Page 63 of Welcome to Fae Cafe
The brand of the Shadow Fairies.
He refused to believe it until he saw them for himself.
Cress waited for two hours tucked atop a shelf until they came. Faeborn folk of the haunting sort drifted into the quiet space with no candles, lanterns, or torches. Their ears hosted a sharper point than Cress’s, their tattoos were painted on thicker, and their eyes…
Silver and brown, just like Mor’s.
A thousand fast memories of battle, narrow victories, and dreadful losses washed through Cress’s mind as he pulled himself further into the shadows, watching the band of seventeen fairies congregate in the middle of the room. They wore the darkness of night and held the menace of beasts in their faces.
What in the name of the sky deities were fairies of the Dark Corner of Ever doing here among the humans? Cress’s hand drifted toward the winged handle of his blade in his back pocket, but his fingers froze as one more fairy joined the rest; one Cress knew the mad-minded scent of all too well. The very one who had been the reason Cress despised fairy nobles of the East.
Bonswick pulled thin gloves onto his pale hands as he joined the congregation, and it was as though Cress was back in the Silver Castle, guessing at what the glassy-eyed fairy’s secrets were.
Cress rolled to his feet in silence and raced on padded toes toward the window before his Northern scent might sweep across the library. He leapt through the opening, his body turning as weightless as feathers as he glided on the wind a good quarter mile. He cooled himself to stone and sank back to the ground, landing with a thud.
He whirled to ensure he had not been followed. Only dark streets and distant sounds met his senses—the air was clear, open, and honest. He grimaced at the long crack he’d made in the street from his landing.
For the next hour, Cress jogged through random streets, slipping into every alley, racing through every park, brushing his scent across every landmark and lamppost.
When he was satisfied with his complex web of traces, the Prince headed for the trees.
“Why does everything of the sinister and magical sort always happen in a library?” he muttered to himself.
His mind was haunted. He saw the Queene smile cruelly as though she was there with him. He felt her phantom presence crawling on his shoulders like a glass moonbug. Levress ruthlessly guarded the gate herself. Cress would be a fool to believe she did not know about the Shadow Fairies in the human realm.
He tugged at his tight sweater as he marched across the road. The trees swayed in the midnight breeze, doing their best to relax him. But he came to a halt at the edge of Thelma Lewis’s yard before a heaping pile of dry leaves.
A low growl rumbled through him. Cress strode to the house ever scented of tea,freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and honey. He came in quietly so he wouldn’t wake Thelma, and he crept up the stairs. The large clock on the wall said it was the earliest of morning hours, deep within the night’s belly. He nearly sprang all the way back down the stairs when Thelma stepped from her bedroom with her arms folded.
“Cress,” she said sternly. “If you’re going to live under my roof, you need to follow my rules. Every one of the young people I’ve raised has had to abide by them. Being strong enough to chop my firewood doesn’t make you an exception.”
Cress sank to a knee on the stair and nodded.
“No more coming in after dark. Do you understand?”
Cress nodded again, unable to look the old human woman in the eyes.
Thelma’s shoulders relaxed. “Get to bed, then.”
Cress trotted the rest of the way up and disappeared into his room.
Well, nothisroom, but the one he had chosen of the three spare bedrooms available.
He shut the door with a soft click and let out a heavy breath. A goblet of tea rested on the dresser, oozing the scent of honey. He poked it. It was still warm.
Cress listened until the soft footsteps of Thelma Lewis disappeared. He ventured to the dresser to pull off his sweater, stopping before the framed photos where a dark-haired human girl with hazel eyes and an oval mouth smiled beside a younger Officer Lily Baker.
Queensbane, that faeborn-cursed smile.
Cress grumbled and tossed his sweater, heading for the bed that was absolutely covered in the sweet fragrances of Kate Kole. He picked up the book from the nightstand where he’d left it the evening before and flipped it open to the folded page as he hummed to himself.
“Daffodils sway and the golden sun sings, la, la, la, la. Rivers rush and the silver stars sing, la, la, la, la.”
A much raspier voice sang it in his head.
Cress turned the book over. Every paragraph had messily handwritten notes in the margins, a few pages had the corners pressed down, and the cover was scuffed. It seemed Kate Kole had read this book a lot. He wondered why. It was terrible.
The fae Prince sighed and dropped it to his chest, his mind spinning with thoughts of enemy fairies hiding in libraries, human girls he never should have kissed, his brothers he was trying to avoid, and insolent human neighbours who didn’t know their place.
