Page 45 of Through the Veil (Endangered Fae #2)
Chapter twenty-two
On Tearmann Island
“ W e appreciate your position, Mr. President.” Diego placed the delicate china coffee cup down. “And I do understand why there can be no public apology.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sandoval. My staff and I are grateful for your understanding, and for Prince Lugh’s, in this delicate matter of national security.” The President nodded to Lugh, sitting in the wing chair across from him.
Meeting with the President of the United States had been the furthest thing from Diego’s mind a year ago, and yet here he was, acting as unofficial human attaché to the unofficial royal fae ambassador.
The meeting had been scheduled for the President to issue a private apology for the incarceration and mistreatment of fae citizens.
“Have you had a chance to look through the land grant proposal, Your Highness?” the President addressed Lugh directly.
“Yes, I’ve discussed it with my grandparents.
” Lugh settled one ankle on the opposite knee, his hooves clearly visible below his gold-piped trousers.
“We hope that there will be no offense taken, but we feel, given the current global climate and certain…internal considerations, that it would be best for us not to be directly tied to the US.”
“No offense taken, Your Highness. But I am concerned over where you will find a home.”
“As to that…” Lugh broke out his most charming smile. “The Canadian government has offered us what we feel is a fair price for the Isle de St. Genevieve.”
“I’m not familiar with that island…”
“It’s primarily been a bird sanctuary, Mr. President,” Diego supplied. “About five hundred square miles of dunes and cliffs with one usable harbor, east of New Brunswick. There’s no fresh water supply, hence the lack of human habitation.”
“Won’t that cause resource issues? I assume the fae do need water, and the human staff certainly will.”
“I’ve been assured by King Balor that he’ll be able to remedy the situation,” Diego said.
“Our human staff will be minimal,” Lugh said. “And visas, for the moment, will be granted only at their majesties’ discretion.”
“Is there anything we can do for you or your people?”
“We have three requests. The first involves Mr. Sandoval, whose possessions and writings have been left behind, with your government and in his house in Montana. We would like his belongings returned to him intact. The second involves a Sergeant Zachary Morrison, whose courage and insight have proven invaluable to us. We request a full Presidential pardon for him and an honorable discharge from the service. The third involves the status of humans who have been granted Otherworld citizenship. We would request that these humans be permitted dual citizenship.”
“All easily done, Your Highness. I’ll make sure of it myself.”
Eight months later, Diego turned on the TV in the lounge at the back of the embassy. “Guys, it’s coming on in two minutes! If you want to see it, you need to get in here!”
Scath and Croi flew in pell-mell, chattering excitedly. Sionnach, Angus, Nathair and Faolchú followed at a run, with Eithne and Morrigan arriving at a more sedate pace.
The Isle de St. Genevieve had been renamed Tearmann Island, the old Irish word for sanctuary, and the embassy had been built entirely by fae hands and magic.
Aboveground, the structure appeared nothing more than a country cottage with a reception desk and offices, a meeting room, kitchen, formal dining room and lounge.
Most of the embassy existed belowground, with the infirmary and living quarters for as many as a hundred fae at a time.
Hidden deep in the smooth rock tunnels also lay the Doorway, the only open door between the worlds, secure and safe from human eyes.
Diego’s broken heart had shattered a little more when he’d had to build another doorway without Finn, but no one else could do it, and it had to be done.
News clips of the press conference had quickly gone viral, with video feeds, websites and blogs all discussing and rehashing.
Diego wasn’t surprised that the most viewed and disseminated clip was the one of Finn, as the beautiful black dragon, making his plea for “a place to stand”, but every time his voice came over the net or the TV, Diego fought despair.
There had been no word from Finn since the day of the press conference.
Every morning, Diego crossed the Veil to call to him, every evening he reached into the Dreaming to search for him, but there was no trace of Finn.
He had hidden himself too well. Lugh had apologized over and over for the kiss he believed had driven Finn away.
Though it might have been part of the reason, Diego knew there had to be more to it.
He spent his days helping the fae deal with the human world, learning to act as a diplomatic liaison along the way and finding himself de facto head of the only fae embassy on the planet.
The ferry arrived twice a day to bring supplies and mail.
There were a few human staffers who manned the embassy’s phones, computers and security, which Zack oversaw when he wasn’t in Washington or New York with Lugh.
While human cities weren’t the healthiest places for a sidhe prince, Lugh didn’t exhibit the asthmatic reactions Finn had to pollution.
Some countries still refused to acknowledge Tearmann Island as a sovereign nation, but most of the world had, which kept Lugh away in his ambassadorial status much of the time.
Zack rarely left his side, acting as security, human liaison, personal assistant and perhaps lover, though Diego didn’t ask.
The work Diego did was important as well, he knew that, and yet he felt as if his insides had been scooped out and he moved through what was needed and what was polite like an empty puppet.
Every night, he trudged up the stairs to the living quarters the fae had built for him on the second floor, and every climb up to that lonely bed caused the despair to fall like a black stage curtain again.
Diego pulled Scath into his lap to settle him, and Croi happily perched on the arm of the wing chair. “It’s coming up on this next break.” He pointed to the TV with the remote. “Everyone here?”
Everyone certainly seemed to be—all those who were on the island that evening.
The medical drama faded to commercial, to a shot of a green field with apple trees in blossom.
Sionnach walked toward the screen wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a golf shirt, Croi beside him, hand in hand.
They had found a backless sundress in a soft cream with a delicate floral pattern so she could keep her wings free.
Diego had been at the shooting and knew Scath was there as well, just off-camera.
Otherwise the shoot would have never worked.
Sionnach took a seat on a moss-covered rock, his tail curled around him, and Croi, wings fluttering, settled beside him. He gave the camera a congenial smile. “Hi, I’m Sean Silver and this is my friend, Croi. We’re not CGI renderings or the product of hours of makeup. This is who we are.”
Croi fluttered closer.
“We’re fae,” Sionnach went on. “Magical beings who share the Earth with humans. I know it’s hard for some people to accept, but you’re not alone. We’ve always been here, and now, we’ve decided to come out into plain sight.”
He put his arm around Croi’s waist. “We’re not here to steal your children or change the way you live.
We just want to live healthy, happy lives, just like you.
So if you see one of us, or something we’ve made, don’t be frightened.
We may look different, but we want the same things.
Please, treat us as you would any other citizen of this planet. ”
Croi leaned her head on his shoulder, looked straight into the camera, and with her childlike face and bell-sweet voice, spoke her one line, “Because fae are people, too.”
A voiceover came on to say, “This has been a public service announcement from the Fae Cooperative Council.”
Those watching applauded. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Well done.” Diego leaned in to kiss Croi’s cheek, then set Scath aside so he could stop by Sionnach and congratulate him, too. That was all he had the energy for, though. He wandered out to go to bed.
On his way out, he heard the hushed whispers.
“He is no better?”
“No, every day is the same. And every day he still says Fionnachd will come back, that he must have had reason for leaving.”
“Our poor Taliesin, I wish we could help…”
There was no help any longer. The light had gone from the world.
Finn stared at the Doorway. He heaved a long sigh, his heart aching with the knowledge that this door would not take him to either of the houses he had called home, but to an unfamiliar place that might never hold happy memories for him.
His hip brushed a tree limb, and he winced. Blasted burn refused to heal.
When he had returned to the sidhe court, Danu had told him about the island and the embassy, but she had remained cool and distant, and ended with, “Be wary of your welcome there, Fionnachd.”
Armed with that cryptic warning and clothed in nothing but the little leather pouch on a thong around his neck, he stepped through into a room of smooth, gray stone.
The room was empty, a silver door on the opposite wall the only other way out.
Anxious thoughts chased each other as he grasped the handle and went out.
The stone hallway, carved in Fomorian glyphs and artwork, gave him no indication of where to begin.
“Your pardon.” With a little bow, he stopped the first person he saw, a sidhe female with nut-brown hair. “Would you be able to tell me where Diego is?”
Her eyes swept up and down his body. Then she pointed with her chin to a spot on the wall with a harp carved into the stone. “Through there. Up the stairs. He is often occupied with many things at once and may not be able to speak with you.”