On the night of Tràth’s departure, Eilidh and Griogair walked down to the portal to say farewell to him. In the previous days, he’d made significant progress in his meditations, and she had no doubt he’d soon have some control over the bond and its influence. Alyssa, Elder Oron’s granddaughter and an accomplished astral fae in her own right, had agreed to accompany the party. She had been training as a Watcher since she passed her fiftieth year mark. Fortunately, rather than taking insult at being asked to do something so far outside her chosen path, she behaved as though she was undertaking a secret mission for the queen.
Aaron and his retinue had already gone forward, and Tràth’s entourage would meet them on the road to the Zalian capital. The carts passed through first, giving Tràth a moment to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything, Mother,” he said to Eilidh and kissed her cheek. “I feel happier than I have in as long as I can remember.” He looked better too, less distracted and weary. Douglas’ presence clearly still haunted him. The pair had avoided each other so strenuously that Eilidh believed with conviction she was doing the right thing by helping Tràth dampen, if not close, their connection. She’d been heartbroken to hear what Douglas had said to her step-son. The boy had lied, of course. She’d been a witness to the fact that Douglas had wanted the bonding. If he hadn’t, no one could have forced him to say the words. Eilidh had tried to tell Tràth as much, but he kindly rebuffed her attempts to soothe his aching heart.
“Father,” Tràth said, and likewise kissed his father’s cheek.
Soon, only the prince and his honour guard of six Caledonian Watchers remained. There were no further instructions to give, no more words of encouragement necessary. They’d spent the past few days exhausting every eventuality she and her advisors could think of. She smiled at him. “We’ll miss you.”
“And I, you,” he said. He signalled to his Watchers. With a smile, he said, “If not sooner, I’ll see you on the Feast of Yalden Day.” He bowed before departing through the shimmering blue portal.
Just as he left, Munro came trotting down the narrow bridge from the Druid Hall. He held Princess Maiya, dressed in denim overalls and carrying her wooden rattle. “Dammit,” Munro said, coming around the portal to greet them. “I’ve missed them?”
Griogair nodded. “Hello,” he said, reaching up to touch Maiya’s rosy cheek.
Eilidh was less than pleased. “What in the name of the Mother are you doing out here with Maiya dressed like
that
?” she hissed.
“What’s wrong?” Munro asked. “She looks cute.”
Maiya shook her rattle and gurgled something that sounded disappointingly like
Jago
.
“Cute?” Eilidh said, trying not to raise her voice. The immense square was fairly deserted now that both convoys had gotten underway. A few Caledonian Watchers and servants waited on the royal family, and library scholars went about their business.
Munro sighed. “She still makes a mess of her food. It’s more practical to put her in washable clothes,” he said.
Eilidh couldn’t stomach his attitude anymore. “She is a princess. You are a Druid Lord. You should not care if her clothes are washable. This is why you have nurses and servants. There are people whose entire lives are devoted to these things.”
Munro held one of Maiya’s hands in his own, bouncing her in his arms as he pretended to gnaw on her fingers just as Maiya was trying to gnaw on him. The tiny ridges of her single tooth had just begun to break through the skin. The baby giggled. “Fine. I’ll take her back to the Hall. I just thought her brother might like to see her before he left for an extended journey.”
“I’ll call a nurse,” Eilidh said.
“What could I possibly be doing wrong now?” Munro growled. “Don’t you think I can manage to carry her a hundred yards without supervision?”
“Over the mists?” Eilidh asked with exasperation. He was not only inexperienced but careless too.
“We walk over the mists every bloody day!” Munro shouted.
Maiya squeaked her disapproval at his tone, and Griogair murmured, “Shall we take this back to one Hall or the other? We are not alone.”
“Not with my daughter, you don’t,” Eilidh countered.
Munro kissed Maiya on the side of the face to calm her fussing. “We’re upsetting Maiya,” he said.
“She shouldn’t even be here,” Eilidh said, suddenly no longer able to contain her temper. “She should be in a nursery, learning the fae tongue and preparing to control her magic when it begins to manifest.”
“You gave your word,” Munro said. “We talked about this, and you agreed.”
“Well, I don’t agree any longer. I thought you would respect her nurses. I thought you merely wanted some reassurance she was well cared for. I didn’t know you were going to parade her in horrible clothing in public and teach her to speak English! She’s going to end up like that lethfae boy.”
Munro looked stricken. “Our daughter is lethfae. Don’t you dare say that like it’s a dirty word. Not ever.”
Eilidh had never felt such cold anger through their bond, and she knew she’d gone too far. But how could he expect otherwise? He tried her patience to the extreme, and she’d finally snapped. “You talk to him, Griogair,” she said. “I can’t make him see reason.”
“I think,” Griogair said, “we should go sit and have a conversation. In private. The three of us or the two of you, but perhaps not shouting in the public square, and especially not in front of the princess. I can take her to her nurses, if you two wish to collect your thoughts.”
“Thanks, but I’m going home,” Munro said. “I told Jago he could read to Maiya before her nap.” He turned toward the portal, heading to the bridges beyond.
“Quinton,” Eilidh said. He didn’t stop. She sighed. Then, as Munro passed the portal, it darkened. A strange form coalesced within the light and reached out like a huge, black hand of mist. “Quinton!” Eilidh shouted as the panic rose in her chest.
He spun at the sound of her voice, a flash of worry playing over his expression in that instant, a moment she would later relive over and over. His eyes widened as the hand descended on him and Maiya. The princess struck out with her rattle as the darkness engulfed them both. As the rattle came in contact with the strange mist, the vapour parted. Eilidh ran forward, and as she did, Munro did something remarkable. He threw Maiya with all his might. Making a whip of air, Eilidh cocooned the baby and swept her back toward Griogair, even as Eilidh reached out for Munro.
The dark hand lifted Munro off the ground, far above the portal. “Quinton!” Eilidh shouted. There was no mind at work that she could sense. Her astral magic was useless. She tried a trick similar to the way she’d grabbed Maiya, making a tendril of air to pull Munro back or to blow the smoke away. Neither worked. Her ropes slid though the hand as though it had no form. She wrapped her air trap around Munro’s waist, but she couldn’t hold him. He was becoming part of the mist himself.
Wind roared as she tried desperately to save him, but as quickly as the hand had appeared, it vanished, taking Munro through the portal. She ran to it, diving in after her mate. She arrived in Caledonia, much to the surprise of the Watchers on the other side. “Did Lord Druid Munro come through here?” she shouted.
“No, Your Majesty,” they said.
“Be on the alert,” she commanded and returned to the Halls of Mist.
The silence of the courtyard was pierced by Maiya’s screaming. Eilidh immediately called both Watchers and nurses for Maiya. “Protect her,” she said to Griogair. “I will—”
Then, Eilidh’s heart wrenched, and she cried out in pain. She knew the source without doubt. Her bond to Quinton had been silenced. This wasn’t like when they crossed the portals or gates or even when she’d closed the bond, preventing their minds from touching. This was a burning pain like no other. Eilidh struggled for breath and fell to her knees.
Griogair passed Maiya to a nurse. “Take the princess to the Caledonian Hall immediately.” They left without another word. He rushed toward Eilidh, supporting her as best he could after her collapse. Even as he held his mate, he shouted at the Watchers, “One of you to the library. Collect any druids present and take them to their Hall. One of you to Leocort. The Mistwatchers must be informed, and they can inform the druids. The rest of you go to every kingdom. Find out if their Watchers near the gates saw
anything
unusual in their portal in the past hour.”
“What happened?” one of the senior Watchers asked.
“Lord Druid Munro has been taken.”
“Dead,” Eilidh wailed. “He’s dead.” She clutched at her chest; the pain had grown unbearable. She wanted to pass out, to die herself. Her heart keened with such loss and pain as she had never imagined before. “Oh dear Father of the Azure,” she said and wept, murmuring Quinton’s name over and over as Griogair held her.
He spoke to her, but she could no longer make out his words. She was only vaguely aware of him carrying her over the mists.
Not long after their arrival in the capitol city of Tafgul, Tràth and Aaron stood side by side in a Zalian reception room. Both bowed to Queen Naima. The ancient queen was striking, even more so than her daughter, who sat on a throne slightly lower on the dais. Naima had the same deep red skin, but her black hair was streaked with white. Her presence filled the long, narrow room, and her sharp eyes analysed the pair.
“Welcome to Zalia,” she said, her voice rich and deep.
“We are honoured at the invitation, Your Majesty,” Tràth replied.
“You are azuri?” she asked.
The question startled Tràth. Surely everyone knew of his rare magic. “Yes, Your Majesty. My talents are temporal.”
She snorted, seeming unimpressed before turning her gaze to Aaron. “A human in my halls. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Aaron didn’t answer. Instead he gave a slight nod. In the past couple of years living in the Halls of Mist, the druids had undergone a crash course in how to deal with fae royals. The humans relaxed around Eilidh and the Caledonian court, but Aaron held himself with every bit of arrogance the situation called for. The druids had earned the respect of the queens. Now they had to act like they expected it.
Silence hung in the air. Every royal, courtier, and servant fixed their eyes on the human druid, who stood in the centre of the room looking like he owned the place.
Good for him
, Tràth thought. He, on the other hand, took the opportunity to watch the queen and her daughter-heir. This introduction would be brief. The trade negotiations wouldn’t begin until the next night.
“I heard,” the queen said finally, “that one of your brethren shut the portal on Queen Konstanze, denying her entrance to her own kingdom.”
Still, Aaron did not respond. He stood, patiently and politely waiting.
The queen twitched with irritation. “Is that so?” she asked Aaron.
“It is,” he replied. Tràth noticed Aaron didn’t refer to the queen by title, but she had not given him
his
title either.
“How did he accomplish this?” she asked.
“We asked the Stone to forget Ashkyne,” he said. “The artefact had initial misgivings, but in the end, it complied.”
She leaned forward on her throne, squinting at him. “Why would it obey a human?”
Tràth had to admit he was surprised at the queen’s questioning of Aaron, especially in a way that seemed like such a direct challenge. On the other hand, he’d been warned to expect Queen Naima to speak her mind. Perhaps she wanted to test the druid’s mettle.
“Because our people were its makers. It remembers.”
“You are draoidh?” she asked, invoking the ancient name of the druid sorcerers who once ruled the fae and were, perhaps, even the creators of the Otherworld.
“We are,” Aaron said.
She lifted her chin and glowered down at him. “Can you prove your claim?”
“Queen Naima, I don’t think you want me to do that,” he said.
“Why
are
you here?” Naima asked. Her wrinkled face furrowed into a scowl.
Aaron smiled, and spread his arms, palms up. “Your daughter invited me.” He gave a polite nod to Imena. “As I have learned over the past few days, she’s a charming faerie indeed.”
“You think to court her?” She glanced at her daughter with a raised eyebrow.
Aaron chuckled. “No,” he said.
Naima sat back on her throne, evaluating Aaron. “What does the Druid Hall want of Zalia?”
With a pleasant smile, Aaron gave a minute bow. “The night is wearing thin, and we have journeyed a long way. Talks can begin with the next moonrise.” He turned to Tràth. “Come, Tràth,” he said. “Let us see what hospitality Zalia has to offer.”
“As you wish, my lord druid,” Tràth said with a bow deeper than the one he gave the queen. The whole performance was clever on Aaron’s part. Tràth wondered who’d suggested this approach.
Queen Naima appeared startled. She snapped at her daughter and jerked her head toward the two guests.
Imena stood quickly. “Let me show you to the guest wing and introduce you to the stewards who will tend your needs,” she said.
Tràth and Aaron both bowed politely to Naima again before following Imena out. The queen didn’t look pleased, but she did appear curious and thoughtful.
The princess led them out into the corridor and up a high, spiralling stair that swept from the lowest floor to the many levels of the immense castle. Dark wood and gold decorated the large, ornate stone. Heavy bars studded with long, menacing spikes blocked many of the tall, oversized doors.
“Your servants and Watchers have already been shown to the guest wing,” Imena said. She looked curiously at Aaron, then said, “I congratulate you, my lord druid.”
“On what, Princess?”
She grinned. “On flustering my mother. I don’t think anyone has managed to confound her in at least a hundred years.”
“I like her straightforwardness,” he said with a half-smile. “She seems a formidable faerie.”
“That’s an understatement,” Imena replied. On the third level, she led them away from the stair and down another long, high-ceilinged corridor.