Page 107 of Welcome to Fae Cafe

Kate reached for a handful of snow and packed it into a ball. “You’re my boyfriend; call it official or don’t. But I’m going to make it difficult for you right until the end,” she promised.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s the only chance I have left to make you change your mind about giving yourself to that black-haired creep. Now move aside so I can pelt my brother with snow.”

Cress rolled off, releasing Kate to hurtle the snow pocket at the humans. He watched her as he stood, only partially aware of the humans shouting something back.

Kate scrambled over and ducked behind him as three snowballs splashed against his chest. She peeked around his arm. “What are you doing?!” she shouted at him. “Fight back!”

Cress settled his turquoise gaze on the humans. He dropped to scoop a measurable amount of snow and clenched it tight in his fist until it was as solid as rock.

The battle raged for over an hour. After being washed with snow and delivering wrathful catapults of ice pellets to his enemies, Cress marched up the hill, allowing Kate to ride down with Lily. Shayne and Dranian—who had ducked behind a drift for cover when the fight began—held the fairy side of the war on their own.

Cress reached the hilltop and paused to rest. A minute later, he walked up behind Mor, planted his foot against the assassin’s back, and shoved him forward. Cress flashed a delicious smile when a powdered-faced Mor stopped rolling at the bottom of the hill and looked up at him with a snarl.

The crackling in the café’s fireplace at night reminded Cress of the Hall of Silver. He watched the dull flames lick up the logs from where he sat in a plush chair. They were just flames. It was just fire. There was nothing hidden within it, no lure or whispers left by noble fairies playing mad games.

When he was just ten years old, Cress had listened to the call of a fire for the first time. He’d wandered over with pure childling curiosity and found himself sticking his hand into the flames.

Nobles in the castle had erupted with laughter when he realized and tore his hand back out. It was the last party he ever went to by choice. Every gathering Cress had attended since then, he’d been forced to go to at Queene Levress’s command.

Cress was curious of the savage death the Queene would deal him when he returned to the North. She had done merciless things to fairies who’d betrayed her far less than Cress had.

“Mor,” Cress said, and Mor glanced up from where he read his recipe book by firelight in the opposite chair. “I need you to do something important for me.”

Mor pressed down a page corner and closed the book. “What do you have in mind?”

“On midnight of the human Christmas Eve, I want you to steal my memories of this place. And I want you to deliver me to Bonswick,” Cress said. “I’ll write myself a letter before then and sign it with my own fairy blood. Give me the letter once you wipe my memory clean, and don’t follow me back across the gate.”

Mor thought about it. “No,” he said.

“I’m asking as your Prince. And your friend.”

The curly-haired fairy folded his arms.

“I trust you more than anyone,” Cress said. “I know I’ll do whatever you tell me to, even if I can’t remember why.”

Mor’s brown-silver eyes flickered. “You’re assuming I’ll let you go back to the North High Court.”

“Yes.” Cress glanced back at the rippling flames. “I am.”

Mor worked his jaw. “You fool,” he whispered. “I can’t honour that bargain you made with him.”

“Careful,” Cress warned. “I’m still a prince even if I’m to die, so do not call me names. And promise me you’ll do as I ask.” When Mor said nothing in return, Cress added, “I went after the Queene alone, so I’ll face the punishment alone. Promise me, Mor.”

Mor adjusted himself on his seat. After a moment, his broad shoulders dropped, and he twisted the recipe book back and forth so the paperback spine cracked.

“If I go back with my memories, Levress will use a Shadow Fairy to look into my head and she’ll know I’m lying about you all being dead. Promise me, in return for you stealing my memories before. This is how you can make it right with me.”

The crackling fire logs seemed to grow louder in the quiet café. But finally, Mor dropped his silver-laced gaze to the floor. “I promise, Your Highness,” he said, almost too quiet to hear.

Without another word, he got up and left for the stairs.

A minute or two sailed by before Cress spoke again. “I know you’re listening,” he said into the café’s shadows.

Shayne sauntered from the hallway and plunked down in the open seat Mor had left behind. “Well, that wasn’t dramatic,” he remarked. “I expected him to at least throw a faeborn punch.”

“Mor is simply accepting my fate. Going quiet is his way.” Cress leaned his head against the backrest of the chair and closed his eyes.

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