A Trace of Moonlight (42 page)

“Tradition dictates a year,” the Queen groused, clearly not willing to let it go.

Her son shrugged. “And yet am I not a King in my own right? Perhaps it’s time for a new tradition.” He took my hand, his thumb rubbing over mine. “I release you.”

“Witnessed,” Phineas piped up from my ankles, giving a sense of finality to it all.

How many times had I said those words? The echo of my phrase to remove a TouchStone bond now seemed to mock me. It hurt far worse than I thought it should.

I chucked his cheek lightly. “I didn’t say I would stop loving you. But I can’t give any more. I can’t.” I exhaled sharply. “And Brystion and I are now permanently TouchStoned. It would be unfair . . . to everyone.”

The Queen made a tired gesture at me. “Ridiculous. You’re already committed to him. And after all that work I put into it, I’d expect a bit more courtesy.”

My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Talivar shook himself, shock flicking over his face. “It was a setup. All of it.”

“The Tithe? But that was orchestrated between me and Nobu. The Queen didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Not the Tithe. The handfasting.” His voice grew
frosty. “Clever, Mother, to make me think it was my idea.”

She gazed down at her nails with a sly smile. “Well, you needed a shove out the door. Now you’ve got a kingdom of your own, and Moira will have mine . . . when she is ready.” She glanced up at me. “Never underestimate a mother’s love for her children.”

I went cold, searching my memories for that moment. Hadn’t I said I wanted to leave? And hadn’t she wanted me to stay? I’d thought the geas had been her trump card to keep me here . . . But what if it had only been her method to ensure I became a more permanent part of the family?

And we’d danced to her tune like puppets.

On one level, I admired her skillful plotting. After all, given the circumstances of Talivar’s inability to rule the Seelie Court, it almost made sense. On the other, it was a super shitty thing to do and the sheer amount of pain it had put me and my friends through was beyond abominable.

I glanced over at Talivar, swallowing down my anger. “No offense, but I’m rather glad I’m no longer directly part of this family.”

He let out a sad little laugh, even as the Queen rolled her eyes. “You don’t really have a choice, you know. The handfasting is permanent now, regardless of your lovers or whatever little mortal thing you feel like doing.”

I blinked at her, the sudden silence as loud as a thundering boom in my ears. “What are you saying? One year, that’s what I was told—and that no longer applies.”

“And you were told correctly,” she snapped. “Mortals. Honestly.”

I continued to stare at her blankly, frustration driving what little politeness I had left straight out the window. “You’re nutters. Completely out of your damn gourd.”

“And you, silly thing, are obviously pregnant.”

Two months later

F
or once, the Queen was actually correct. I was with child, as they call it. Not that I’d started showing yet, but a rather awful bout of morning sickness had begun to rear its ugly head within the last few weeks.

At pretty much any hour of the day.

The pregnancy test didn’t show up positive for at least two weeks after she’d made her declaration. Quite easily the longest two weeks of my entire goddamned life.

But here I was.

Phineas kept a watchful eye on me, though he pretended not to notice when I dry heaved all over the kitchen floor one evening, the mere scent of whatever was in the fridge forcing me to my knees in gastric dismay.

Pregnant or not, I was still living in my shambles of an apartment, though with some extra help from Brandon and a few others, we soon had things back to normal.

Or at least as normal as things could be these days.

But tonight the Midnight Marketplace was in full swing, although it wasn’t really a store anymore so much as a metaphysical coffee shop, with a side order of books and the occasional anime showing. Technically the place still belonged to Moira, but she wouldn’t be coming back due to her new duties in Faerie, so I pretty much did what I wanted with it. The Pit still ran during the day, but I’d had it repainted and refurnished, and if the books we sold were still pretty much crap, at least the store itself no longer smelled like a cat had taken a piss in a rotting vegetable bin.

Charlie and I continued to exchange shifts there, but otherwise things were pretty much the same.

And quiet.

And somewhat sad.

My pregnancy had thrown an interesting kink in the gears, but babies did that. For the moment, I was taking my vitamins and trying to sleep. Though I visited the Dreaming most nights, there had been no sign of Ion.

Melanie glanced up at me from the corner stage, where she was playing an odd little version of Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love.” We’d changed, the last few months, the both of us—and even if things weren’t quite the way she hoped, there was at least a brightness to her that hadn’t been there in quite a while.

The catharsis of fighting inner daemons, perhaps.

I shifted in my chair, Talivar beside me on the floor, his head resting up on my knee. Absently, I
stroked his hair, my fingers tangled in the haphazard locks. For a no-longer-handfasted couple, things were awkwardly . . . awkward.

I did love him. Not as much as he deserved, but if I carried his child, then Talivar had a right to be a part of its life. If it wasn’t? Then I would deal with it when the time came. Though quite honestly, given the Faerie penchant for claiming children outside of wedlock, I had a suspicion Talivar would have acknowledged it as his either way.

At least, I assumed it was his . . .

Except for Brystion’s short-lived mortality. Incubi were born of the Dreaming. They couldn’t reproduce with a human woman, even for all the sex they partook in . . .

But then, Ion had been at least partially human the last time we’d had sex in the mortal world.

It wasn’t exactly like I could run out and get a DNA test that would work on an OtherFolk child.

Still the question lingered. What if he never returned from Hell? Not even Nobu had reappeared to tell us anything and the weight of that hung heavy upon us all.

With a sigh, I got up and maneuvered around the jungle gym of seats and tables, all filled with mortals and OtherFolk alike, and made my way to the counter where Phin was holding court. A man in splint-mail armor shoved his way past me, his brow furrowed as he strode out the door muttering something about swooping. A curvy dwarven woman followed him, disgust written on her face.

Uh-oh
.

“So. What was that all about?”

The unicorn snorted. “Who knows? They came in looking for cheese.”

I blinked. “We sell cheese, Phin. The little cubes there. Goes with the wine?”

“Bah. Mr. Sword-Up-the-Ass wanted aged dragon cheese or something. We don’t have that.”

“Do dragons even produce a dairy product?” I frowned at the thought, trying to remember if I’d ever seen it on the inventory.

“Hell if I know.” His face became sly. “I told the little lady if she rubbed my belly I’d make her a unicorn milk shake, though.”

“But you aren’t . . . oh.” I shoved the vision his words produced into a box in the back of my mind and set it on fire. “Jesus, Phin. That’s disgusting. You’re lucky they didn’t smite you on the spot.”

“Bah. He was a virgin. I can’t
stand
virgins. Whatever. We really should hire a bouncer, though. The standards here are slipping big-time.”

“How could they fall any lower? Look who I’ve got working the register.” I tweaked his beard.

“You could always put me in charge of the bar,” he said hopefully.

“Because
that
would make things better.” I leaned against the counter. “I think Tonia’s doing just fine.”

My latest foray into finding employees had resulted in hiring Katy’s cousin. Both bartender and waitress, she’d taken to the work with an unbridled enthusiasm I could only envy.

“Mmmph. She likes pointy ears, I can tell you that much.” He snorted in her direction, watching while she crouched by a golden-skinned elf, scratching his order on her notepad.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I murmured, turning away as the elf captured her hand to kiss the palm.

“You didn’t see the one she was chatting up earlier. I mean, come
on
. I can be as crude as the rest of them, but this?”

“Do tell.”

“Eh. Glowy fellow. Had a shirt that said ‘Fisting means I love you,’ or some such. What else am I supposed to think?”

“I’d prefer not to know.” I yawned. “Magical fisting elves or not, I’m heading upstairs. Try not to burn the place down, okay?”

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll have Talivar close up.”

I gave him a last pat before waving good night to my friends and slipping out the door. It felt weird not being fully in control of the place, but everyone agreed I needed rest more than I needed to be running a business, and I was more than happy to let the others take over for a bit.

Talivar had continued to spend his nights on my couch. I could only assume he’d left Kitsune in charge, but he waved me off every time I mentioned that he might want to go and check on his kingdom.

Not that I minded a little extra fussing, but after all we’d gone through, he should be able to reap some of the benefits. By all accounts, the Unseelie Court was beginning to flourish again. The lines of communication between it and the Seelie Court were still strained . . . but open—and the Tree continued to grow, strengthening the magic of the CrossRoads, to everyone’s great relief.

The stairs creaked beneath me in their old familiar
way, but I hardly heard them, finding my way upstairs and into my living room with a heavy sigh.

Night seemed to be shorter and shorter these days, or maybe I was more tired than normal. I drifted from room to room, the fresh paint smell following in my wake. I steadfastly ignored the enchanted fridge and hurried into my bedroom, pulling off my jeans and slipping into a comfy pair of shorts that still fit well enough.

I tumbled into bed and flicked off the light, rubbing the small curve of my belly in an odd little ritual I’d started once the fact I was pregnant had really sunk in. I couldn’t have said if I was saying hello or something else, but it was comforting.

I dozed off in the darkness, woken a few hours later by a shrill cry of anguish coming from the kitchen.

“Dammit, Anders!”

I started awake and then relaxed. “Phin . . .” I muttered.

Little shit had taken to playing computer games into the wee hours again, though not Warcraft this time. I’d let my monthly fee slip, so he had to resort to playing whatever else I had lying around.

I debated getting up, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Particularly when I heard the soft snuffling whimper. Fucker was in his cups and I didn’t want a hungover unicorn in my bed right now.

“Why’d you have to blow it up?” he mumbled sadly. “I would have bitten your ass. I would have bitten it so hard.”

I rolled my eyes. If he needed to lose himself in a pixel romance for the moment, who was I to deny him that?

Assuming he shut up in the next ten seconds.

All was quiet after that and I slipped away again, curling beneath the blankets.

The Dreaming held an edge of quiet expectancy, the hum of Eildon Tree’s EarthSong sifting beneath it. I wasn’t sure why that was occurring either, but maybe it was a reward for my assistance. Or maybe my Dreams were restructuring themselves based on my experiences.

I would probably never really know.

My house at the Heart of my Dreaming stood tall now, the walls thick and sturdy and gleaming with fresh paint. The fireflies danced over an ocean of silver grass, golden lights winking in the distance.

A rattle at my gate sent me into a startled panic. Until I turned and saw Ion at the entrance.

My knees buckled as I raced toward him, flinging the doors to my Heart wide open and throwing myself into his arms.

He clung to me, whispering words I couldn’t quite hear. But I didn’t need to. I understood him just fine. His mouth found mine and a flurry of passion beat hard in my chest, but it was short-lived as he pulled away.