Arcane Rising: The Darkland Druids - Book One, R Nicole [suggested reading TXT] 📗

my Colours rise. First a drop, then another until I had a small strand ready to weave. Then I allowed my intent to entwine with the little thread and cast the illusion out.

I felt the air shift and Rory slapped me on the shoulder.

“See?” he declared. “I knew you could do it with a little incentive snapping at your heels.”

“Did I do it?”

“Aye. Perfectly.”

I grinned, my heart feeling happier than it had in a long time. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“That your abilities would thrive with a little added danger?” he asked. “Of course. I’m smart like that.” He tapped his temple as if to seal the deal. “Now, I want you to maintain the illusion. This time, you’ll get to see Greyfriars without the threat of multiple abductions.”

I groaned, “Rory.”

“Too soon?”

“No,” I murmured, “just long enough.”

“I must say, you’re taking to your Colours like a duck to water,” he told me as we emerged from behind the mausoleum and into a row of gravesites. “Your father was gifted, too. Or so I hear.”

My excitement faded and I traced my fingertips over a name carved into the stone beside me. Above, a sculpture of a weeping angel looked down on us, her wings drooping low.

“We told each other everything,” I murmured, looking up at the statue. “How didn’t I know he was keeping such a huge part of himself hidden?”

“He was trying to protect you,” Rory replied, “that much is clear. And I don’t think it was just to keep you from falling into the hands of the Chimera.”

I looked at him. “The Elders?”

“The other factions of Fae, perhaps,” he replied.

He was still fiercely loyal to the Elders, and I couldn’t blame him. They were his people. But were they mine? Delilah was my grandmother, but Rory, Jaimie, and Ignis had become my people. It wasn’t because they were Druids or blood relations, it was because they had good hearts.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Of all the things you could have asked me, that’s what you want to know?”

“Humour me.”

“Twenty-nine human years, though in Druid years, I’m like a toddler.”

“So, the opposite of dog years.”

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest, acting as if I’d struck him in the heart. “You’re a right comedian.”

I laughed and looked across the kirkyard.

“I can guess your age. Twenty-five.”

“That’s cheating,” I complained.

“Can’t help common knowledge.”

An awkward silence fell between us—though I knew it was all on me—and I began to wander down the path, studying the gravesites and mausoleums. I hadn’t had the chance to see much the first time and while Rory was with me, it seemed safe enough to linger.

I thought about the things Delilah had revealed. How my dad found the Fae realm. I wondered what it was like there and how he’d met my mother. What was she like? Did I look like her? Maybe she had the same brilliant green hair I did.

Suddenly, I found my thoughts drifting to Rory.

“Where are your parents?” I asked. “You don’t talk about them.”

“They died when I was a bairn.”

“Oh…” I stopped and he stood beside me, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his coat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Seems we have more in common than you first realised.”

“Why didn’t you mention it? I’ve been going on and on about my dad like an insensitive jerk.”

“That’s okay. It’s still fresh for you. Besides, I don’t like to talk about myself much,” he admitted. “Though I like talking to you. Strange, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed. “I feel the same way.”

I read the inscription on the nearest headstone to keep my mind from clouding over with regrets and apologies. I doubted Rory would want them. Sacred to the Memory of Thomas Riddell Esq. of Befsborough, in the County of Berwick, who died in Edinburgh on the 24.th Novm. 1806, aged 72 years.

“It was the Chimera,” he said after a moment. “It was when they first came to Edinburgh. I was three at the time.”

I froze, even though I suspected that was going to be his answer. He had every reason to hate me as much as the other Druids, perhaps more, but here he was…the only person I could trust.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I—”

“It’s no one’s fault but the Chimera’s,” he interrupted, his tone kind. “You didn’t strike them down.”

“I get that, but people need someone to blame. My father brought them here because he was trying to save me. That’s plenty of reason without all the other stuff. Why would you help me? It can’t be because I’m also a Druid.”

“When I said that to you, I meant it,” Rory told me. “And I still mean it.”

“The Elders want to use me as a weapon against the Chimera,” I stated. “They want to take control of the prophecy before anyone else can.”

“I know what you’re trying to insinuate, Elspeth,” Rory said, “and I deny it. We all want what’s best for our people, but I also want what’s best for you.”

“And what’s best for me?” I whispered.

He didn’t reply straight away. We stood in the middle of Greyfriars for what felt like an age, the wind stirring my hair and chilling my bare fingers. The sound of Edinburgh traffic was a dull hum in the background and the lights of Castle Hill shone orange and white through the haze of a descending frost.

Finally, he gave me an answer.

“Choice,” he said. “Everyone deserves a choice, especially you.”

I lowered my gaze, embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

“Are…are we okay?” I managed to stutter.

“We’re good, Elspeth. Nothing has changed between us.”

I sighed in relief. “Good, you’re the only person I trust around here. If I lost you…”

Something unknown flashed across his features, but it was so fleeting I wondered if it was just my insecurities manifesting.

“Don’t fash, lass,” he said, his accent thickening. “You don’t have to worry, but there is one thing I have to do that you’re not going to like.”

I winced. “Dare I ask?”

“We have to settle the matter of your punishment.”

“Damn, I hoped you’d forgotten