Page 17 of Until the Stars Fall

Mr. Pruitt had been hired as the carriage driver and horse master after my father died. He appeared to be around the same age as Mrs. Bishop and was just as pleasant to be around. As I approached, he touched the brim of his cap and pulled open the door. While he offered me his hand to help me inside, he asked, “So where are we headed, Miss Berg?”

“The Garrison Tavern at Engle,” I said, noticing how his eyes tightened briefly.

“It’s none of my business, of course, but you aren’t planning to stay in Engle, are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

He shifted nervously. “The towns are growing less and less safe for humans, is all.”

I swallowed around my growing nerves and smiled as best I could, placing my hand on his arm. “No need to worry. I’ll be meeting friends of my mother’s there.”A slight pang of guilt twisted in my chest at having to lie to this kind fae, but to be fair, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I arrived. I was to go to the tavern and ask for a Mr. Marstens, who would somehow put me in touch with my family.

“Very well then,” Mr. Pruitt said, nodding. “We should arrive in a couple hours. Not too far from here at least.”

The journey might as well have been twice as long with how exhausted I was by the time we arrived that evening. While I had planned to take the time to rest and prepare myself for whatever awaited me, I instead spent the entirety of the ride with my worries festering in my uneasy gut. When Mr. Pruitt finally opened the door, I took as deep a breath as I could, grabbed his hand, and stepped out.

My mouth fell open.

“First time away from the palace?” Mr. Pruitt whispered as he handed me my bag.

I managed to snap my mouth closed before nodding quickly. Even if Mother hadn’t forbidden me from leaving the palace grounds, I would never have considered venturing outside the gates anyway, as I’d had no need to. I had seen illustrations of towns before, of course, but seeing one with my own eyes was another story entirely.

The buildings—homes and businesses alike—lined the wide street on either side. They might not have been as grand or regal as the palace, but they fascinated me all the same, with their steep-pitched roofs, colorful doors, and round windows. The tavern sat between an inn and a bakery. Even at this late hour, the aroma of freshly baked bread floated on the air along with the faint sounds of conversation and laughter.

Mr. Pruitt gestured to the tavern with a toss of his hand. “Would you like me to accompany you inside?”

“If you would? At least until I get in touch with this Marstens character. I don’t want to keep you too long.”

“It’s no trouble, miss,” he said, then led the way down the neatly paved walkway to the bright green door of the tavern. A torrent of sound rushed at me when he pulled the door open, but it quieted as soon as I stepped inside. All eyes turned toward me, and my breath snagged on the fear rising in my throat.

Mr. Pruitt tucked my hand under his arm and guided me to the bar. The room filled with murmurs and whispers, which I tried my best to ignore. There were several empty stools at the bar, and we settled ourselves onto two at the end. The bartender strode over to us, fixing a suspicious eye on me.

“Don’t get many humans around here these days,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the quiet room. “What brings you to our humble village?”

This fae seemed to be close to the king’s age, with faint traces of gray in his dark hair. The rough stubble gracing his jaw gave him a rugged appeal.

I lifted my chin slightly. “Just passing through actually. But I am supposed to meet someone here.”

The male dropped his large hands, rough and calloused, to the bar and scoffed. “Oh? And who might that be?”

Mr. Pruitt stiffened beside me but remained silent. The whispers stopped. Somewhere behind me a chair scraped against the floor.

“Mr. Marstens,” I said. The bartender’s eyes narrowed as he studied me for a long moment, and then he barked out a laugh so loud I flinched. I cast a sidelong glance at the carriage driver beside me, but he only shrugged. The patrons behind us resumed their muttering. I turned back to the bartender, who now wore a crooked smile.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I should have known,” he said. His dark eyes seemed to gleam with recognition. “You look so much like Alora.”

“You knew my mother?”

He nodded, and then the light in his eyes dimmed and his smile faded. “I was sorry to hear of her passing. She was one of the good ones. As was your father.”

My throat tightened as grief swept in, but I managed to swallow around it. “Are you Mr. Marstens then?”

The fae dipped his stubbled chin and waved a hand in front of him. “Hugh Marstens, at your service.” Turning to Mr. Pruitt, he raised a brow. “And I assume you’re the…”

“Driver,” Pruitt offered.

“Ah, the royal coachman,” Mr. Marstens said, pursing his lips. A cloud passed over his eyes briefly. “Is Mrs. Bishop still at the palace?”

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