A Sliver of Shadow Read online

  I shook out the rest of my hair so it fell over the bare patch, threw on a robe and stepped out of the bathroom. Cool air snuck past me to chill my legs. Something about the silence struck me as odd and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The kitchen was dark except for the gleam of the appliances.

  Empty.

  It was the first time I’d had my apartment to myself in, what? Eight months? I sighed, reveling in the fact that once upon a time I could have trotted around naked and not had to worry about elves getting their hair stuck in the blow dryer, or finding a unicorn underfoot. Or an incubus. Or a baby.

  Out of habit I peeked into Benjamin’s room, my heart skipping a beat when I saw his crib was gone. I could only assume Talivar had done as I’d asked and taken the baby’s things over to Robert’s, but then I’d hardly given him the chance to tell me, had I? I leaned against the door, something in my heart twisting as my gaze roamed over the now-empty shadows. My ears strained to hear the soft sound of Benjamin’s breathing, and I rolled my eyes at myself.

  He was with his father and that would have to be good enough until we sorted this whole damn mess out. Suddenly ravenous, I fixed a bowl of nachos, complete with salsa, queso, and a heaping dollop of sour cream. After a moment I grabbed a bottle of Bushmills out of the pantry. I wasn’t usually a heavy drinker and it was never a good idea after a seizure, but after the shit that had gone down today I didn’t care.

  Settling in on the couch, I decided to really indulge and channel surfed until I found one of the anime channels, contenting myself for an hour of watching Alucard and Father Anderson shred each other into bloody bits. Eventually Talivar came home, clearly surprised that I was still awake at 3 A.M. I was nicely mellow, full of nacho goodness and half the bottle of whiskey, my head swimming with cartoon vampires and pleasant warmth. I patted the space next to me, shifting to make room as he eased himself down.

  “Real vampires don’t fight like that,” I observed smartly. He grunted an affirmation at me, and I glanced over. The light from the TV played over the sharp edges of his face, illuminating the straight bridge of his nose and the faded blue of the delicate tattoos upon his cheeks. There was a grace in the curve of his spine as he lounged on the sofa, his legs bent carelessly so his knees sprawled outward, one hand resting on his thigh. The callused tips of his fingers were those of a warrior, but the elegant slant of his knuckles was pure royalty. My gaze lingered on his mouth, the whiskey making my cheeks hot.

  On sudden impulse, I reached out to stroke the perfect seashell point of his ear. He stilled, silent except for a sudden intake of breath, his eye becoming languid and half lidded. The pulse at his neck jumped, ruining the effect.

  “You do realize that’s the elvish equivalent of cupping my balls, right?”

  I jerked my hand away. I hadn’t meant to be quite that forward. “Apparently my knowledge of basic elven anatomy is lacking,” I muttered. “Sorry.”

  He kept his face steadfast on the TV screen, but his mouth twitched. “Something we’ll have to remedy, no doubt,” he said dryly, pulling the bottle of whiskey from between my knees. His eye rolled toward me as he took a swig. His lashes seemed impossibly long. “You should go to bed.”

  “Care to join me?” I leered, giggling as he coughed into his fist. The fact that I was half serious didn’t occur to me until I’d actually said the words, even if it was a bad idea. After all, he was my bodyguard. And Moria’s brother. And a Faery prince, for all that he seemed to have his own secrets about it. Still, given the way things were going, I wasn’t sure it could be any worse. And I hadn’t gotten laid since …

  … since Brystion left.

  The thought sobered me and I sighed. “Guess that’s a no.” I swayed slightly as I stood up and shut off the TV.

  Staggering to the kitchen, I threw my dishes into the sink before finding my way to the hall. Probably would have a killer hangover in the morning. A few hours from now. Whatever.

  “You didn’t actually give me a chance to answer the question.” Talivar emerged from the kitchen to lean against the door jamb.

  A wave of heat flushed through my cheeks. “Erm. Was that a yes?” I couldn’t help the wistful tone of my voice, though I wanted to retract the words immediately. Served me right for being such a lush.

  “No.” He stared at me a moment longer, something about him hesitant. One hand reached up and brushed the bangs from my eyes. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

  The floor shifted beneath me and wobbled forward. I caught his arm to steady myself, only to find myself pressed against the wall. “God, I’m a mess.”

  His mouth met mine for a surprised instant, pulling away before I had a chance to react. I caught a fleeting taste of warmth sparking against my lips. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his head lowering so that his hair fell forward to shield his eyes. His fingers stroked shyly down my cheek, sliding beneath to cup my chin, which I took to be an invitation of another sort.

  I didn’t wait to be asked twice, arching on tiptoe to find him again, the whiskey hot on his breath as he groaned. He trapped me against the wall, his arms bent on either side of my face.

  “You don’t seem that sorry.”

  “Mayhap I’m not,” he agreed, coming up for air a moment later. “You just seemed so … sad.”

  “And the prescription for sadness in Faerie is kisses?”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “When you have nearly forever to live, lovemaking becomes a rather extended endeavor. Plus we bore easy.” His hand slid down my neck, lingering where it met my shoulder.

  I fought the urge to writhe beneath it, all too aware of the heat of his body. “You’ve got a strange way of saying no.”

  I said it playfully, but the moment was gone the second the words left my mouth. “Of course,” he sighed, sliding to the other side of the hall, his own cheeks flushed. “You are right. Forgive me for overstepping. It has been a long day.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, trying to coax my pulse into something that didn’t resemble that of an oversexed rabbit. A tiny part of me wailed that he’d actually retreated so quickly, even though it was for the best. “I know … you had to take pity. I get it. I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier.” My fingers drummed against the wall, agitation and anger at myself playing a toccata on the doorjamb. “I don’t like that she saw me like that. That you saw me like that.”

  He tapped his eye patch with a wry chuckle. “We all have our flaws. And there is no shame in what you cannot control.”

  “Maybe. I still feel like an ass, though.”

  He cocked his head at me. “Did you know you limp when you walk?”

  I blinked. “Uh, maybe a little. Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “Yes.” His gaze strolled down my hips to my bad knee, pointing to it. “This one. It’s not always evident, but there’s a roll of your gait—here—and it smooths out so easily, almost hidden.” He demonstrated, twisting his own knee.

  “Is pointing out flaws a cure for sadness in Faerie too?” I arched a brow.

  “You misunderstand me.” He waved his hands at me. “It’s the adaptation to the physical issues. Your body compensates for the loss of your ability. Here.” He touched my hip and I shivered. “This sways out to make up for the way you don’t extend the leg fully, for example.”

  “If you say so. But what’s your point?”

  “It means you don’t give up. Despite your limitations, you continue to move forward.” He smiled, skin gleaming in the dimness of the kitchen light. “You have the heart of a warrior. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  I let out a mirthless chuckle. Being the only survivor of a car wreck that had stolen my mother’s life and left me disabled was hardly anything to crow about. “Why did Tresa call you the Crippled Prince today?” I blurted out the words, the alcohol making me bold.

  And stupid.

  He stilled, pain glittering from that one brilliant eye before giving me a gentle push in the direction of my bedroo
m. His mouth twisted self-mockingly. “Good night, Abby.”

  So much for that.

  I retreated into the quiet of my room, sparing a last look down the hall before I shut the door. Talivar had turned away, one hand grasping tight around his elbow as he strode to his own room. I exhaled sharply.

  The elven prince walked with a limp too.

  Had I been so utterly wrapped up in my own minutiae that I couldn’t even see what was before my eyes? I mean, hell, I’d only lived with the man for nearly a year. Surely I wasn’t as blind as all that?

  I closed my door with an audible click and tumbled into bed. No doubt Sonja was waiting for me in the Dreaming, but I wasn’t sure I had the heart for another training session tonight. It was nearly morning anyway. “Sorry,” I said as I closed my eyes, though I didn’t know who I was saying it to.

  Six

  Morning drifted over me too soon, punctuated by the blaring ring of the phone and the belch of a hungover unicorn. I blinked against the blurring ache of my head, eyes trying to focus as I rolled out of bed to snatch up the discarded robe from the floor. Not that I cared much about parading about half naked in my own room, but Phin was another matter. I narrowly missed tripping over him as he staggered next to my bed, the tuft of his tail a tangled, wet mess.

  One of these days I’d remember to keep the cell phone within reach of the bed, but as it was I had to scramble through a pile of clothes. I’d tossed them in a heap in the corner as soon as I’d gotten into the bathroom the night before.

  “Damn.” The phone stopped ringing about two seconds before I found it, wedged into the back pocket of my jeans. I snapped it open and frowned as the call cut off.

  “Who is it?” Phineas’s rusty growl rumbled at me from a nest of my underwear on the floor. I shuddered. Guess I’d be doing two loads of laundry later.

  “Roweena,” I muttered. “But I wish she had better timing.” I squinted at the clock, sighing when I realized it was only 7 A.M. “Christ. Do you think the powers that be would mind if I asked them to make sure the next apocalypse takes place later in the day? Maybe around teatime?”

  “Good luck with that.” He yawned, rolling onto his side.

  I padded to the bed, tucking the cell phone neatly on the night stand. “And what is that smell?” I looked down at Phineas, my stomach tap dancing in revulsion. “You fall in the toilet again?”

  His red-rimmed eyes remained a study in indifference. “Oh, so now you give a shit about me. How’s that for fair-weather friendship?”

  I bit down on my lower lip to keep from laughing at his hangdog expression. Normally I would have taken him seriously, but an inebriated unicorn is pretty damn funny, regardless of the situation. Inwardly, though, I was cringing because he was right. “I’m sorry.” I crouched beside him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Phin. Where’d you go last night?”

  “Chasing a little tail of my own.” He scowled, his beer-stained beard waggling at me. He let out a high-pitched giggle as he attempted to flick his own tail, watching it hang there in a sodden mess. “Little tail,” he repeated, sneezing suddenly. I backed away. Last thing I needed was unicorn snot on my feet. “There was this … nymph? Undine? Oh, hell, I don’t know what she was,” he chuckled. “But she had the sweetest ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of—”

  “More than I need to know,” I said hastily. I’m not a prude by any stretch, but some things are better left to the imagination. I glanced down at him and shuddered. Or not.

  He shot me a withering look. “Oh, please. You think listening to you and Brystion get it on was any bed of roses?” He reared up on shaky legs, prancing forward and swinging his hips, his voice a high-pitched falsetto. “Oh, Ion, I’ve never done it like that, you naughty boy! Maybe next time you can stick your hot man-rod up my—”

  I poked him with a finger, watching impassively as he tumbled onto the rug, snorting in wild-eyed surprise. “You,” I said sourly, “need to shut up. And get cleaned up. And do it now before you track any more filth on my floor.” I headed for the bathroom, pausing only to grab a towel before turning on the hot water.

  He grunted and shook himself, his legs wobbling as he followed me.

  “Cheer up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “You sure you’re not trying to poison me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Have it your way. Canned spam for nummies. How’s that?” Gingerly I picked him up and placed him into the tub. “I’ll wash your mane in a minute.”

  “Whatever.”

  I retreated to the bedroom to give him a little privacy and find some clothes. A knock on my door and a muffled question announced Talivar’s presence on the other side. I tightened my robe, suddenly shy. “I’m decent.”

  The prince popped his head around the corner. “Just checking to make sure Phineas was all right. He didn’t look so good when I found him trying to climb the stairs.”

  “He’s okay. Just dirty.”

  “Isn’t he always?” I stared at Talivar for a moment, trying to decide if I should say anything about the night before, but he beat a quick retreat before I had a chance. I took it as a sign I should get dressed and forget about it. I’d had enough morning-after regrets to last awhile without bringing my roommate into it.

  I pulled my hair up into a loose bun, the familiar sounds of a frying pan on the stove suddenly filling me with warmth. It would appear the way to my heart was through my stomach. Or at least the attempt, anyway.

  Shrugging away the uneasy feeling of early morning phone calls, and trying to ignore the thought of breakfast, I proceeded to lather up Phineas with a careful hand. He wasn’t exactly a dog, and he wasn’t really objecting, but it still felt a little odd to be washing him. The fact that he was humming “Pokerface” wasn’t helping matters. “I’m not doing your privates. Those are up to you.”

  “Spoilsport.” He grunted, ears twitching. “Though I probably wouldn’t either, based on where they’ve been.”

  “Yummy. Now, hush up and let me finish.” I rinsed out the last of his mane, wrinkling my nose at the wave of filth running down the drain. “Dude—when you go slumming, you really go slumming.”

  He yawned, shaking himself out as I shut off the water. “You have no idea.”

  Hastily I dried him off, setting him free on the carpeted part of the floor. Although it was amusing as hell to watch him skate over the bathroom tile, the unicorn could hardly stand up, let alone make it across the slippery hardwood of my bedroom.

  He shook out his rump and winced, cocking up a hind hock to nose his underbelly. “I think I broke something.”

  I shuddered. “Do I need to find you a vet?”

  He shot me an unfriendly look. “I overdid it is all. Not like I picked up a case of scabies.”

  “Well, it was an undine,” I murmured. “Maybe it was crabs?”

  The unicorn bared his teeth at me, whatever he was going to say interrupted by Talivar’s polite cough. “Breakfast,” he said mildly and disappeared again.

  “Come on, Phin.” I scooped him up and headed for the kitchen. “Let’s go eat.” I put him down in a chair, nosing over the plates of food. The unicorn’s ears flattened as the ceramic scraped over the table.

  “My head hurts,” he moaned.

  “And here I thought that horn could cure hangovers.”

  He blinked at me. “Oh, yeah … get me a glass of water, if you would.”

  Talivar dug in the fridge for a bottle, popping open the cap and handing to me. I poured it into a bowl, exchanging a quizzical look with the prince. He shrugged and slid it across the table to Phineas. The unicorn coughed and dipped his horn into the bowl, a little shiver twitching over his body as though he were shaking off a fly. A flash of silver burst from his horn and sparkled over the surface. He snorted, eagerly reaching forward to guzzle the now-milky liquid.

  “That’s the stuff,” he burbled happily.

  “Now that that’s out of the way.” I found my own seat and a plate of eggs. They we
re runny and half raw, but I gave Talivar a smile anyway. Points for trying and all that. “Time for food and tea and a game plan.”

  Talivar slouched in the chair next to me, casually lifting his bare feet to rest upon my chair’s footrest. It was an oddly possessive move. It was also oddly sexy. His gaze lingered on me a half second longer than it should before his face turned down to his own plate, mouth twitching.

  “Roweena called this morning, but hung up before I could get it.” I took a bite of the eggs, trying to ignore the warmth flush that suddenly suffused my belly. “Suppose I’ll call her back in a few, but I dunno. I don’t want to be Tresa’s TouchStone. If Moira insists on it, then I suppose I will—but only until another replacement can be found.”

  “Mighty generous of you,” he said dryly. “But I can tell you now that if Moira had anything to do with this she would have told me. Believe me, you’re far too important to her to leave blowing in the wind. If this is coming down from the Court, however … it would mean you’ve become a pawn, Abby. And pawns are rather expendable, if you take my meaning.”

  “Yeah. I know. Bacon’s good, by the way.”

  He stabbed viciously at his own eggs. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “You’ll get used to it. And pawn or not, one thing I’ve noticed about dealing with OtherFolk is there are no guarantees.” I fixed him with a glare. “About anything.”

  “There never are,” he agreed, grabbing the teakettle to refill my mug with hot water.

  “Besides,” I added, swallowing another bite, “I’d think you’d be just as happy for me to break the Contract with Moira. After all, then you’d get to go home.”

  He looked at me blankly. “I what?”

  I glanced down at my plate. “Isn’t that what you were talking to Melanie about yesterday? At the Hallows? I mean, I’m sort of the only reason you were sucked into this whole mess. If I’m Contracted to someone else, that makes you free and clear, right?”