Page 57 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“We just ride it up,” Graves said. “I’ve never had trouble with it.”

“You were the one to convince me that the market is out to get me. And I’ve learned my lesson,” she said as they headed toward the line. “A chase, getting stabbed, the negotiations…I got the message.”

Their group got behind a mer, who was talking animatedly to a wraith in swift Mandarin. The line moved at a glacial pace. The elevator was large and jammed full every time, and still somehow it took forever for them to reach the front.

“Fruit?” a goblin asked once they were next in line.

Kierse held up her coin and held her breath. The goblin scoffed and moved on to the group of humans behind them. Kierse released a harsh breath, taking pains to ignore the pornographic sounds of the humans enjoying the fruit at her back.

Finally, the elevator came back to their floor and opened for them, and they followed the mer inside. Kierse ended up against the far wall with Graves and Niamh at her sides as, just like before, more and more people were shoved into the cramped space. Until humans were digging elbows into her stomach, stomping on her feet, and she could smell the fruit’s tangy sweetness mingled with body odor. A man in front of her looked half ready to pass out as the heat rose precipitously, but still the juice splashed down his white tank top, all over his hands and mouth, as if he physically couldn’t stop himself from devouring the stuff.

When she thought it couldn’t get any fuller, the goblins pushed a few more into the knot of bodies, shoving them with all their might and constricting the last vestiges of airout of the place as the doors were closing. A man screamed as the door smashed on his shoulder. The scent of blood filled the already disgusting elevator as the guy was given one more shove and the doors finally snapped shut.

“The fruit,” a girl said to Kierse’s side. Her teeth were tinged purple and juice dribbled down her chin. “Heaven sent.”

“Heaven,” Kierse said disbelievingly. “Not what I’d go with.”

“Don’t engage,” Graves told her. He was looking at the ceiling and seemed to be holding his breath.

Niamh looked jovially around as if she might start leading everyone in a rousing chorus of show tunes. Nothing seemed to keep down her good humor.

But the girl was still looking at Kierse, and now her glazed eyes looked mad. “Heaven sent!” she snarled and then shoved the piece of fruit at Kierse’s face.

Kierse clamped her mouth shut on a scream as she batted the girl’s hand away, but the girl was all bones, and something snapped in her wrist when Kierse hit her. The girl wailed as the fruit went flying into the mass of bodies and several hands grasped for it eagerly.

A smear of it ran down the side of Kierse’s face, from temple to jaw.

“Get it off. Get it off!” Kierse cried. Her breaths were coming out fast and quick, and with how little oxygen there was in the elevator, she thought she might hyperventilate.

Graves produced a handkerchief from his pocket. His gloved hand held her jaw and turned her face toward him. “Eyes on me.”

She looked deep into those storm eyes. Calm settledaround her as he gently wiped away all traces of the juice.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You didn’t get any in your mouth or eyes.”

She nodded, but she was still trembling under his touch when the elevator dinged open and the crush of bodies disgorged into the street. Only when she was out of the elevator did she double over and take deep, heaving breaths.

“This place…is trying to kill me,” she said.

“Yes,” Graves agreed. “Now straighten up. We have business to attend to.”

Kierse released the last of her fear. Dying by goblin fruit had been a particularly acute one since her earliest days, but she couldn’t show that fear any more than she already had. She let out one more breath and then faced this new section of the market.

Having never left New York until five months ago, it felt as if she had stepped into the future. The Shanghai market streets were loud and busy and tiered with vendors hawking their wares in several dialects of Chinese as well as English. The glowing signs were written all in Chinese characters, with a handful showing the translation in various languages underneath. Everything was fast-paced and exciting, bright and beautiful.

“The streets are named the same as downtown Shanghai,” Graves explained. “East-west streets are named after Chinese cities and north-south are named after provinces and regions. Xinjiang will take us north.”

He shouldered into the mix, and they pushed through the crowd of onlookers surrounding a phoenix who was demonstrating his fire abilities as he cooked traditional street food. Considering the line he had around the block,he wasn’t doing bad for himself. She might even try one of his little dumplings if she didn’t suspect that everything in the market was laced with goblin fruit.

Her hackles were raised after the terrible ordeal they’d had on the last two levels, but no one looked their way as they disappeared into ever-darkening and narrower streets. It was eerily silent by the time they found Xinjiang Road. The neon signs disappeared in the background as they entered a dingy street with clotheslines bridging the windows. A sign forRizz’s Odditieswas written under a sign in Mandarin that flickered in once-bright neon green. Inside, a baby was screaming at the top of its lungs. Kierse furrowed her brow, wondering if this could possibly be the right place and what sort of trap Rio had led them into.

They scouted the rest of the street just to be sure nothing was going to come at them from behind, but all seemed ordinary. For some reason, completely unrelated to the events of the evening, that made her nervous. Still, finding the bookkeeper had been the hard part. She had endured the crushing elevator fiasco. It was time for the payoff.

Graves knocked on the door. The shrill cry of a baby intensified, and a moment later, a haggard goblin woman opened it suspiciously, speaking in Mandarin. She was holding the baby in question, and the little thing’s mouth was wide open in a prolonged wail. She looked half ready to curse them out—or perhaps she already was. Kierse didn’t speak Mandarin.

Of course, Graves did…for the most part. He answered her haltingly as if it had been a while since he’d used the language, or he’d learned a similar but not exactly this dialect.

The woman immediately switched to English. “Here for Rizz?”

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