Page 101 of Welcome to Fae Cafe

“But now you’ve lost the choice!” Mor cut into his thoughts, and the wind in the shelves ceased.

Cress turned back to the curly-haired assassin with the largest faeborn scowl in existence. “The only difference to my plan now is that when I leave, you three won’t be hunted by the Dark,” he said.

Shayne folded his arms, his usual smile gone. “That’s not the only difference. Now you know that when you return, you’ll die at Levress’s hands. You didn’t know that before.”

Cress nodded to theFairy Book ofRules and Masteries. “We only have fourteen days to find a way forallof us to faeborn live, including our humans. If we fail to find a way around this bargain, I will go with Bonswick. And youwillstay here. That is my final order to you, as the Prince of the North.”

Shayne growled and stood, pressing his fists on the table. “We will return with you and share the same fate—”

“Then I’ve made this bargain for nothing! You did not obey me in the yard, Shayne, so at least obey me with this!”

Mor and Shayne looked the same—tight fairy skin, furrowed brows, large frowns.

“Don’t make my death meaningless. It’s insulting,” Cress muttered as he followed his nose to the back shelf where theFairy Book ofRules and Masteriescame from. He touched the ledge, finding dust missing. Finding that things had in fact been meddled with.

He rubbed the dust between his fingers as he went to the opposite back corner of the library where he sniffed out a different sort of feeling; one with invisible, bubbling anger, and paper-thin traces of an ancient fairy beast. He stared at a particular panel in the wall siding. His senses picked up a low, beastly growl seeping out from many months ago, hidden inside a memory thatshouldhave been his. He shoved the panel, and it popped open like a door, revealing a dark spiral staircase. Cress had a feeling the staircase would lead him to all the High Queene’s darkest secrets, hidden away with the humans so no fairy might stumble upon them—as he was doing now.

Pea-sized flames spurted to life in the staircase when he stepped in.

“Careful,” Mor’s voice said from behind him. The fairy’s dark silhouette filled the staircase entrance. “You may not want to remember what happened down there, Cress.”

“I want to remember slaying Levress’s prized creature. I want to remember the pain and illness it caused her when I got my revenge for her betrayal against me and my mother.”

Mor didn’t stop him from following the stairs down to a cold, dim room where scrolls and books lined gilded shelves, and all sorts of fairy gold spilled from pots marked with ancient fae symbols. Cress laughed at the trouble he might cause with all of this.

“Perhaps we should just buy Bonswick off,” he suggested when Mor’s scent flitted in behind him.

“It’s all cursed. It’s why it’s here. The High Court of the North didn’t want this treasure in the Ever Corners,” Mor said.

Cress’s gaze danced over the room, taking in faded bloodstains and spilled bowls of gold. Paintings were torn to shreds, and a barrel was split in two. Splinters coated the stones. “It must have been quite a fight.”

“Well, you were quite angry.”

Cress nodded. “I’m angry now, Mor,” he admitted. “I want to finish what I started and take her down.”

Mor took a hold of Cress’s shoulder. The assassin’s brown-silver eyes were filled with remorse. “I don’t think it’s your job anymore, Cress. Let the next generation of fairy rebels deal with her.”

“Are you suggesting I let her get away with the horrors she’s committed? Her lies? Her stealing childlings from their homes? Her murdering innocents? Look at all she’s done to me, Mor!”

“You already tried to take her down. You’ll die now because of it. Because I stole your memories before you were able to destroy her,” Mor said. His throat bobbed.

Cress looked at the floor. After a moment, he turned away, pulled his fairsaber out, and studied the silver wing details that represented his allegiance to the High Queene. “The entire North Corner would have already killed me if you hadn’t intervened. You spared my life.”

“For now.” There was an unusual edge to Mor’s voice that left a remnant chill on Cress’s skin. “Unless I can convince Bonswick to spare you. Only he could lie on your behalf to the North Court.” Mor’s tone was one Cress had only heard a few times in their faeborn lives together. “He wants me, doesn’t he?” he asked flat out.

Cress rolled his saber handle in his grip as he thought about how to answer. “Mor…” he started, but he bit down on his tongue. Finally, he slid his fairsaber away and turned back with the chosen words,“Bonswick will never have you as long as I’m alive,”but phantom moonbugs burst into flutters in his chest when he realized Mor had already vanished.

34

Kate Kole and One of Life’s Great Mysteries: Hot Dogs.

The café bell almost broke off when Cress barged in. Kate dropped the chalkboard she was hanging on the wall. The chalk rolled across the floor and bumped into Cress’s boot and the board hit the floor with aclang.

“Where is he? Did he come back here?!” Cress asked through a strained growl that reminded Kate of a struck puppy. She abandoned the chalkboard.

“Who?”

“Mor!” Cress shouted his name. It echoed through the café.

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