Page 7 of Welcome to Fae Cafe

Kate stared at it, warmth pressing in at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was too full of cookie chunks to say anything without spewing chocolate and crust.

They were just cookies. It’s not like they meant anything. It’s not like they were a warm, sweet hug, or a word of comfort, or an entire lifetime’s worth of guidance and love like the sort Grandma Lewis always gave away for free.

Except that her grandmother’s cookies were exactly all of those things.

“And I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you. It’s not healthy to hold it all in,” the old woman added, pouring salt on the wound with her gentle voice which she only brought out for special occasions.

Kate looked at the floor and swallowed the wads trapped in her mouth. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Grandma,” she said when she could speak.

Grandma Lewis put the bag in Kate’s hands. The kitchen grew quiet, and Grandma Lewis glanced over at the framed photos resting on the buffet where a full family covered in snow smiled back.

“Well, when you’re ready to talk, my door is always open, my cookies are always warm, and my tea kettle is always hot.” Grandma Lewis folded her wrinkled hands, soft and shaking with age. Even when she was doing nothing, Grandma Lewis smelled of soft powder, herbal tea, and pleasant conversations.

“I know.” Kate turned away from the photos and opened the door.

“Give Lily my love.” Her grandmother flashed a smile that could light up a room.

From the back of the kitchen, Greyson yelled, “Give Lily my love, too!” and Kate shot him a look that promised she wouldn’t.

4

Prince Cressica and The Thing that Happened

One Faeborn Day Ago

The doors to Cress’s chambers burst open, and there stood Mor, his tanned, tattooed arms glistening with sweat in the early sunlight from the hall windows. The fairy’s nostrils were flared, his curly hair a mess.

“What happened?” Cress imagined the courtyards in chaos with Shadow Fairy arrows speckling the grass, and the bodies of his brothers around them. He grabbed his fairsaber, but Mor stopped him.

“It’s not what you think.” Mor’s dark brown-silver eyes hardened. “But I suppose in a way, it’s worse.”

Cress dropped his hands. “It’s not Shadow Fairies?”

Mor shook his head and stepped back into the hall. “It’s Bonswick.”

Cress’s jaw hardened. He strapped his fairsaber harness to his back, the blade a light weight between his shoulders. He followed Mor out. “Bring me to that faeborn fool.”

Their footsteps echoed through the crystal hallways of the Silver Castle. Sunlight prismed in all directions, reflecting off the walls in tangled streams of emerald and gold.

Mor brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. His lashes fluttered.

“You seem nervous.” Cress flicked the latch of the side door and kicked it open with abang.

“You’ll see why in a minute, Your Highness.” Mor followed him out, digging a hand into his pocket and drawing out a black ribbon. He handed it to Cress.

“What’s that for?” Cress asked as they rounded the starbud bushes. The blossoms unfolded as Cress passed, showing off velvet midnight blue petals that bowed at his ankles with respect.

“Your hair,” was all Mor said as they emerged from the garden.

Cress stopped at the top of the hill. His cold turquoise eyes narrowed on the two dozen assassins in black and navy lining the training square’s edge. They stood at attention, their gazes forward. One was missing.

“Where’s Whyp?” Cress asked.

“I’m not sure. The Queene sent him on a special assignment yesterday. He hasn’t returned,” Mor whispered.

Bonswick prowled back and forth in the middle of the training square. It looked like at least four of Cress’s brothers had been punched. At the far side, Cress spotted one of his assassins—Dranian—with a wet collar from blood dripping down his chin. He saw Dranian dare a glance over to where Cress and Mor were on the hill.

“If looks could kill,” Mor muttered.

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