A Trace of Moonlight (18 page)

T
alivar was not overly thrilled to hear about my little rendezvous with the daemons: “You’re playing straight into their hands and I didn’t leave my kingdom and my kin to save you, simply to see you throw everything away.”

“Sonja wouldn’t betray me. Not like that. And Nobu . . . probably would,” I admitted. “But I think there’s something else going on. He’s playing his own game—I just don’t know what it is. But I don’t think we’ll get any answers soon. What did you think about Sonja’s suggestion? The Samhain thing?” I was far more interested in ways to help me break the geas than guessing at whatever Nobu was doing.

He scowled. “It’s an old story. Hell, the writer of it is sitting two tents down. You should ask
him
about how relevant all this is to getting rescued.”

His mouth pursed at my nonplussed expression. “My father, you mean?”

“Aye. Thomas played the same trick on my mother years ago . . . or his lover did, anyway. Vexed the Queen something fierce, but she never tried to bind him to her
like that again. Ask him about ‘Tam Lin’ and see what he has to say about it.”

I let his words sink in for a moment. “Tam Lin” was a ballad of a man who had been held captive by the Queen of Faerie, only to be rescued by his mortal lover. A mortal lover who had pulled him off his horse as he rode upon the CrossRoads with the Queen . . . breaking the spell.

“And you think something like that might work?” I shook my head, easing onto the pallet on the floor. I would definitely have to ask Thomas—ballad or not, details could so easily be changed over the years, and who knew if he’d changed any of it to protect the Fae?

I removed the shirt I had on and wiped my face with a clean cloth. “Did you find out what’s going on with Moira? I’m assuming you were able to travel the CrossRoads without incident this time.”

“They wouldn’t let me into the castle,” he said dryly. “Apparently I’ve been branded a traitor and I have to go through the ‘proper’ channels now.”

I frowned. “Moira wouldn’t do that.”

“You know what a stickler for protocol she is, and things are so volatile right now she may have to do things she doesn’t agree with, purely to keep the peace. At least until she becomes Queen in truth.” He waved me off. “I have no fear of my sister’s betrayal on that account. I’ll simply need to play the game according to the rules.”

“And what does that entail? Enlighten me, oh husband mine,” I drawled.

“We’ll meet at Eildon Tree at midnight, of course, with our respective households. It’s partially to display our power and partially to put us on equal footing.” He looked at me ruefully. “You’ll be required to attend,
I’m afraid. Even if you’re no longer technically my TouchStone, you’re
mine
.”

I bristled and his face softened. “Plus, I want you there, Abby. No secrets, remember? You need to see how all of this works if you’re going to be a part of the family . . . for however long that is.” He left the rest of it unsaid, but I knew what he meant.

On impulse I reached up to stroke his cheek and pulled him down beside me. Not that there was time for anything, but he sank into the mattress, wrapping his arms about me so my cheek was resting in the crook of his arm. His fingers found the back of my head and stroked it gently, twining the loose strands of my hair.

“Sonja still wants to try to free me, Talivar . . . and I think she has the right idea. Even with all the rest of this political bullshit, you have to admit if I can get myself away from Faerie, that will be one less thing they can hold against you. At least it will be a reprieve of sorts—and I may be able to help you more from the mortal world.” My mouth tightened. “If you had the Wild Magic on your side . . .”

“Assuming you can even find Melanie, I would never use her like that. Not unless she volunteered.” His fingers tightened in my hair.

I stifled a snort. He wasn’t lying . . . but circumstances changed everything. And I had no doubt that if the shit really hit the fan, there wouldn’t be much he wouldn’t try to help save his kingdom.

And even if he wouldn’t, there were plenty of others who would.

“I’m going to go check on my father. Maybe he can give me some . . . insight,” I told him, a wan smile curving my lips as the elf kissed me.

Thomas was but a few tents away, as Kitsune had promised. Phineas had scrounged up a lute and the two of them sat there singing sea chanteys of all things. Phineas shot me a warning look as I entered the tent. My father had his eyes closed, lost in the music.

I’d never actually seen him play before. At Court, the Queen was too jealous to let anyone else hear, and if he had played music when I was a child I didn’t remember. In an effort to keep my existence under the radar, some of my memories had been stripped so I wouldn’t be forced to ask my mother any awkward questions.

I understood the reasoning behind it, but it still pissed me off to no end that I’d been kept in deliberate ignorance.

But that could be dealt with later. Or not at all. I knelt to listen, the rise and fall of his voice almost tangible. It spun around the tent with a simple power, the notes spilling from his lips with ease.

For a few brief moments I let myself be transported, the singular quality of his voice bringing the story in the song to life:

I was on board a ship, the waves rocking beneath my feet, the splash of the sea spray spattering the deck, the distant clarion calls of the sirens from the rocky isles enticing me closer . . .

I blinked. I’d been turned into a mermaid while trapped in Topher’s painting, so the irony wasn’t lost on me, but it was still a tad unnerving for all that. Shaking myself out of my stupor as the last of the music faded, I coughed politely to let him know I was present.

His eyes fluttered open and he favored me with a small smile. “Any news, lass?”

“Not really. Talivar said we have to go to Eildon Tree to meet the other members of the Seelie Court. Something about a Mexican standoff, I guess.” I blew my bangs from my eyes. “Sounds like more bullshit grandstanding, you ask me.”

“Politics usually is,” Phineas pointed out. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t serve a purpose.”

I flopped onto my elbows. “Whatever. I just wanted to let you know that I was tagging along.” I looked at my father. “I suppose you probably should as well?”

“As the hostage, it might make things go smoother,” he agreed. He set the lute down, but his empty hands appeared awkward in his lap, the left pinky tapping upon his thigh.

“Do you miss her? The Queen?” I blurted the words before I realized what I was saying, the heat of a flush rolling over my cheeks.

“My relationship with her isn’t really your concern, Abby,” he chastised me gently. “Not that part of it. And I am here by her request as much as I am for Moira.”

“I wish you’d been that loyal to me,” I muttered, ignoring the way he flinched. “Did you even visit me after I died?” Silence was my only answer. I snorted. “I don’t even know why I bothered asking.”

Something inside me clenched down, my emotions frozen. As much as I needed the information, I couldn’t quite bring myself to question him any further. Not about that, anyway. Abruptly, I got to my feet.

“What do you know about the ballad of ‘Tam Lin’?”

His brow furrowed. “I wrote it, if that’s what you’re asking . . . though it was under a different name. The
Queen wasn’t particularly pleased, as you can well imagine.” A pained smile crossed his face. “I could play it for you, if you like.”

A subtle peace offering, but not one I had time for. “I just want to know how it works. How was your . . . lover . . . able to free you?”

“Janet,” he corrected me. “She was more than just my lover, at the time. It was during one of the solstices. Everything is thinned then. The Queen was parading us about as she was wont to do in those days . . . see the lay of her lands, that sort of thing. But I’d told Janet where to find me upon the path, and she did, the delightful woman. She found me, saw right through the Glamour, and yanked me straight from the saddle.”

His mouth flattened. “The oddness of it all—the stories say I shifted my shape until I became a lump of coal and she tossed me down a well, but that last part never happened. The shapeshifting was the worst part of it. It wasn’t a Glamour, but it felt like I was being turned inside out, and I lashed out at her. By the time we were done she had a black eye and some cracked ribs, but somehow she managed to keep hold of me.”

He paused. “It’s more than the holding on. It requires that a mortal do it . . . can’t just be some random OtherFolk.” The blue eyes blinked painfully, tearing beneath the memory. “It’s almost as if they become
your
TouchStone. Like your time in Faerie changes you enough to make you nearly part OtherFolk yourself. Their soul anchors yours, pulls you back to the Fourth Path, but the force of will that it requires is fierce . . .”

An odd chill wriggled down my spine at his words. If I stayed here long enough would I lose my humanity? It only strengthened my resolution to get the hell out of here. Somehow.

“It changes you,” he added softly. “The both of you . . . because the trust it requires is beyond that of mere friendship.” He exhaled sharply as he leaned his head against his seat. “I did not return to the Queen until Janet died, you know. I owed her and her child that much. I’m not sure the Queen ever really forgave me that transgression, but what else could I do?”

“Nothing,” Phineas said softly, blowing the forelock from his brow. I wiped away the hot rush of tears from my cheeks. So much that Faerie had taken away from us . . . it had stripped us of our pasts and our futures. It was too easy to blame the Queen, though. After all, some of us gave ourselves over willingly.

“And yet you repeated it again, didn’t you?”

“I have a weakness for mortal women,” Thomas admitted. “Your mother looked very much like Janet. And she had much the same sort of strength.”

I digested this statement with equal parts sorrow and anger, wondering what sort of life this other half sibling might have had . . . and if he or she might still be alive, here somewhere in Faerie, another mortal victim seduced by the twisted denizens here.

Heartsick, I turned away, not wanting to head down that path.

I had my own plans to make, and even though I didn’t know how things were going to go down tonight, I’d be damned if I wasn’t armed in some fashion before I got there.

I rode pillion behind Talivar, one of Kitsune’s coal black mares prancing beneath us. Puca, I corrected myself. Not the same one that’d dumped me in the pond during my first visit to Faerie, but the golden glow from its eyes gave it away. It wasn’t like I normally
cared much about the color of horse eyes, but one wild ride on a Faery steed tends to make a body wary forever. I checked out of habit now, even if the chances were high that it was Glamoured.

This one didn’t seem inclined to gallop away with me, but I suspected that was more Talivar’s doing than anything else. It was probably bad form to dunk your king on the way to a formal meeting.

My father rode behind us, led by Kitsune on another pair of horses and the rest of the royal entourage accompanying us on foot. Great balls of witchlight swept past, pulsing in wild colors, illuminating the darkness until I felt as though we were in the funeral procession of an Oompa Loompa.

On any other occasion I would have found it charmingly creepy, but there was too much at stake for me to really relax about it. Talivar’s hand tightened on mine, but my tension didn’t ease up.

An honor guard of sorts flanked us—Unseelie goblins and wights of a particularly violent nature. Redcaps. Nucklavee. Boggarts. An odd mix of elongated limbs and fanged teeth, scales and prickly spines. The stuff of nightmares at the best of times, now they had something to fight for—and that lent them an even more sinister air.

I shook my head against that image, not liking the connotation of that at
all
.

Eildon Tree itself was off-limits to any sort of weapons—on this, each Path was in agreement. It was far too precious a resource—the thought of accidentally setting it on fire, for example, was enough to cause Talivar to blanch openly.