A Trace of Moonlight by Allison Pang Page A

fact that said lover had actually dared to procreate during that time surely left a sting. Hell hath no fury and all that.
    My thoughts turned to Melanie and Katy and all the rest of my friends. “I have a family there, Your Highness,” I said softly. “And I rather think I’ve given enough of myself to my family here for the time being. Surely you cannot question my loyalty?”
    “Clearly not,” she retorted dryly. “Drink. You insult me with your hesitation.”
    I flushed despite myself. “Your pardon, Highness.” I paused a moment longer and took a sip. It went down easy enough, whatever it was. Not quite water, not alcoholic, but with a hint of lavender. Perhaps it truly was nothing more than a healing brew.
    Her smile disappeared abruptly. “I think . . . that I would very much like you to stay here. In fact, I insist on it, Abby Sinclair. You will not remove yourself past the boundaries of Faerie until I release you.”
    I blinked, the truth of her words vibrating into my bones, an echoing mockery of a TouchStone Contract. “What have you done?” I whispered, letting the goblet drop to the floor. It shattered into pieces, the carved stonework scattering over the wooden floor.
    “It’s a geas,” Phineas said grimly from the bed. He’d jerked upright at the noise, his nose quivering.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” I glared at the unicorn, my arms shaking with the need to lash out. “If you knew it was a geas, why didn’t you stop me from drinking?”
    He glanced over at me, the nub of his horn barely peeking out from the tangled mess of his forelock. “We’re not TouchStoned anymore, Abby. We lost that when you . . . died. I don’t sense things about you as well without it.” His tail lashed around his hocks like a cat and he let out a weary sigh. “And it wasn’t the drink that did it directly. You’ll notice she drank it too?”
    My brow furrowed. What had Talivar said about enchanted food?
    “Intent . . .” I muttered. “It wasn’t the drink—it was the intent behind it. I’m a fucking idiot.”
    “The beast speaks the truth,” the Queen said simply, placing her own goblet on the windowsill. “And so do you, it would seem.”
    “You poisoned me in your own house? Doesn’t that smack of some sort of guest-friendship treachery?” My mind continued to whirl. “And what do you mean I can’t leave?”
    Her upper lip curled in disdain. “Just as I said. Youwill not be able to step onto the CrossRoads without my permission. In fact, you will not even be able to attempt it without severe . . . discomfort.” Her brows arched as though she was contemplating several possibilities. And enjoying them all.
    “As to why?” She shook her head, the blond curls cascading down her neck. “I am not an idiot. I know very well what my children have planned and I will not give up my throne simply because they think I’m ill.” She leaned forward so that our noses nearly touched and I could see the madness still lurking deep within her gaze. “I have far too much invested here to throw it all away. You’re too rare an asset for me to let you leave, KeyStone,” she hissed. “And if you can’t leave, then neither will my son. Keep a bitch in the kitchens and the dogs will continue to sniff for her, as they say.”
    “Not if the dog has any balls,” Talivar said mildly from the doorway. A glimpse at his face told a much different story. His good eye burned with fury.
    She met his gaze, impassive. “Then I guess I don’t have much to worry about.”
    The prince’s head jerked as though he’d been slapped, and for a moment I could see the similarity in the arch of their brows and the set of their jaws.
    “Don’t you?” He strode past her, his presence filling the room with a regal righteousness to match her own. “You’ve gone too far,” he snapped. “Abby helped save your life! Offered herself up to save mine . . . to save our kingdom, and instead of focusing on the