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stronghold without fear, and many spent as much time as they could there. Within it was the source of fae power, the quality of magic that spread throughout the kingdoms, even seeping into the edges of the human world through open Otherworld gates.
     
    The conclave sat in silence for a time, as though each was lost in his or her thoughts. Eilidh’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. She had not eaten, except for a few bites when she spoke with Prince Griogair. She’d spent hours without respite and endured two gruelling sessions of questioning.

    She had become aware of Munro’s approach an hour into her questioning. At first, she attributed the feeling to the renewed intensity of his presence, which came over her when she crossed into the human realm. As time passed, she realised he was moving toward her, and at enough of a pace that he had to be in a car.
     
    Although Munro visited most weeks, she missed him. She didn’t know if their bond was responsible for her need to be close to him, but she also enjoyed his company, his odd, human sense of humour, his insight and talent. He hadn’t told her he would come that day, but it made her heart lighter to feel his approaching presence. Not to mention that even though her magical capacity had grown because of the bond, it would gain her little from people like the queen or from the conclave. She appreciated having an ally.

    Her thoughts turned to Griogair. As promised, she didn’t mention their conversation to the conclave, but she had considered it. He’d tried to manipulate her. On the other hand, she believed he’d told her the truth. She looked forward to consulting with Munro. He would know what to do.
     
    Eilidh felt her strength wilting. Oron stood and came to her. “My dear child, you are about to collapse. You must be exhausted.”

    “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed at the weakness. “I haven’t been sleeping well since…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to mention the deaths that still haunted her: Saor’s, Beniss’, the druids—the other fae who died last summer. Beniss had been an elder and a member of this conclave. Beniss’ sister Galen, still held Eilidh responsible.
     
    “Come,” Oron said. “Let’s go home.” While she was in training, she stayed with Oron. She should have accepted it as a great honour, but instead it reminded Eilidh that many of the others might have refused to work with her. Oron put a hand on either side of her face, and warmth flooded into her. The ache in her bones subsided. “There. You need rest, but this will soothe your mind.”

    She slumped onto his shoulder. Not yet asleep, but not far from it. It surprised her, she thought distantly, that one as ancient as Oron had such physical strength. He was an oak, and not nearly as frail as he appeared.
     
    He guided her to his house, a short walk from the centre. Her eyes were heavy, and she could barely fight to keep them open. Once inside, she heard voices, but couldn’t even muster the energy to be polite. A soft hand took hers and led her to her room in the back, where she sank into her swing bed. She fell asleep before the hands finished pulling a blanket over her.

    Eilidh awoke to find Munro on the floor between her bed and the door. He lay with his back to her, as though guarding her. His presence filled the room and her heart. She felt certain now that the bonding magic was responsible for her responses to him. It swirled around the room, knitting their minds even more tightly. How long, she wondered, before their thoughts flowed into each other as though coming from one mind? Eventually, they would not even have to speak.

    She watched him breathe, taking in his sleep-tousled hair and the curve of a rounded ear. It had freckles on it, and for no reason she could explain, the sight made her smile. Turbulence filled his mind, and she realised he was dreaming. This bond held so many unexpected twists. She couldn’t help but wonder if the