by Allison Pang
When I finally walked away, he was tilting his forehead against the tiny tree, murmuring something in a hoarse whisper.
Melanie and the TouchStone were still playing; they’d finally tapped into the Wild Magic and it swirled about us all like a tangible force, calling the others to awaken. And that was it, I realized. The Tree needed the wishes of Dreamers to survive—good or evil, it didn’t matter. It was hope that was required.
The first to come to was Phin, and I raised the little unicorn against me, his nose burrowing into the hair at the nape of my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “So very sorry.”
He nipped me gently. “I’m too old for this bullshit. I’m officially retired.”
“After one last thing,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure if a unicorn’s Dreams would mean anything to the Tree . . . and he didn’t have a piece of cloth to make a wish with, but . . .
He sighed as I told him what I needed him to do. “Cut off a tuft of my mane. It’s not like it can get any more butchered than it is.”
I nearly laughed at his mournful tone, but he really had been through more than enough. I sliced off a hank of the fine hair with a nearby dagger and tied it around a branch. Phineas reared up and touched the nub of his horn against it. For a moment he looked the part of the noble beast of legend and I could only imagine what sorts of regrets and hopes he harbored within that tiny body.
Aside from the ones involving booze and a drunken Pinkie Pie.
Talivar’s hand on my shoulder brought me to myself. “The others . . . they’re waiting for you.” He pressed a quick kiss against my forehead. Somehow it felt like good-bye.
I peered over his shoulder and realized the others were finally starting to awaken.
Even Brystion.
I ran over to where he lay, placing a hand upon the incubus’s cheek before helping him sit. Talivar caught him on the other side and gently held him upright. The incubus gagged and vomited noisily into the weeds, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
He let out a pained groan and blinked up at me with an odd sort of incomprehension. “Abby?”
“Yes, I murmured to him, stroking his brow, my fingers lingering at the base of his antlers. “I’m okay.”
He slumped. “I feel like shit.”
I didn’t doubt him. There wasn’t even a hint of his normal sexual arrogance rolling off him, which meant he had to be hurting. “Things they don’t teach you in Soul-Eating Skills 101?”
He smiled sourly at me before being lost to another coughing fit.
Talivar frowned. “I don’t think he should make the sacrifice,” he said quietly. “Not yet. Not now while he carries Maurice’s soul within him.”
“No. The Tree has already had too much of him as it is.”
“He’s got what inside him?” Nobu hissed from behind me. The daemon spared a glance at Melanie first, his face darkening when he saw her playing.
“Maurice. His soul. It was the only way,” I added apologetically.
Nobu stared at Brystion, jabbing a thumb at the amulet around his neck. “What the hell is that?”
“The world’s first daemonic KeyBearer, apparently. It’s rather complicated.”
“No shit. You realize that it’s possible that Brystion is now the Tithe?” The daemon winced as his broken wings shifted.
“A trade for a trade, eh, Peacock?” Brystion let out a shuddering laugh, mirthless and terrible.
My heart plummeted into my belly. “Can’t you guys, like, transfer it? One to the other?”
They turned to face me as one.
“No,” Nobu said flatly. “We’re not banks. It doesn’t work that way. Brystion will have to deliver the soul himself.” He tugged on the Key around the incubus’ neck. “And way to fuck with the rules. This shouldn’t even be allowed.”
The moment was interrupted by the thundering of countless hooves thudding their way through the trees. Had the Hunt taken off again?
But, no. As they came into the clearing, I stiffened as I saw her, the Queen of Faerie, as she rode on a silver mare, her train flowing behind her in an otherworldly grace. A large assembly traveled behind her. My father strode at her side, playing his harp with newly healed fingers.
“Because this is what we need,” I muttered. “Crazy lady on the scene.”
Talivar flinched, but nodded, giving me a pained smile. “I’ll handle this. King and all.”
I slipped my hand into his. “Consort.”
Blinking in surprise, he led me toward her entourage. I spared a backward glance at Brystion, but Nobu and Sonja appeared to have him well in hand. The incubus rolled his eyes at me, but I caught a faint amusement gleaming within.
United front and all that.
All around us, the wounded staggered to their feet, or attempted to sit up. The Queen made a curt nod with her head and a contingent of healers ran out onto the field and began setting up a rudimentary triage, as other elves went from body to body.
I exchanged a glance with Talivar. Such generosity was unexpected. I hated to think the woman might be scheming something even now with all the carnage, but I wouldn’t put it past her either.
A moment later Moira trotted over on her own white mare, bridle bells jingling. Full circle. She met us halfway and dismounted to give her brother a hug before turning to me to do the same.
“Given the circumstances, I thought it prudent to find Mother,” she said, a quiet apology in her voice. “Aside from her . . . issues, there is much she knows. I was . . . unprepared for this.”
“I think we all were,” I said dryly.
“How long before we can expect the other Paths to show up to claim the bodies?” Talivar said it clinically, with a coolness that bespoke his experience on the battlefield. His sister’s discomfort at the bloodshed before her shone on her face, but her brother had no such issues.
Yet another side to him that I’d only been half aware of.
I stared out at the field. The number of injured was staggering. I frowned, something Talivar had told me once niggling at the back of my mind. Laying my hand on his shoulder I frowned at him. “What about the pools?”
“The what?”
“You told me . . . before. When the Sidhe would have great battles in the past, everyone would bathe in some sacred spa or Jacuzzi or something . . . and it healed everyone? Seems like that might come in rather handy right about now, don’t you think?”
His mouth pursed. “Technically they’re not open to any but the Sidhe, and there are far fewer now than in the past, but given the circumstances, perhaps Mother would be amenable.”
“Particularly if we tell her we can pay the Tithe,” I muttered.
Moira sighed, craning her head over Talivar’s shoulder. “You have him, then? Maurice?”
“In a manner of speaking.” I edged around the subject. “Let’s just say the Tithe will be paid and Maurice will no longer trouble us and leave it at that.” There was a warning note in my voice to keep her from pressing further.
“All right. Let’s see if we can’t find a peaceable solution for all.” She glanced up, a smile on her face as a contingent of angels approached, Robert breaking off to land beside us.
“Sparky. The powers that be have declared a moratorium on our usual . . . enmity.” He pointed at a golden-haired angel holding a trumpet. “We were chosen to escort Gabriel to the Tree to add our Path’s music to it.”
I raised a brow. Goldilocks had a body of a bronze Adonis and a face of an . . . well, an angel. Honestly. The same sort of chiseled beauty the rest of them had, though the fact that he was dressed in street clothes threw me a bit.
“The Gabriel?” I asked. “And how did you even know about the music?”
“I get around.” Gabriel shrugged, pointing to the sky. “Plus I’ve got friends in high places that know things.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this, so instead I nodded to where Melanie continued to play with her former enemy. “Over ther
e with the others—I’ll let you guys figure out what works best.” My gaze fell on my father. “And . . . I think Thomas should be there too, don’t you? He represents the Fae as well as any.”
Brystion limped up behind me, his ears twitching as he laid a hand upon my shoulder. “I carry the Tithe. I should be with you when you present yourself.”
Together we found our way to the front of the line. The Queen dismounted, her long white dress fluttering like the soft feathers of a swan.
There was something different about her now. Less mad.
No less crafty, though.
Gravely she listed as Moira made her plea to open the Healing pools of old, so that everyone could have a chance to start over. My father gave me a tight smile, making his own way to the Tree with his harp.
I watched as the four musicians put their heads together for a few moments, a shake and nod of the head . . . and then they began to play. Whatever song it might have started off as was quickly picked up by the humming of the Tree, the EarthSong drumming out a deep echo within my chest.
“That’s it,” I whispered after a few minutes. “The tide’s turned.”
I glanced at the Queen, my tone respectful. “If it would please Your Majesty, each of those here should also gain a chance to leave a wish for the new Tree. She seems to be . . . strengthened by them.”
“As you say.” She snapped her fingers in her old impatient way, indicating this to be done. “We will gather up the wounded and take them within our borders, but only for a short while. Once this flag of truce has been lifted, all other Paths shall vacate Faerie lands unless they have needful business there.”
It was the best any of us could hope for, and the relief written on Nobu’s face was plain to see.
“No clipping of the wings yet, eh, Peacock?” Brystion snorted. “And here I thought sin-eaters had their own ways of healing.”
Nobu glared. “Would you have me bathe in the blood of virgins?”
“Point taken. When do I get rid of this thing inside me?”
“That’s what she said,” I muttered, hiding a smile when Ion punched me lightly in the arm.
The Queen stared at him. “Am I to understand you harbor the traitor’s soul within you, daemon?” Her eyes lit upon the Key. “How very interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” I glanced at Ion. “So what happens now? Please . . . you can’t leave me again. Not like this.”
“I have no choice, Abby. And where I go, you cannot follow.” He laid a hand on my wrist. “If I can work something out, I will.”
Nobu let out a grim chuckle. “Spoken like one who’s never met Him. No. I will go with you. There are things you should be aware of. And temptation awaits even our kind.”
“Always let a sin-eater be your guide . . .” I wavered on my feet, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. “How long will you be gone?”
“It could be minutes or months. He keeps His own schedule as He sees fit. It is not my place to question it.”
The Queen cocked her head at me. “And you. What are your intentions? We ought to plan a true wedding if we are to make this union between you and my son . . . official.” Her words were clipped as she considered the thought, her upper lip curling at me. “A King ought to have a Queen . . . and even if you’re not my first choice, you are a known quantity.”
I rolled my eyes as Talivar let out a groan. “How flattering. But . . . no.” I gave Talivar a regretful smile. “I will see out my year as his handfasted consort, but beyond that? I can’t be what Faerie needs. I’ve got a life back home, and I want to live it.”
Talivar’s chin dropped, but I was right and we both knew it. “No. I will not ask that of you.”
“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.”
Twenty-three
Two months later
For 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 da
y, 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.