A Sliver of Shadow (17 page)

She gazed at me apologetically. “Unfortunately, these books are in old Elvish, so I don’t think you’ll be able to help us. I don’t actually think we’ll find much about the Key, but perhaps there will be something else we can use.”

“I could look at pictures,” I offered, but even I knew that was a hollow answer. “I’ll just wait over here.” The two elves barely batted an eye at my words, already starting to skim the pages. The scent of book dust and crumbling parchment hit me full on, my nose wiggling against a vicious tickle.

“Almost like the Pit.” Melanie chuckled. “You should feel right at home.” The two of us moved away from the elves, planting our asses on the last row of marble benches. Padded cushions of emerald green lined the seats, but I got the distinct impression they were only there for decoration.

“Guess you must feel pretty good about getting that Contract lifted,” I yawned. “Sounded like neither one of you was happy about it.”

She frowned at me. “What are you talking about? “

“I overheard you guys talking yesterday. At the Hallows. I assumed he was looking for permission to break it?”

“Ah. Abby?”

“And Ion. I don’t even know where to begin with that. Do I have ‘Untouchable’ tacked on my forehead today? I mean, I know we’re a little awkward these days, but I at least thought he might be willing to try.”

She pushed her violet teashades onto her forehead. “Guess maybe that depends on how you asked him. How did he look?”

“Well enough. He’s been feeding, anyway.” I couldn’t
quite meet her eyes, but the jealousy flared to life beneath my breast.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“Yeah. As much as I hate to admit it.” I fiddled with the necklace again, twisting the chain. “And for shit’s sake, I know we only knew each other for a week or two—it’s not like that’s long enough to get to
know
anyone. Not really.” I let out a sigh. “When he broke up with me he admitted that if he hadn’t been attracted to the Dreamer in me, he would have let me die.”

Her brow rose and she shook her head. “No way. I’ve known Ion a long time and I don’t think that’s true,” Melanie said quietly. “He may be a bit confused as to how he feels, but deep down he’s a good person. I truly do believe that.”

“Got a funny way of showing it.” On the other hand, the guy was keeping a shield around my nightmares, so there wasn’t much I could say to that. Still, it sucked all the way around. First things first, though. Responsibility over love life and all that shit.

Her mouth pursed. “Talivar wants to court you, Abby. That’s what he was asking me about yesterday.”

“Court me?” I said faintly, some of his previous comments now making sense. “Ah. So he was asking your permission to date me?”

“Guess he thought it was common courtesy. He seems like a very old-school sort of guy. Very proper. He might even be good for you.”

“Famous last words. And incidentally, I’m not sure there’s anything old school or proper about dancing the Hustle at a Dance Dance Revolution competition.”

She glanced over at him and giggled. “Where the hell did he learn that?”

I scowled at her. “I taught him a few weeks ago. Katy set up a disco dance-off in the back room of the Hallows. And before you knock it, he’s actually pretty damn good.” I shrugged. “Of course, it’s the only dance he knows, but it was totally worth the price of admission.”

She chuckled. “He’s learning. Just decide what to do now that you know he likes you. I’d rather not see him strung along.”

“Little fond of him yourself, aren’t you?”

“Sure. As OtherFolk go, he’s not that bad. There’s something rather noble about him. Feels like he’s been trapped in a shell or something.” She smiled at me. “This has been good for him. We’ve been good for him.”

“And you never thought to make a play for him yourself?”

“When was the last time you saw me with anyone that way? OtherFolk are strictly off-limits for dating material.” I thought about that for a moment and realized she was right. In all the time I’d known her here, she had never been in a relationship with any of her Contracts.

“Why?” I asked bluntly.

“I hate mixing work with pleasure. And honestly, mortal guys are going to like me for who I am—not for what I am, or what I can do.” She twiddled her fingers, not meeting my eyes. “I get tired of being treated as a commodity. And sometimes normal is nice … uncomplicated.”

I watched the two elves across the way. Phineas was wriggling his way between them as they stared at the books. Roweena pointed at something and Talivar shook his head. His hair was tied back so it didn’t drag across the paper, the torc at his neck gleaming like a vestige of his former royal glory.

“I don’t know,” I murmured finally, a flush spreading
over my cheeks as I remembered his mouth on mine the night before. “He’s my bodyguard. Seems a little inappropriate.”

“Well, technically he’s your boss now, but yeah, I see what you mean.” Melanie yawned. “Want to go get something to eat? I’m starving, and if they’re going to be here all night, we might as well snag some grub. I’ll probably need to crash soon anyway.”

My stomach rumbled in answer. “Sounds good.” We made our way up to the table. “Any luck? Mel and I are gonna go get a pizza or something.”

“If by luck you mean ‘shit out of,’ then yes. And I’d kill for a pizza,” Phineas sighed. “With sausage.”

“We did discover some usefulness about the Key’s properties,” Talivar said. “The mechanics of it are quite complicated, but we do know that the Key has changed its form over the years. Makes it a bit hard to track down, though.”

The unicorn wrinkled his nose, pointing at a small sketch in the corner with his horn. “Last time the Key made an appearance, it looked like this.”

“And when was that?” I peered over Talivar’s shoulder to get a closer look. The page was stained in places, the scrawling description nothing more than a faded script beneath a few small drawings. I frowned at them, a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

“Hard to say,” Talivar mused. “The Queen’s Steward isn’t usually forthcoming about the whereabouts of our Faery relics, but it was discovered missing from the vaults about thirty-five years ago, maybe? Mortal years, that is. But it hasn’t had a wearer for a very long time, even before that.”

“Well,” I said softly, my knees going weak as I studied the scroll, my finger delicately tracing the curved edges of the sketch with a sick sort of giddiness. “I don’t think we need to worry about where it is anymore.”

Four heads swiveled toward me as I caught myself on the edges of the table. “What are you talking about, Abby?” Talivar frowned at me.

I let out a hysterical burble of laughter as I reached beneath the collar of my shirt to pull out my mother’s amulet. “Because I’m wearing it.”

I
f this is your idea of a joke, it’s not very funny,” Roweena said coldly. “Take it off so that I can get a better look at it.”

“I don’t recall ever seeing that before.” Talivar lowered his head for a closer look. “Wherever did you get it?”

“I … um … it was in my mother’s envelope. The one the estate lawyer sent me. I’ve been wearing it since … since Ion left. He put it on me, the, uh, last night he was with me.”

“Still carrying a torch, eh?” The unicorn stomped a hoof, sniffing at the amulet. “Never saw it on you once. And I’ve seen you totally naked, you know. When you come out of the shower.”

I shuddered. “Good to know.”

Talivar held it gingerly between his fingers. “It’s been Glamoured.”

“That makes no sense. I could see it just fine in the envelope. So did Brystion, for that matter.”

“Maybe it only takes effect when someone wears it.” Melanie looked at the scroll where the sketch of the necklace appeared. “Does it say anything about that here?”

Roweena snapped her fingers impatiently. “Hand it here. My old bones don’t feel like moving.”

“I’m trying.” I tugged at the clasp. “It’s not loosening.”

“Let me,” Talivar moved behind me, his hands brushing the nape of my neck. I flushed beneath his sudden scrutiny, the whole courtship idea making me strangely shy. “She’s right,” he said finally after a moment of fiddling with it. “It’s not coming off.”

“Well, isn’t this just wonderful.” I stepped away as Talivar dropped his hands. “And how the hell did my mother end up with this anyway? Assuming someone didn’t slip it into the envelope later.” I’d never seen the thing before it fell out of the envelope that morning I’d finally gotten the courage to open it. Certainly not around my mother’s neck. But if it had been Glamoured …

Roweena limped closer, yanking hard on the silver chain, her hawk’s eyes taking in the details—the silver filigree, the blue topaz stone, the crystal clasp at the tip. “It’s not quite right,” she said critically. “The archives are very specific. It should be glowing.”

“I’ll just click my heels three times, shall I?”

“It could very well be that it needs to be activated in some fashion. Perhaps we should try opening a Door with it. That is its intended purpose, after all.”

“I tried going through a Door this morning and that didn’t work. Maybe it’s broken.”

“There’s a Door in the far chamber behind the altar,” Roweena said. “Let’s try that one. Its power might be activated now that you’re aware of it.”

For a moment I wished I’d just kept my mouth shut. After all, I’d quite possibly be slurping down a few slices of greasy pizza by now, and all the happier for it.

I stared at the plain opening Roweena directed to me to. “You sure this is it?” I held the necklace in my hands,
cupping it beneath my chin. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Ask it to open?” Phineas waggled his beard shrewdly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Feeling like a total ass, I stood in front the Door. “Open Sesame,” I intoned, unsurprised when nothing happened. “Well, that was exciting. Any other bright ideas?”

“Hold it out to the Door,” Melanie suggested. “Or stroke the stone, maybe?”

I did both, scowling when I was rewarded with a fat pile of nothing.

Talivar frowned at me. “Maybe it only works for the Fae.”

“Feel free to try it, but unless you can get it off my neck, I think we’re stuck.”

Roweena shook her head. “No, the records are fairly clear. Only mortals may use it.”

“Makes sense,” Melanie added, her gaze darting to the amulet. “If the Steward is mortal, and the Queen’s trusted … uh … consort.”

Talivar gave her a wry smile. “It’s a fairly well-known secret. My mother has always been rather careless about displaying her lovers.”

I’d heard the rumors off and on, but my general understanding was that the Steward of Faerie was actually the Queen’s TouchStone. I supposed it made sense that it might become something more, given the closeness of their stations, but I still didn’t get what it had to do with my mother.

I began to wonder at Talivar’s father’s motivations at beating the crap out of his son. Regardless of what the prince had told me about Faery parentage, I had a fair notion that perhaps it meant a bit more to some than he would have me believe. Not something I needed to press him on right this moment, however.

“Was there anything else in the envelope, Abby?” Phineas buried his face in another pile of scrolls.

“Like directions, you mean? Nope. There wasn’t even any mention of it among the rest of the paperwork.” I paused. “There was a key to my mother’s lockbox, though. Back in our old hometown.”

“Sounds like a road trip is in order.” Melanie’s eyes lit up. “Maybe there’s a clue there.”

“Sure,” I retorted. “Let me just go pull up the Mystery Machine and we’ll all pile in, right?”

“Katy has a van.” Phineas looked up at me innocently.

“Katy’s
mom
has a van,” I corrected him. “And it seems a bit rude to commandeer it just so that we can—”

“Save the world,” Talivar said softly. “Or at least, my people. Your friends. My nephew.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” The heat rose in my face at the subtle reproach.

“Here we go!” Phineas reared up suddenly, tapping one of the scrolls.

Roweena took it from him, unfurling it for a better look. “Ah,” she said, her lips compressing. “He’s right. There’s a bit about how the necklace works. And it would appear you’re stuck with it.” Her clear eyes gazed at me coolly. “For life, in fact.”

I let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Figures. I somehow get mixed up with a sacred Faery relic and it’s broken.” I tugged on it again, cursing my own sentimental heart. “Damn you, Brystion.”

“It says here that it can only be removed upon the wearer’s death,” she continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “And it is guarded by a powerful Glamour. This is obviously to protect the bearer—in this case, you—as it seems to be a reasonable assessment that you could be killed for it.”

I paused, thinking of that last fatal night of my mother’s.
If she had been wearing it that night, would it have flown off? Or did the Glamour fade with her death? I had no recollection of much of that night or the weeks that followed—the coma had seen to that, but no one had mentioned it to me afterward either. I said as much, pondering such an anomaly aloud. “But that still doesn’t explain how my mother got it in the first place. I mean, if you’re telling me the Steward was the last person to have it …”