The connectivity circle kept spinning.
Of course. Bears, exile, and no internet connection.
Perfect. Sounds like a regular modern fairy tale.
The interruption of a car horn brought him back to attention, a green traffic light lit above him. Arran sent a glance over his shoulder and pulled the car into a nearby parking spot to give himself time to gather his bearings.
Last time he checked the GPS, he was about twenty minutes from Ellie’s house.
His attention shifted to his phone. He could text her for directions.
He groaned and pressed his head back against the headrest. Having to contact her for directions sent a double sting to his pride. For one, she was his little sister, and second, he revolted against asking for helpagain. After all, he’d be spending the next two months with her and her husband in all their happy honeymoon afterglow.
He cringed at the very idea. The last thing he wanted was to prove himself more inept than his sister or brother-in-law already thought he was.
A flicker of light to his right pulled his focus to a blinking sign in a nearby window reading “Murphy’s Brew.” The warm glow of welcome tugged his interest.
He glanced at the GPS.
Asking a local for directions should be simple enough, right? Less painful on the pride in this particular situation.
After a moment’s hesitation, he killed the engine and unfolded from the car.
A quick drink, an easy conversation, and he’d be back on the road with directions in a quarter of an hour or less.
Simple.
He pushed open the door of the bar and found the atmosphere not too different from a Skymarian village pub. Dimly lit, the space offered a blur of activity, from billiards on one side to darts on the other. Combating aromas of perfumes and colognes mingled with the hints of savory dishes.
A responsive growl erupted from Arran’s stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since flying out of Skymar early that morning.
The idea of Luke’s steak sounded better and better.
A burly man stood behind the counter, his full beard and flannel shirt giving off a similar vibe as the Scots in the northern mountains of home. “You look a little lost, stranger.”
“A stranger, yes.” Arran took a seat on an empty stool, unfurling his grin. “Lost? Not anymore. I was hoping to find a place like this one for a brief respite and a bit of direction.”
“Respite?” The man’s dark brow rose along with one corner of his mouth. “Sounds like you came a long way to stumble into my door.” The man leaned an elbow onto the counter and studied Arran through narrowed eyes. “Tourist?”
Arran hesitated at the man’s unreadable expression. Did the bartender have something against tourists? “I’m actually here to visit my sister.” He unleashed a broad smile. “You may have heard of her. Princess Elliana St. Clare?”
So much for keeping to anonymity.
“Nope.” The man gave a shake of his head before stretching back to stand upright. “Can’t say we have much use for princesses around here.” The man shared a smile with a nearby woman. “Now, if you were related to Andy Griffith or some famous sports player, that’d be different.”
The smile slid from Arran’s face, a sudden... discomfort squeezing in his chest. Even when he preferred anonymity at times, someonealwaysrecognized him. They had his entire life.
Prince Arran. Fourth child of King Aleksander and Queen Gabriella of Skymar. Fun-loving, formerly contentious, playboy royal. On the arm of the rich and famous.
Who else was he?
He stumbled around in his head for a response to this new epiphany. Did he even know anymore?
“My... my sister married a local. Luke Edgewood?”
The man’s gaze darted to Arran. “Luke Edgewood?”
Arran’s body tensed. “Yes?”
