“Actually, that’s a good idea. I’m too close to the situation to be objective.”
“And if I find he murdered Prince Koen in cold blood?”
Munro’s expression darkened. “We’ll take this one step at a time, okay?”
“Very well,” she said and put her small hand over his. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for my family.”
“And you for mine,” he said. He rose, then leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“What about me?” Rory said. “What can I do to help?”
For a moment, Munro looked stumped. It had been so long since Rory did anything useful, they’d taken to getting along without him. “There’s a list a mile long of requested artefacts in the workshop. Take a crack at whatever takes your fancy. Any item we can use to buy some goodwill with the queens will help. Pay special attention to requests from Ashkyne, Bellesaria, and Menelei. Those are the three kingdoms we have the most tenuous relationships with.”
“Sure thing,” Rory said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m heading to Danastai. I want answers about The Way from Ewain as well as this quest he tried to send you on.” He turned to Aaron and Sheng. “I’ll do my best to learn something about the Cup of Cultus to help when you make the next attempt on the underwater location.”
Rory frowned but nodded. Lisle decided to make a point of finding Rory in the workshop later and attempting to smooth things over. Even though Munro insisted the vote of the currently present Druid Council be unanimous to name him king, if the other five voted for him and his most pressing troubles were tended to, she felt sure she could convince him to accept the mantle. But first things first. She stood. “I’ll find out if Prince Tràth is finished visiting with his father. I want to begin right away.”
“Thanks again, Lisle,” he said. “While you’re gone, I’m going to convince everyone else to vote for you as queen.” His small smile and the sparkle in his eye told her he was teasing her. He knew what she was up to. That was fine. She’d make them all see reason eventually.
∞
Ewain stared at Flùranach greedily. Having her was the first step in his plans. Oh, a few faeries had come looking for him when word got out he was the Father of the Sky, but he’d easily avoided discovery. But this woman was a treasure. That idiot of a child druid had no idea what he’d given up when he released her bond or how to use her abilities. His pitiful skill wasn’t worthy of such a wonder.
She’d busied herself over the night since Rory and Sheng’s departure by trying to clean the palace. Years would pass before one faerie might make this ruin habitable. Once, it had been a glorious place, his home. Despite the futility of her efforts, he left her to her work. The labour kept her busy, and she had more energy than he could cope with. She was clearly afraid but excited by her new life. Over time, he’d mould her into the queen she should be. She would be his instrument.
When she sensed him watching her clearing dust, she lowered her gaze. “How may I serve, my lord druid?”
“Come here, child,” he said. She approached without hesitation, and her compliance pleased him. “Open your dress. I’m going to touch your skin.”
She seemed surprised by the request, and a pretty blush spread across her delicate features. Her hands trembled as she untied the ribbon at the front of her gown.
Interesting
, he thought. He’d not known the fae to be modest. Her time with the humans must have instilled the quality. The simple gesture made her seem more of a person to him and less of a mere blank canvas.
“Although contact with the skin is not required for me to influence your flows, I can delve deeper if I touch you.”
“Of course, my lord druid,” she said and pulled her dress back over her shoulders. The fabric fell away, leaving her naked to the waist.
Seeing her small breasts and perfect skin, he felt a stirring he’d not experienced in many ages. “You’re quite beautiful,” he said.
Her blush deepened. She met his gaze for an instant, then looked away prettily. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Shifting his focus, Ewain sought the flows of her magic. Her astral talents emanated from her head, but she had other flows as well. In her torso, she still had traces of all four spheres of earth magic Rory had imparted to her with their failed bonding. More interestingly, swirling around her hips were the flows of temporal magic.
Ewain put one hand to her temple and the other over her heart. She gasped and leaned into him as he took in her powerful flows. He delved deep, sensing which threads were strongest. She was an adept illusionist, he discovered, but even stronger was her ability to influence. When he let that magic surge, her lips parted and she tilted her head back, exposing her long, pale throat to him. Stroking her power was like playing a fine instrument.
He slipped both his hands down to her waist and unfastened the buttons that held her skirt at her hips. The fabric fell to the ground, and he gently probed the wisping temporal flows. Her body stiffened, fear causing her to pull away. Clearly, she had been too afraid to access the temporal magic that had aged her prematurely, but it was the root of her true power. Never in his reckoning had temporal and astral resided together in one vessel.
“Relax,” he said softly, stroking a strand of influence as he gave the command. She melted at the sound of his gentle voice. Returning his attention to her temporal flows, he continued to keep her relaxed and pliant. With a hand on her hip, he let her magic rush over him. Their eyes met, and she gave in to the rhythm of his work. Through her, he looked into the abyss of time, felt its allure.
He pulled her body to him, and together they turned so he could view the expanse of time before him, spreading out like a field of stars. He sensed the flutter of her heartbeat, delicately racing as she clung to him. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered as they danced through the cosmos together.
After a moment, she said, “I’m not afraid.” Placing a small hand on his cheek, she took hold of her magic again while she stared intently at him. Suddenly she was in control, rippling with delight as they moved together. Wrapped in the power of her many flows, she unfastened his robe, pulling the fabric away with a surge of new confidence.
Now, in addition to the strength of her power, he felt the steel of her will. “Careful,” he whispered. Her spirit was a wondrous thing, but she was untrained. As their bodies touched, their connection grew even deeper.
“I don’t want to be careful,” she said, caressing his body in a way no one had for a very long time. She was a wild spirit, untamed and, until now, restrained.
Taking her influence, he gently pressed. “You must let me guide your power as it expands, or we may both suffer injury.”
Her eyes shone, and he released the temporal flows. “Yes, my lord druid,” she said. She moved his hand from her hip to the cleft between her legs. She writhed over his fingers, relishing his touch. After long, luxurious moments, she began shuddering and crying out as waves of pleasure took her. She was magnificent, more beautiful than any creature he’d seen in any age. “Make me yours,” she whispered and went to the ground, guiding him to lay on top of her.
She plucked at the strands of time, stretching the moment until he almost couldn’t bear it. She had learned quickly to cope with a power that terrified her moments before. With a soft brush of influence, she heightened his pleasure as he plunged within her depths. How deftly she controlled him. He had thought her to be an innocent creature he would shape into a queen. She proved herself a goddess in disguise.
∞
Two hours past sunrise, Munro finally wandered into his suite at the Druid Hall. He desperately needed to crash. Lisle’s help put his mind at ease. She’d left moments before, having caught him in the corridor after she talked to Prince Griogair. She had a plan to investigate further in Caledonia and also agreed to talk to Elder Oron about Maiya and Jago. As Jago’s great-grandmother, she was the only one Munro trusted completely with Maiya. With the right blend of maternal instinct and human common sense, she seemed to understand the child in ways even Eilidh didn’t.
Having Lisle in his corner made a huge difference. He’d been right about her being the best choice to become queen, even if she didn’t agree. While she was gone, he’d sneak in chats with the others. Even if Lisle did only live another twenty years, which he doubted because of the profound influence of the Otherworld, Demi would inherit, then somewhere down the line, Jago. If that happened, Eilidh would get her way and Maiya would rule beside him. Like it or not, that pair had decided from infancy they were meant to be together, and he didn’t doubt their connection. Not anymore.
Eilidh was proving a tougher problem right now, and their rift was the one issue he had to deal with on his own. A part of him insisted that when he proved Griogair innocent, the ends would justify the means. She would forgive him for challenging her in her own court. The more realistic part of him knew that was bollocks.
He sat on a long sofa and pulled off his shoes, tossing each to the floor. When he looked up, he saw Alyssa entering his chamber, as she had so many days before. Their friendship had become a solace to him in the difficult days since his return from the dead.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked. “I hoped to catch you before you slept.”
“Nah, I just got in. It’s been a busy night.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit.”
“Thank you, my lord druid,” she said. She wore a sheer day robe, indicating she was finished working for the night as well. Of course, these days, she tended to take her duty when he did. She’d become more of a personal bodyguard and confidant than a regular Mistwatcher. “Is it true the druids are planning to raise a king?”
“A queen,” Munro corrected her gently.
“Then your name is not being considered?” She frowned, knitting her black eyebrows together as she did so.
Munro untucked his shirt and made himself comfortable, leaning back with a tired sigh. “Oh, there was talk, but I’m not interested. We agreed whoever we raise would have to get six votes. Since nothing would convince me to vote for myself, it isn’t going to happen.”
Alyssa smiled. “Remember when we met in the Isle of Skye? I thought you were handsome for a human, but I admit I never envisioned you a king.”
The memory brought a chuckle. “Aye, those were good days, weren’t they?”
“You would be a worthy king,” Alyssa said, suddenly serious.
Munro tilted his head, accepting the compliment as it was intended, not wanting to have an argument over something that wouldn’t happen. “One monarch in the family is enough. Eilidh is the natural ruler. I’m best at my own kind of work.”
The Mistwatcher hesitated. “You have fallen out with your mate,” she said.
He responded with a sharp nod. As close as he and Alyssa had become, he didn’t want to talk about what had passed between him and his wife. Still, it felt good to admit the truth. Alyssa was nothing if not loyal to him. A bitter part of his mind wished Eilidh had as much faith in him as his bodyguard did.
Alyssa stood and came to sit next to him. He shifted to make room and put his feet on the table.
She took his hand. “I’m sorry you are having difficulty. I can see you need a friend. Would you like me to stay for a while?”
He turned his head and met her eyes. Even sensing the subtle invitation for more intimacy than he wanted from her, he was tempted to say yes. Their relationship had always been professional but friendly. The idea of having a close friend and companion who wasn’t one of the druids appealed to him. The other humans each had their own agendas, as did Eilidh. But Alyssa was there for him alone. Today, she seemed to be offering something more. “I’m in love with Eilidh,” he said softly.
“I know,” she whispered. She leaned over and kissed him. Her lips lingered on his, and for a fraction of a moment, he let himself enjoy her touch.
When she put her hand on his chest and inched her body closer, he pulled away. “I can’t do this,” he said. “I love my wife.”
“You need comfort and friendship,” she said, her eyes shining. “Do you believe your mate would be jealous if you accepted what I offer? She who has not only taken at least two other men to her bed, but made them her mates?”
At least?
Would Eilidh have bedded others? They were often apart, and faeries did not typically practice restraint in their sexual invitations. As his mind whirled with the thought, Alyssa kissed him again, raising herself up and straddling him. “You could soon be a king, even an emperor. Why deny your desires?” she whispered. Her tongue delved into his mouth and he gathered all his willpower to push her aside and rise to his feet.
“You forget yourself,” he said, his anger directed at himself as much as her.
The look on her face said she realised she’d gone too far. “Forgive me, Quinton. I only wanted to—”
He straightened his clothing, annoyed that his body had responded to her. “You will call me Lord Druid. Report to Leocort immediately. Tell him what happened and that I’ve requested another Mistwatcher accompany me when I’m ready to go to Danastai at nightfall.”
“Please, no, my lord druid.” Alyssa tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled back. “He will send me away. I only want to serve you.”