A Trace of Moonlight (10 page)

“Mostly.” He lipped at a hock aimlessly, like a cat that has suddenly started grooming itself in an effort to avoid something. “I’ve still got a trick or two up my sleeve, but for all intents and purposes, I’m without resources.”

A twinge of guilt rippled over me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you do that.”

He shrugged. “It is what I was sent to do. Your father saw rather far into the future once.”

“Not far enough, apparently.”

“He can’t control what’s going to happen. It’s never been that specific . . . but he knew what was probable.”

“I guess I should be grateful, but what’s the point?” I sank down next to him, the warmth of the rock expanding into my legs. “He made his choice long ago,” I said bitterly, thinking about the Queen.
Your mother-in-law
, my inner voice said snidely, starting up a rousing chorus of “I’m My Own Grandpa.”

“And you’re making yours,” he pointed out. “As it should be. There’s no statute of limitations on making mistakes. We make decisions based on the best information we have.”

“Maybe,” I groused. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I think I’ve done enough wallowing for one
day.” I slid into the slightly damp chemise, struggling to tie up the sodden lacings of my dress. Chilly for certain, but at least I didn’t feel quite so naked. My boots, however, were still fairly squishy and I decided barefoot would suit me for a while longer.

Talivar had left the jerky behind and my stomach rumbled at the idea. “What was that you were saying yesterday about a Denny’s?” I sniffed at it, my nose wrinkling as the scent of rotting meat hit me in the face. “I didn’t think jerky went bad—”

“It doesn’t,” Phineas whispered. “Don’t move, Abby.”

I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The shadow of something loomed beside me and I swallowed against the gag reflex as the rotting smell grew stronger. My eyes watered as though I’d bitten into an onion. Made of ass.

Slowly I turned my head to catch a glimpse of a bulbous, blue-skinned face offset by tiny brows and massive pointed ears. Half-rotted furs hung from the creature’s waist, a fact for which I was terribly grateful. I had no desire to see what a troll looked like in the buff.

Of course, the fact that said blue person was only waist high to me did play into my assessment.

“It’s an oversized Smurf,” I muttered, trying not flinch when it poked an inquiring finger at my thigh.

“That’s a youngling,” Phineas retorted dryly. “Mommie dearest is behind you.”

Whirling as the sun was momentarily blotted out, I craned my head upward.

“Ah,” I said cleverly.

The mother troll stood a good eight feet high or so, but unlike her shapeless, flabby offspring, she
was built like a weight lifter of Arnold proportions. “Guess goatherding keeps you in better shape than I thought.”

The troll woman stared at me impassively while her child poked me again. This time I stood still, unsure of how I was supposed to react. A sudden squalling sound made me duck in spite of myself. Most of the jerky was yanked out of my hands, and the little creature shoveled it into his maw. I caught a glimpse of moss-colored teeth before what was left of my breakfast disappeared.

“Lovely.” I sighed when it continued to paw at my skirts. “I thought Talivar said we wouldn’t run into these guys.”

“
Probably
wouldn’t,” Phineas pointed out. “And she’s got her cub with her . . . and oh, yes, there they are.” He sighed as the troll woman yanked on a leather cord and a cluster of little goats appeared. They looked a bit less than thrilled, but I could hardly blame them. They
were
being dragged behind something that smelled like the love child of boiled leather and a corpse.

“Hellloooo, ladies.” The unicorn arched his neck at them coyly, making a little humph in the back of his throat when they ignored him. “I used to be a unicorn, but then I took an arrow to the knee.” He pouted.

Apparently having decided I wasn’t any sort of threat, Big Blue gestured at her son to follow her, her gaze suddenly falling on where Phineas still sat. She pointed at him and jabbered something at me. I frowned at her.

“He’s not for sale,” I said slowly, unsure of her words.

“She doesn’t want to buy me,” Phineas said, his
tone frosty. “She wants to . . . breed . . . me. Apparently she lost her billy goat a few days ago and without him, her stock will . . . dwindle.”

My mouth pursed despite myself. “So what’s the problem? You were just ogling the nannies a second ago, right?”

“What I do on my own time is my own business,” he sniffed. “Being sold for my services is demeaning.”

“But being a man-whore to goats isn’t?” I rolled my eyes at him, but shook my head at the troll. “I’m sorry, but he’s not currently up to the task.” I held up a stiff finger and let it droop, ignoring the outraged squeal behind me.

The troll woman bared her teeth at me in what I think was a smile, her next pantomime suggestive of eating him. Nothing went to waste in troll country.

“I’m fattening him up first,” I assured her, nodding my head and holding my arms out to the side and rubbing my belly. This seemed to please her well enough. She grunted again and started toward the shelter of the trees, the goats ambling behind her in a parade of caprine misery. The troll child gave me a last poke, his mouth curving into a truly dreadful grimace. “Right back at you,” I murmured, looking down at the remainder of the jerky for a moment before handing it to him.

He let out a groan of pleasure, stuffed it into his mouth, and stumped off behind the goats, his bare feet leaving behind a trail of broken shrubs. Sinking down next to Phin, I let out a sigh. “Well, that was interesting.”

There was no answer from the unicorn, but a second later, burning pain shot through my ass.

“Jesus, what the hell was that for?” I hissed, rubbing the bite vigorously. “I’m only wearing linen skirts, asshole.”

“I’ll show you a task or two I’m not up for,” he snapped, baring his teeth at me again.

“Fine. Whatever.” I headed over to the lean-to, glancing up at the sky as I did so. Silly, since I couldn’t tell time by the sun, but I supposed it was better than staring at my feet, which was my other option. I eyed Phin, wondering if I shouldn’t at least attempt to apologize, but decided against it. He could be a real shit when he wanted to be. “Shouldn’t Talivar be back by now?”

The unicorn stared at me for a minute longer, his jaw set firm. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Assuming he’s not being pursued or something.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“You want me to suck up to you and kiss your ass with false hope or do you want to hear the truth?”

“What choice do I have?” I started to fold up the tarp and blankets, rolling them into something that looked like it could be carried without too much trouble. I was running on the assumption that we’d be moving along as soon as the prince returned, but even if he wasn’t being pursued, that didn’t mean I wanted to wake up with a troll in my bed later.

Still. The sun climbed higher into the sky with no sign of my would-be husband. I began pacing aimlessly, my legs still aching from the night before.

“How long do we wait here?” I muttered, torn between worry for him and the burning need to find a way free of the geas. Answers weren’t forthcoming and finally I made up my mind. “I’m going to go look for him.”

“And how will you know where to go?” Phineas watched me from his perch on the stump.

“I don’t know! But I can’t just sit here.” I snatched at the rucksack and tossed the loose odds and ends of the camp into it.

“Don’t be stupid,” the unicorn snapped. “He knows these woods and you don’t. He’s a big boy—and he knows better than anyone what the stakes are.”

I drew myself up. I knew Phineas was deliberately baiting me to keep me distracted, and my anger gathered, eager to lash out, when suddenly a cry of pain sounded from below us.

I froze. Talivar?

Leaving the bag, I snatched up the dagger Talivar had left behind. Not that I knew dick about fighting with knives, but I’d take it over being unarmed.

“Careful, Abby. We don’t know what’s down there.”

“That was Talivar. There’s something wrong. Come on.”

Without waiting to see if he would follow, I half slid, half ran down the rocky outcropping. Twigs rolled beneath my feet though I did my best not to sound too much like a bowling elephant as I scrambled through the brush. My own exhaustion long forgotten, my fingers curled around the dagger hilt with a shaky dread. I paused in the shadow of a fallen pine. Phineas slid to a halt beside me, his ears twitching madly.

“This way,” he hissed, leaping onto a stump with surprising grace. His tiny hooves dug into the bark as he jumped again. Without hesitation, I followed him, keeping focused on the flashing white tuft of his tail.

And then I saw them, three of the elves tall and glittering in their pale armor as they stood in a semicircle around . . .

“Talivar!” His name flew from me in a hoarse cry, my abused throat unable to pitch my voice into anything louder. The elves heard me anyway, heads turning as I stumbled into the clearing. Talivar slumped against the thick granite of a crumbling boulder, his bad leg twisted beneath him.

He grimaced when he saw me, but I ignored it, my gaze drawn to the crimson stain spreading over his thigh. Whirling to face his attackers, I brandished the dagger, placing myself in front of him. My inner voice snorted with laughter at this. After all, it wasn’t like I’d actually be able to keep them from taking him. I certainly wasn’t any sort of battle-hardened fighter.

On the other hand, I was also the Tithe at the moment. Expendability issues aside, I would bet I wasn’t supposed to be hurt. At least not too badly.

One of the guards turned toward me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Lady Abby. It’s only orders. And we have to take you in.”

“Do your orders include
hurting your prince
?” I gripped the blade tighter, sliding into what I figured was a reasonable fighting stance. The fact that the elves didn’t react was a pretty good indicator that my definition of reasonable was probably about a one or two on the suck scale.

Behind me I sensed Talivar struggling to get to his feet, one hand leaning hard against the rocks. The hiss of his breath was the only indication of the pain he must have felt. He gripped my shoulder with his other hand, the tremble in his fingers sliding over my skin.

“I would not see them harmed simply for following the Queen’s command,” Talivar murmured.

“A little late for that.” The guard gave me a bitter smile. “The prince has acquitted himself quite well, as you can see.”

I blinked at him and stared at the other two, finally noticing that one sported a nasty bruise on his face. Another cradled a newly useless arm, Talivar’s arrow protruding from his shoulder.

“Did I say harmed? I meant dead,” the prince said pleasantly, but his grip tightened on my shoulder with each word. Bluffing was only going to get us so far, and we’d run out of time.

“So why not call it even?” I gestured toward the woods in a vain attempt to avoid an actual fight. “Go on your way and say we escaped?”

“Abby, they cannot lie,” Talivar chided me gently before turning a dark gaze on the guardsmen. “Not that I plan on simply letting them take us.”

“The Queen is rather vexed with you,” the uninjured guard noted, a grim set to his mouth as he took a step toward me.

Talivar shrugged. “Well, it was my wedding night. I find the hard ground more accommodating than the Queen’s hospitality.”

“I’m sure we can arrange conjugal visits,” the guard sneered, his patience clearly running thin. Snatching at my wrist, he yanked me toward him.

Not really having anything to lose, I slashed wildly, my blade grinding off his armor. I spun away, using my momentum to break his hold on me. My head ached slightly with the movement, reminding me that I wasn’t really in top fighting form either. From the corner of my eye, I saw Talivar attempt to stay upright
long enough to nock an arrow to his bow, the scarlet stain on his thigh spreading wider.

I feinted and scored a slice on the wounded guard’s nose, but a moment later I was knocked to the ground, my hand jerked up high behind me.

“That’s enough. Just come along quietly,” the guard with the arrow wound said softly.

I rolled, trying to throw off his weight with little success, even as the other guards pinned Talivar to the rock behind him.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have your sensibilities,” Phineas grumbled from somewhere near my feet. Before I could ask him what he meant, the unicorn opened his mouth and let out a squealing bleat that sounded an awful lot like a . . . goat.

A goat being sodomized by a rhino, but a goat nonetheless.

“When she shows up, tell her they tried to take me.” He dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side, squealing.

“She
who
?” Talivar frowned at him, exchanging a puzzled look with the guards.

I coughed as the rotten-flesh smell filled the air for the second time that day. The guards released us as the she-troll clambered over the rocks with surefooted grace. This time her son was not with her, but she gave a sorrowful cry when she saw Phin’s body lying motionless.

Who knew they felt so strongly about their breeding stock?

Never one to pass up a possible opportunity, I rushed to Phin’s side. My shoulders shook with a theatric sobbing that would have would have won me an
Oscar. Clutching the unicorn to my breast, I let out a wail as I pointed to the guards behind me.

“They killed him!”

The troll squinted with a dull sort of intelligence, rage whirling over her face. With a roar, she charged them. The elves scattered before her fury, melting into the woods. Howling her frustration, she pounded a meaty fist into the side of the mountain before launching herself after them.

“You know what else troll country is famous for, Abby?” An audible click cracked from behind us as Talivar limped beside me.

Inwardly I sighed, knowing I probably wasn’t going to like the answer. “Do tell.”