Page 22 of The Cursed Kingdom

“With my hand,” he clarifies. “Are humans usually this crass?”

I shrug. “Some of us are.”

I’m okay being crass if it prevents me from being taken advantage of.

Samuel shakes his head, still waiting for my answer, and I think it over before giving a curt nod. I’m not in a position to turn down food and answers, and the gloves will be helpful if they prevent this conversation from happening with anybody else in the future.

“I can do dinner,” I say. “But I can’t stay for long.”

Samuel grins, looking awfully pleased with himself, before stepping to the side and gesturing for me to walk alongside him.

Chapter Eight

ABBY

SAMUEL LEADS ME down the street and around the corner.

It opens to a larger square, and I eye a white, rounded building that stands several stories taller than the ones surrounding it. Narrow, arched windows cover each surface, but it’s the pointed blue roof that captures my attention.

A bell tower. Cute.

Samuel leads me past it and around another corner, this one narrow like the one where we met. Stone and brick houses are on either side of me, and I hate how loud my footfalls are against the cobblestone.

The town is eerily quiet.

“Where is everybody?” I can’t help but ask.

Samuel peers at me over his shoulder. “It’s mealtime. I imagine most have retired to eat with their families, but the streets will be busy again soon enough.”

I hum. “Why wereyouout?”

“I lost track of time,” he admits. “I was leaving to get food, so this is convenient.”

Samuel stops before a pair of dark, wooden doors and pulls them open. Quiet piano music pours out from inside, and I’m relieved when Samuel enters first. I wasn’t going to volunteer to be the first to step inside the dim, spooky building.

The interior is dark, and it takes my eyes a brief moment to adjust. The magic swirling through the air stands out more in the dim lighting, the tiny specks reflecting the light pouring down from the ceiling.

Despite the many differences between our realms, I recognize this place as a restaurant. There’s a host desk directly in front of the doors, and beside it is a slim faerie with long, bushy eyebrows and gray, linen clothing. Behind him are several rows of booths. Tall privacy walls separate each eating area, so I can only make out the corners of tables and the occasional elbow.

The privacy, coupled with the dim lighting, gives this place an intimate feel.

My heart pounds, and I practically hide behind Samuel as he approaches the host. I want to stay out of sight until I have a better grasp of this world.

“Table for two,” Samuel says.

I look up, trying to pinpoint the lights, but the entire ceiling glows a deep-amber haze. It’s beautiful, and I want it for my bedroom.

The host steps out from behind his booth, and I nervously grab my backpack straps as I look him over. He’s got the same blond-white hair and violet eyes as Samuel, and I find myself holding my breath as his gaze falls on me.

His expression remains neutral, showing no emotion as he scans me from head to toe. I slide my hands behind my back, hiding them from view, and I relax only when he turns and walks down one of the aisles. Samuel and I follow, and it takes every bit of strength I have not to peek at the eating faeries we pass. I want to gawk at them so badly, but that’ll only invite them to look at me in return.

The host stops in front of a small, empty booth and steps aside, and Samuel and I quietly lower ourselves into the seats on opposite ends of the table.

I expect the host to say something, maybe that our server will be with us in a moment, but he simply spins around and walks away. I watch him disappear before turning back to Samuel.

He’s the first to speak. “You never told me your name.”

I know I haven’t, and I’ve been avoiding doing so.

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