A Trace of Moonlight (16 page)

Abruptly, I threw off the cloak. I was still dressed in the shredded remains of the blue silk thing from the night before, but I was done with looking prim and proper.

I wanted some pants, goddammit.

“You decent?”

Before I could even answer, a white muzzle slipped through the tent flap.

Phineas blinked owlishly at me. “You’re awake?”

“Obviously. And nice of you to knock.”

“Not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

I scowled at him. “Don’t remind me. Be useful for once and help me find something to wear.” I looked around the tent. “That’s not a skirt,” I added.

“Not planning on being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen for the next few years?” He arched a brow, narrowly dodging out of the way of my swiftly following foot. “Joking.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I waved him away, fighting between the urge to pace around the room or simply sink to my knees in despair. What the hell was wrong with me? “Where’s Talivar?”

Phineas shrugged. “He was called away to do something kingly, no doubt. A liaison from the Faery Court arrived this morning, demanding your return.”

“Word gets around fast.” I frowned at the inside of the tent, finally snatching up Talivar’s cloak to throw it over my shoulders. “Don’t suppose they’ve got anything to eat out there.”

“Mmmph.” He paused, his ears twitching. “Nobu is here too.”

A chill ran through me at the mention of the daemon’s name. “Shit. I was sorta hoping the Tithe thing would go away.”

I stared at Phin, panic lurching in my heart. “You don’t think he’s here to try to . . . uh . . . collect me?”

“I suspect your husband would have something to say about that. Besides, the time limit’s not up yet. He’d have no cause.”

“Wonderful.” I poked my head outside the tent flap, relieved to see the usual hustle had apparently slowed down some. Phineas brushed up against my leg and I glanced down at him. “Why are we still here, anyway? I thought the Barras was required to be on the move every twenty-four hours.”

“There’s a lot that’s changed,” he said quietly. “The rules of the game reset when Talivar took the crown.”

“I’m not even remotely interested in playing. I just want to get out of here.” I slipped out of the tent and struck out into the now somewhat familiar mishmash of awnings and encampments. “But first, I’m going to get some new rags if it kills me.”

Not that I had anything to pay for it with—but hell, I was the King’s TouchStone and consort. That ought to be enough to get me something on credit.

I trotted down the makeshift rows for a while, vaguely aware that I was in the Lower Crescent. “Now, where the hell is the Hive . . .”

“Perhaps I might be able to help with that?” Nobu’s smooth voice purred from the shadows. He moved beside me with all the grace the bulk of his dark wings would allow, which was considerable. He was dressed far more conservatively than I’d seen him before, his spiky hair dyed a muted dark blue at the tips. “You’re a rather hard person to get ahold of, Abby Sinclair.”

I tried not to flinch and kept on walking. “Death will do that to a person.”

“Clever girl.” His voice held smug amusement.

“There was nothing clever about it,” I snapped, whirling on him. “If you think I did it simply to get out of our deal, then you’re mistaken. Believe it or not, I actually do honor my word. And if I was going to try to escape I sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen to get my head half bashed in to do it!”

His face sobered. “For what it’s worth, I actually believe you.”

“Serves you right anyway.” I turned away and kept walking.

“You’ve grown a stiffer spine since I last saw you. Interesting.”

I waved him off, marching toward the first storefront that appeared to sell clothing. “I don’t think we actually have any business, Nobu. So if you’re here to chat, you can be on your way.”

He eyed my neck. “I can no longer sense the Key’s presence. It’s true, then? That Maurice escaped with it?”

I stiffened, not needing Phin’s warning cough at my ankle to keep my mouth shut. “Does it matter?”

“It might.” He tugged on my hair, pausing when the bells chimed. “Faery owes us the Tithe, true . . .”

“You tricked me with the lethe bullshit, so don’t come crying to me because I inadvertently spoiled your plans.”

“You haven’t technically spoiled anything,” he said mildly. “One way or the other the Tithe must be filled.”

“My wife will not be filling it,” Talivar said coolly, shoving his way between us and removing Nobu’s hand from my arm. The prince was an imposing figure in his own right. “And unless you have any further business here, you are no longer welcome in my kingdom.”

The daemon blinked, his dark eyes darting between me and Talivar. “How very interesting, indeed.” He bowed formally. “Another time, perhaps, Your Highness.”

“I doubt that.” Talivar’s gaze held steady as the winged daemon strode off.

The prince finally tore himself away as Nobu disappeared into the crowd. “What did he want from you?”

“The Key. He wanted to know if I still had it.”

Talivar glanced in the direction Nobu had gone. “He’s up to something.”

I snorted. “Who isn’t? I didn’t give him an answer, but he probably figured it out anyway. What can I do about it? Maybe if he knows I don’t have it, he can go bother Maurice.” Which would be a total disaster. The thought of Hell holding that sort of power was mind-numbing.

I pointed at a pair of leather trousers hanging from one of the nearby stalls. “What I really want right now is those.”

The prince’s mouth twitched. “Anything for milady.”

Ten minutes later found me finally clothed in the low-slung pants, a loose top, and a bodice that was a tad tight for my liking, but it would do well enough. At least I didn’t have to deal with skirts; that was a small miracle in itself.

“You’re tense,” Talivar observed.

I bit my lip. “What happens if I don’t fill the Tithe? Does that mean someone else has to go in my place? Some random mortal the Queen accidentally picks up?” I supposed there were people I wouldn’t mind being sacrificed too much, but I couldn’t make that judgment call.

His mouth became grim. “If we cannot find a mortal, then we must sacrifice seven of our own people. Faery souls are apparently not as valuable.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve been so focused on getting myself out of this mess that I didn’t even think about what would happen if I actually succeeded.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders. “This isn’t for you to decide, Abby. I will not lose you again . . . not even to your own sense of nobility.”

“But I made the deal with Nobu. I offered myself up—should someone else pay for that?”

“You made the bargain with Nobu, true—but the Queen is the one who agreed to the Tithe to begin with. It was her . . . weakness that allowed the daemons to get as much of a foothold as they did. It is on her head to find a solution to this.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Because
that’s
worked out so damn well thus far. Besides, you and I both know her solution is to find me and force me into the being the Tithe anyway, so where does that get us?”

“Touché,” Phineas murmured at our feet. “Speaking
of which, I’m assuming that’s what the liaison wanted to talk to you about?”

“Something like that,” the prince said dryly. “The Seelie Court isn’t willing to recognize my claim yet, but they don’t actually have much choice in the matter, and Kitsune refused to have anything to do with their envoy without me there. I was actually on my way to meet with him—and I thought Abby should come. After all, it concerns her too.” He squeezed my hand gently, slipping his fingers between mine. “I would not deliberately keep such secrets from you.”

The thought warmed me despite the way my heart beat faster. Such a coward, I chided myself.

The three of us wended through the Barras. Things had picked up and the usual crowds were building in a brilliant cacophony of sound. Polite nods were offered to Phin and me as we walked past, but it seemed less than I would have expected, considering Talivar was their new liege.

“Under new management,” I muttered.

Talivar shot me an amused glance. “It may take a while for people to get used to the idea. I’m not in a particular rush to formalize things.”

“Do we know who the liaison is?” Not that I had influence with any of them, but if I knew who it was, I could at least attempt to tailor my response accordingly. With all the time I’d spent in the Court, I knew a few individuals who weren’t too bad, even if the rest were stuffy-assed prigs.

Talivar let out a grunt. “It’s the Steward.”

I frowned, my footsteps slowing. “My father is here?”

I’d barely seen him since I drank the lethe—and
certainly not in any official capacity, though I began to wonder if that was more the Queen’s doing or if he’d avoided me to spare me her wrath.

I stifled a snort. If so, that hadn’t worked out too well.

“It makes sense.” Talivar gave my hand a squeeze. “My ascent to the ‘throne’ is going to be troublesome for any number of factions . . . as is the fact that you’re with me. Breaking protocol is all well and good, but eventually it catches up with you.”

“I’m surprised Moira didn’t come, honestly.”

He shrugged. “She may have tried. More likely she declined, in order to assure people that she has no plans to defect to this Court.”

“Shit makes my head spin,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. I couldn’t keep half this stuff straight on a good day, but every time I turned around now it seemed as though there was a new law or rule or something just waiting to be broken. I was a little tired of dealing with consequences I had no control over.

Kitsune’s tent loomed over the next row, the familiar scent of ginger wafting on the air. I let go of Talivar’s hand. I wanted to face my father under my own power here, even if it was in this small way.

Two elvish guards of the Sidhe Court flanked the tent. Talivar inclined his head to them as he pulled back the tent flap, but they stared straight ahead.

I didn’t know how things were supposed to work between Courts as far as respect went, but the way things were shaking out I wasn’t sure if Talivar had gotten quite as good a deal as he thought. He ducked inside and I followed, blinking as I adjusted to the shadowed interior.

Kitsune knelt before her usual table, her hands
folded primly before her. The fox-woman was nothing if not a master at masking her emotions. I’d hardly ever seen her appear anything other than serene.

Her tail flicked when she saw us, an unreadable warning flashing on her face. “The Steward of Elfland has some rather interesting news to share.” She gestured to him with an elegant hand.

My father sat cross-legged on the other side of the table, his expression nearly as emotionless, but I could see the strain in the pinch of his cheeks. He tugged the edges of his waistcoat. “The Queen has been removed from the throne,” he said without preamble, but I thought I detected a shiver in the tone of his voice.

And with good reason, really. As nuts as she was, she had still been his lover for hundreds of years. She was the mother of at least one of his children. He’d been with her in one capacity or another for longer than I could comprehend any rational relationship lasting. But somehow it had.

Talivar stilled at his words. “And Moira?”

“Soon to be crowned the new Queen.” My father exhaled heavily. “She would have your council.”

The alarm bells rang in the back of my head, echoed by the sound of the bells in my hair. As estranged as we were, my father hadn’t even acknowledged my presence. Rude in the extreme, but now that I thought about it, he hadn’t even come by to see me after I’d died. The thought hurt more than I liked to admit, but I shook it off.

“What about me? My geas? Will she be lifting that? Getting rid of the Tithe?” I pushed past Talivar to kneel at Thomas’s side, my tone brusque. My father’s eyes barely flickered, never leaving Kitsune’s face.

“I don’t know, Abby.”

I rolled back on my heels. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You can’t even look at me to tell me the truth of it. Why are you even here?”

Now he
did
turn toward me and it took all I had not to retreat beneath the coldness that lay within his gaze. Ageless or not, my father looked . . . old. Weary. He was still handsome, certainly, but there was a tiredness about him that I didn’t remember from before. “I volunteered.”

“As what? A messenger boy?”

“As a hostage, Abby.” Talivar’s hand lowered to my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Thomas?”

The bard nodded. “Both to alleviate any suspicion on the part of the Courts, and also as a guarantee that the Queen will not attempt anything untoward.” His mouth twitched. “Any more than she usually might.”

“Because
that’s
so reassuring.” I rubbed at my forehead. “So now what?”

Kitsune poured me a cup of tea, indicating I should drink it. “Now you see why I wanted you here.”

“Yeah. But can we really trust this? The Queen would never give up her power willingly—and sure as hell not under these circumstances.” I exhaled slowly. “You’ve met the woman. I doubt she does anything for anyone but herself.”