Page 3 of Welcome to Fae Cafe
Murmurs rippled down the table.
“I cannot decide which of you is worse,” Bonswick went on. “The monster-Prince hated by his own court, or the Shadow Fairy leech we’ve allowed to be in our presence.”
Though Cress’s fingers twitched to stone with the thought of smashing Bonswick’s banquet plate, he stole a glance at Mor.
Mor kept his brown and silver eyes on the floor. Cress expected the assassin’s tattooed skin to tighten, but Mor’s shoulders remained relaxed. The fairy folded his gloved hands.
“After all, it was your people who nearly destroyed the Four Corners. Right, Shadow Fairy? Would you still call themyourpeople?” Bonswick’s finger tapped the tabletop as he waited for a response. After a moment, he laughed and turned back to Cress. “You won’t speak up for that slave?” he asked with forced blinking.
Cress took a long drink from the goblet of spiked ice and citrus before him. “Mor can speak for himself, you fool. He has a mouth.”
Bonswick’s smile grew. He nodded to the golden emblem with the wings of the North pinned to Mor’s chest. “Gold doesn’t belong on slaves. Especially enemy leeches. Give that to me.”
Cress’s cold stare narrowed on the High Lord across the table. The Prince opened his mouth to intervene, but beside him, Mor said, “What’s worse than being feared and disliked, Lord Bonswick?”
Bonswick worked his jaw, his smile fading as Mor unclipped the emblem and tossed it over. Mor answered before Bonswick could offer a reply. “Being naïve.”
Bonswick caught the emblem and sizzling sounds erupted. The fairy shrieked and hurled the gold clip to his plate where it rolled over once and landed flat, no longer an emblem of gold, but a heavy coin of cold iron.
Males snickered down the table and heads with gold-braided crowns turned away to pretend they didn’t see. Mor’s curly, dark hair shifted as he performed a shallow bow and took his leave.
Cress’s face threatened a smile. He took another sip of his citrus.
Bonswick didn’t blink as he rubbed the fresh burns on his fingertips. For once, the High Lord of the East kept quiet as the banquet food was served, but his stare followed Mor around the room until Mor left with the rest of the High Queene’s assassins through the silver arch. His gaze remained fixed there throughout dessert.
Cress finished his sweetened shellfish appetizer and sipped his citrus. He set his goblet on the tablecloth with a loud thud, rattling the candlesticks and making Bonswick jump. When their gazes locked again—turquoise and glass—a ripple of heat and power ruffled the table’s napkins and flickered the candles’ flames.
“If you touch him—” Cress’s voice was a low, horrid growl, “—I will slice your fingers off.”
“He’s a peasant,” Bonswick bit out.
“He’s an assassin.”
“He’s worth nothing.”
“He could kill you with a spoon.”
Bonswick broke his frown to laugh. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“He would if I told him to.”
A fresh hush befell the table as three dozen sets of fairy eyes went wide.
Bonswick slowly rose from his seat and leaned toward Cress. “Did you just threaten a High Lord of the East, Prince Cressica?” he articulated. “All for the sake of that Shadow Fairy leech? What if I cut out his tongue for calling me naïve? No one would stop me. What if I take his eyes for looking at me the way he did?” Bonswick bit his lower lip. “You might think yourself powerful here in the North, but I’m the most powerful fae in the East. Perhaps we should test our powers, you and I.”
Cress shoved his empty plate away and stood with a sigh. “Do you know why my assassin called you naïve, Bonswick?”
Chimes sounded from the silver arch announcing Queene Levress, High Queene of the Ever Corners, and commanding every soul into utter silence. Cress spoke anyway, turning heads and drawing gasps. “Because unlike everyone else in this room, you do not know better than to poke at monsters.”
“Silence!” The Queene’s command was a whip. Fairies down the banquet table lowered their eyes and bowed their heads. All but Cress and Bonswick.
The rustling of the Queene’s robes filled the hall as she rounded the table, bringing an icy wind that made skirts shiver, rattled antlers, and dislodged hair feathers. It brushed the back of Cress’s neck and fluttered his long hair.
“Drop your eyes, you foolish, faeborn males.” The Queene’s ice crawled up Cress’s feet and forearms like burns. “I will not hesitate to take your eyes from you, Cressica. It will not bother me to have a son-in-law with no eyes,” she said, and Cress’s rebellious gaze darted to Queene Levress in surprise.
Across the table, Bonswick bit his mouth shut and fought a smile. The High Lord obediently lowered his eyes like everyone else.
But Cress stared at the Queene with parted lips.
