“I don’t think so, my friend.” I round the corner of the opera house and pause to open my bag all the way. Laughing tourists pass by and pay me no heed. I smile down at Podaxis. “I’m going to need your help on this one.”
He snaps his pincers. “What if I say no?”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
I wink. “Because you never do in the end and you’re my best friend. Now, come. It will be easy! You know what to do.”
“You always pull the best-friend card at the most inopportune times.” He sighs, yet despite his protests, he begins to climb out of my satchel. I help him the rest of the way and set him at my feet. With a yelp, he scurries closer to the building and away from the pounding footsteps of those who walk by. He gets a few curious looks, but no one stares too long. Spotting fae creatures on the streets of Lumenas is unremarkable, even though Podaxis isn’t the most common type of fae found in the Star Court. He’s a fungus sprite, the size of a small terrier with a crablike body, red pincers, and a mossy green carapace sprouting numerous oddly shaped mushrooms. His kind tends to dwell in courts that host dark, wet, or warm climates. The Star Court is hospitable enough for him, but its mild weather and entirely average climate rarely draw his kind away from more favorable courts like Lunar, Earthen, and Fire.
“Ready?” I ask.
“No,” he mutters in reply but raises his pincers.
With a deep breath, I tug my cap lower over my forehead, ensuring any errant strands of my short pink hair are tucked safely beneath its brim. Podaxis and I take off, he toward the coach-and-four, I toward the chatting crowd. I lose sight of Podaxis as I brush past the group, keeping to the opposite side closest to the opera house. A whinny sounds, followed by the clatter of horse hooves.
“What is that?” The woman with the hair ornament gasps, and the group turns toward the commotion. The two horses at the fore of the parked coach try to rear up. The woman takes a step back…toward me. With a spin, I reach up and lift the comb from the back of her head and slide it into my pocket.
I nearly chuckle out loud. So easy.
At the back of the coach, Podaxis scurries from underneath it. That’s where we meet. I swoop down to lift him and hazard a glance back at the crowd. They’re still distracted by the startled horses. “You did great,” I whisper, hugging him to my chest. Despite my confidence, I know better than to linger long enough to let him back into my satchel. Not until after we round the next corner on Fourth. Away from the jail looming across the street.
“That was humiliating.”
“But it worked. I told you—”
“My hair comb! George, have you seen it?”
My heart leaps into my throat, but I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. Fourth Avenue is a mere dozen feet away. After that—
“You there! Boy!” a man’s voice shouts behind me.
“Shells,” I mutter, quickening my pace. But already I hear the slap of fine shoes on the sidewalk.
“Pearl.” Podaxis’ voice raises an octave.
“I know, I know.” My feet are eager to break into a run, but I force myself to stay calm. Act natural. Finally, I turn down Fourth…
And nearly collide with two people rounding the corner at the same time. One glance at their starched mustard-yellow jackets and black bell-shaped helmets marks them as city patrol officers. I lurch back and to the side, almost tripping over my feet. “Watch yourself,” one says with a scoff. He’s fae with brown skin and enormous curling horns on each side of his helmet. The female officer next to him looks like a sylph, with her blue skin and hair. Sylphs might be pretty and slender, but they are known to be masters of the sword. And I see one at her hip.
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to make my voice sound lower than it really is. Even though the officers are fae like me, I’ll get no favors from them if they look inside my satchel. Or pockets.
The sylph starts to step to the side to let me pass when a voice booms out behind me. “Boy!”
The officers narrow their eyes at me. I glance to the side and see one of the men from the crowd stomping up the sidewalk. Behind him trails the woman I lifted the comb from. Her eyes widen when she sees what’s clasped to my chest. “That’s the creature that startled the horses.”
“I’ll wager fifty citrine chips that the boy is a thief,” the man says.
“Shells,” I curse under my breath and retreat toward the nearest building.
The patrol officers don’t let me get more than two steps before they close in. “Empty your bag and pockets,” the male officer demands as he reaches for me.
I take another step closer to the building.
Then I close my eyes.
And disappear.
