“Your Highness, I must apologise for my druid.” Eilidh took her time with her words. “He meant no offense.”
Griogair watched them closely, not saying a word.
“Actually,” Munro said. “I don’t care if you’re offended.”
Eilidh was surprised at his strength and confidence. She couldn’t detect so much as a flutter of nervousness about him.
He went on, “In fact,
I
am offended. You’re wasting my time, Griogair, and I don’t have as much of it as you do.”
Eilidh closed her eyes. Munro had no idea how powerful the prince was. If it made him nervous that she could have killed him with a thought, he should have been shaking in the presence of the prince-consort. She blamed herself for not explaining the situation better.
When she opened her eyes again, she was shocked to see the prince smiling. “Sit down,” he said to Munro with a slight chuckle, waving at the empty seat. “I don’t see what the argument has to do with my son’s disappearance. Isn’t it enough for you to know there was one?”
Munro sat down on the edge of the seat, not reclining fully or making himself comfortable. “I won’t know until you tell me what it was about.”
After a few moments, the prince said, “Cadhla has always found our son to be a disappointment. He isn’t as strong as she thinks suitable for someone of his noble lineage, and he has little ambition to learn. She frequently expresses her opinions to him. Over the centuries, he has come to resent it. Their argument was the same one they often have. Our son is an adult, and he spends time at various homes throughout the Otherworld. But at the same time, he is young, and…” The prince paused, as though choosing his words carefully. “He is not as adept at handling royal society as we would like. He therefore spends much time alone.”
“This might seem an odd question, but are you certain he’s missing? Could he just be avoiding his mother?”
Griogair shook his head. “He is guarded constantly, and we have eyes and ears everywhere. It might have been possible for him to hide for a short time, but not half a year, and not with an active search, no matter how secretive. Every faerie in the kingdoms knows what it would mean to defy the queen. The Watchers have done their duty. That I can promise you.”
“How did he slip away then, if he’s guarded?” Munro asked. Eilidh felt his sudden concern and discomfort.
Griogair shrugged. “He has friends.”
“So not
every
faerie is afraid of your wife,” Munro said quietly. Before Griogair could comment, Munro asked, “What makes you think he’s in the human world?”
“About a year ago, there was rumour of a child, one who practised the Path of the Azure, much like Eilidh, although this child was barely an adolescent, around forty, I believe. It has become more common for parents of such children to exile them before they are discovered.”
Eilidh sat up and met Griogair’s eyes. “There are more like me? Out on the streets?”
“Like most, this child was caught in the borderlands,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t hold such hopes.”
Munro put his hand over hers. He must have felt her surge of emotion. He gave her fingers a squeeze, turned back to Griogair, and asked, “What does an exile have to do with your son?”
“One night, my son and I were talking, and he asked about the exiles. This was only weeks after your own deeds became known in the kingdom. He mentioned you,” Griogair said, watching Eilidh’s face. “He said he envied you. You made it. You survived, thrived even, in his eyes. I was shocked, of course. No matter how difficult his life may be, he is the crown prince. But he asked me…” Griogair shifted slightly. “He asked me if his mother and I have continued making sacrifices to the Mother of the Earth.”
Munro turned to Eilidh, obviously confused. She hesitated only slightly before saying, “When a couple wish to conceive, they make a journey past the borderlands to make a sacrifice to the Mother of the Earth, our Goddess. Only She can grant the gift of fertility.”
Munro nodded and waited patiently for the prince to continue.
“I told him we stopped thirty years ago,” Griogair said. “It had become obvious the Goddess would not hear us.” The prince sat back, looking tired. “My decision caused a rift. Cadhla was obsessed with having another child, but I could see what it was doing to her. To us. I thought with time she would accept the Mother’s will.”
“And you told your son this?”
“When he first asked, I thought he was concerned his mother still wanted a daughter to succeed her. Trath would only take the throne if we had no female children,” the prince explained to Munro. “I thought perhaps it would comfort him to learn that regardless of the difficulties between him and his mother, his place in line was secure. Instead, he began asking me about the human realm, the places I might have seen on our visits.” To Eilidh he said, “We have gone to every altar in the kingdom at least once.”
“And where are these altars?” Munro asked Eilidh.
“There are fourteen left in this kingdom,’” she said. “They are usually near gates, but far enough that when the gates close, the couple is outside the borderlands. Most in Caledonia are marked by what you call
standing stones
, but not all.”
“Would he have gone to these altars?”
“I don’t think so,” Griogair said. “When we spoke, he was more interested in human dwellings, their habits. At first I thought it merely curious, but I occasionally heard rumours he had slipped away from his guards. It took a few months before I realised it was always near a gate. That’s when I started to suspect he visited the human realm.”
“Did you ever confront him about it?” Munro asked.
“When I asked, he denied having ever left the borderlands.”
“But you didn’t believe him,” Munro said.
“No,” Griogair replied. “I did not.”
“Can you tell me anything that will give me a place to start? Even if he stayed in Scotland, it’s a big place.”
“His last five sojourns were all near Ashdawn.”
“Perthshire?” Munro asked. “Why there?”
The prince shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps because of Eilidh, or perhaps for some other purpose. But it’s one of the reasons I sought your help, PC Munro.”
“Do you have a photo of him?”
Griogair frowned at Munro, then glanced at Eilidh, who said, “He means a likeness, Your Highness. A painting or image of any kind?”
Griogair nodded, then touched the air, as though sketching with his fingers. Lights played in front of him, dancing and responding to softly muttered words.
Munro watched with wonder, staring intently at the weaving flows of air.
It took only a few minutes before the prince stopped. He blew on the lines with a puff of air, and the image turned toward Munro and Eilidh. The face was remarkable. The boy looked very like Griogair, but with startling blue eyes. His mouth was slightly softer, and his brow a little higher, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.
Munro reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Before Eilidh could protest that it would never work in the Otherworld, he’d tapped a button on the front and it made an odd clicking noise. He glanced at the screen, tapped a few times on it, then put the device back in his pocket.
“What about friends? Are there faeries who would have gone with him?”
Griogair shook his head. “They have all been questioned. Some had knowledge or at least suspicions of his trips to the human realm, but none admitted accompanying him.”
“I’ll need to speak with them,” Munro said.
Surely he didn’t expect Griogair would allow it, Eilidh thought.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I cannot risk Cadhla learning of your investigation.”
Munro nodded. “And money? Would he have access to bank accounts? Credit cards? Cash even?”
The prince glanced at Eilidh for explanation. She shook her head at Munro. “He would not have these things.”
“What about jewellery or something he could have sold for money? We might be able to trace him that way.”
Griogair frowned. “Trath only ever wore one ring, a sign of his rank. He would never sell it.”
“All the same, can you show me what it looked like? It might help us find him, if someone has seen or recognised it.”
At first, Eilidh thought Griogair might refuse, but after a moment, the prince drew a picture of a plain white metal band with symbols etched into the surface. Munro repeated the process with his phone, and Eilidh could see he’d captured an image of the ring. Munro then asked, “How can we get in touch with you if we have more questions?”
Just then a tall female faerie swept up the mossy steps and moved in close to Griogair, whispering into his ear.
The prince’s eyes widened with alarm. “You must go,” Griogair said. “Now. Mira will guide you back to the gate. Quickly.” He stood and without another word, went down the steps and into his tree-house.
“Come,” Mira said. Her face was serious, and Eilidh acted quickly to obey. Munro also got to his feet and followed, and Eilidh was grateful the Otherworld had made him well enough to run.
When they stepped through the gate between the Otherworld and the borderlands, Eilidh and Munro kept running, but their guide stayed behind. The sky was still dark, and it would be several hours until the gates closed at dusk. Eilidh had said very little during the conversation with the prince, wanting to let Munro do his job, but she was shocked at the way he’d behaved. Interestingly, though, his techniques worked, and the prince opened up. It surprised her and gave her new respect for Munro.
Only when they’d reached the edge of the still-sleeping city did they slow down. Munro took Eilidh’s hand, and again she sensed it comforted and calmed his mind, but she was surprised at how cold his hands were. She constantly had to remind herself it was winter. The grey skies and crunching snow seemed mere background to her, but the weather affected Munro in a way it didn’t touch her.
She watched him as they walked. In the Otherworld, speaking to Griogair, Munro’s mind seemed remarkably focused. Now, though, it spun with thoughts. As they walked over the bridge toward town, Munro stopped and looked over the water. The River Tay was remarkably calm, its surface almost glassy. It reflected the pale yellow glow of the human moonlight.
“How can we find out where he went?” Munro said. “How far apart are the gates? We can assume he would go someplace closer to this gate than to another one, at least. If he’d been in Perth itself during the past few months, you would know, right?”
Eilidh hesitated. “I think so.” She’d been on Skye much of the time during the past six months, but journeyed back and forth several times to visit Munro. The astral training had proven difficult, and she often snuck away during the day, when Munro would be awake, but the Skye fae were sleeping. Using the Otherworld gates, if she timed things well, she could come and go easily. Distance in the Otherworld was more fluid than in the human world, and she could travel in a tiny fraction of the time it would take Munro to drive the distance.
“So we can rule out the city. And he’d stay away from the borderlands, right?”
Eilidh suddenly saw what he meant. “Yes. He must have had one or two friends among the Watchers. It would be difficult to pass through the gates without them knowing once, much less several times. But the Watchers move, and he couldn’t always be certain the same ones would be around. If he truly did not want his mother to know he was in the human world, it would be too big a risk.”
Munro nodded and pulled out his phone. “Let’s look at a map.” He laid it flat on the stone side of the bridge. “This is Perth,” he said.
Eilidh peered at the shiny surface of his phone, and saw the green representation of the woodlands, the blue ribbon of the river, and a cluster of lines and boxes that Munro said indicated the city. She took the phone in her hand and stared at it.
He pinched his fingers together on the screen, and the city became smaller, the river longer, and the forests wider. “This is about where Ashdawn is. We can rule out all of Perth, Scone, and what about Crieff?”
She looked at the spot west of Perth that he indicated on the tiny map. “I think that would be closer to the Moonstone gate, which is near this body of water.”
“Loch Earn,” Munro muttered. “Okay, what about south?” Munro asked. “Toward Edinburgh?”
“To the Wastes? No, he would use the Kingsbrine gate if he wanted to go there.”
“I think we must assume he’s in a town or village, but the more isolated it is, the more the kingdom borders would encroach at night. He wouldn’t want to risk that a Watcher would come close enough to detect him. If he was here,” she tapped on the phone’s screen, “here, or here, I think I would surely have felt him at one time or another, especially over recent months when I could move more freely. We can rule out the North between here and the closest gates, because I have run this path between Perth and Skye, and sensed only Watchers in the woods. I believe I would have noticed a faerie’s presence in the human habitations nearby.”