A Sliver of Shadow (9 page)

My legs and arms refused to move for what felt like hours, and then I was gasping, only aware of the floor against my cheek. Some kind soul had turned my head to the side in case I vomited and I mentally thanked him as I swallowed hard.

Something warm and wet slithered between my legs.

Jesus. I’d pissed myself.

I rolled over sluggishly, ignoring the way my jeans suddenly stuck to my thighs. Humiliation burned my cheeks as Phin nudged my face. “Get away.” My limbs were anchors, pinning me to the floor. “All of you.”

“Abby, I …”

“Go
away,
Phin.”

“Is that a normal thing for you?” Tresa frowned, twirling a loose curl around a pointed ear. “Because if it is, I might want to rethink taking you on. Find someone a bit more stable. Nothing personal. I’m sure you understand.”

She started choking, the last few words nothing more than a gagging noise. I blinked, realizing Talivar had his hand wrapped around her throat.

“I think you might want to rethink it too,” he said pleasantly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Nothing personal. I’m sure you understand.”

“Let her go, Prince,” Roweena snapped.

“Why?” He purred the word. “Seems to me a lot of our problems would disappear if she hit her head on something hard. Repeatedly.”

“Because we need to investigate what’s going on with the Court, sire.” Roweena glared at him. “If she is what she claims and you kill her, you could potentially cause a political
backlash that cannot be undone. Especially with your history.”

He grunted something under his breath, leaning down to Tresa’s face. “Piss me off again and I won’t care what Roweena says. And neither will you. Crippled Prince or no, I am still of the blood and you
will
obey me. Abby is Moira’s TouchStone. Not yours.”

My inner voice let out a little montage of cheers, but the urge to get the hell out of here and into a shower overrode any attempts at would-be snark. “All right,” I said, wincing at the way my words slurred together. “I think we’re done here.”

“Yes.” Roweena tapped the scrolls on her thigh. “I will contact you shortly as to the veracity of these documents as well as requiring formal word from the Court. Surely a better replacement could have been found.” She sniffed, the hair in her tightly wrapped bun looking even more severe than usual.

Tresa stumbled, rubbing her throat. “This is a mistake,” she hissed at Roweena.

“I agree,” Talivar said. “Yours.” He crouched down to help me to my feet, head tilted toward the angels. “I want her taken into custody.”

Roweena’s mouth pursed as she weighed his words. “I’m sorry, Prince, but you know the law here. If she is Moira’s actual replacement, then by detaining her we violate her right of rule. On the other hand,” she added darkly, her gaze snapping to Tresa, “it would not be amiss if she would accompany me to the Judgment Hall. For her safety, of course.”

Tresa’s upper lip curled but she nodded.

“Until the morrow, then.” Roweena bowed and gestured at the angels to follow her out the door, Tresa in tow. Phineas let out an aggrieved whinny and trotted off in the same direction.
I hesitated, aching to call him back, but the words choked in my mouth, shame biting at my belly.

“When was the last time you ate?” Talivar steadied me by holding my elbow.

I struggled with the urge to throw him off. “A crappy grilled cheese a few hours ago? I don’t know. It’s been a bit busy today, if you haven’t noticed.” I rubbed my arm, not quite able to meet his eye. “I need to get out of here and take a shower. And I need you to take the crib to Robert’s. It’s late enough as it is.”

Talivar frowned. “You took Benjamin to Robert?”

I nodded, my eyes drooping. “Seemed like the best thing to do.”

“Fine,” the prince said after a moment of tense silence. He tipped my chin up so that I was forced to meet his gaze. I caught a hint of sympathy and something else, but it was gone before I could identify it. “But we’re going to talk about that later. And you
are
going to eat.”

“Whatever.” I waved him off as he attempted to escort me outside. It was a slow night at the Marketplace and I wasn’t inclined to linger, so I simply turned the lock, watching the door flare into a silver nimbus and then disappear. Gotta love a storefront that can be closed via an interdimensional gateway. Cuts down on thieves, anyway.

Shivering, I hastened up the creaking wooden steps with a wrinkle of disgust at my weakness. Talivar’s presence shadowed me from behind, but I refused to acknowledge it. There was an argument brewing between us—but damned if I was going to get into it before I got cleaned up.

The water sluiced over me, hard and fast and hot. The steamed tiles slid beneath my palms as I pushed against the wall, trying to drown the biting sting of shame. Inwardly I knew I had no control over the seizures, no control over
their effects—not even the pills could guarantee me that. But still … of all the fucking times to lose it, why did it have to be in front of the potential enemy? Or future boss, I thought snidely.

My hands fisted against the wall, nails biting into my palms as Tresa’s face loomed before me, the arrogant way her nose tipped up, the sneering pout of her lips. I wasn’t even sure why I gave a shit about her, honestly—or any of the OtherFolk, for that matter. After all, I was 100 percent human and except for my KeyStone ability, I doubted any of them gave two shakes about who I was or what I could do, regardless of what Brandon had told me.

I shut the water off with a jerk, the pipes banging in heated protest, and stepped out of the tub. I had a new bruise on my knee from when I’d fallen and I couldn’t quite help growling at it. After I’d first gotten out of the hospital two years ago, the seizures had been a more frequent occurrence, as were the injuries. Not counting the metal plate in my skull, I’d probably sprained both ankles and a wrist from falling because of the vertigo. It was a rare week when I didn’t get to show off the battle scars from losing a fight with the floor.

Maybe that was the whole problem? Hanging out with the OtherFolk as much as I did, maybe I’d forgotten I was human and fragile comparatively. I sighed and combed through the tangled snarls of my hair, pushing the blue and pink streaked bangs out of my eyes. The mirror remained steamed up, but I still ran my fingertips over the scar above my left ear. I always did. It was a perverse little habit, but not one I seemed able to break.

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.