“Good point,” Huck said. He turned and started to retrace his steps back toward the cave. “I can think of worse things than hanging out with you forever.”
Demi grinned, wincing when the action made her bruises crinkle. “If I wasn’t sure I have terrible breath, I might kiss you.”
“If you didn’t have several broken bones, I’d kiss you back.” They continued in silence, Huck trying to plan their next move. What he couldn’t figure out was how on God’s green earth he’d managed to get them lost in time.
Chapter 16
Rory stewed about the druids’ late-night meeting for two hours before working up the courage to act. His plan was simple: get the Cup of Cultus come hell or high water. In the end, he decided to leave for Meditar in the middle of the day. Even if the sea fae weren’t quite like other faeries, they had to sleep sometime. Chances were, they rested when the sun was out.
Before he left, he checked Sheng’s suite, hoping to find his breathing crown and diving suit laying around. The diving suit was in the bathroom, but the other druid must have put the crown away somewhere, and Rory couldn’t find it. Sneaking into Aaron’s suite was riskier with two people living there. Plus, the two of them had an attendant who might be lurking around. With any luck, he’d have gone to bed hours before.
Aaron had left his breathing crown on a side table. Rory managed to take it and slip out without being noticed. After returning to his own suite to change into the diving suit, he put the crown on his head and looked in the mirror. It looked good on him. Why the hell shouldn’t he be king? Everything that had happened to him was just damned bad luck. Why should he be held responsible for things that weren’t his fault?
Once he was ready, he moved as quietly as possible, walking down the wide main stairs and to the back of the Hall. A few servants and Watchers were still about, but they didn’t pay him any mind. Everyone was used to the druids being diurnal, keeping odd hours.
Outside, he headed to the Garden of the Mists and nodded to the Mistwatcher on duty. Rory felt nervous as hell, but he’d discovered the key to getting faeries to do what he wanted was to act like he expected them to comply. It was all about confidence. He didn’t have a lot sometimes, but he had learned to fake it.
“My lord druid,” the Mistwatcher said.
“Good day,” Rory said. “Making a short trip, so please make sure the gate stays open until I return.”
“Of course,” he replied with a salute.
“I shouldn’t be long,” Rory said. He activated the gate, shifting the panel to indicate the rune for Meditar.
When the archway filled with shimmering water, Rory checked his gear one last time, adjusted the breathing crown, and stepped through. Even though Sheng and Aaron had reported that the water had been drained from the room on the other side, Rory had braced himself for a shock of water. Fortunately, they’d been telling the truth. Even better, the room was unguarded.
Now that the small structure was empty of water, Rory studied his surroundings. Everything had seemed ominous during his first visit. He would have sworn the place was enormous. Funny how his panic had made his mind play tricks on him.
The sun filtered through the water overhead, and Rory could see quite a distance underwater. The Mistgate put out an eerie glow, but he hoped no one would notice during the day.
Rory stood, looking over the ocean floor. A distant structure beckoned, as though the Cup
wanted
him to take it home. The underwater castle looked much further away than he’d expected. Sheng made their journey sound like a two minute swim. Maybe it was for the sea fae. Bloody mermaids. “Quit stalling,” he muttered to himself.
He practiced sending air flows through the crown. If Aaron could do it, Rory didn’t expect any problems. Aaron was better with runes in general, but as a water druid, he shouldn’t have any better luck with the crown than Rory. Everything boiled down to luck.
After few more breaths, Rory steeled himself to test the crown. Pushing into the water, he had to fight a moment of panic when no air bubble appeared. But within a few heartbeats, he was able to concentrate enough to create one.
He didn’t like the way the bubble wobbled in the water and pressed against his face when he moved. Still, the others had done it. Moving like an ungainly gorilla, he pushed himself away from the safety of the hut and toward the sea faerie’s dwellings.
Swimming was awkward, but he managed a sort of bounce, sinking down a bit, then kicking off the sandy sea floor. In a few places, rocks or the side of a dwelling gave him purchase, and he propelled himself forward. He had to concentrate hard on the crown.
Fish moved in large schools overhead, and Rory flinched every time a shadow caught his eye or an unfamiliar sea creature shimmied by. He’d learned to swim at school, but only enough to get his basic certificate for PE class. He hated large bodies of water. This was the first time he’d voluntarily gone into the ocean. The sea floor was huge and felt empty, full of strange creatures and no bloody air. Still, if he got what he wanted, the stress would be worth it.
∞
When dusk came, Munro stretched and shuffled to his feet. He’d been lying awake for hours, thinking, planning, and trying to make some sense out of so many problems that felt completely unsolvable. In moments like this, when everything seemed uncertain, he missed Eilidh. He didn’t always agree with her advice, but hearing what she had to say gave him clarity. He decided that after he found something to eat, he’d ask if she had time to talk.
Before he could leave for Caledonia, he’d need to tell Griogair the bad news, that Lisle had found no evidence to support Munro’s admittedly hopeful theory. He couldn’t think of any further avenues to investigate or a way to justify keeping the prince from Caledonian justice. Munro had been so certain that with a few questions, the case against Griogair would unravel. Unfortunately, nothing contradicted his story. If anyone could have gotten the truth, it would have been Lisle. She often underestimated herself, but Munro had never met someone so persuasive, short of an astral faerie using magical influence. But Lisle didn’t manipulate like Flùranach did. No, the druid just made a person
want
to tell the truth. She could get this look in her eye that would make an innocent lamb feel guilty.
Down in the dining room, Munro greeted Aaron, Joy, and Douglas. “Good evening,” he said.
“My lord druid,” Joy responded. He wondered if she’d ever relax and call him Munro.
“Hey,” Aaron said.
Douglas nodded, his mouth full of food.
“No Lisle?” Munro asked, taking a seat across from Joy and Aaron. “She’s usually the first one down.”
“Nope,” Aaron said. “No Rory either. He must be having a right sulk.”
Munro did his best to stifle his irritation.
“What else is new?” Douglas asked with a smirk.
Deciding to shift the subject to keep his annoyance with Rory from growing out of control, Munro asked, “Tràth still around?”
“Aye, he’s been spending time with his old man.”
“Did you tell him what Lisle said?”
After a pause, Douglas nodded. “Didn’t seem right not to.”
“No, he has a right to know. I’m planning to visit Griogair after breakfast, then I’ll need to tell Eilidh. I guess I’m still hoping to come up with some brilliant plan, but I’ve got nothing.”
“Look, I know it sucks,” Douglas said. “But I don’t think anyone would say you didn’t do everything possible. Is there any way to let him stay here? Like house arrest or something.”
“I’ll talk to Eilidh,” Munro said. Truthfully, he didn’t hold out much hope. As much as everyone involved hated the situation, Eilidh wasn’t one to put herself or anyone else above the law. If Griogair committed murder, even Munro couldn’t save him. He might be able to talk his mate into not invoking the death penalty. Faeries tended to keep trials short and justice swift. Still, Munro was not without influence, and he hoped she would listen to what he had to say.
A servant came and set Munro’s usual first evening meal in front of him: muesli with strong coffee. “Thanks,” he said. He still hadn’t grown accustomed to breakfast at night.
Just as he dug in to the first bite, the Hall’s head steward entered. “Lord Druid Munro,” Hon said. “Your mate, Queen Eilidh of Caledonia, has arrived and requests an audience.”
“She can come back, Hon. You know that,” Munro said. He didn’t know what kind of bee Hon had in his bonnet. The steward was always trying to get the druids to behave more formally, acquire more servants, do less for themselves.
“Yes, my lord druid,” he said. “Her Majesty wishes to see you on a matter of some import. I’ve shown her to the west reception room.”
An uneasy feeling settled in Munro’s stomach when he reached out and touched his bond with Eilidh. She was deeply concerned, anxious even. “Thanks,” he said. “Bring us some coffee, would you?”
“Of course, my lord druid,” Hon said with a deep bow and departed in the direction of the kitchens.
“What do you think is up?” Aaron asked.
“No clue. She’s tense though.” Munro wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin and stood. He hoped she hadn’t learned about Lisle’s idea to take Maiya to the human realm. On the other hand, he had a hard time believing Lisle would go behind his back and talk to Eilidh without his knowledge.
Trotting through the Hall toward his wife, he pondered whether or not that was true. What wouldn’t Lisle do to save her granddaughter? A wave of guilt passed over Munro. Maybe he shouldn’t have dismissed her idea out of hand. Two people’s lives were at stake.
A few minutes later, he stepped through the offset arches that led into the formal reception room. Eilidh looked up when he entered, her silver eyes swimming with worry. He was surprised to find her not alone. A servant in Caledonia’s blue livery stood behind the queen and to her left.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Eilidh immediately. “Is Maiya all right?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “She’s fine.” Eilidh smiled sadly. “Come. Sit.”
“Something’s happened.” He took a seat opposite her and perched on the edge of the chair.
She paused only a moment before saying, “Alyssa is dead.”
“But I just saw her…” His mind reeled. He knew that was a stupid statement, one he’d heard so many people make when he’d been a cop. As if someone couldn’t be dead simply because they’d recently been seen alive.
“You mustn’t feel responsible,” Eilidh said.
Of course he was responsible. He’d sent her away, and now he felt petty for having done so. He’d been relieved Leocort ordered her to Eirlioc Falls, partly because he’d worried that someday, in a moment of weakness, he’d have given in to her offer. Now because of his bad judgement, she was dead. “What happened?”
Eilidh reached over and took his hand. “She was murdered. Her commander discovered her body in Prince Koen’s cell. She’d been stabbed.” Eilidh’s lips curled with distaste. “She had this in her hand.” With a gesture to the servant, Eilidh accepted a piece of paper from her attendant and passed the sheet to Munro.
His gut wrenched when he saw the blood-soaked page. Alyssa’s blood. He took it and read what he could make out.
My son,
If you’re certain this is what you want, of course I will arrange it. With such a courageous gesture, your death will not be meaningless. You give us the opportunity to start the revolution our people so desperately crave, with you as our martyr and hero.
You have my word that…
The bottom of the page was torn and the paper that remained was too marred by blood to be readable. A crack forensics team like the one he’d had access to as a police officer could undoubtedly decipher the rest of the message. But even still, he’d read enough to understand.
“Koen planned his own death?”
“So it would seem. The Watchers at Eirlioc Falls arrested Prince Estobar and he confessed to arranging his son’s
martyrdom
. They said…” She paused and exhaled, taking a moment to collect herself. “They said he was proud of his son’s courage.”
“I still don’t understand. You questioned the Watchers yourself. They all said there’s no way Koen could have conjured a weapon as Griogair said he did.”
“One of the Watchers conjured it for him. I wouldn’t have suspected any capable of that kind of disloyalty. But because they used their earth power and not illusion, no one was any the wiser. It’s unthinkable to let another touch your conjured weapon this way. It’s so intimate. Still, four arrests were made within four hours of Alyssa’s death. With Estobar’s confession and their plans for revolution quashed, the guilty ones apparently hoped that admitting the truth would spare them from the sword.”
“Will it?”
Eilidh gave him a level stare.
“I don’t blame you,” Munro said. “How is Elder Oron taking the news?”
A frown marred Eilidh’s expression. “He’s heartbroken. First Flùranach was exiled from Caledonia and now Alyssa is dead. His two favourite granddaughters. Alyssa was such a promising and talented faerie. When we were together at the Isle of Skye, she was generous with her time and friendship. It’s no small thing. I remember those who were kind when I was still an outcast.”