Page 22 of The Endless Dance

“Thousands of years,” Pixel replies as she studies her nails.

I slam my hands against my thighs, making Pixel jolt, and quickly stand.

“Right, that’s enough talk on that.” My mind was buzzing, flickering from the seemingly young, cocky, and far too attractive Draekoh, to my not-so-human mother, who might live for over a thousand years! “I need to get out of this room. It’s becoming claustrophobic.” Ironic, due to the size of the damn place. “Care to show me around the castle? And, perhaps, the city?”

Pixel squeals. “Oh, it would be my pleasure! There are so many places I need to show you!”

Chapter Ten

The guards standing watch over the Lords’ wing of the house, some male this time, barely blink as we pass. Surprised, I keep my steps quick in case they remember who I am and that I am likely not supposed to leave my rooms. Surely the High Lord had set some rule in place to restrict my movements?

I decide not to worry too much about it. Pixel quickly keeps my mind occupied, anyway, what with her relentless chatter as she shows me around the castle. By noon, my legs are aching, my stomach is gurgling, my eyes are drooping, and I want nothing more than to return to my rooms and eat a hefty lunch on the balcony.

Pixel picks up on my exhaustion and flutters in front of my face.

“How about we pause for lunch? There is a pub just past the castle gates that serves the most amazing food I have ever tasted.”

I agree readily, hoping that this so-called pub serves human-sized meals as well as pixie serves. I barely register the fact that she said the pub is outside of the castle grounds until we are passing by a dozen vigilant guards standing by an open, golden gate delicately woven into a pattern that looked awfully like a coral reef.

I avert my eyes quickly, fully expecting the lot of them to jump into action and stop me from leaving. But they don’t. I am a hundred yards away and approaching a loud, open building, which could only be the pub, when my shoulders finally relax.

“Are you ok?” Pixel asks, head tilted curiously.

“Of course,” I tell her. “I just wasn’t sure the High Lord would actually let me leave, is all.”

“Oh,” Pixel giggles and waves an offhand gesture by her tiny nose. “You wouldn’t get far if you were to run.”

I humph grouchily and instantly want to prove her wrong, but, remembering how easily the High Lord tracked me during the Hunt, I reluctantly agree with her.

The pub, as it turns out, is not pixie-sized. I try not to openly gape as I spy dozens of unfamiliar creatures dining and drinking in what I could only describe as a very human-like, well, pub. I am even more surprised when I spy the menu: surf and turf, chicken parmigiana, and pizza?

“Why do I feel as though we’ve gone back to my world?” I ask, wincing as I spy a particularly funky-looking fellow with a bloodied red hood shadowing his face, just as the words leave my mouth.

“Oh, the Barrier Reef is human-owned,” Pixels says happily.

I nod, because of course it is. Even the name was a human one, and, if my ears were not deceiving me, the band was even playing a familiar, if not outdated, song.

We find an empty seat at the bar, or I do at least. Pixel whistles sharply and, before I know it, a tiny, pixie-sized coconut lounge is settled in front of me by the busy barmaid, who doesn’t even pause to hear Pixel’s thanks before bustling off to serve the next creature.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Pixel asks, reclining in her very comfortable-looking seat.

“So neat,” I agree, eyes wandering around the room.

I grin when I spot a games room of sorts off to one side, filled not only with a couple of pool tables and a dartboard, but old school video games you would find in a retro arcade centre. I was so versing Pixel in some Tekken or Space Invaders later. But first, food.

As if reading my mind, someone slaps a menu on the bar before me and a friendly voice asks, “What can I do yer for?”

The middle-aged woman behind the bar looks hard as hell with her many facial piercings, hair buzzed to the scalp on one side and a studded leather choker around her neck, but her eyes are kind, if not tired.

“Oh, hello, ah,” I quickly read the menu, but I already knew what I wanted. “One chicken parmigiana, please. And, uh, do you do lemon, lime and bitters?” I wince.

The woman laughs. “Of course we do. An’ for yer?”

Pixel orders, and as the bartender jots it down, my stomach sinks.

“Ah, Pixel, I don’t have any money.”

The bartender’s eyes thin and she puts the pen down. “No money, yer say? Yer better get off yer high horse, sweety, an’ walk straight back out that door. Plenty of paying customers waiting for yer seat.”