A Trace of Moonlight (41 page)

There was far more history here than I would ever know. She’d told me the gist of her story before, but I’d never thought I’d actually meet the man who’d beaten her . . . and condemned her and Nobu to an odd sort of
half life. A moment later and I realized she was actually enjoying this . . . the musical give and take with someone who was her equal and then some.

I squatted down by the tree, trying to glean some semblance of its reaction. Its own song had died down as it listened, but there was an underlying current of interest and excitement.

I laid one hand upon the soil, the fingers of the other wending into the tender branches. Touching the old Tree I had seen the breadth of infinite possibilities all spiraling into an unending helix that I would never be able to decipher. I had no idea if this Tree would be the same, or if it had to learn as it went. Had the first sprung up and known what it was, or did it change over time?

The song wrapped up and the pair looked at me expectantly. “It’s waiting. For something else. Keep playing, I guess. But . . . I don’t know. Try to put more feeling into it.”

The man looked rather offended at this, but Mel nodded.

“Less exercise . . . more life experience,” I said.

Melanie gave me a wry smile and launched straight into “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” singing as she went.

“Apropos,” the man murmured, joining in a moment later, but this time his music was less about showing off. More honest.

The sapling approved.

My gaze found the old Tree. A long time ago, I’d put a wish on it. An empty one. I’d tied a piece of cloth around one of its branches, the way so many other supplicants had . . . but I hadn’t actually wished for anything.

Just in case,
I’d said. And now it was too late to use it. But maybe not too late to make a new one.

I reached down to find the hem of my T-shirt, shredding off a scrap with a shaking hand. Talivar raised a brow and blinked, understanding flickering over his face. Abruptly, he pulled at his leather vest, tearing a strip of his tunic from beneath it.

I went first, knotting it on the lowest branch carefully, not even knowing what I was wishing for. I tried to focus less on what I wanted . . . and more on what I wanted for the newborn Tree.

Grow. Be strong. Store our dreams, our hopes, our fears . . .

A brush of skin against my hand and I saw Talivar bending, tying his own strip to a branch. He glanced at me sideways, the piercing blue of his eye filled with the memories of so much pain and loss.

“Give them to her,” I murmured. “Let her guard them for you, nourish her with them.”

When I finally walked away, he was tilting his forehead against the tiny tree, murmuring something in a hoarse whisper.

Melanie and the TouchStone were still playing; they’d finally tapped into the Wild Magic and it swirled about us all like a tangible force, calling the others to awaken. And that was it, I realized. The Tree needed the wishes of Dreamers to survive—good or evil, it didn’t matter. It was hope that was required.

The first to come to was Phin, and I raised the little unicorn against me, his nose burrowing into the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “So very sorry.”

He nipped me gently. “I’m too old for this bullshit. I’m officially retired.”

“After one last thing,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure if a unicorn’s Dreams would mean anything to the Tree . . . and he didn’t have a piece of cloth to make a wish with, but . . .

He sighed as I told him what I needed him to do. “Cut off a tuft of my mane. It’s not like it can get any more butchered than it is.”

I nearly laughed at his mournful tone, but he really had been through more than enough. I sliced off a hank of the fine hair with a nearby dagger and tied it around a branch. Phineas reared up and touched the nub of his horn against it. For a moment he looked the part of the noble beast of legend and I could only imagine what sorts of regrets and hopes he harbored within that tiny body.

Aside from the ones involving booze and a drunken Pinkie Pie.

Talivar’s hand on my shoulder brought me to myself. “The others . . . they’re waiting for you.” He pressed a quick kiss against my forehead. Somehow it felt like good-bye.

I peered over his shoulder and realized the others were finally starting to awaken.

Even Brystion.

I ran over to where he lay, placing a hand upon the incubus’s cheek before helping him sit. Talivar caught him on the other side and gently held him upright. The incubus gagged and vomited noisily into the weeds, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

He let out a pained groan and blinked up at me with an odd sort of incomprehension. “Abby?”

“Yes, I murmured to him, stroking his brow, my fingers lingering at the base of his antlers. “I’m okay.”

He slumped. “I feel like shit.”

I didn’t doubt him. There wasn’t even a hint of his normal sexual arrogance rolling off him, which meant he had to be hurting. “Things they don’t teach you in Soul-Eating Skills 101?”

He smiled sourly at me before being lost to another coughing fit.

Talivar frowned. “I don’t think he should make the sacrifice,” he said quietly. “Not yet. Not now while he carries Maurice’s soul within him.”

“No. The Tree has already had too much of him as it is.”

“He’s got
what
inside him?” Nobu hissed from behind me. The daemon spared a glance at Melanie first, his face darkening when he saw her playing.

“Maurice. His soul. It was the only way,” I added apologetically.

Nobu stared at Brystion, jabbing a thumb at the amulet around his neck. “What the
hell
is that?”

“The world’s first daemonic KeyBearer, apparently. It’s rather complicated.”

“No shit. You realize that it’s possible that Brystion is now the Tithe?” The daemon winced as his broken wings shifted.

“A trade for a trade, eh, Peacock?” Brystion let out a shuddering laugh, mirthless and terrible.

My heart plummeted into my belly. “Can’t you guys, like, transfer it? One to the other?”

They turned to face me as one.

“No,” Nobu said flatly. “We’re not banks. It doesn’t work that way. Brystion will have to deliver the soul himself.” He tugged on the Key around the incubus’ neck. “And way to fuck with the rules. This shouldn’t even be allowed.”

The moment was interrupted by the thundering of countless hooves thudding their way through the trees. Had the Hunt taken off again?

But, no. As they came into the clearing, I stiffened as I saw
her
, the Queen of Faerie, as she rode on a silver mare, her train flowing behind her in an otherworldly grace. A large assembly traveled behind her. My father strode at her side, playing his harp with newly healed fingers.

“Because this is what we need,” I muttered. “Crazy lady on the scene.”

Talivar flinched, but nodded, giving me a pained smile. “I’ll handle this. King and all.”

I slipped my hand into his. “Consort.”

Blinking in surprise, he led me toward her entourage. I spared a backward glance at Brystion, but Nobu and Sonja appeared to have him well in hand. The incubus rolled his eyes at me, but I caught a faint amusement gleaming within.

United front and all that.

All around us, the wounded staggered to their feet, or attempted to sit up. The Queen made a curt nod with her head and a contingent of healers ran out onto the field and began setting up a rudimentary triage, as other elves went from body to body.

I exchanged a glance with Talivar. Such generosity was unexpected. I hated to think the woman might be scheming something even now with all the carnage, but I wouldn’t put it past her either.

A moment later Moira trotted over on her own white mare, bridle bells jingling. Full circle. She met us halfway and dismounted to give her brother a hug before turning to me to do the same.

“Given the circumstances, I thought it prudent to
find Mother,” she said, a quiet apology in her voice. “Aside from her . . . issues, there is much she knows. I was . . . unprepared for this.”

“I think we all were,” I said dryly.

“How long before we can expect the other Paths to show up to claim the bodies?” Talivar said it clinically, with a coolness that bespoke his experience on the battlefield. His sister’s discomfort at the bloodshed before her shone on her face, but her brother had no such issues.

Yet another side to him that I’d only been half aware of.

I stared out at the field. The number of injured was staggering. I frowned, something Talivar had told me once niggling at the back of my mind. Laying my hand on his shoulder I frowned at him. “What about the pools?”

“The what?”

“You told me . . . before. When the Sidhe would have great battles in the past, everyone would bathe in some sacred spa or Jacuzzi or something . . . and it healed everyone? Seems like that might come in rather handy right about now, don’t you think?”

His mouth pursed. “Technically they’re not open to any but the Sidhe, and there are far fewer now than in the past, but given the circumstances, perhaps Mother would be amenable.”

“Particularly if we tell her we can pay the Tithe,” I muttered.

Moira sighed, craning her head over Talivar’s shoulder. “You have him, then? Maurice?”

“In a manner of speaking.” I edged around the subject. “Let’s just say the Tithe will be paid and Maurice will no longer trouble us and leave it at that.” There
was a warning note in my voice to keep her from pressing further.

“All right. Let’s see if we can’t find a peaceable solution for all.” She glanced up, a smile on her face as a contingent of angels approached, Robert breaking off to land beside us.

“Sparky. The powers that be have declared a moratorium on our usual . . . enmity.” He pointed at a golden-haired angel holding a trumpet. “We were chosen to escort Gabriel to the Tree to add our Path’s music to it.”

I raised a brow. Goldilocks had a body of a bronze Adonis and a face of an . . . well, an angel. Honestly. The same sort of chiseled beauty the rest of them had, though the fact that he was dressed in street clothes threw me a bit.

“
The
Gabriel?” I asked. “And how did you even know about the music?”

“I get around.” Gabriel shrugged, pointing to the sky. “Plus I’ve got friends in high places that know things.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this, so instead I nodded to where Melanie continued to play with her former enemy. “Over there with the others—I’ll let you guys figure out what works best.” My gaze fell on my father. “And . . . I think Thomas should be there too, don’t you? He represents the Fae as well as any.”

Brystion limped up behind me, his ears twitching as he laid a hand upon my shoulder. “I carry the Tithe. I should be with you when you present yourself.”

Together we found our way to the front of the line.
The Queen dismounted, her long white dress fluttering like the soft feathers of a swan.

There was something different about her now. Less mad.

No less crafty, though.

Gravely she listed as Moira made her plea to open the Healing pools of old, so that everyone could have a chance to start over. My father gave me a tight smile, making his own way to the Tree with his harp.

I watched as the four musicians put their heads together for a few moments, a shake and nod of the head . . . and then they began to play. Whatever song it might have started off as was quickly picked up by the humming of the Tree, the EarthSong drumming out a deep echo within my chest.

“That’s it,” I whispered after a few minutes. “The tide’s turned.”

I glanced at the Queen, my tone respectful. “If it would please Your Majesty, each of those here should also gain a chance to leave a wish for the new Tree. She seems to be . . . strengthened by them.”

“As you say.” She snapped her fingers in her old impatient way, indicating this to be done. “We will gather up the wounded and take them within our borders, but only for a short while. Once this flag of truce has been lifted, all other Paths shall vacate Faerie lands unless they have needful business there.”

It was the best any of us could hope for, and the relief written on Nobu’s face was plain to see.

“No clipping of the wings yet, eh, Peacock?” Brystion snorted. “And here I thought sin-eaters had their own ways of healing.”

Nobu glared. “Would you have me bathe in the blood of virgins?”

“Point taken. When do I get rid of this thing inside me?”

“That’s what she said,” I muttered, hiding a smile when Ion punched me lightly in the arm.

The Queen stared at him. “Am I to understand you harbor the traitor’s soul within you, daemon?” Her eyes lit upon the Key. “How very interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” I glanced at Ion. “So what happens now? Please . . . you can’t leave me again. Not like this.”

“I have no choice, Abby. And where I go, you cannot follow.” He laid a hand on my wrist. “If I can work something out, I will.”

Nobu let out a grim chuckle. “Spoken like one who’s never met Him. No. I will go with you. There are things you should be aware of. And temptation awaits even our kind.”

“Always let a sin-eater be your guide . . .” I wavered on my feet, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. “How long will you be gone?”

“It could be minutes or months. He keeps His own schedule as
He
sees fit. It is not my place to question it.”

The Queen cocked her head at me. “And you. What are your intentions? We ought to plan a true wedding if we are to make this union between you and my son . . . official.” Her words were clipped as she considered the thought, her upper lip curling at me. “A King ought to have a Queen . . . and even if you’re not my first choice, you are a known quantity.”

I rolled my eyes as Talivar let out a groan. “How
flattering. But . . . no.” I gave Talivar a regretful smile. “I will see out my year as his handfasted consort, but beyond that? I can’t be what Faerie needs. I’ve got a life back home, and I want to live it.”

Talivar’s chin dropped, but I was right and we both knew it. “No. I will not ask that of you.”