Page 1 of Fairy's Forbidden Touch
Prologue: The Rule Everyone Knows
I was about ninety percent sure I was hallucinating when the tiny woman with dragonfly wings flitting around my head offered me a job. Then again, I was on day three of the worst hangover of my life, crashing on my cousin Maya’s too-small couch, and desperately in need of employment after my last spectacular life failure.
“You’ll do perfectly,” the winged woman—Pix, she’d said her name was—declared, circling me one more time. “You’ve got the right energy. Humans who can see us clearly are rare, and we need someone who won’t freak out when the customers get… eccentric.”
“I once worked at a theme restaurant where I had to dress as a medieval executioner and serve drinks called ‘Bloody Beheadings,’” I offered. “I’ve made peace with eccentric.”
Pix grinned, revealing teeth that were just a bit too pointed. “Moonlight Brews opens at dusk. Don’t be late, Jesse Parker.”
And that’s how I found myself standing behind the counter of the strangest café I’d ever seen, trying not to stare at what appeared to be a small troll eating seven croissants stacked in a tower.
“These are the house rules,” Fern, the elderly barista with skin like tree bark, handed me a handwritten list. She’d been explaining the various drink preparations for the past hour—apparently fae have very specific preferences about moon-blessed water and the precise temperature for steeping midnight bloom tea.
I scanned the list:
No iron on the premises
Never accept gifts without offering something in return
Don’t promise anything you can’t deliver (LITERALLY)
Names have power—use them wisely
DON’T TOUCH THE PRINCE
That last one was underlined three times in red ink.
“The prince?” I asked.
Fern’s ancient eyes narrowed. “Prince Thalen. He comes in occasionally. Royal family, very powerful, very dangerous to touch. His skin contains concentrated wild magic that burns anyone who makes contact. Three servers have ended up with permanent scars before we implemented the rule.”
“Got it. No touching royalty. Seems like solid life advice in general.”
Fern didn’t laugh. “I’m serious, boy. He’s not like the courtly fae who come in here playing at being mysterious. He’s old magic. Dangerous. Beautiful, but in the way venomous creatures are beautiful—as a warning.”
“Message received. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Of course, that’s when the café door swung open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Every customer went silent, their attention fixed on the entrance.
