A Sliver of Shadow

by Allison Pang

  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.”

  Twelve

  If 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 …”

  Th
ere 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 bi
t 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.”