.

  Munro went down to one knee and hunched a little, so the child could look him in the eye. She skipped up to him fearlessly. He held out a hand, and she took it. “I’m Quinton Munro,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “Fluranach,” she said. “You’re not supposed to cast illusions in the house. Grandfather says so.”

  Munro grinned. “You mean these?” He flicked one rounded, freckled ear.

  The child nodded.

  “Feel,” he said.

  She reached up and grabbed the top of his ears with her small hands. “That’s pretty good,” she said. “I can usually tell when Alyssa does it.”

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “I’m seven. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “You don’t look like a little boy,” she said, obviously not believing him.

  “I’m not. I’m human. We age up fast. And you don’t sound like a little girl.”

  “I’m little, but I’m clever. Everyone says so.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “So you don’t have any magic at all?” she asked.

  “I’m a druid. I suppose technically I have some magic, but I’m just learning. I don’t really know what it does or how to use it. So far all I can do is make pretty rocks.”

  “Can I see?”

  “Sure. I’ll need a regular rock to start with.”

  “I’ll get one!” she squealed and thundered through the front door into the garden, completely ignoring Eilidh.

  Munro stood and turned back to Eilidh with a smile. “She’s cute,” he said.

  “Quinton, you mustn’t.”

  “Mustn’t what? What’s wrong?” A shadow passed over his face, but he quickly brightened again when the girl returned.

  She handed him a rock, which was small, flat, and half-covered in mud. “This felt like a good one.”

  Munro sat cross-legged on the ground, and the faerie child did the same. They faced each other with serious expressions. Eilidh stepped forward, her mind spinning with warnings, but unable to speak.

  Oron’s voice came from behind her. “Let’s just see what happens,” he said. When Eilidh started to protest, he shushed her. “Fluranach is a talented child. I’m curious to see what she makes of your druid. He certainly has no ill intention. I can see that much.”

  Eilidh relaxed. She could see it too, but she couldn’t help but worry. Even though the azuri fae seemed to be more fertile than their kingdom counterparts, she couldn’t shake the deep-seated instinct to protect the girl. Fae children were so valuable to their race.

  Munro was busy scraping mud off the rock, careless of where the bits fell. He polished the last of it off with the bottom edge of his shirt. “There we go. That works.” He turned the rock in his hand, looking at it from all angles.

  “What’re you going to do?” the child asked.

  “Patience, my little flower.” He frowned as he contemplated the rock. “Maybe it would help if you held my hand.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking serious. She put her tiny hand in his large powerful one. “Ooh!” she exclaimed.

  Eilidh stepped forward, but Oron stopped her with a touch of his hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”

  A blue ribbon of light formed around Munro and Fluranach’s hands, flowing between them and into his other hand. He closed the fist that held the rock and shut his eyes. The pair sat like that for almost an hour, neither flagging, as though unaware of the passing time or that they were closely watched. When Munro opened his eyes, he opened his hand as well.

  Eilidh and Oron stepped forward to peer into Munro’s palm. In it nestled a stone rose, petals so delicate they looked like paper. The flat grey had taken on the faintest blush. Fluranach’s large eyes grew wide with wonder. “It’s so pretty,” she said.

  Munro handed it to her. “For you.”

  She glanced up and saw her grandfather, and her eyes lit up.

  “Look, Grandfather! Look! Isn’t it beautiful? My new friend Quinton Munro made it for me. He’s a druid, you know. He has special magic.” She turned and looked up at Munro, who had risen. “Where did you come from anyway?”

  “Perth,” he said.

  “I mean why are you in Grandfather’s house?”

  Oron answered, “He is our honoured guest, Fluranach.”

  She nodded, then asked, “May I keep it?”

  Oron looked at the rose without touching it. “It is an object of power, Fluranach. It should be treated reverently. You may meditate with it during your third-hour contemplations.”

  “Yes, Grandfather.”

  “And you should thank your new friend for sharing his magic with you.” Oron smiled at Munro, giving his own subtle nod of thanks.

  Fluranach grinned and took Munro’s hand, tugging it to encourage him to bend down. When he complied, she whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

  He leaned over and whispered back, “You’re very welcome.”

  “Now off to your studies, child, before your elder sister discovers that you’ve wandered off when you should be practising your runes.”

  She clambered off with a wave for Munro.

  “When I was her age,” Munro said to Eilidh, “I was chasing frogs.”

  Oron chuckled. “When I was your age, I was chasing frogs. Come. We have things to discuss.”

  Chapter 4

  The three of them went outside to chat in a garden. The cold air bit, and Munro wished he’d brought more than just a jacket. He would have liked gloves, a scarf, maybe a woolly hat. Neither faerie seemed aware of the hard chill on the wind. He listened as Eilidh and Oron spoke. She hadn’t yet filled Munro in on
what happened in the Otherworld, but he could piece some things together based on what the two of them said. Besides, they talked about royalty and politics, and although he was vaguely interested, it reminded him of the feeling he got when hearing about the latest South American coup or protests on some distant continent. Interesting, but only to a point.

  What he really wanted to know was how Eilidh felt. Their bond let him sense some things, flashes of emotion from time to time, but it didn’t tell him what he wanted, and it never reassured him. In the past six months, she’d lived here, studying and working, and he came when his schedule would allow. They’d grown closer, but they also spent a lot of their time working. Oron was so eager to probe and test the bonding magic that it left him and Eilidh with little time to do normal things. Of course, how normal could they be?