with persons of the lowest common denominator. He and his brother would have to avoid contact so they wouldn’t be recognized. The last thing he wanted was for the queen to know where they headed.
The one-eyed bartender plunked two chipped mugs in front of them filled with something resembling engine grease. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your quest?”
Steven’s heart tumbled. Of course James would lead them into a shady bar run by one of the Fae. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead.
James leaned forward, looked both ways, and lowered his voice. “We’re trying to get to Raleigh. Know anyone headed that way?”
Warning bells clanged in Steven’s head. What was James doing? Did he want everyone to know their destination? Maybe it was his sorrow—usually James was more careful than this.
“No, we’re not going to Raleigh, remember?” Steven hissed. “We’re going to … San Francisco.” It was the first city that popped into his head. “Yes, we need to get there as soon as possible—and we’re not the princes. I hear we resemble them a little. Is that true?”
James scowled over his cup of coffee. “I’d rather go to Raleigh or Atlanta.”
The bartender scanned the room, squinting with his good eye. “Wherever you’re going, I’m sure someone would be willing to assist you.” His one eye winked. “Even if you’re not the princes.”
Steven’s heart skipped a beat. Had his mother been circulating images of them or did they resemble her or their father so greatly there was no question? Whatever the reason, they’d have to tread carefully, lest anyone’s help be malicious—on their mother’s orders or otherwise.
The bartender waved at someone. A man with dark hair and a long black coat, who disconcertingly reminded him of Kevighn Silver, sauntered over. He looked cleaner than most of the bar’s current patrons but disingenuous nevertheless.
“Yes?” He put one hand on the bar, his middle finger glinting with a black ring.
The bartender smirked. “The boys need passage; make sure they get there in one piece.”
The man nodded, giving them a once-over that made Steven want to squirm.
Steven leapt to his feet, the need to flee overwhelming. He flung a coin on the counter. “Where I appreciate your kind offer, my brother and I must head out now,” he looked to James, jerking his chin toward the door. “Right?”
“I really don’t want to peel more potatoes.” James seemed oblivious to the ominous undercurrents of their situation.
Several other large men joined the first, all with sneers and leers plastered on their rough faces. They crowded around James and Steven, preventing their escape.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the first man cracked his knuckles, “there won’t be any potatoes.”
“Let us out! What do you want from us?” Steven shook the bars of the airship they’d been forced onto. There were no chairs in the cell and things of dubious origin covered the floor. The stench of the human condition surrounded him, making his eyes water.
The dark haired man appeared on the other side of the bars. “We are helping you.” Mischievousness dripped from his voice. “You’ll be there in no time.”
“Where?” James eyed him from his spot in the corner.
“You’ll see soon enough.” The man winked and left.
Steven hit his forehead against the bars in despair. “This is exactly why I wanted to avoid anyone from the Otherworld, James. Why I wanted to stick to reputable ships.” Frustration leaked into every syllable. “We only have a mortal month, who knows how much time we’ll be in here—or where they’ll leave us? They could hurt us or worse.”
James peered through his fingers and blinked. “Do you really think they’d do that?”
“Just look at them.” Sighing, he leaned against the bars, which looked cleaner than the wall. Desperation rooted him to the floor, making him wish it were cleaner so he could sink to it.
“This is
The one-eyed bartender plunked two chipped mugs in front of them filled with something resembling engine grease. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your quest?”
Steven’s heart tumbled. Of course James would lead them into a shady bar run by one of the Fae. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead.
James leaned forward, looked both ways, and lowered his voice. “We’re trying to get to Raleigh. Know anyone headed that way?”
Warning bells clanged in Steven’s head. What was James doing? Did he want everyone to know their destination? Maybe it was his sorrow—usually James was more careful than this.
“No, we’re not going to Raleigh, remember?” Steven hissed. “We’re going to … San Francisco.” It was the first city that popped into his head. “Yes, we need to get there as soon as possible—and we’re not the princes. I hear we resemble them a little. Is that true?”
James scowled over his cup of coffee. “I’d rather go to Raleigh or Atlanta.”
The bartender scanned the room, squinting with his good eye. “Wherever you’re going, I’m sure someone would be willing to assist you.” His one eye winked. “Even if you’re not the princes.”
Steven’s heart skipped a beat. Had his mother been circulating images of them or did they resemble her or their father so greatly there was no question? Whatever the reason, they’d have to tread carefully, lest anyone’s help be malicious—on their mother’s orders or otherwise.
The bartender waved at someone. A man with dark hair and a long black coat, who disconcertingly reminded him of Kevighn Silver, sauntered over. He looked cleaner than most of the bar’s current patrons but disingenuous nevertheless.
“Yes?” He put one hand on the bar, his middle finger glinting with a black ring.
The bartender smirked. “The boys need passage; make sure they get there in one piece.”
The man nodded, giving them a once-over that made Steven want to squirm.
Steven leapt to his feet, the need to flee overwhelming. He flung a coin on the counter. “Where I appreciate your kind offer, my brother and I must head out now,” he looked to James, jerking his chin toward the door. “Right?”
“I really don’t want to peel more potatoes.” James seemed oblivious to the ominous undercurrents of their situation.
Several other large men joined the first, all with sneers and leers plastered on their rough faces. They crowded around James and Steven, preventing their escape.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the first man cracked his knuckles, “there won’t be any potatoes.”
“Let us out! What do you want from us?” Steven shook the bars of the airship they’d been forced onto. There were no chairs in the cell and things of dubious origin covered the floor. The stench of the human condition surrounded him, making his eyes water.
The dark haired man appeared on the other side of the bars. “We are helping you.” Mischievousness dripped from his voice. “You’ll be there in no time.”
“Where?” James eyed him from his spot in the corner.
“You’ll see soon enough.” The man winked and left.
Steven hit his forehead against the bars in despair. “This is exactly why I wanted to avoid anyone from the Otherworld, James. Why I wanted to stick to reputable ships.” Frustration leaked into every syllable. “We only have a mortal month, who knows how much time we’ll be in here—or where they’ll leave us? They could hurt us or worse.”
James peered through his fingers and blinked. “Do you really think they’d do that?”
“Just look at them.” Sighing, he leaned against the bars, which looked cleaner than the wall. Desperation rooted him to the floor, making him wish it were cleaner so he could sink to it.
“This is
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