Page 8 of Welcome to Fae Cafe

“What has Bonswick done to them?” the Prince asked.

“He came here for me. Unfortunately, a few members of the Brotherhood tried to stand in his way. It turns out he’s more powerful than he looks,” the fairy warned.

Cress snatched the black ribbon from Mor’s hand and tied back his long hair. “His nobility doesn’t give him the right to attack the North Brotherhood of Assassins.Myassassins.”

“Unfortunately,” Mor cut him a look, “it allows him to do what he likes. Our brothers were forced to stand there and take his hits. And he demanded that I fight him in a deathmatch. I was going to do it, but—”

“Absolutely not.”

Mor nodded. “I figured you’d say that.”

The grass rippled at Cress’s ankles as he descended the hill. The starbud blossoms released a wind-like gasp and closed back into buds, ducking behind thorny branches as his power spread.

“Cress…” Mor called in a loud whisper. “Be careful with him. He’s inherited more power than any other male in the East. He might have beaten me if we’d really fought.”

Cress’s flesh tightened. “That’s precisely why I will not allow it.”

The Prince marched to the clearing, and Bonswick’s feral grin widened.

“Prince Cressica!” he greeted. “I see I finally have your attention.” Bonswick tossed his sword aside and Cress watched it roll through the grass.

“It seems your favourite slave has run off scared.” Bonswick’s gaze flickered past Cress to where Mor approached the square’s edge and folded his gloved hands to wait with the other assassins. “I suppose I don’t blame him. I’ve mastered the touch of death, you know, and I’m itching to use it on someone.”

“Stop running your mouth, you fool,” Cress said. “How dare you harass the High Queene’s assassins?”

“They disrespected a noble of the East. Surely you would do the same ifmyassassins had disrespectedyou, Prince.” Bonswick’s glassy eyes glittered. He finally tore his gaze off Mor and placed it back on the Prince. “You know, I only suffered through the dreadful trek to the North in the first place because I knew you’d be here. Why else would I have bothered to visit such a cold, boring place?”

“Your feud with me is one-sided,” Cress assured. “You can hate me because the High Queene chose me as her ward, but make no mistake,” he stepped in until he towered over the black-haired fairy of the East, “touch one of my brothers again, and I will chop off more than just your fingers in your sleep.”

Bonswick’s laughter roared over the square—he threw his head back, showing his wide smile to the heavens and his teeth to the Brotherhood.

“Step aside,illegitimatePrince!” The air changed directions and Bonswick’s dark lashes fluttered in disgust. “I have a deathmatch to win with that leech!” He pointed over Cress’s shoulder to Mor, and Cress’s hand flashed up to grab Bonswick’s. He squeezed, crushing Bonswick’s fingers. He didn’t stop until the High Lord’s glassy eyes flickered, and a split second of fear crossed his face.

“Release me!” Bonswick ground out through his teeth.

“You will fight me instead this morning,” Cress said, tilting his head in a crossbeast-like way. “And I will enjoy sending you back to your precious East as ashes in a jar. I’ll tie it with a bow like a gift for the nobles who will be glad to finally be rid of you.”

Cress released Bonswick’s hand, and the fairy tore himself back.

From the side of the square, Dranian’s solemn face cracked the slightest smile over his blood-soaked chin.

A metallic ring echoed over the training space when Cress drew his winged fairsaber. His blade formed from the magic and metal in the air into a sharp, long point. “You should have kept your weapon in your hand. Fool.” Cress’s fairsaber punched forward.

Bonswick spun out of the way. He came back glaring, and Cress smiled wickedly.

“It seems your betrothed is watching.” A slow, cruel smile returned to Bonswick’s face as he nodded up the hill. “Shall we put on a show for her?”

Cress glanced over his shoulder.

He had not seen Princess Haven in three months. The Queene’s daughter looked far too much like the Queene herself with her white hair fluttering in the morning breeze and her savage lips tipped down at the corners. Cress turned away and mumbled an ancient curse. Haven must have noticed he’d been avoiding her all this time.

Cress knew the exact moment when her cold gaze settled on his back. It felt as sharp and deadly as the Queene’s.

His sword was ripped from his grip.

Bonswick hurtled Cress’s blade over the training square, over the castle grounds, and far into the belly of the Corner of the North. The High Lord spun back around, chest pumping. “No weapons,” he declared.

Cress’s hands balled into fists.

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