A Sliver of Shadow

by Allison Pang

  My stomach rumbled in protest and I snagged a roll from a nearby woven basket. Bread was usually safe, right? I nibbled at the crust, watching Phineas demolishing his own bowl of soup with sloppy gusto.

  “Eww,” I cringed as he licked his lips.

  He snorted disdainfully. “Suit yourself, but jewel beetles are a delicacy here. Besides—” He crunched down on something hard for a moment, rolling it around on his tongue. Spitting gracelessly into the bowl, he gestured at something winking in the milky liquid. “If you do it right, you get to keep the jewel when you’re done.”

  I shuddered. “No thanks. You’ve got a leg sticking out of your mouth, by the way.”

  His tongue swiped it away. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to be pampered.” I wasn’t sure if he’d been given a set of rooms of his own, but wherever he’d been, they’d certainly cleaned him up. His coat shone almost silver and the dandelion fluff of his mane puffed out like a resplendent cirrus cloud.

  “You drool on my pillow and molest my underwear, Phin. What else were you hoping for?”

  “True enough,” he said thoughtfully. “Plus I get to look at your boobies.”

  “Be still my beating heart.” I slouched in my chair, weariness overtaking me again. We were seated in what could only be described as a great hall of some kind. Much larger than the throne room had been and decorated with pale white marble. Above us the branches had been pulled back to reveal the night sky, glittering balls of witchlight pulsing like iridescent disco balls. I’d been shoved out of the way into a convenient corner, farthest away from the long table where the royal family was ensconced. Their voices were low and unheard over the din of the other diners.

  I couldn’t really blame them for putting me here. When my name had been announced with Moira and Melanie, my elven escort blanched and quickly dumped me as soon as he could. Obviously everyone had decided I was out of favor with the Queen. Not much point in risking another outburst like this afternoon, after all. On the other hand, it allowed me a singular vantage point where I could observe the comings and goings of the others undisturbed. The Queen herself had not arrived until I’d been seated, Talivar trailing behind her.

  She had changed from her dress of rags into a soft silken gown of amethyst. The simplicity of it displayed the beauty of her race to alabaster perfection. My father escorted her easily, dressed in a tartan. I blinked. Well, he was Scottish, after all, my inner voice reminded me.

  Even if they probably hadn’t worn kilts in the 1300s, I reminded it. Still, he cut an exceptionally fine figure and I couldn’t help the little dose of pride warming my chest when he nodded at me. Of course that was tempered with the disappointment that our little reunion apparently either wasn’t going to happen or was guaranteed to be strained and awkward.

  Talivar frowned when he saw where I was, mouthing an apology at my raised brow.

  “Don’t be too hard on him. His mother has his balls on a string. If he gets too uppity people will think he’s planning an uprising.” The unicorn’s ears flattened and he sniffed the air. “And to be honest, the way things are going, I suspect there are some here who would be all too happy at taking him up on it.”

  “As long as the Queen doesn’t try to hit me again,” I said, rubbing at my lip self-consciously. “And do we really have time for this? I mean, it seems like a bit much to be wining and dining inside Tolkien Central, when the CrossRoads are in shambles and an army is banging on the front door.”

  “No,” the unicorn agreed. “We don’t. And that is troublesome. Clearly the Queen is in mental distress. If they cannot get her under control soon, there’s going to be a shitstorm of massive proportions.”

  I thought about the Barras and the lesser Fae there, outcast and rather tired of it. The Crippled Prince would certainly have a backing from that particular faction anyway. And given what happened in the throne room today, it was obvious Maurice would be more than willing to take full advantage of any conflict.

  Moria sat next to her brother, of course, swathed in something that could only have been described as a Glinda the Good Witch getup, a huge crystalline and white silk monstrosity that could have hidden an entire Lollipop Guild beneath it. I suspected its formality was more to make it appear as though at least one of the royal family could affect some modicum of decorum. All she needed was a giant bubble. Melanie had taken one look at her in the hall and immediately began humming the refrain to “Defying Gravity.”

  Melanie had been seated closer to the royal table than I, but every once in a while our eyes would meet and she’d discretely make a rude gesture, forcing me to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  I shook my head, watching as Thomas attempted to get the Queen to eat. I twiddled the spoon between my fingers. “I can’t even begin to understand how Maurice or Tresa fit into this equation.”

  Phineas shrugged. “Probably wasn’t that hard to convince someone it was worth the risk. Anyone with eyes can see things are pretty fucked here. What better way to save his skin than to have them waste time with an internal struggle.”

  “Or a civil war,” I said under my breath.

  “That too.”

  A murmur of voices rippled through the room and I glanced up to see Talivar striding toward my table, wearing a lightly ornamented lawn shirt and dark trousers. The simplicity of it was massively appealing given the excess all around us. Behind him, the Queen’s eyes narrowed as he took the seat directly across from me.

  “Ignore them,” the prince said. “They’re nearly all idiots anyway.” His gaze roamed hungrily over my face, taking in my dress with a spark of interest. “Did you pick that out yourself?”

  I shook my head. “Melanie found it in my wardrobe. Figured it was what I was supposed to wear.”

  “Well, mayhap you’ll favor me with a single dance and then I’ll whisk you to my bed. I find these things so tiresome.” His lips brushed my forehead, laying claim to me before the remainder of the room. The whispers became sharper and he chuckled. “I am sorry about this afternoon.”

  I waved him off. “I just want to get things done here and go home. And I was hoping I might actually meet my father, instead of being treated like some sort of pariah …” I shook off the rest of the words with a sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to sit up there?”

  “Probably. But I’m not some lapdog they can trot out every time they feel the need to show the others how punishment has its own rewards … or whatever such bullshit Mother feels like spouting tonight. Besides, if they’re going to insist on treating me like some sort of exile, I might as well give them the satisfaction of acting like one.”

  “This seat taken?” Brystion’s midnight voice fell upon me in a rolling wave. Without waiting for an answer, the incubus took the chair to my left, ignoring Talivar’s raised brow. The incubus smiled slyly when I shot him the hairy eyeball. “Might as well make things interesting.”

  “Yeah, well keep your ‘Plus Five to Sexterity’ vest to yourself, eh?”

  Phineas rolled his eyes. “At least let me have dessert before you make me lose my dinner.” And indeed, a moment later we were all served plates of a sugar-encrusted confection, drizzled with a sweet sauce of chocolate and caramel. I groaned as I took at bite. At least the Fae got this much right.

  The rest of the meal itself was quite pleasant from a culinary standpoint, though being trapped between the two men appeared to be a little less fun. Talivar occasionally nudged me with his foot, sliding it up my calf, even as Brystion appeared to use every excuse to jostle me with his elbow.

  The third time I nearly dropped my fork I gave them both a look. “You know, if it’s a threesome you’re looking for, perhaps it might wait until we’ve got a little more privacy.” I yawned. “I find public orgies to be a bit on the boring side these days.”

  Talivar pursed his mouth even as Ion arched a brow at him, the two of them sharing a look that was entirely too conspiratorial for my liking.

  “Don’t tempt me.” Ion fluttered hi
s lashes.

  I flushed. “I was joking.”

  The incubus winked at me. “So was I, but it’s fun to make you squirm.” A fuss from the main table caught our attention. The Queen started to scratch at her arms again, shifting aimlessly in her seat. I frowned. If she was constantly doing that it would certainly explain the rags.

  Talivar followed my gaze with a pained smile. “It happens more and more,” he admitted. “It used to be once in a while, but these days … She would probably be happier naked, and I’d be inclined to allow it, except she’s been scratching at her skin too. The healers have to work with her every night to remove the damage.”

  “And if it becomes permanent?”

  “Then I suppose one of our questions will be answered. Music distracts her. Thomas spends a good deal of his time in her private quarters keeping her from making a bigger spectacle of herself than she already has.” I heard the gentle reproach in his voice and I tamped down the bitterness in my throat.

  “So what do we do?”

  The elf paused. “If we cannot convince her by tomorrow evening as to the severity of our situation, Moira and I will take steps. I’ll need every bit of your support, should we attempt it. Thomas has agreed to meet with us first thing in the morning.”

  Beside me, Brystion eyed the prince disdainfully. “Why is it that you put so much of your burden on Abby? Hasn’t she already done enough for you?”

  Talivar’s jaw tightened and I put my hand in his to give it a squeeze.

  “Ion, chill. If you aren’t going to help, then be quiet.”

  “So quickly you pass me over,” he retorted. “After all, I’m here by your request.”

  “After you said you wouldn’t help.” I shut my eyes and counted to ten. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry. You guys don’t exactly make it easy. There’s enough ego between the two of you to sail to China on.”

  “That’s your style though,” Phineas added, his mouth still full of icing. “Long, lean, hardheaded, and thick skulled.” I threw a spoon at him, but he ducked it narrowly, letting it bounce harmlessly to the floor.

  Talivar opened his mouth to say something, but the words were drowned out by the sudden sound of music. The opening bars to what suspiciously sounded like Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” spun out from Melanie’s violin. Too busy with our verbal sparring, I’d missed Melanie’s invitation to play, but now I could watch as she stood unobtrusively in the far corner, the acoustics bouncing the notes in a choral harmony.

  Normally she would have taken to the center of the room, or even wandered about, but I suspected she was only trying to distract the Queen without becoming a target for her jealousy. The Queen’s eyes were half lidded, but her hands remained in her lap, the frantic rubbing of her arms stilled.

  I resisted the urge to say something about music and the savage beast when I saw my father’s face. A terrible pain resided there and I could see the way his fingers twitched. How much of himself had he given up for her? How much had he given up for my own mother? I turned away before the rawness of it could delve any deeper.

  Slowly, some of the other courtiers took to the center area, attempting a polite semblance of dancing. Having seen what elves were capable of in the Hallows, I couldn’t quite keep the distain off my lips. It was so … empty. Joyless.

  Ion caught at my free hand, his eyes glowing gold. “Dance with me, Abby.”

  Talivar glared. “I believe Abby promised me first.”

  “I think I’d almost rather do the threesome.” Luckily I was saved from hearing the response when a masked courtier approached our table with a quick bow. He was dressed in a typical hose and tunic getup, simply cut in basic blues and greens but well made, his red hair hanging loose at the shoulders. Although his face was hidden by a feathered monstrosity, his eyes were kind and beckoning, without a hint of seduction.

  Refreshing.

  “If the lady would be so kind as to honor me?”

  I weighed my options for half a second. It was an easy out. Chickenshit, yes, but that was nothing new. “Delighted,” I murmured, ignoring Phin’s snicker.

  I let the courtier take my hand, not looking at either of my would-be paramours, but I could feel their gaze upon me as I stood. Judging by the steadfast simplicity of the other dancers it would be unlikely to present that much of a challenge for me, even if I didn’t actually know any genuine Faery waltzes. I could do a basic box step in my sleep, gimpy leg and all.

  I snuck a peek at the Queen, but she was ignoring me, her attention still steadfast upon Melanie. The courtier bowed with an elegant flourish and led me forward, my feet slipping into their old remembered grace.

  I tried to engage him in a bit of small talk, but for all his quiet demeanor and decent footwork, there wasn’t much to be said and I soon found myself extraordinarily bored.

  “Cutting in,” Brystion said brusquely, tapping my escort on the shoulder. “You’re embarrassing yourself.” He brushed the elf out of the way to take his place.

  “And what would you know about it?”

  “Dream-eater,” he pointed out dryly, spinning me out and then recapturing my waist. Without missing a beat, Melanie slid neatly into a tango, an odd hint of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” lurking beneath the chords. Figured. The violinist studiously ignored my strangled motions at her.

  Brystion’s eyes bled gold, his mouth kicking up to reveal a gleaming smile. “I know quite well what you’re capable of.” His hip nudged mine, one hand sliding down the small of my back.

  “And here I thought you were going to wait until after all this was over.” Of course, I had to admit it was nice to have someone lead who knew what he was doing. I glanced over at where Talivar watched us, his face growing stony. “One dance each and then I’m done.”

  “Fair enough.” He nuzzled my ear, his mouth sliding into a crooked grin as Talivar approached us. “Catch,” he told the prince, turning me forward into Talivar’s arms.

  The elf swept me to the center of the room, and if he didn’t have Ion’s dance moves, he was certainly attempting to make up for it with enthusiasm. He dipped me low, his hair brushing over my collarbone before planting a soft kiss at my throat. A moment later and he’d handed me over to Ion, a hint of his own private amusement sparkling in his face.

  Better than a fistfight, anyway. Back and forth the three of us moved, each man taking a turn to woo me in his own way. My body vibrated between them, the heat of their hands burning up each bit of skin they touched … this one blatant, that one subtle, both possessive, until I found myself nearly wedged between them.

  The music had become more seductive and I was vaguely aware that I was causing quite the spectacle. Melanie had stopped watching us at least; her eyes were half shut so that I knew she was off in her own little world. The Queen …

  Well, she stared openly, her lips curving into something expectant and cruel. Was she hoping Talivar would fall? My father had risen from his seat, something pained on his face. I caught a glimpse of him beating a hasty retreat through a smaller doorway that I hadn’t seen before.

  I twirled away from both men, feeling very much like the swan egging on her suitors. My knee began to protest as each took a hand to lead me back onto the dance floor and I gave them a smile.

  “Gonna have to rest, guys. Leg isn’t going to hold out for much longer.” A flicker of chagrin sparked in Talivar’s face, echoed in the way Ion’s eyes darkened. A slight tremor of disappointment wormed its way through me. No sense tempting fate—and having a seizure here wouldn’t help me any in the respect department.

  Carefully they escorted me toward our table, neither one appearing to want to relinquish his claim. I sighed inwardly as Melanie began playing something Celtic, the sprightly notes fading away into the background. This had been fun, but the potential for hurt feelings was rather high and I definitely didn’t want to deal with that yet.

  My knee ached and I wanted the chance to have a little quiet time to myself before tomorrow threatened to
blow up in my face, as it was undoubtedly wont to do. My fingers slipped from their hands as I slouched in my seat, my feet continuing to tap out a beat in counterpoint. Phin had disappeared into the crowd while I was dancing, and the three of us sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

  Finally I bent to remove my shoes, the arch of one foot burning. I wiggled my toes experimentally, but I suspected a good soak would be in order later if I didn’t want blisters. I glanced at the royal table. My father was still gone, and Moira had left as well. Talivar frowned when he saw where I was looking.

  “My mother should not be alone. Will you wait for me here?”

  “Actually, I was wondering where that doorway leads.” I pointed to the one I’d seen Thomas retreat to.

  “The gardens. Normally they’d be full of trysting lovers and the like, but the Queen has forbidden any such frivolities.” His mouth pursed as he looked at me. “Pity.”

  “Thomas went that way. I thought maybe I could get a chance to talk to him. Alone,” I said, giving them both the eye. The last thing I needed was an audience for this. Some potential failures needed privacy.

  “Of course.” Brystion slid to his feet smoothly. “Perhaps another time?”

  “Yeah. Actually, I want you with us in the morning. The only way we’re going to solve this mess is if we work together.” I looped the straps of the sandals together so I could carry them and reached out to squeeze his hand. “If we can put the rest of it behind us for now?”

  The two men nodded at each other. It wasn’t quite a truce, but at least maybe they wouldn’t be publicly sniping at each other either. Together they escorted me to the alcove that led to the gardens. I descended into the shadows of the stairs, Melanie’s music chasing me downward with an odd sighing melancholy.

  Twenty-three

  The soft grass soothed my aching feet as I tread carefully through a gentle maze of rosebushes. The light and sounds of the ball scattered upon the grounds from above me, but it seemed more intrusive than anything else. The path wended this way and that, becoming a spiral twisting in on itself. Ancient oaks dotted the landscape with bark as smooth and fine as paper. I began to feel inordinately foolish when my father didn’t magically materialize before me, but I wasn’t sure why.