Page 42 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

He also knew that comforting his Brotherhood of Assassins had never been his strong suit. Cress was made to demand their attention, equip them with skills, and when necessary, strike fear into their hearts so they would obey. It was Mor who had become the fairy to march into their sleeping caves and give them a good talking to when needed, or an inspiring quote, or an ear to listen. Cress never had to think twice about his assassins’ worries or feelings. He fought for them, he saved their lives, and he taught them to defend themselves when he wasn’t around. He hadn’t had time for much else while enemy war fairies knocked at the North’s door and enchanted sea monsters lurked below the North Corner waters. Cress had been sent across the Corner to slay fae and monsters. Negotiating wasn’t in his skill set.

But Mor would have known the right thing to say to Shayne in this moment. Cress could only think to swat at Shayne’s head until all of his obnoxious dreams fell out.

Cress’s gaze dropped to the floor. It was getting increasingly difficult to do as Mor had asked. There were only so many wedding preparations that could distract a powerful assassin prince.

He remembered the day he first crossed Mor on a golden field. The curly-haired fool had been different then; wild. A bit lost. A smidgen out of his mind. It was only after a heart-pounding battle Cress had dragged that Shadow rebel back to the Silver Castle with him, and Mor had turned into the thing the Brotherhood of Assassins didn’t know they needed.

Cress found himself smiling briefly at the precious memory. He dropped the look from his face though and folded his arms to compose himself.

“I love the café, but I’m bored,” Shayne said. It seemed his mind had gone to the same place Cress’s had. “I was an heir to the House of Lyro, remember? You know I wasn’t made to sit things out.”

Cress’s sigh filled the apartment. “There has to be a reason Mor told us not to become entangled. I’ve gone over it a thousand times, and I can’t figure it out. But there must be a faeborn-cursed reason.” He rubbed his eyes, realizing he was still so treacherously tired. “Now, if you wake me one more faeborn-cursed time, Shayne, I’ll toss you off the balcony,” Cress threatened.

Shayne’s eyes were already closed. It was painfully obvious that the white-haired assassin was only pretending to sleep. He released a teeny tiny snore that was orchestrated to the highest degree, and Cress grunted. The Prince rolled his eyes and marched back to bed.

He didn’t sleep a wink after that.

Second:

Mor had surprised everyone by showing up at the café on day two. A colourful human was on his arm with bright lips and shimmering eye powders. A new friend, it seemed. Cress glared at her with all the coldness of the North. How dare she be accepted into Mor’s confidence when Mor already had perfectly good friends he was avoiding?

Cress quickly turned toward where Kate was crouched down by the low cupboards and began rattling through his latest wedding plans in a loud voice so Mor might hear all he was missing out on. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mor head through the café toward him.

Kate looked up at Cress like he was crazy. With her eyes alone, she cast him the sort of adorable,“What in the human realm are you doing?”look that could have melted his faeborn heart on another day. But her face changed when Mor appeared at the counter.

“Cress,” Mor’s voice seemed to fill the whole room.

Cress ignored him.

Kate cast Cress a crossbeast-fang-sharp look. She stayed where she was, crouched before the cupboard. Not getting involved, apart from nodding her head toward Mor, saying something to Cress with her eyes that had an entirely different vibe than their lovely wedding plans.

Cress huffed and turned to face the deserter. “May I help you, Mor?” he asked, flashing a wicked smile as he waited for an apology, which would be undoubtedly followed by Mor’s grovelling and begging Cress to take him back.

“I’m not staying,” Mor said, and Cress’s smile fizzled out. “I just came here because I need Kate’s sweater.”

Cress blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“Give it to him.” Kate’s treacherous decision ruined Cress’s cold behaviour performance.

“I don’t particularly want to,” Cress said back to her.

“Give it to him, Cress. If he came here asking for it, it’s because he needs it,” Kate said. Then she muttered, “Seriously, you’re so moody when you miss sleep.”

Cress had half a mind to explain to his betrothed that his reasons for missing sleep had only half to do with Shayne’s noises. The other half had to do with the stress of planning a wedding toher. She ought to be grateful for his sacrifice.

For a brief moment, the corner of Mor’s mouth tugged up. But the almost-smile vanished before it set in.

Cress flung open the cupboard doors below the sink where those at Fae Café stashed everything of the important and magical sort, and he yanked out the sweater made of the Sisterhood’s fairy yarn. “For your new friend?” Cress asked as he tossed the sweater over.

“She’s my secretary,” Mor stated without explaining further.

“She’s pretty,” Kate commented, rising from her crouched position just enough to spy on the human over the counter.

“She’s vile and hideous. I hate her,” Cress stated.

Mor rolled his faeborn eyes as he turned away with the sweater.

The hardness on Cress’s face melted off as he worried that was it. He hadn’t seen Mor in months and suddenly Mor arrived at the café after all this time and there was no, “How are you, Cress?” or, “Are you well?” or, “Are we still the best of fae-friends?” or even, “That human woman I brought in means nothing to me and I wouldn’t dream of replacing you with her.” Truly, Cress fought the impulse to chase after the fairy and do all the grovelling and begging himself. He opened his mouth several times to call things as Mor slipped away, moving further and further through the tables, becoming more out of reach by the second.

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