A Sliver of Shadow Read Free

happy enough to take the night shift, but when the infant had sprouted wings a few days ago, the prince had decided it was worth the risk of leaving us behind to tell his sister directly.
    Regardless of what Moira had told me, the knowledge of who was Benjamin’s father wasn’t for public consumption, but feathers would be hard to hide for too long.
    Benjamin began to whimper. The bottle was nearly warm now, so I shushed him until it was the right temperature. I retreated into the living room, and curled up on the sofa. He smacked his lips at the sight of the bottle and suckled greedily. “Better be careful,” I warned him. “Keep eating like this and you’ll be too heavy to fly.”
    If he heard my words, he ignored them, eyes closing in contentment. “Silly boy,” I murmured, shifting him so that he was crooked in my elbow. Now that his needs were fully taken care of, I blinked sleepily myself, my gritty eyes burning. “Not yet. Gotta get you all tucked in first, eh?” I glanced down at the pile of loose papers on the coffee table and turned the lamp to its dimmest setting, grabbing the top few sheets.
    Might as well try to get some work in.
    Dear Abby…
    I rolled my eyes. Just my luck to be stuck with the same name as the columnist. I couldn’t recall exactly when the first letters started showing up, but shortly after the whole Maurice debacle, I began to find them. At first, they’d berandomly slipped under the door of the Midnight Marketplace, or even sometimes at the Pit, the used bookstore where I worked. I wasn’t foolish enough to think the letters were meant for me. Not really.
    Moira was the Protectorate of Portsmyth. Part of her job was to oversee disputes and issues of the OtherFolk living here. As her mortal TouchStone, I was simply a conduit to possibly getting her attention faster.
    But as I tentatively began to read the letters, Moira decided I could use the practice and allowed me to try to answer. Like a floodgate opening, they started showing up on my pillow, in my bathroom, taped to the fridge. I drew the line when I found the one in my underwear drawer.
    Or really, Phineas blew a gasket.
    “I don’t mind you having your hobbies,” he’d exploded at me that morning, “but goddamn if you could keep them out of your lingerie?”
    Even aside from the fact that he wasn’t actually supposed to be in my underwear drawer either, this was one time I agreed with him.
    I formally set up a separate address at the Marketplace, with occasional diversions to the Hallows, and made it clear that any letters showing up in my sheets were going to be burned.
    Still, the flow kept on here and there; how useful my answers were was up for debate.
    I was hoping you could settle a little issue between me and this ghost I’m living with.
    “Not bloody likely.”
    I’m a brownie, and I used to work for Mr. Jefferson. Now, technically, brownies work until theirchosen masters pass on and then we are set free. But in this case, Mr. Jefferson did not fully move into the light and his ghost haunts the place and refuses to let me go …
    I groaned, placing the letter on the cushion beside me. I hated these kinds of questions. Not as much as the TouchStone or the star-crossed lover ones, but without knowing both sides of the story, how was I supposed to answer this?
    Even if I meant well, there was no telling what the repercussions would be if I gave them the wrong advice. “Have to find a ghost whisperer, Benjamin.” Benjamin’s jaw was slack now, the nipple hanging off his lower lip, milk in the corners of his mouth. “All right, little man. Back to bed with you. And Auntie,” I amended as the front door creaked open.
    “Here, I’ll take him.” Talivar emerged from the darkness with a quiet grace. The elven prince-cum-bodyguard had finally relaxed his rather minimal dress code of tunics and torcs a few months ago, even as he had relaxed his vigilance.
    With a little shopping help from me, he had taken