A Trace of Moonlight (19 page)

“There,” he murmured, his head inclining toward
the pale branches of the tree. I could see the dim outlines of the others waiting for us. We’d had to take the long way since I couldn’t travel the CrossRoads, but Talivar refused to go ahead without me, and his Court wouldn’t let him travel alone.

And so here we were, our entourage approaching the Tree with cautious optimism.

The Tree hadn’t changed much since I last saw it, but it had only been about a month or so, after all—even if it felt like a lifetime. A hawthorn, ancient and gnarled and covered in small white blossoms. Strips of cloth and shiny baubles hung from its branches—the wishes of innumerable pilgrims, searching for answers.

Above us, a trace of moonlight gleamed through the clouds, the edges of the Tree illuminated like glass. Just beyond us, the CrossRoads shone in a crystalline ribbon. A twinge of anxiety rippled through me. I was still technically in Faerie and I hadn’t stepped on the CrossRoads . . . but this was getting awfully close to skirting the boundaries of my geas.

The last thing I wanted was to trigger it again.

On the far side of the Tree I could see the silhouettes of other riders, the pale banners of the Queen held aloft. Moira was beneath the Tree itself, mounted upon her white mare, her face unreadable.

Carefully, Talivar dismounted, helping me down. As soon as I touched the ground, the urgent thrum of the Tree’s EarthSong rumbled through my feet, beckoning me to come and sit beneath its branches. He linked his arm through mine and we headed to where Moira was, Thomas and Kitsune trailing behind us, Phineas at my heels.

A blissful look flickered over my father’s face. This
had been the very spot where he’d first met the Queen, after all. It appeared the years didn’t diminish the magic of it for him.

Moira dismounted, clad in a dress of glittering silk. I stifled a smile. I could always count on my sister to put everyone else to shame in the fashion department. Her dress wasn’t the only thing glittering, though. I could see the shine of tears when her gaze fell upon Thomas.

She knew something.

“Brother,” she said thickly, moving to take Talivar’s hands in hers. He kissed her knuckles, and I caught the slightest tremble in her fingers as she withdrew before she turned to me. “Sister.”

Kitsune approached us, serene. “Will you acknowledge us, Princess? Does the Seelie Court now choose to recognize her shadowed brothers and sisters?”

The words hovered upon the fox-woman’s breath, hope and longing and a tinge of resignation all wrapped up in a sad tone. This wasn’t the first time this question had been asked.

Moira bowed her head, the moonlight catching on the slanted edges of her ears. “We cannot.”

Her words were met with complete and utter silence. The Tree’s branches rustled in the darkness, the soft wish-knots fluttering in the breeze. I had one on there, I realized, though I hadn’t wished for anything.

Maybe I should have.

The tension between the four of us tightened as Talivar and Moira stared at each other, locked in silent communication. I pressed past them so I could touch the Tree. The vibration of its song grew stronger and I laid my hand on one of the branches, the bark thick against my palm.

Immediately the music filled my ears, driving me to
my knees like it had the first time I’d been here. My vision wavered as once again I was plunged into an odd vision, the spiraling of futures unweaving before me. I’d never be able to follow them or figure out which path to take, but that didn’t matter. The Tree wasn’t about that anyway.

 . . . the CrossRoads spanned the earth, silver ley lines of magic, crisscrossed in a tangled web of destinations and Doors, and for a moment I could see the way the four Paths unfolded across it, Eildon Tree the linchpin in the center to hold it all together . . .

Behind me I could hear the others arguing, but it was the dim buzzing of bees, easy to ignore—until Moira began to lose her composure.

“You know why I can’t do this,” Moira snapped, her voice brittle. “I’m not Queen yet, and to attempt to overrule Mother’s wishes would be a disaster.”

Talivar’s reply was muffled and I turned, pulling away reluctantly.

“What is she talking about?”

Whatever he was about to say was drowned in a sudden explosion and the rattling whizz of some sort of projectile.

“Oh, fuck.” I turned around wildly, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

Talivar shoved me down into the grass as the rush of booted heels clattered past. The stench of sulfur flooded my nose. Daemons. “ ’Ware the Tree!”

Tree, hell. I struggled to look behind me. “Get my dad!”

“Stay down,” the prince hissed, rolling off me to slip into the darkness. Hooves pounded the dirt, and I covered my head with my hands, the breeze of the panicked horses whisking over my head.

I elbowed my way closer to the Tree. Being trampled would suck just as badly as being shot and I had no intentions of catching a stray anything, thank you very much.

Besides, the Tree was sacred to the OtherFolk in a way I couldn’t really comprehend. It was bound to be the safest place to find shelter.

Above me the witchlights flickered, sending out purple shadows. I caught a glimpse of Kitsune wielding a wickedly sharp katana. Her body slid through small openings amid the swirling haze of bodies and horses, the tip of the blade flicking out here and there. All the while her face remained as calm as though she were cutting a bouquet of daisies.

Moira had disappeared, swallowed up in the center of her own guardsmen, and I . . . was fending for myself.

A sharp pain dug into my side and I smacked at it, freezing at the answering grunt and the soft slide of fur against my hand. “It’s me, Abby.”

“Phin? Jesus, what’s going on?”

“Mercenaries,” he grunted. “Borderland mercs . . . guess whose calling card they’ve got?”

“Fucking Maurice.”

Something let out a guttural snarl from the shadows and I froze. I’d been here before. Wriggling on my elbows, I slithered farther away. A silver flash lit up the night.

The CrossRoads . . . There was a Door nearby. Not that that helped me any. The real question was who was leaving . . . or coming here. There was a twang as arrows were loosed, followed by pained cries in the dark.

The rotting edge of sulfur stung my nose and I
clenched my teeth against the roiling wave of nausea knotting my gut. Wherever the Door was, I was getting too close to it, the geas kicking in with a vengeance.

Crap.

“Where’s Talivar?”

“Cutting a rug in a daemon tango,” Phineas snorted, squinting over my shoulder. “Someone’s gonna need a dry-cleaning service.”

“I hear blood’s a bitch to get out of leather.” I gritted my teeth as another wave of queasiness swept through me. “Where the fuck is that Door? I’m too close to it.” Something soft and wet burbled nearby. I shuddered, peering through the branches.

“Do you see Thomas anywhere?”

“Moira took him with her group.” Phineas slunk lower into the grass. “Think we need to stay out of it until the two Courts chase these assholes off.”

“Well, well—what a surprise to see you here . . . alive.”

I whirled to see a leather-clad daemon leaning against the Tree, flicking ash from a cigarette with a neat snap of his wrist. As daemons went, he was the dapper sort—neatly dressed, slicked-back scales, and a tidy row of horns upon his brow. It might have looked reassuring, but it was the ones who appeared most civilized who were usually the biggest bastards.

And I’d had dealings with this particular daemon before.
Cigarette
, my mind named him, pulling the moniker from a past memory.

“I could say the same,” I drawled. “Nice to see you’re still flaunting the Versace.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing personal.”

“It never is.” I backed up a step as he approached, dropping his cigarette butt into the grass. It smoldered
in a reddish haze, a curl of smoke rising from the silver blades.

“I do believe Maurice would be rather pleased to see you.”

“No doubt.” A flash of white at my feet told me Phineas had bailed. Given my commitment to our friendship, I was just going to assume he was mustering up someone with a weapon. Meaning, I needed to keep this asshole talking. “Think I’ll take a rain check.”

“How disappointing.” His smile widened to reveal a set of prickly looking teeth. Inwardly I sighed. One of these days I was going to have to get my Buffy the Vampire Slayer action on and learn how to fight. I ducked beneath the lowest branch, the song of the Tree pulsing up my arm as I leaned on the it for balance.

“You’re not going to be able to take me anyway,” I muttered, almost hoping the geas would flare up the way it had earlier. The thought of vomiting all over this fucker cheered me up immensely.

“Says you.”

I wondered what would happen if I were knocked unconscious. Would the geas kick into effect if I wasn’t willfully attempting to break it?

I swallowed the taste of bile and ducked behind another limb. Cigarette wasn’t really trying to pursue me yet and the longer I kept him talking, the better off I’d be. He smirked, blue scales gleaming, and then lunged, twisting his body around the trunk to snatch at my hair.

The Tree let out a shudder when he touched it, scraps of linen fluttering to the ground.

“Don’t do that,” I hissed at him. “Those prayers belong to other people.”

“Casualties of war.”

I stared at him. “What are you talking about? We’re not at war.”

“Not yet.”

He bared his teeth in a snarl. I retreated another step, my back scraping into the bark. The EarthSong hummed stronger and a soft twang of warning vibrated through my spine. I blinked, the glow of fire lighting up the night air.

Fire.

“Oh, shit!” Cigarette whipped around, his own eyes widening. Snatching my hand, he yanked me backward, our bodies tumbling into the thick grass as a high-pitched whistling scream tore past us. The field lit up like the crispy edges of a burning snowflake, silver and gold and bloodred streaming behind the tail of the fireball.

Heat flushed over me and the Tree let out a groaning pop as it was hit, the cloth wishes igniting in a multicolored breeze. A gasp escaped me, even as another wave of cramps swept through my gut. Cigarette blinked dumbly at the smoldering ruin of the Tree, as a low wail rippled up from those who still stood.

“Fuck this.” The daemon rolled off me.

“Maybe you ought to consider working for someone other than a psychopath,” I snapped.

He let out a brittle laugh. “You think I’ve got any choice in the matter?”

Talivar staggered toward me, anguish written on his face. Before I could say anything, Cigarette hoisted me over his shoulder.

I kicked at the mercenary, my ears still ringing from the explosion, but he ignored me. “I’m out of here.”

“Let me go! I can’t. I have a geas—” My words were drowned as the Tree gave another shudder, the
bark splitting with a massive roar. Cigarette didn’t bother slowing down, his arm clinging tight around my waist.

Abruptly we were standing in front the silvered edges of the Door I had sensed, and I began to dry heave in anticipation. Smoke guttered, hiding us in a thick cloud. The Door arced in a silver flame before us and I squinted through tearing eyes.

“Can’t . . .” I mumbled thickly.

“Watch us,” Cigarette snorted. And then something steamrolled into us, our limbs tangling in a heap as we hurtled through the Door and onto the CrossRoads.

I slammed into silver cobblestones, my breath rushing out of me in a whoosh. Beside me Cigarette grunted, muttering something profane, but I hardly noticed as I crawled to my knees, vomiting profusely.

“What the hell—” Cigarette’s voice cut off with a yelp as he was barreled over by another figure. I caught a dim image of fists and some sort of blade, the stench of sulfur and a guttural moan, but I had no time to thank my would-be rescuer.

Fire ripped through my veins, burning liquid licking along my skin. Blisters bubbled on my flesh, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. Flames coated my tongue, scorching down my throat and into my gullet.

This was not the gentle shape-changing of the Dreaming, steered by me—this was the uncontrolled snapping of a curse set free without limitations.

My bones melted and forged into something new, crushed and reset. Dimly I heard someone calling my name, but I couldn’t see anything beyond my own pain. I broke out in scales, my legs and arms absorbing
into my rib cage, my spine lengthening, my teeth growing pointed.

I twisted around someone, coiling, coiling, squeezing.

Fingers bit tighter, arms trembling, but they didn’t let go of me. A span of heartbeats and I shifted again, into something large and furry, with biting fangs and tearing claws. I want to shred flesh, fill my mouth with blood . . .

“—an illusion,” someone gasped. “You have to fight it.”

The voice. A man’s. Did I know it?

Not Cigarette, surely.

I vomited bile upon him, belching smoke in his face. I couldn’t seem to focus on it, my whole being needing to move, to get away. To be
free
.