A Sliver of Shadow (18 page)

There was an uncomfortable silence as my words died. I stared at each of them in turn. Melanie simply shrugged at me, but Phineas refused to meet my eyes.

“You know something,” Talivar rumbled, one hand brushing over my shoulder. I stiffened despite myself, and the hand stilled, finally coming to rest at the crook of my elbow.

Phineas flattened his ears. For once he didn’t appear to have a snappy comeback. In fact, he looked as though he’d rather be just about anywhere else. My eyes narrowed.

“It wasn’t chance, was it?” I said softly. “You showing up when you did at the Marketplace?”

His azure eyes blinked up at me, deep and unreadable. “No.” He shivered, as though suddenly deciding something within himself. “I was sent … I was sent to keep an eye on you. Not quite a guard,” he added hastily as I exhaled. “More like a guide, to make sure you didn’t get in too deep.”

Melanie sniffed and his ears flattened further.

“Hey—I did the best I could,” he snapped. “I wasn’t supposed to let on I could talk, but you forced my hand when you started that Dreaming shit.”

“You bit me on the ass. I hardly think that constitutes forcing your hand. Not that you actually have any,” I reminded him, my knees buckling at Phin’s confession. “It wasn’t like I had much choice.”

“What difference does it make?” Talivar pulled up a seat,
steering me toward it. I shot him a grateful smile as I slid into the sturdy wood frame. “I think the real question is who sent you? On whose behalf were you working? Moira’s?”

“No.” Phineas slid down on the table so that his front hooves dangled over the edge. He drummed them against the stonework like an irritated child. “I was sent by the Steward, as you may have guessed. He has a vested interest in you, I’m afraid, and a rather lousy sense of foresight at times.”

A prickle crept over the back of my neck and I leaned forward. “Does he?” Bad enough to be so intertwined with the OtherFolk as I was, but the Steward? I frowned at Phineas, ignoring the strangled sound coming from Melanie. “That doesn’t make any sense. I certainly don’t have any dealings with the Steward, except for this damned thing.” I pulled on the necklace again. “Hell, I don’t even know who he is. And what does any of this have to do with my mother and how she got the Key?”

Something sad passed over the unicorn’s face, as though he’d aged two or three lifetimes. Gone was the sarcastic, lecherous little beast, replaced by a mien of ancient weariness. For a moment I wished I hadn’t asked, but there was no going back. The air stilled into something thick and cloying, the space narrowing down to only the unicorn and me. “He’s your father, Abby.”

I blinked. “He’s what?”

“Bullshit!” Talivar exploded beside me.

“And just who is the Steward?” I sagged, my face suddenly numb in my hands, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. My father was still alive? And the Steward of the Fae? Had my mother known? My thoughts tumbled wildly, the words buzzing loud enough that I completely missed Phin’s answer. “What?”

“Thomas,” he said gently.

I chuckled, the sound sour in my mouth. Several thousand years ago, a certain Scottish bard stood at the CrossRoads with the Faery Queen and agreed to become her TouchStone—an act that shaped everything about mortal relationships with the OtherFolk from that moment on.

I’d always assumed it was a legend, or at least been twisted with time like so many other stories. Hell, once you’ve got ballads written about your exploits it’s pretty much a given that something’s going to be exaggerated about them. At the very least, I figured the guy would have died long ago—not been out fathering bastard children with unsuspecting mortal women.

“You’re telling me that not only is my father still alive but he’s actually True motherfucking Thomas? The original TouchStone? From that goddamned poem? Now I
know
you’re full of shit.”

“I can’t lie,” the unicorn reminded me, but his gaze focused on the floor again. “And he’s the one who sent me here to keep an eye on you.”

“How convenient.” I shifted away from Talivar, not really wanting to be touched, even as I felt the oncoming wave of dizziness. A swelling tickle flip-flopped in my stomach and I swallowed it down, my throat constricting.

Choking on the taste of bile, I scrambled to my feet.

“Abby?” Melanie moved to steady me.

I shook my head at her. “I have to get out of here. Now.”

“All right.”

I escaped into the hallway, refusing to look at Phineas as I strode off. Fury raged within me at the thought of being betrayed. Again. Sure the unicorn couldn’t lie, but he could clearly damn well omit stuff if he wanted to.

I brushed past Robert, trying to blink back a sudden rush of tears. The angel stared at me, moving as though to
hold up my passage, but one look at my face and he stopped. “Abby?”

“Later.” My feet moved faster until I was running. I burst through the doors, heedless of the statuesque angels or the pixies with their little elfshot darts. The leaves crackled beneath my violet Chucks. I was half sobbing now, the setting sun bathing the trees with a hazy crimson halo.

Should I be happy that my father was still alive? Angry because he’d abandoned me? Sad because my mother died alone? The emotional backlash swirled around me until I realized I’d made it down the cemetery path and was heading for Main Street. I caught a few concerned looks from others: a mother pushing a stroller, a man in a mustard coat, the shopkeeper in front of the farmer’s market. I slowed down, furiously wiping at my eyes.

For a moment I debated leaving. Just catching a bus to somewhere. Anywhere. Finding a new place and starting over, far away from the OtherFolk. Melanie had always managed it well enough—at least before she came to Portsmyth. On the other hand, she had her violin and a musical talent that surpassed most virtuosos.

I had nothing.

Not even someone I could trust.

I stood on the street corner, unmoving as a wave of tourists rolled past me, sucking me into their midst in a rush of bodies. I wasn’t going to go home. Not yet. I needed time to think. My stomach rumbled in protest. And something to eat. Moments later, I was safely ensconced in the rear booth of Gino’s Bar and Grill.

The Rolling Stones blared from the jukebox in a tired, worn-out mumble. I barely noticed, keeping myself hidden from the front door. I pulled my hoodie over my hair and ordered a cheese-steak and a heaping plate of curly fries.

I picked at the fries when they came out, hardly tasting
the bay seasoning, my fingers drumming on the table. I couldn’t stay here all night, but at least it was out of the way.

“Mind if I sit down?” Talivar snagged the bench across from me.

“This isn’t a date. You don’t have to be polite.”

“Thought I’d try.” With a wry smile, he ordered a Sam Adams from the server, leaning back to sip it slowly. My cheese-steak arrived, but it stuck in my mouth like ashes. I chewed through it mechanically, finally glancing up at the prince.

“Why are you here?”

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Like run out on you, you mean?” I let out a brittle chuckle. “You found me fast enough.”

“I followed you. And duty is what it is.” There was nothing mocking in his tone. He took another swig from the bottle. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all bad.”

“I can’t say I’m too thrilled with having a huge chunk of my life be nothing more than a lie. Not to mention Phineas knowing this whole time.” I bit down on the sandwich savagely. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He went with Melanie. They’re trying to find us a mode of travel to find your mother’s … lockbox, is it?” He rolled his tongue around the unfamiliar word.

“Funny, I don’t remember inviting any of you.”

“The Key is too important for this sort of petty sniping,” he said abruptly, nudging my knee beneath the table. The words echoed those of Brystion and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek.

My lip curled. “Nice to see I fall into the commodity category for you. A means to an end.”

“Not in the slightest. We’re practically family, Abby.”

I paused, an odd feeling bubbling in my stomach. “How so?”

“Moira and I share the same mother … but different fathers.”

“You said you killed your father … he was the king, right? Then who was Moira’s?” The answer snapped in my face, my mouth going dry. “Oh, Jesus. You’re saying Thomas was Moira’s dad too?”

He nodded. “Or so the story goes. Like I said, paternal rights are usually overlooked. And the Queen … well, she is the Queen.”

I eyed him wryly. “If you can’t keep it in your pants, keep it in the family, eh?”

“I’m sorry?”

I sighed. “Melanie. She told me what you asked her about the other night.”

The Glamoured tips of his ears flushed scarlet. “Ah. I did not think she would break my confidence to you.”

“Life’s a bitch.” I took another handful of fries. “Why do you want to court me? And is that even allowed now?”

“Brother and sister have married before in Faerie. In some times it was even expected. Not that it’s anything I’ve ever aspired to,” he added hastily at my offended snort. “In truth, I never expected to court anyone ever again.” He tapped his eye patch. “Not since this, anyway.”

“Perfection.”

“And the lack of it,” he agreed. “Elven women demand it.”

I glared at him. “And so what, I’m supposed to grateful for the leftovers? What sort of pathetic suck up do you take me for?”

“No! I mean that you don’t seem … preoccupied with such things. The fact that I might be of royal blood holds
no weight with you, nor does the fact that I no longer have access to the crown.” He set the bottle down, staring at me intently. “These things … they mean a great deal … to me. And we have things in common. Our scars, for example.”

“And here I thought you liked me simply because we were friends.” I threw down the rest of the sandwich, my appetite gone. “Not because you pegged me as some sort of … cripple.” Shame flooded my face. “Here, we can make it just like a real date,” I said quietly. “You can pay for my slop and I’ll go powder my nose and forget to come back.”

I stood up, not looking at the hurt expression on his face, knowing I was being a total bitch. “Enjoy the fries,” I snarled, stalking out the door.

T
he headlights sped past the darkened windows in a blurry haze of bright shadows, the motion filling me with dread. Though it had been nearly two years since the accident, I still got terribly jumpy when I drove.

In the silence, I heard Phineas sigh, the outline of his white form curling up in the seat beside mine. We’d been driving for nearly ten hours, down through New York and over the Tappan Zee Bridge, onto the Garden State Parkway and through the faceless nothing of the New Jersey Turnpike, exits whizzing by us like the come-on of a cheap carnival trick.
Food! Rest! Six Flags!

I rested my head on my knees, losing myself in Katy’s cheerful chatter from where she sat riding shotgun. Given my options, I’d much rather have taken that spot, but I’d lost my license with the seizures and I figured the drivers should get the comfortable seats.

I stared out the window, trying to ignore the other two passengers, but the tension strained between us like a cord of miserable anxiety. Talivar had remained wordless, barely acknowledging my presence since he got home last night and found me packing. Our first real fight, I supposed. I’d
understood his points just fine. I just didn’t fucking agree with them.

I eyed the prince sideways, studying the quiet demeanor of his face with each passing illumination. Was it being a warrior that kept him so composed? It was as though he merely bided his time, clamping down any emotions until action was needed. My fingers clenched, unable to stand the quiet between us.

It wasn’t even due to whatever romantic notions he had managed to swing between us so much as the fact that he was my friend. And I’d lashed out again, like an idiot. I suppose it spoke volumes to whatever bit of friendship we had that he hadn’t packed up and left.

Like Ion.

I’d slept alone last night, my door shut to Phin and to anyone else. In a fit of pique I’d revisited my Dreaming Heart, on the off chance Sonja had stopped by. A quick check showed my note still stuck against the gate. Not only that, but my Heart was … empty.

Brystion was gone.

Sick to my stomach, I wandered the gardens and finally into the darkness of the woods, but it was a void, the thick flavor of his essence whisked away as if it had never been. I couldn’t tell if the shields were still in place, but no nightmarish visage stormed my Heart while I was there.

I ached at his loss, though the rational part of me argued it was far past time. Still, I hadn’t realized how much comfort I had taken in his presence. We had a history, if nothing else. I’d left after only a few moments more, the wind in the trees whispering in a hollow sigh. Out of a perverse need to torture myself, I Dreamed a set of wind chimes into being and hung them in the willow above the bench.

“Good-bye, Ion,” I murmured. I woke up to my empty room, blinking back a soft blur of tears. Pride kept me from
apologizing to the others, but it made for a cold bed and a lonely breakfast.