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A Royal Brew, Mystic Brews #10 ebook

A Royal Brew, Mystic Brews #10 ebook

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A Royal Invitation. A dead dwarf. Punkin at the Fae Royal Palace?

The Queen of the Fae is ready to officially name her daughter heir to the crown. It’s an event Ebrel can’t miss. Especially as it’s a chance to finally meet her aunt, the fae queen. But, with a liability like Punkin along, can Ebrel risk another unfortunate incident involving the fuzzbutt, his addiction to coffee beans, and the queen’s fancy dress?

That becomes the least of Ebrel and Elain’s worries when they find the queen’s minister of faerocks inspecting the gravel below the ministry’s balcony up close. Very much too close. 

And, a special visitor from St. Maurice, California is a very likely suspect in the minister’s unexpected plunge.

In addition to investigating the murder, Ebrel has to dodge a pesky Minister who insists on giving her etiquette lessons, while Punkin is sidelined in a way only Punkin could manage.

But, there’s a deeper mystery brewing than any of them suspect. Add in a handsome mysterious stranger that attracts Ebrel’s eye, and her world is definitely a royal mess.

Can Ebrel and the gang stop the plot from boiling over before another of the queen’s ministers perishes?

If you love mysteries with a dash of quirky characters, a dose of warped magic, and snarky humor, you’ll love Alyn Troy’s Mystic Brews Paranormal Cozy Mystery series.

Get your copy of A Royal Brew today.

A Peek Inside

“You don’t really want me to go, do you?” Punkin groused from his spot in my cat-carrier backpack.

“We do not turn down a royal invitation, especially one from my auntie.” I bent and grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and stepped onto the teleport gem in the closet outside our flat in Castle Raven. “And you were up all night watching old movies, instead of sleeping. You better not be crabby.”

“Those were documentaries on Egyptian mummies.” Punkin snorted. “I was trying to find out if there was a way I could un-embalm myself once your aunt sees me.”

“She’d not going to turn you into a mummy, silly.” I shook my head, and tried to repress a shudder. “Your quiet spell didn’t last and I could hear your shows when I tried to sleep. Unfortunately, I know way too much about how the Egyptians made their mummies.” 

A surge and sizzle of leprechaun magic later, I was in the upstairs room over Mystic Brews, the coffee and tea shop I co-owned with my other auntie.

“You know how evil that woman is. Look at me!”

“Seriously, I’ll stop looking at and listening to you if you keep this up.”

Elain, standing in the hallway, just chuckled. She had her own overnight bag, handle collapsed, case in hand, ready to carry down the stairs. “A familiar must accompany their witch to the royal palace. You have no choice.”

“But that woman said if I were ever in her presence again, she’d turn me into a newt.”

That made me laugh. “Really? A newt? Why not a toad?” 

“Too many damsels looking to kiss toads and free the unlucky souls from their transformation. The two creatures that are immune to kiss magic.” Punkin’s voice drifted deeper into the backpack, then cleared up as he popped up again. “Newts and cats. Neither one will have their enchantments broken by a simple smooch.”

“I can see why with kitties. Everyone is into kissing little cat heads.” I laughed, but then shook my own head. “Why not newts?”

“Would you kiss a newt?” Elain called from the main floor.

“Eww…” Nia’s groan echoed from the main area of the coffee shop. “Who’d want to go kissing Newt Brandybeer? He never brushes his teeth nor combs his hair.”

“See? Even the pixies know. Don’t kiss newts,” Punkin groused again and bumped against the side of the backpack. 

Nia smiled at me, but it dropped as I turned to look around the room. “He’s got his water cannon again, Ebrel.” 

Elain spun so she was behind me, spy reflexes too fast for me to follow.

“Hey! That’s my cannon. Give it back!”

Elain looked at the bright orange water pistol and shook her head. She slid it into her magical purse, which swallowed the water gun whole, without a bulge. She merely raised an eyebrow at his exhortation.

“Fat chance, Stinker!” I gave Elain a sly grin. Score one for the bestie and her awesome reflexes. 

“Don’t you be worrying about the café.” Nia pointed us towards the front door. “You go and meet your family. Me and the girls will take care of Misty Valley while you’re off being a princess.”

“Oh. Don’t remind me of that.” I felt my cheeks warm and go scarlet. Being a part of the Fae royal family wasn’t my idea. An idea not even on my radar a few years ago. “Life was simpler when I was a mundane.”

“You were never mundane, cariad.” Aunt Rose bustled out of the kitchen carrying a tray of scones. I took a deep breath of the aroma of the café. Coffee, caramel, flour, brown sugar. I always missed the aroma when I was out on a trip. 

Aunt Rose slid the tray onto the counter for the girls to take care of. “I’ll be along in a few days for the actual heir-naming ceremony on Sunday. Until then, you should have an enjoyable time.”

“The ceremony won’t be enjoyable?” I tented an eyebrow at Aunt Rose.

She chuckled. “Pomp and circumstance have their place. But you can relax for the next few days. Get to know your cousins. Meet my sister. She’s really sweet.”

“And can curse up a storm,” Elain said, mirth in her voice. “Both literally and figuratively. Let’s hope she’s in a good mood for our sea voyage.”

“I thought you said we were going to take a shortcut?”

Elain chuckled. “You’ll see. Come on. Let’s not keep Her Grace and your royal cousins waiting.”

After hugs with Nia, Mia, and Aunt Rose, Elain and I headed out and down one building.

“Welcome aboard, lass! And to you, Agent Elain.” Barti Ddu stood in his more formal pirate attire. An old British military coat, one with gold buttons, fancy lace winding up the sleeves, and white cuffs, was the simplest part of his outfit. He had a tricornered felt hat with a large green feather tucked under one arm. A pixie hovered near his left ear, then darted over to us and popped tall.

First Mate Izzy of the Royal Fortune grinned at us. “I can store your bags, miladies. The voyage won’t be long, but you’ll not be wanting to look after these on deck.”

“Voyage?” I glanced between Elain and Barti.

“Ye didnae tell her?” Barti looked at Elain, then barked out a laugh. “The first trip through the mists should be special. And there is only one other captain I’d trust to get Lady Ebrel there safe and sound.”

Elain chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to drink as much as Anne Bonny would insist on, just to get to the royal palace.”

“Aye to that,” Izzy said, popping pixie with our two bags and flying towards the swinging door that led into the common room. 

“Miladies. We shall sail once you’re on deck.” Barti bent in a bow, sweeping an arm out to indicate we should follow Izzy.

“Hang on.” Punkin kicked and spun in the backpack. I heard him opening flaps, unzipping zippers, and even a wooden drawer sliding open.

“What ever are you doing back there?” I peered over my shoulder but couldn’t see into the backpack.

“Even though I have to go see that woman, at least I get to be a pirate for a few hours.” Punkin popped up, leaning on my shoulder.

Elain laughed at the sight of my familiar. He had a bandana tied around his head, pointy brown cat ears peeking out of two slits in it. A blue-and-white-striped shirt and an eyepatch completed the look.

“Welcome aboard, Captain Fuzz,” Barti said, flashing me a wink.

“Don’t encourage him,” I said with an exasperated breath.

“Barti is helping me find a seventh rate to purchase.” Punkin ducked back into the carrier as Elain and I followed Izzy through Barti’s ship. Punkin reappeared a few seconds later, a card clenched between his front paws. “This one.”

The card had a fae pic of a beaten-up wooden sailing ship with two masts. “The Guppy?” I shook my head and pointed. “Are those holes in the side? Won’t it leak?”

“Got it at a bargain price. Now I just need to get the funds to have her made seaworthy.” 

“I’m sure my aunt will have something to say about you being in control of a pirate ship. Even one with holes like that.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell her. Were you?” He head-butted my cheek. 

“Depends on how much trouble you get into on this trip,” I muttered at the wannabe fuzzy captain, then turned to glare at the former pirate captain, now at the railing of his ship.

“Cast off, ye lot. We got to get Lady Ebrel to the isle,” Barti yelled to his crew, ignoring my stare.

“You’re helping Punkin buy a ship?”

“Aye. They don’t come much smaller than that.”

“A seventh rate? That sounds big!”

Barti chuckled. “The numbers go in reverse order. A first rate is the biggest. His is technically not even a rated ship. Smaller than a sixth rate, but still a ship the navy would post a captain to. They put the wet-behind-the-ears newly minted captains on them to see how they manage their crew.”

“You’re not lending him crew, are you?”

“No, but he’s already been trying to recruit. Got a gunner’s mate and a keeper of the powder.” Barti turned towards Izzy, who was standing full sized at the large wooden wheel. “Get us underway, Iz.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Guns?” I poked a finger at Barti’s chest. “Do you really want the Fuzzbutt out to sea with real guns?”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, lass.” Barti gave me a wink and a sly grin. “Me and Cap’n Bonny will keep him in line or call in Robert to chat with him.”

“You mean Admiral Maynard?” 

“Aye, and since the admiral is sharing bunks with Anne Bonny, Punkin has good reason to behave. A word from Robert in the right ear, and Anne Bonny will take great pleasure in putting a few extra holes in that little ship of his.”

“Well, I’m not going to sea with him.” I looked over at Elain. She leaned on the railing, watching the wharf pull away as Barti’s ship glided sideways. She just laughed.

I pointed to the wharf. “How do you get an old ship like this to move sideways?”

“Just like the new mundane ships, our screws, the propellers, are in a pod hanging off the bottom of the hull. It turns almost three hundred degrees. Got a mini cauldron up in the bow, right above the keel. It only goes side to side.” Barti grinned, letting his smile leak through his bushy beard. “Of course, once we hit the mists, we can only use our sails.”

“Sailing the old-fashioned way?”

“Aye,” Barti turned to the front of his ship. “You lot. Look alive. Get ready to drop our sails. When the demons go to sleep, we need to keep moving.”

I leaned on the railing next to Elain. “Demons go to sleep?”

“Where we’re going they do.” Barti chuckled. “But only at sea. Too many ley lines on the island or some such. I leave the demons to you Dymestls, even on Avalon.”

“Avalon? You mean like King Arthur’s island?”

“No, Avalon as in the home of the fae queen. It’s where the royal palace is. There are two ways onto the island. By boat, and only by sail or real diesel engines, and only when piloted by fae. Or by teleporting through an official palace-approved portal. Neirin and I normally use the one at the academy.”

We stayed silent as Izzy and Barti maneuvered the Royal Fortune through the shallows and out into the sea itself. After half an hour or so, I noticed wisps of fog starting to form around us.

Barti barked out the commands to lower his sails. The large sheets of canvas, or whatever the sails were made of, unfurled from the cross arms with ripples of sound that echoed back from the deck. The odour of musty canvas mingled with the crisp salt scent of the sea air. At the bow of the ship, sailors pulled ropes, and triangular sails rose perpendicular to the main sails. The rumble of the infernal engines slowed and died as the cloth caught the wind.

Elain stared off into the mists. “I seldom travel this route. I’d forgotten how thick the mists are.”

“Come about to heading triple three.” Barti stood at the railing along the front of the forecastle, the raised deck at the aft of the ship. Behind him, Izzy spun the great wheel, his eyes on a large compass. 

“Triple three heading made, aye.” He slowly twisted the spokes back to a stable heading.

A voice from the bow called back, “Clear to the starboard.”

Another called, “Clear to the port.”

“What’s that?” I pointed at a shape emerging from the mists. We were overtaking a small dark wooden craft. It looked like one of the longboats that Barti had onboard. One he lowered into the sea to head to shore. They could carry a dozen people. This one was jet black and didn’t seem to disturb the mists as it slid through them.

A lone figure sat in the back, hand on the tiller. No sails nor oars propelled the vessel. The figure was cloaked in a robe with a hood. The fabric seemed to shimmer between a deep forest green and a shadowy black.

“I don’t see anything,” Elain said, casting a glance at me. “Tell me what you see.”

The dark boat was easy to describe, as was the figure. The hand on the wooden shaft controlling the rudder was gloved in a dark ebony as well. Barti’s Royal Fortune slid past the vessel without a word of warning from any of the crew. Whoever the figure in the small boat was turned and stared at me. 

I sucked in a breath. Green eyes glowed from inside the shadow of the hood. We passed a mere twenty feet from the craft. The figure’s head turned, following us, its eyes fixed on me.

“Arawn,” Elain said after I’d described the craft and its occupant. “The keeper of the keys to the Otherworld. The Reclusive Escort. He guides the spirts of the newly dead to the otherworld to await Arthur’s judgement.” 

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