by Allison Pang
“Hardly out of the goodness of your heart,” I pointed out dryly. “I seem to recall there was a fair amount of contraband involved as part of the trade on my side.”
She nodded. “Yes. And for that I am grateful. Such a gift was beyond measure, but I’m not sure it will be worth it in the end. Better, perhaps, if the Queen had died, or been forced to step down.”
I shrugged at her. No matter what I’d tried to do since becoming involved with the OtherFolk it had almost always been wrong—though I could admit I probably wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d let things alone.
Or you could be dead, my inner voice reminded me snidely.
I did die, I reminded it, so shut up.
“Fine. I fucked up. What is it you expect me to do? I’m under a geas and that limits my options.” I set down the mug a little more forcefully than I intended, the tea sloshing over the sides.
“I would not undo it, even if I could.” Kitsune dabbed at the spilled tea with a small cloth.
“That’s a hell of thing to say,” I snapped, my fingers trembling in sudden anger. “And why not?”
“Interfering in another’s destiny is never wise,” she replied calmly. “This knot you must untangle for yourself.” Her golden eyes narrowed and I shivered beneath her scrutiny. “Or not, as the case may be.”
“How very Zen of you.” Part of me wanted to rage at her about the unfairness of it all, but what was the point? She’d already made her choice. I was on my own.
My hand traced over the bruised ring at my neck. “It seems you were right about me not being the Key’s true owner, but I think I’ve paid the price for that.”
She took my hand in hers, rolling it over to expose the cut on my palm. A hot flush swept over my cheeks as she stared at the crescent-shaped nick. Trust Talivar to have put an artistic flare into it. At least it would be a pretty scar.
“Where is he?” I was tired of playing games.
“Would you truly bind yourself to him? Wed him in truth?” Her ears flattened for a moment. “Would you share his destiny?”
I swallowed. No lying here. But I wasn’t sure I knew the truth. “I will do what I must to make things right. Whatever that is,” I added a moment later before reaching into my hair to find Ion’s bells. They jingled as I untied them, cradling them in my palm.
The fox-woman didn’t touch them, but her mouth curved into a crooked smile. “The thread of destiny weaves as it wills, I see.” She sighed and patted my cheek. “You have a heart big enough for them both, Abby, but sometimes that’s not enough.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she pulled something out of a loose bag at her waist and slid it across the table.
My enchanted iPod.
I picked it up with a rueful smile. “Got everything you needed, I take it?”
“In a manner of speaking. We weren’t able to replicate it exactly, but close enough.” A frown played about her lips. “I know you said it had an infinite play-list, but it only ever seemed to play Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here.’ ”
“Stubborn thing.” I pressed shuffle and the little device immediately began to chug along, AC/DC’s “Back in Black” popping up on the screen. “Well, I’m glad it was useful.”
“Exceptionally.” Her face became sly. “We’ve nearly managed to get firearms to work. We’ve even started pairing up with military humans . . . Special Forces? We find they make excellent TouchStones to some of the more . . . martial OtherFolk. We call them TouchStone Tactical.”
I raised a brow, trying to envision OtherFolk Navy SEALs or Green Berets. “They’ll be a nightmare.”
“I certainly hope so,” the fox-woman agreed. “They aren’t ready yet, but with enough time and training, we’ll have the most formidable army out there.” She stood gracefully. “Get dressed, please. There are things we must attend to this night. Talivar awaits you.”
As Kitsune slipped through the tent flap I realized her presence seemed diminished. I couldn’t help but think I’d said the wrong thing.
I fisted the bells for a minute. “What am I supposed to do?”
If I was expecting an answer, I didn’t get one. In the end I rewove them back into a tiny braid and found a simple gown of soft blue silk that had been laid down beside the table. Thankful for the lack of buttons and findings, I wriggled into it and smoothed the scoop of the neckline.
“Should match the bruises perfectly,” I muttered, finger combing the loose strands of my hair. Kitsune’s words had worried me and I wished Talivar and I had not been separated, if only to keep me in the loop.
I bound my still-damp hair into a simple bun. I had no pencils for it this time, but I found a strip of silk to tie it all together.
When I emerged from my tent, I realized it was evening; the deep purple of oncoming night streaked into the fading sea of red haze. The energy swirled by me in electric anticipation. I could taste it on the air, and in the way the people moved around me, hurrying with a single-minded purpose I could only guess at.
I caught a few furtive glances here and there, but I was ignored for the most part—a fact I was rather grateful for. I’d been the center of attention enough times to know I didn’t particularly like it.
I headed toward the largest source of light, my feet carefully balanced on the wooden boards laid across the deeper ruts. As I rounded the corner, a sharp tug on my skirt stopped me abruptly as I was pulled back a few steps.
“Abby?”
I relaxed at Talivar’s voice, turning to see him half-hidden beside an empty apple cart. He was dressed in sable, his vest cut neatly to the frame of his hips, and his hair hung loose and wild about his face. He hadn’t shaved, and the scruff on his chin leant him a rakish appearance that I found not at all unpleasant.
“Trying out for The Pirates of Penzance?”
His mouth twitched, but there was a tightness about his good eye that belied the humor.
“What’s going on?”
“Something that should have happened a long time ago. It will all become clear in a few minutes.” He cupped my cheek, one finger brushing my jaw. “I will ask nothing of you that you aren’t willing to give.”
“Gee, it sounds so reassuring when you say it like that. I’m already technically your wife at the moment. What else could I possibly have to give you?”
“You and I both know the answer to that,” he murmured.
I glanced down at his leg. “How’s the injury?”
“Better. Kitsune saw to it. I’ll be taking it easy for a few days, but it’s much improved.” He shook his head. “So much that I owe you. Come on.”
I frowned at him. The prince usually wasn’t one to drop such cryptic remarks and I didn’t like it. But there was no more time to ask questions as he whisked me forward, his hand gripping mine tightly. It was less a possessive motion than a seeking of solace.
A large crowd had gathered in a semicircle around an elegant bamboo table. The people of the Barras stood silent as we approached, strange in their myriad forms and races. They gleamed with a different sort of beauty than the Sidhe, limbs too long, ears too large, eyes too slanted and dark. Delicate wings, insectoid faces, animal ears, and pointed teeth. Row upon row of them stood in a muddle of tattered clothing and ragtag weapons, cloaked in an eerie elegance.
The Unseelie Court had been greatly diminished several hundred years ago. That Talivar had had something to do with it was fairly obvious, although he’d never given me the straight story. I knew it had something to do with his father and his own crippled anatomy, but I’d never learned more than the little bits Talivar had mentioned.
On the other hand, by the time I knew the Barras existed, I’d had far larger things on my mind than dredging up the past.
But here we were.
Kitsune stood formally at the far side of the table, her serene face as unreadable as always. Her ebony hair fell like black silk to her waist, her ears pricked delicately toward us. Phineas sat on the end of the table closest to me, tro
ubled. I hadn’t seen where they’d taken him, but he’d gotten the Emerald City treatment as well. His coat shone like new-fallen snow, the short nub of his horn barely peeking through the fluffy mane.
Jimmy Squarefoot gave me a lopsided grin from where he stood, his snout twitching comically. My hand slipped from Talivar’s as I approached the pig-man hoping to give him a more proper greeting. Grunting something unintelligible at him before crawling into his wagon fell a little short of manners and I owed him more than that.
“Absinthe.” He bowed to me formally, his ears flopping over his brow.
“Just Abby now.” I glanced over at where Talivar now held quiet council with Kitsune. Absinthe had been the name I’d given when we first met. Names in Faerie tended to have power, and at the time I’d had no idea if I could trust the odd little figure.
“That’s mighty kind of ye, but Absinthe does me fine.” He paused, dragging his thick-knuckled fingers over his forehead. “Many things afoot here, ye ken. ’T’will be interesting to see what the prince does.”
I frowned at him. “Does?”
He shifted uncomfortably, the cloth strips on his feet scraping against the dirt. “Aye. ’Tis a Faery matter, I suppose.”
I sighed. “Isn’t it always?”
Kitsune raised her pale white hands in some esoteric sign meant to indicate quiet was required. She had an impeccable sense of dramatic timing anyway. Her tail twitched behind her, showing a flash of soft white fur at the tip. Glancing at Talivar, she inclined her head. “Are you ready?”
He gave a stiff nod of his head, his chest rising sharply.
“As you will. I hereby bequeath the care of the Barras and the remainder of the Unseelie Court to the Crippled Prince, known henceforth as the Crippled King.”
An excited murmur swept through the crowd, but I could only stare when he bowed, silent as she laid a small crown upon his brow. The moniker wasn’t unfamiliar to me, but it was the first time I’d really seen him embrace it. Before it had always been said with a hint of mockery, the Fae condemning him for being physically flawed.
The crown was more of a circlet really—a delicate filigree of jet-black metal lit with its own fiery essence, and inset with a series of small blue gems. It fit him perfectly, confirming my suspicions that it had been made for him . . . most likely some time ago. Talivar gave a tight smile at my obvious confusion before turning to address the others.
“Two hundred years ago, my father used me as an excuse to decimate the Unseelie Court. You offered me sanctuary when my own people would not.” He removed his patch, the puckered scar silvered in the torchlight. “Even now, I am made outcast by my own mother for not having the physical perfection the Sidhe insist upon.”
There was the bitterness of truth in his voice and my heart ached to hear it. The Seelie Court was the flip side to the Unseelie—though its insistence on physical perfection in its rulers was only one of the dividing points between the two.
“I was granted rulership by Kitsune many years ago. I chose not to accept—but I see now that I will never be considered anything but imperfect by my Seelie kin. And so I ask you to exercise your judgment upon me, that I might be found worthy of leading the Unseelie Court into a new time of prosperity.”
“The outcast leading the outcasts,” Phin said quietly as he hopped off the table to find his way to me. I scooped him up and backed away from the ceremony.
The crowd shuffled past me to circle around, gnarled fingers and elongated limbs reaching out to touch him. He’d closed his good eye, accepting their verdict, whatever it was, without complaint.
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m on the Island of Misfit Toys?” I couldn’t even muster the strength to laugh at my own joke, a sick sense of anticipation rolling through my stomach. There would be no turning back from whatever was happening here and I felt a pang of sorrow at the loss.
Naïve of me to think my life would ever return to normal, but some small part of me had actually enjoyed the idea of being his wife, even for a short while. The side of me that read romance novels, anyway.
I wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to help our cause of getting the geas removed, but maybe as ruler of his own kingdom, Talivar would be able to negate it.
Talivar’s shirt was removed, exposing the spider-webbing of scar tissue down his left side. I turned away from this display when he started to slide his trousers away, the crippled leg shrunken and bowed without the external protection of his clothing.
Anger flushed through me, that he was forced to humiliate himself, but it was tempered with sadness. He’d shown me his scars before and they had never bothered me. After all, I had plenty of my own, both inside and out.
But that had been something private, and a selfish part of me disliked sharing what he’d given me alone.
I understood his reasons, but handfasted to him or not, this was not my place.
I retreated toward the edge of the clearing as someone started a brisk tune on timpani, soon joined by a flute and a guitar.
“Guess it’s time for the party?” I said nervously, trying to tamp down my rising panic and sliding sideways to let a gaggle of goblin children run past, giggling.
“They’ve got a lot to celebrate,” Phineas pointed out. “The acceptance of an actual royal leader is a big step toward getting their kingdom back—and Talivar has just upset the political power base that’s been in place for a very long time.”
“So I gathered,” I said dryly. “But I don’t think I have it in me to become their Queen . . . assuming that’s what he had in mind.” And I didn’t. While I had a vague understanding of the current circumstances, deep down a part of me resented the hell out of Talivar for putting me in this position. Which was probably unfair, but everything was happening so damned quick.
“It’s not,” Phineas murmured. “He would have run that by you first—I’m sure of it. Nothing’s changed about your current relationship.”
“I’m handfasted to a king, Phin. How is that ‘unchanged’?”
A loud cheer rose behind us and I stifled a sigh as I headed back to find my tent.
Now that we were relatively safe, the weight of the geas gnawed at me. All well and good to lead the Barras into the civilized world, but I had things to do. The bells in my hair chimed in agreement.
A guilty flush passed over me at the thought of the incubus. Where had he gone? My fingers drifted over the bells, twining in the thread. And how would he react knowing I’d become Talivar’s wife? I wasn’t sure if needing to escape the evil mother-in-law would be a good enough excuse.
I gratefully ducked into the relative quiet of my tent when I found it, glad to be out sight. Could I reach him in the Dreaming? Phineas squirmed in my arms and I set him down and lit a new taper; the old candle was sputtering out.
The ground resonated beneath my feet as the celebration hit its stride and I frowned.
E Nomine’s “Mitternacht”?
“That sounds awful bassy for Faerie music.” Images of a medieval Goth rave filled my head and for a moment I was tempted to take another peek.
The unicorn shrugged. “I suspect the technology you left behind was put to very good use.” He flashed me a little grin. “At least it hasn’t completely gone to waste on weaponry, anyway.”
“Mmm. I’m not sure that was one of my wiser moves.”
“It would have happened sooner or later. Better that it was at least offered in peace.” He paused, ears swiveling as the beat of the music changed. “You sure you don’t want to go back out there? Shake your groove thang?”
“Any other time maybe, but I’m not in the mood to dance tonight.” There was too much on my mind to think of really cutting loose. Too many threads hanging without an answer, and I couldn’t bring myself to be part of the festivities. I shook my head at the unicorn.
“Suit yourself.” He gave a little whinny and ducked out through the tent flaps, his tail twitching behind him.
I stared at the place wher
e he’d been, feeling strangely empty. My fingers found the bells in my hair again and I stroked them so that they chimed. “What do I do now?”
They didn’t answer. In the end, I spread out the blankets on the pallet beside the now cold tub. I realized I didn’t know if Talivar would be joining me. Perhaps I should have gone to his tent? His royal tent?
Not that I knew where it was. A bitterness swept over me, tinged with horrible loneliness. A few weeks ago I’d made a deal with a daemon to try to save my friends. I’d never thought so much would happen in such a short time.
The hot rush of tears flooded my eyes and this time I didn’t try to stop them. What a mess I’d made of my life. Despair crested until I was sobbing, my shoulders shaking in time as the beat changed into the Tom Jones version of “Black Betty.”
Quaint. And oddly apropos.
I may have been Talivar’s wife in name, but I was still in the dark as much as I’d ever been. That he hadn’t trusted me with his plans hurt me far worse than I’d realized.
On the other hand, it was unlikely he’d had much time to think about it on the road. It was entirely possible he had fallen victim to Kitsune’s opportunism. I doubted the fox-woman did anything out of an altruistic heart.
Nothing to be done about it now.
But I could still do something about Ion.
I’d told myself I’d been too injured or too tired to try entering the Dreaming the last several nights, but I knew the truth and I was terrified. If Brystion was truly gone? And I’d been the one to kill him, even unknowingly?
Chickenshit, Abby.
I wiped the wetness from my cheeks, feeling like an ass for breaking down. “Only one way to find out,” I murmured to the flickering candle. If I could assess what had happened to him, I’d be better able to move forward.
I curled into a ball. Outside, the music continued to thrum away and my heart picked up the beat, vibrating in time until I slipped into sleep.
Seven
Ripples in the darkness.
The pit of my stomach dropped to find myself here again, the waves pinched with a deceptive stillness. A current stirred by my toes, the brush of something large sending chills through my legs. I swallowed hard against a rising panic, and the cotton dryness of my mouth flushed with salt as a whitecap slapped me in the face.