A Trace of Moonlight (6 page)

The incubus had become the elephant in the room. A big pink one. Juggling pizzas and dildos and wearing a checkered bowling shirt. I still hadn’t told Talivar everything about the dream. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him so much as that I didn’t trust myself. The relationship between the three of us had been complicated before I drank the lethe—the gods only knew where we were going now.

More important, I still wasn’t sure where Ion had gone. If he was still alive.

What I did know is I wanted to get the hell out of here and go home. With the way time ran in Faerie, who knew how long it had been?

When Talivar entered the chamber and perched on the bed next to me, I fixed him with as steady a stare as I could. “Where’s Ion? I want the entire story this time. You owe me that much.”

“We don’t know, Abby.” His gaze was troubled. Keeping his voice lowered, he bent his head to my ear. “I can’t talk too openly about it here, since the Queen had banished him. But he
was
coming for you.” He sucked in a breath. “We were trying . . . but weren’t sure if you would have your memories or not in the Dreaming. The incubus said he had a hard time finding you there.”

I nodded slowly. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve dreamed much at all. But he was there that night . . .”

“He was going to try to have you pull him from the Dreaming, and help you use the Key to escape.”

I mulled that over for a moment. As escape plans went it wasn’t too terrible. Brystion and I had always
had a special relationship in the Dreaming, and I’d managed to pull him from my dreams before—although we had been TouchStoned at the time and in the throes of a rather intimate moment.

The prince’s mouth compressed and I could tell the idea didn’t sit completely well with him, but he didn’t elaborate and I didn’t see the point in rehashing it. “I made sure my movements were known that night, so that I could not be blamed if you were not here in the morning. It wasn’t a perfect solution,” he admitted. “But if we could get you out of here . . .”

Somehow I doubted the Queen would have stood idle if I managed to get away, but I had to admit my choices were pretty limited at this point. I shifted on the bed, my bad knee aching. “And Melanie?”

“She’s . . . gone. The Queen requested her to stay, but she bolted at the first opportunity.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “She couldn’t bear to see you like you were.”

Hurt bloomed in my chest, but I damped it down. “Normal for her,” I said brusquely. “She moves on when she doesn’t want to deal.”

“Not unlike some other people I know,” he observed, smiling faintly. “Besides, it’s rather difficult to keep the Door Maker within boundaries.”

“Yeah, well, there’s probably a reason she and I are best friends,” I sighed. Hard not to feel disappointed, just the same. Being one of the only mortals who could control the Wild Magic came with its own price, but I still wished she were here.

I tapped my fingers on Phin’s flank as my thoughts turned back to Ion. “Where are the bells?”

Talivar stared at me blankly and I realized he had no
idea what I was talking about. I had a moment of panic trying to remember where they’d gone. “Where’s my dress? I want to show you something.”

“We cut it off of you,” he said, finding it lying on the floor next to the door. I eyed the amount of blood on the front of the garment with a grimace of distaste. I hadn’t looked at myself in the mirror yet, but judging by the tenderness along my jawline there was a fair amount of bruising. “I was going to have them burn it.”

I waved at him to bring it over, my throat starting to hurt. Annoyed at my own weakness, I felt around for the pocket in the inner lining, relief flooding through me when I found the bells. Carefully I pulled them out, holding them in my palm so Talivar could see.

“I brought these across with me. From the Dreaming.” I coughed. “They were his.”

“So where’s the rest of him?”

I flinched, my fingers clutching them against my chest. “I don’t know. Jesus, Talivar, I don’t
know
. One minute he was there . . . uh . . . drinking my dreams, I guess, and he said something about giving me all that he was . . . and then I woke up.” The last of the words became a thick mumble and I dropped my gaze. I didn’t know if he knew what the drinking involved or not, but that didn’t mean I wanted to talk to him about it. “I don’t know what it means,” I added bitterly, heartsick. “Did I kill him?”

“If you did, it would not be through any fault of your own.” His thumb brushed away the hot sluice of tears that suddenly burned from behind my lashes. “My lioness,” he sighed. “We have served you so ill here.”

I swallowed hard. Some hero I was, weeping like
some sort of lovesick . . .
princess
 . . . waiting for her prince to come rescue her. “What about that shithead Maurice?”

“That is a problem. The Queen has her men scouring the edges of Faerie, but with the Key, he can come and go as he likes. There’s no telling where he is.”

I scowled at my hands. “I was an idiot. If I hadn’t—”

Talivar pressed a finger to my lips. “I share the blame with Moira for not having better measures in place to contain him. Somehow he managed to sneak in the mercenaries. Someone here in the castle is a traitor—of that I have no doubts. An attempt to free him would have happened one way or the other, but the loss of the Key—”

“Your grasp of the obvious is stunning as always, highness,” Phineas mumbled, prompting a strangled squeak from me.

“Phin! You’re awake!”

He cracked an eye open at me as he raised his head. “You two make a good couple, have I mentioned that? Imagine all those precious little child progenies you’d have.”

Talivar snorted, but a flash of good humor played over his face at the pun, his relief evident.

I gave the unicorn a delicate nudge with my thumb, grinning like a madwoman. “That’s enough out of you, hornycorn.”

“It’s never enough, Abby,” he sighed, rolling over so I could stroke his tummy. “But I’ll take it under consideration.”

I obliged for a minute before turning my attention back to Talivar. “So what’s to keep Maurice from just ‘popping’ in and out of the Court with a friggin’ army in tow?” I slumped, wincing at the tender slide
of skin against the pillow. “Forget the whole Tithe thing. At this point all of Hell could sweep through Faerie.”

Talivar’s breath slid out of him with a hiss. “There are rules,” he said softly. “If we provide the Tithe, then they are forbidden to enter our lands.”

“Didn’t seem to stop them before.” I pointed to my throat.

“Those were mercenaries,” the elf snapped. “They hold no allegiance to any but the one who holds the purse strings. Even in Hell there’s a sense of honor that must hold true—or the CrossRoads would fall into chaos. And that benefits no one.”

“And since when has Maurice ever cared about honor?” Phineas let out a weary sigh. “He’s human and not bound by Hell’s rules.”

“That we know of,” Talivar said. “Who knows what sorts of bargains he’s made? The best we can do right now is guard any wayward Doors that lead directly into the palace. He may be able to move around at will, but he still needs an existing egress.”

I looked away, my gaze drawn to the fading sunlight outside. The words he’d left unspoken lay between us. There was still the matter of the Tithe to address, and unless we could manage to convince the daemons to let it slide, I was still on the hook for that. I wasn’t naïve enough to suggest an alternative, but that didn’t make the situation any easier to swallow.

The truth of the matter was the OtherFolk needed mortals, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The system may not have always worked well, but without it they’d be in trouble. And even if I suspected humans might be better off without it in the long run, I wasn’t the one to make that judgment call. Besides, a little
magic in the real world was a good thing. In the meantime . . .

“I want to go home,” I said finally. “At least for the time I have left. I need to find out what happened to Brystion, if I can. And Melanie.” Talivar’s mouth compressed at my words and I shook my head at him. “I had a life once, Talivar. A real life, even if it was shitty, compared to all . . . this. I want it back.”

He stood up abruptly, the overcoat snapping to attention as he bowed formally, the motion almost masking the hurt in his gaze. “Of course. I will see to making the arrangements immediately.” Before I could say anything else, he turned on his heel and disappeared, the door shutting quietly behind him.

“That’s not what I meant,” I whispered into the nearly empty room, but I knew the words were hollow even as I said them. I
did
want to go home. The fairy tale was getting old and if I wasn’t going to have a happily ever after, that was fine by me, but I wasn’t going to sit here for the rest of my life either. What was left of it.

“No words of wisdom from the peanut gallery?” I prodded Phineas with a finger.

“There’s nothing to say,” he muttered. “I think I’ve done everything that could be expected of me at this point. I mean, there’s a raving lunatic on the loose with the ability to move all around the CrossRoads at will. What’s to worry about?”

One blue eye fixed on me as he raised his head. “But don’t take your frustrations out on the prince. He was doing the best he could by you, even if it was a silly plan.”

I flushed, remembering my bold words to the incubus in the dream. I’d nearly forgotten the handfasting
thing. “Well, shit. Am I supposed to actually go through with it? I mean, there’s not much point now.” I squeezed the bells in my hand, ignoring the guilt in my gut. Whatever happened to Ion, I couldn’t help but feel responsible, even if I hadn’t been aware of what I was doing at the time. If I could find the Dreaming again I would look for him, but otherwise . . .

“Sonja will know how to find him, assuming we can contact her.” I glanced down at Phineas. “You in?”

“Do I have a choice? Besides, where you go there’s bound to be bacon.” He rubbed the stubby horn on my elbow. “I know I’m not exactly the handsome fellow I was before, but I suspect I might come in handy in the long run.” He grimaced as something cracked in his joints. “Feeling more of my age these days, I’m afraid.”

I scooped him up into my lap. “How old are you?”

“Old enough. Not that I didn’t think I would outlive you at some point, but I couldn’t bear to have it end like that.” He butted his head against my arm, his eyes closing as he snuffled into my chemise.

“I know.” We sat for a few more minutes and I wondered at what I’d done to inspire such loyalty among my friends. I didn’t voice the question.

The unicorn sniffed. “Jesus, Abby. You stink. When was the last time you had a bath?”

“I love you too, Phin.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know.”

A
sharp nip on my backside jerked me from an uneasy and restless sleep. I swatted the unicorn away and sat up, yawning. I’d been unable to reach the Dreaming at all this time, which didn’t surprise me much, given how tired I’d been.

“What do you want?” I mumbled.

“Breakfast,” Phineas announced primly.

“Gods, what I wouldn’t do for a Denny’s right about now.”

“Moons Over My Hammy.” He sighed. My stomach rumbled at the thought, but there wasn’t much point in wishing for what couldn’t be. Stretching carefully, I patted my neck with an experimental touch. The welts protruded less than they had, but the rawness still lingered. At least they weren’t infected. Although it seemed vain to worry about that when I actually had the use of my arms and legs.

And—oh yeah—wasn’t actually dead.

I tottered over to the washbasin on top of the dressing table, the intricate carvings on the drawers catching my attention the way they always did. The water
in the basin steamed slightly and I knew the serving girl must have brought it up a short while ago. Efficient and quiet was a winning combination, even if I’d probably never get comfortable with having people wait on me.

I made a cursory attempt at splashing the water over my face, though my bones ached for a proper bath. The mere thought of a hot shower made me groan into the hand towel I used to pat my face dry. That done, I finally turned to face the mirror. “Might as well get this out of the way,” I muttered, trying not to flinch away from my reflection.

I paused for a few moments, letting the brutal reality of what Maurice had actually done to me sink in. The welts were ugly and expected . . . but my forehead was an aurora borealis of bruising in myriad blues and greens.

“Christ, I’m lucky he didn’t bash my skull in too, while he was at it.”

Phineas coughed politely. “Who said he didn’t?”

I frowned, pressing my temple. “At least my nose isn’t broken.” On impulse, I braided a narrow band of my hair, tying Ion’s bells to it. They chimed in an almost amused way and I flushed despite myself. “I just don’t want to lose them,” I told my reflection with a prim twist of my lips.

“Keep talking to yourself and people are bound to think you’re nuts, you know.”

“Get in line,” I retorted, moving to find some clothes in the wardrobe. I shuffled through the layers of silk and tulle with a sigh. I needed pants. “Don’t I have anything other than dresses in here? I feel like Princess Barbie.”