Page 123 of Welcome to Fae Cafe
“You can’t be here, Bonswick,” Mor said in a low, dark voice. His sword came to life from its handle. “You made a faeborn bargain.”
Bonswick’s lashes fluttered like he was stifling an eye roll. “I did make a bargain with that illegitimate Prince. But the nobles are playing fairy games again.”
“Keep us out of your games,” Shayne said, drawing out another short blade. He held it up and eyed where it seemed he wanted to throw it—at Bonswick’s head.
“Ah, you’ll want to be a part of this one, fool. And please, tell your growling pet over there to lower his bow.” Bonswick nodded toward the hall. A second later, Dranian emerged holding Shayne’s loaded crossbow. He placed the arrow tip against Bonswick’s temple.
“I think,” Dranian said, his deep voice rumbling over the café, “I’d like your death to be slow.”
“Then you and your humans will meet Levress soon. It seems Cress’s leech-ally failed to erase his memories before he went back.” Bonswick’s glassy gaze cut to Mor.
Mor lowered his sword. “He begged me, but I couldn’t,” he admitted to the others. “I wanted him to die with his best memories. But Cress would have fallen on his fairsaber before he let Levress see inside his head.”
“Well, he’s still alive. For now.” Bonswick reached up and pushed the arrow’s tip away with a finger. “And it seems my future wife would like to show Cressica Albastian some mercy, even though it makes me ill. But I’ll forget all about him soon, and he’ll be a mere pin sized stain on my long legacy as King of the North.”
“What…?” Mor’s blade retracted. It looked like he was about to drop the handle to the floor. “Cress is still alive?”
“He’s about to try and make the greatest faeborn escape in North Corner history. I’m only here to ensure the Dark believe you’re all dead before I go back and viciously rule over the North Corner of Ever for the next century.” Bonswick tilted his head in a catlike way. “So, let’s get to it. The Shadow Fairies aren’t going to believe in your deaths unless I give you true cuts so they can smell your fairy blood.” His smile turned diabolical when he looked at Mor again.
The fae assassins exchanged looks. A silent conversation passed through the room as they studied Bonswick, sniffed the air, and deliberated. Kate looked at Greyson, who tightened his grip on her wrist.
“Not the humans,” Shayne decided. “Give us true lashes, but don’t touch the humans. They won’t heal like us.”
Greyson dropped Kate’s arm and grabbed the ketchup from the counter where Shayne had put it.
“Shadow Fairies aren’t daft, fool. They must see blood—”
“We’ll use this!” Greyson held up the bottle, and Bonswick’s silver stare settled on him and the ketchup. “What is that, precisely?”
“It’s human fruit syrup,” Shayne said. “It’s delicious.”
“Wait. I have one more idea.” Kate stepped in to take the fae’s stare off her brother. “I have a fairy godmother who I owe a favour to. Her biggest fear happens to be the North Corner finding out she’s here.” Kate glanced over to Mor. “Let’s make peace with the Sisterhood.”
“I won’t help abandoners,” Bonswick stated dully.
“I can make this really difficult for you if you don’t,” Kate warned him. “I can mess up this plan and make your future wife really mad. What’ll happen to you if she gets mad?”
“Kate,” Lily whispered, casting her a“What are you thinking?”look.
Bonswick’s lip curled into a snarl. It seemed like he was about to object again, but he tapped his pale fingers against his thigh and said nothing. A second later, he released a repulsed grunt and muttered, “Humans.”
From across the room, Shayne smiled and winked at Kate.
43
Prince Cressica and the Ending No One Saw Coming
Faint beeping was the tune that carried Cress out of his deep slumber. Sharp scents filled the air that were not of nature—terrible and stuffy and smelling of a hogbeast’s buttocks. In fact, he had to open his eyes to convince himself he was not stuck in a creature’s rear. He sniffed and grimaced, then took in an ugly white ceiling made of panels.
Aches burned through his body when he tried to move, but he paused when he realized someone’s hand was in his.
A human sat in a chair, leaning her top half forward on his bed with her cheek pressed down to the white bedsheets. Her burgundy hair was pulled back with a tie, but loose strands fell over her sleeping face. Cress’s hand tightened around hers.
He could hardly believe the subtle sound of her rhythm, or the fragrance of her soap, or the light sound of her breathing.
The back of his bed was tilted up, turning it into more of an odd, mattress-covered chair. His armour had been replaced with a white shirt, and the waistband of loose black pants peeked from the sheets covering his legs. A short moment of horror washed over him as he wondered if Kate had changed him like one might have changed the garments of a squealing childling.
He noticed a thick stack of papers in her other hand. The top page had slid off and was out of reach on the floor, but Cress tugged the rest from her fingers.
