A Trace of Moonlight (13 page)

“Absinthe.” He bowed to me formally, his ears flopping over his brow.

“Just Abby now.” I glanced over at where Talivar now held quiet council with Kitsune. Absinthe had been the name I’d given when we first met. Names in Faerie tended to have power, and at the time I’d had no idea if I could trust the odd little figure.

“That’s mighty kind of ye, but Absinthe does me fine.” He paused, dragging his thick-knuckled fingers over his forehead. “Many things afoot here, ye ken. ’T’will be interesting to see what the prince does.”

I frowned at him. “Does?”

He shifted uncomfortably, the cloth strips on his feet scraping against the dirt. “Aye. ’Tis a Faery matter, I suppose.”

I sighed. “Isn’t it always?”

Kitsune raised her pale white hands in some esoteric sign meant to indicate quiet was required. She had an impeccable sense of dramatic timing anyway. Her tail twitched behind her, showing a flash of soft white fur at the tip. Glancing at Talivar, she inclined her head. “Are you ready?”

He gave a stiff nod of his head, his chest rising sharply.

“As you will. I hereby bequeath the care of the Barras and the remainder of the Unseelie Court to the Crippled Prince, known henceforth as the Crippled King.”

An excited murmur swept through the crowd, but I could only stare when he bowed, silent as she laid a small crown upon his brow. The moniker wasn’t unfamiliar to me, but it was the first time I’d really seen him embrace it. Before it had always been said with a hint of mockery, the Fae condemning him for being physically flawed.

The crown was more of a circlet really—a delicate filigree of jet-black metal lit with its own fiery essence, and inset with a series of small blue gems. It fit him perfectly, confirming my suspicions that it had been made for him . . . most likely some time ago. Talivar gave a tight smile at my obvious confusion before turning to address the others.

“Two hundred years ago, my father used me as an excuse to decimate the Unseelie Court. You offered me sanctuary when my own people would not.” He removed his patch, the puckered scar silvered in the torchlight. “Even now, I am made outcast by my own mother for not having the physical perfection the Sidhe insist upon.”

There was the bitterness of truth in his voice and my heart ached to hear it. The Seelie Court was the flip side to the Unseelie—though its insistence on physical perfection in its rulers was only one of the dividing points between the two.

“I was granted rulership by Kitsune many years ago. I chose not to accept—but I see now that I will never be considered anything but imperfect by my
Seelie kin. And so I ask you to exercise your judgment upon me, that I might be found worthy of leading the Unseelie Court into a new time of prosperity.”

“The outcast leading the outcasts,” Phin said quietly as he hopped off the table to find his way to me. I scooped him up and backed away from the ceremony.

The crowd shuffled past me to circle around, gnarled fingers and elongated limbs reaching out to touch him. He’d closed his good eye, accepting their verdict, whatever it was, without complaint.

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m on the Island of Misfit Toys?” I couldn’t even muster the strength to laugh at my own joke, a sick sense of anticipation rolling through my stomach. There would be no turning back from whatever was happening here and I felt a pang of sorrow at the loss.

Naïve of me to think my life would ever return to normal, but some small part of me had actually enjoyed the idea of being his wife, even for a short while. The side of me that read romance novels, anyway.

I wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to help our cause of getting the geas removed, but maybe as ruler of his own kingdom, Talivar would be able to negate it.

Talivar’s shirt was removed, exposing the spider-webbing of scar tissue down his left side. I turned away from this display when he started to slide his trousers away, the crippled leg shrunken and bowed without the external protection of his clothing.

Anger flushed through me, that he was forced to humiliate himself, but it was tempered with sadness. He’d shown me his scars before and they had never bothered me. After all, I had plenty of my own, both inside and out.

But that had been something private, and a selfish
part of me disliked sharing what he’d given me alone.

I understood his reasons, but handfasted to him or not, this was not my place.

I retreated toward the edge of the clearing as someone started a brisk tune on timpani, soon joined by a flute and a guitar.

“Guess it’s time for the party?” I said nervously, trying to tamp down my rising panic and sliding sideways to let a gaggle of goblin children run past, giggling.

“They’ve got a lot to celebrate,” Phineas pointed out. “The acceptance of an actual royal leader is a big step toward getting their kingdom back—and Talivar has just upset the political power base that’s been in place for a very long time.”

“So I gathered,” I said dryly. “But I don’t think I have it in me to become their Queen . . . assuming that’s what he had in mind.” And I didn’t. While I had a vague understanding of the current circumstances, deep down a part of me resented the hell out of Talivar for putting me in this position. Which was probably unfair, but everything was happening so damned quick.

“It’s not,” Phineas murmured. “He would have run that by you first—I’m sure of it. Nothing’s changed about your current relationship.”

“I’m handfasted to a king, Phin. How is that ‘unchanged’?”

A loud cheer rose behind us and I stifled a sigh as I headed back to find my tent.

Now that we were relatively safe, the weight of the geas gnawed at me. All well and good to lead the Barras into the civilized world, but I had things to do. The bells in my hair chimed in agreement.

A guilty flush passed over me at the thought of the
incubus. Where had he gone? My fingers drifted over the bells, twining in the thread. And how would he react knowing I’d become Talivar’s wife? I wasn’t sure if needing to escape the evil mother-in-law would be a good enough excuse.

I gratefully ducked into the relative quiet of my tent when I found it, glad to be out sight. Could I reach him in the Dreaming? Phineas squirmed in my arms and I set him down and lit a new taper; the old candle was sputtering out.

The ground resonated beneath my feet as the celebration hit its stride and I frowned.

E Nomine’s “Mitternacht”?

“That sounds awful bassy for Faerie music.” Images of a medieval Goth rave filled my head and for a moment I was tempted to take another peek.

The unicorn shrugged. “I suspect the technology you left behind was put to very good use.” He flashed me a little grin. “At least it hasn’t completely gone to waste on weaponry, anyway.”

“Mmm. I’m not sure that was one of my wiser moves.”

“It would have happened sooner or later. Better that it was at least offered in peace.” He paused, ears swiveling as the beat of the music changed. “You sure you don’t want to go back out there? Shake your groove thang?”

“Any other time maybe, but I’m not in the mood to dance tonight.” There was too much on my mind to think of really cutting loose. Too many threads hanging without an answer, and I couldn’t bring myself to be part of the festivities. I shook my head at the unicorn.

“Suit yourself.” He gave a little whinny and ducked
out through the tent flaps, his tail twitching behind him.

I stared at the place where he’d been, feeling strangely empty. My fingers found the bells in my hair again and I stroked them so that they chimed. “What do I do now?”

They didn’t answer. In the end, I spread out the blankets on the pallet beside the now cold tub. I realized I didn’t know if Talivar would be joining me. Perhaps I should have gone to his tent? His
royal
tent?

Not that I knew where it was. A bitterness swept over me, tinged with horrible loneliness. A few weeks ago I’d made a deal with a daemon to try to save my friends. I’d never thought so much would happen in such a short time.

The hot rush of tears flooded my eyes and this time I didn’t try to stop them. What a mess I’d made of my life. Despair crested until I was sobbing, my shoulders shaking in time as the beat changed into the Tom Jones version of “Black Betty.”

Quaint. And oddly apropos.

I may have been Talivar’s wife in name, but I was still in the dark as much as I’d ever been. That he hadn’t trusted me with his plans hurt me far worse than I’d realized.

On the other hand, it was unlikely he’d had much time to think about it on the road. It was entirely possible he had fallen victim to Kitsune’s opportunism. I doubted the fox-woman did anything out of an altruistic heart.

Nothing to be done about it now.

But I could still do something about Ion.

I’d told myself I’d been too injured or too tired to try entering the Dreaming the last several nights, but I
knew the truth and I was terrified. If Brystion was truly gone? And I’d been the one to kill him, even unknowingly?

Chickenshit, Abby.

I wiped the wetness from my cheeks, feeling like an ass for breaking down. “Only one way to find out,” I murmured to the flickering candle. If I could assess what had happened to him, I’d be better able to move forward.

I curled into a ball. Outside, the music continued to thrum away and my heart picked up the beat, vibrating in time until I slipped into sleep.

R
ipples in the darkness.

The pit of my stomach dropped to find myself here again, the waves pinched with a deceptive stillness. A current stirred by my toes, the brush of something large sending chills through my legs. I swallowed hard against a rising panic, and the cotton dryness of my mouth flushed with salt as a whitecap slapped me in the face.

My breathing went shallow, the rise and fall of my chest echoed in the hammering of my heart. Dimly I reached for the training Brystion’s sister, Sonja, had started with me, trying to find the last bit of calm to gather my power around me and consciously control the Dreaming.

Shield . . .

I imagined a white light, fitting it to my skin and pushing out. Something scraped my calf and I bit back a whimper, the hot warmth of my blood spilling into the stinging sea.

Don’t move . . .

Push. Push. Push.

I got a basic handle on it, finally opening my eyes to find myself glowing, the edges of my shield a few inches away from my body. It was enough.

I stifled a scream as the first shark rolled past me, its tail propelling its massive form with a slow ease. No rushing in for the kill yet.

The bells in my hair chimed mockingly.
What are you afraid of? You
died.
What could possibly frighten you here?

Get over yourself.

The thought splashed over me even as anger flooded my limbs. It was right.

Was I simply a hapless dreamer?

“No,” I whispered. “No.” I was a KeyStone. TouchStone to the King of the Unseelie Court. Daughter of True Thomas. I’d worn the Key to the CrossRoads. I’d made a deal with the devil and come back from the dead.

I was a motherfucking
Dreamer.

The power exploded from me in a heated shimmer, white flame pushing away the darkness, the thick sense of nothingness enveloping me against the glare. For a moment I caught the slivered edge of a dorsal fin slicing past me and then it skittered away into the void.

A momentary thrill of victory swelled my chest as I realized I’d actually managed to thrust my nightmares into some far distant corner. Not defeated, of course. I wasn’t sure if the darkness that lingered in my psyche would ever truly be lifted . . . but this was a start.

What had Sonja told me that one time?

You limit yourself to your own sense of physics.

The bells sounded a soft ring of agreement and I scowled at them, the shield settling into a slightly less obnoxious glow.

“Float,” I commanded, watching as it became more of a sphere. I shrugged at myself. Glinda the Good Witch it would have to be. Abruptly, the water around me receded and the bubble propelled itself upward. My hands stretched out as though to lean against the curved walls, but I hesitated, unsure if it would pop should I touch it.

Which was ridiculous since I was standing on the thing. I let my fingers slide against the surface of the shield, a thrum of power racing up my palms to my elbow.

A tingle pulsed in my chest.
Home.

The bubble shifted direction, leaving the cold blackness of the sea behind it. I’d traveled this way once before, only Brystion had been the one to create and control it. The memory of it clung to me in an unsubtle reminder of what had happened next, the way our lives had entwined and the betrayal afterward.

And still. Where had he gone?

Beneath me, the sea faded away. The sharks did not make another appearance, but I kept a watchful eye anyway. I had my momentum; I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get it again if I let my defenses drop.

Where was the Heart of my Dreaming? I peered into the darkness, straining to see the shadow of the old Victorian, the iron gate around it, but in the end there was nothing but fog. I hesitated, not wanting to press my luck too far. Sonja had told me I had the power to be a DreamWalker during our training, and Ion had actually shown me the Dreaming Hearts of others, but the last thing I wanted was to stumble into someone else’s dreams.