More and more conveyances surrounded them as buildings crowded closer together, until they reached a large city, with many houses, vehicles, and people everywhere.
Ben slowed as they left the road, which had widened into many of the striped divisions, and went down a narrower lane. The sun had reached its zenith, the air hot and sticky.
The bike inched over a bump into a place where many vehicles sat silently. Ben slid the motorcycle to a halt and turned off its engine. The roar died, but Rhianne thought she’d have a ringing in her ears for a long time.
Ben gestured for Rhianne to climb off first, which Rhianne attempted to do, hopping on her left foot that hit the ground until Ben grasped her ankle and helped her pull her right leg over the seat. The twinkle in his eyes told her she amused him.
Rhianne unfastened the helmet and pried it from her head. “Where are we?”
Ben swung off the bike and hung the helmet from the seat. He spread his arms. “New Orleans, baby. Welcome to The Big Easy.”
Chapter Six
Rhianne wasn’t certain why Ben assigned the phrase The Big Easy to the city, but she admitted he showed her a wonder.
They left the motorcycle behind and moved on foot through narrow streets teeming with people, far more than she’d see gathered in one place in Faerie. Rain began as they walked, but no one seemed to mind. It pattered down lightly then drifted off.
The number of shops amazed her. Ben took her first to find shoes—she walked into a room full of them in all shapes and colors. Rhianne rarely paid much attention to her footwear. She had boots made for comfortable walking and slippers for the occasional ball she attended, and those were enough. Now her eyes were opened to the possibilities.
Ben lounged on a chair with another man who had come in with his girlfriend. Soon Ben was conversing with him, coaxing laughs from the man.
The young woman with bright eyes and an eager smile who waited on Rhianne bubbled with enthusiasm that Rhianne soon caught. There was something refreshing about examining the shoes and trying on each pair, then surveying herself in the mirror the saleswoman ushered her toward.
Rhianne thought she looked very odd. The leather leggings hugged her calves, and the blue tunic flowed over her thighs. She had no cloak, hood, or fur-lined boots, and her single thick braid hung loose, when she usually pinned up her hair in a looped style. She felt open and exposed without her many layers of clothing. At the same time, she appeared to be … cute. Fun. Playful. Everything Rhianne, the dignified Tuil Erdannan, was not.
“How about these?” The saleswoman returned with her hands full of hot pink straps. “They’re adorable, but wanna know a secret? They’re so comfortable.”
She said it as though comfort was a shameful thing. Rhianne slid on the shoes with the young woman’s help. The heels were higher than Rhianne was used to, but the straps formed a pleasing design on her foot and matched the glittery stripe on her pants. They were, as claimed, surprisingly comfortable.
“I have two pairs,” the young woman whispered to Rhianne in confidence.
“Then I, too, will have two pairs,” Rhianne announced.
“Sure thing, honey. Tell you what, you wear those out of here, and I’ll bag up the boxes. I’ll take you right over here.”
The young woman led her to a long counter with small machines on it. “That’s one seventy-five thirty-three for both. A bargain, right?”
Before Rhianne could ask, one, seventy-five, and thirty-three what? Ben was beside her. He handed the young woman a plastic rectangle, and the young woman snatched it from him, slanting Rhianne a knowing look.
“Lucky you,” the young woman said admiringly. “Shoes and a good-looking guy to put them on his credit card.” She laughed as she slid the card through a slot on the machine.
Ben flushed as the young woman returned the card, giving him a wink. Liam had made the same signal. People in this world liked to gesture with their eyelids.
“Here you go, honey.” The young woman slid a bag across the counter, not to Rhianne, but to Ben. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said to Rhianne. “Y’all come back anytime.”
Rhianne nodded her appreciation and said good-bye. Ben led the way out of the store, he giving a wave to the man he’d been chatting with.
“I never thought the goblins were a servant race,” Rhianne said in perplexity as she and Ben strode down the street past more stores with colorful and unusual wares in their windows.
In the human world, it seemed, the merchants made certain everyone passing knew exactly what was on offer inside their shops. In her part of Faerie, merchants kept their houses plain, with only a modest sign above a narrow door to indicate what they sold. One knocked and inquired if they had the thing one wanted.
“What?” Ben glanced at her. “Ah.” He hefted the bag from the shoe store. “This is called being gallant. A lady shouldn’t have to carry her own parcels or pay for her own shoes. You’re my guest.”
“Oh.” Rhianne regarded him in confusion as pleasure crept through her.
She studied his solid body, lined with interesting tattoos, his hard face, his shorn black hair. People melted out of his way, but he was in no way gruff with them. He nodded at strangers as they passed, or said, “’Sup?” in a cheerful tone. Whatever that meant.
Ben did not possess the radiant handsomeness of the Tuil Erdannan nor the arrogant good looks of the hoch alfar or dokk alfar. Those of Faerie might even consider him ugly.
Rhianne had seen his other guise, only in a flash, when he’d rescued her. His human form was far more pleasant than that one, though she’d never find Ben ugly. He’d stormed into the fortress and taken her out, which would make him forever beautiful in her eyes.
Take care of him, Tiger had told her. He is the last warrior.
Last warrior for what?
Ben caught her hand and dragged her into the dim coolness of a building with a colorful façade and open doorway. “’Sup, Holly?” he said to the young woman at a podium, who had skin as dark as a dokk alfar’s and beautiful brown eyes. This town seemed to be full of lovely young women.
“Ben.” Holly stepped from behind the podium and hugged him. “Long time. Where’ve you been?”
“Oh, around. Busy. You have a table for two?”
“For you? Anytime.” The woman peered with frank curiosity at Rhianne, grabbed two giant cards, and led them at a fast pace across a floor crowded with tables and people.
When they reached an empty table near a window, Ben held out a chair for Rhianne, to Holly’s great interest. Ben settled Rhianne, as he had on the porch swing, before taking his own seat.
“They have the best shrimp gumbo here,” Ben announced.
“We sure do,” Holly said. “If you want authentic New Orleans food, this is the place. The menu is small, but that’s because everything is just right.” She laughed as she laid the cards in front of Rhianne and Ben, then sashayed away. Her tight dress emphasized her very curvy curves.
Rhianne leaned to him. “What is shrimp gumbo?” She paused. “What is shrimp?”
“Little critters that walk along the bottom of the sea. You put them in a kettle with sausage, bell peppers, and spices, and they sing to you.”