Welcome to Fae Cafe (High Court of the Coffee Bean, #1)

by Jennifer Kropf

After a moment, he laughed and turned back to Cress. “You won’t speak up for that slave?” he asked with forced blinking. Cress took a long drink from the goblet of spiked ice and citrus before him. “Mor can speak for himself, you fool. He has a mouth.” Bonswick’s smile grew. He nodded to the golden emblem with the wings of the North pinned to Mor’s chest. “Gold doesn’t belong on slaves. Especially enemy leeches. Give that to me.” Cress’s cold stare narrowed on the High Lord across the table. The Prince opened his mouth to intervene, but beside him, Mor said, “What’s worse than being feared and disliked, Lord Bonswick?” Bonswick worked his jaw, his smile fading as Mor unclipped the emblem and tossed it over. Mor answered before Bonswick could offer a reply. “Being naïve.”

For once, the High Lord of the East kept quiet as the banquet food was served, but his stare followed Mor around the room until Mor left with the rest of the High Queene’s assassins through the silver arch. His gaze remained fixed there throughout dessert. Cress finished his sweetened shellfish appetizer and sipped his citrus. He set his goblet on the tablecloth with a loud thud, rattling the candlesticks and making Bonswick jump. When their gazes locked again—turquoise and glass—a ripple of heat and power ruffled the table’s napkins and flickered the candles’ flames. “If you touch him—” Cress’s voice was a low, horrid growl, “—I will slice your fingers off.” “He’s a peasant,” Bonswick bit out. “He’s an assassin.” “He’s worth nothing.” “He could kill you with a spoon.” Bonswick broke his frown to laugh. “He wouldn’t dare.” “He would if I told him to.”

The Queene turned to leave, and the triad of assassins stood and bowed at their midsections. “Also… my crafters will be cutting your hair today, Cressica,” the Queene called back. “You cannot marry my daughter with hair that’s longer than hers.” A muscle feathered in Cress’s jaw. “Do you know how long it took me to grow this hair?” he growled. Groomers entered through the open study door carrying embellished scissors. The Queene cast him one last terrible smile before she left, leaving the assassins behind without giving them permission to stand. Her footsteps faded down the hall, and Cress fought the impulse to shout something horrific after her. After a moment, the trio of assassins stood. Mor wandered over with a sigh. “Don’t mourn your hair, Cress,” he said. “With your pretty face and soft skin, it makes you look like a female anyway.” Cress’s wide, deadly gaze slid over. “I’ll take your tongue—” But Mor’s tongue was already stuck out, waiting. Cress released a low growl and marched out of the study, shoving one of the crafters into the wall as he passed.

But Cress folded his arms and tapped a finger against his bicep. “Shayne, you were the only one of us who spent your childling years at an academy. Did they teach you the six dangers of the human realm in your lectures?” Shayne nodded. “Of course. Humans conspire differently than us. They will try to trick us into eating bread,” he promised.

A few moans lifted from the group, and Freida grimaced. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” But she paused. “Wait, he kissed you and you’re not longing to race to him, or having dreams of him, or wanting to move heaven and earth to see him?” she asked, and Kate made a repulsed face. “No way!” A few shrill giggles lifted from the group. “It must have reversed,” Hazel muttered from her seat. “Joke’s on him,” she then said with a grin that showed a row of wide, twisted teeth.

The rectangular device buzzed in his pocket, and he nearly sprang out of his faeborn flesh. He scrambled to draw out the glowing magical device—which Shayne sometimes called a magic mirror and sometimes called a phone. The sticky-fingered fairy had wasted no time pickpocketing to supply the assassins with magic mirrors so they might blend in. A very close-up painting of Shayne’s face filled the rectangular mirror as it buzzed in Cress’s hand. Cress cleared his throat and squinted at the screen. There were two circles to choose from: green and red. He chose red. “Queensbane,” he cursed when the picture of Shayne disappeared. He turned the thing over. “Where did he go?” He put the device against his mouth anyway. “Shayne?” he called into it. He waited, but nothing happ—He released a shriek and nearly dropped the phone when it buzzed again. The Prince glanced right and left, worried someone had heard his weak squeal. The humans all seemed preoccupied with their own human-y things.

Shoving his way past a weakling, Cress entered the middle of the junction, squeaking to a halt on his damp boots and nearly toppling over the pair; the human girl—his target—kneeling on one knee right in the cursed middle of the crowd, and the childling who had begun wailing like a dying hogbeast. He didn’t have time to redirect and disappear among the bodies before his human target began to… Sing. She was singing. His target sounded raspy for a female, but her song voice was sweet in the centre. On a calm day in the North Corner, Cress might have followed such a sound to discover the female responsible. He had never heard a song voice quite like this—clean and pure. “Can you keep singing for me, Miss Kate? I’m still scared!” the childling whined. Kate Kole’s soft lips curled into a smile, and Cress tilted his head as he studied it. For a human insect, her smile was pleasantly striking. Possibly even slightly attractive to an untrained eye. Cress pulled back and slammed his palms over his ears. “Queensbane,” he muttered. What if his human had the gift of siren-song?

He glanced inside to find atrocious food scraps and crumpled parchment all mushed together. Kate Kole’s paper cup rested on top of it all. A word was scribed across: Coffee. “Coffee,” he said to test the word. He marched in the direction the pair of humans went, muttering, “Coffee, coffee, coffee,” all the while so he would not forget. “Are you drinking coffee? You shouldn’t do that, Your Highness. It’s how the bravest humans poison themselves.” Shayne’s voice appeared, and Cress stopped marching. He turned once, then twice. “Where are you?” Cress demanded because he hadn’t smelled Shayne approach. “You didn’t end our conversation,” Shayne said. “I’m still in your mirror.” Cress glanced down at his pocket. He drew the thing back out, and lo and behold, there was Shayne’s chin again. “You need to touch the red circle if you want to be free of the mirror,” Shayne explained. “Otherwise, we’re trapped in this conversation forever.” Cress turned the mirror over to study it. “What a terrible, binding spell,” he said. “Only if you don’t poke the red circle.”

Several whispered conversations came to a halt. Human females turned in their seats to look at him, but not Kate Kole. She paid him no attention as he chose the seat at her side and plastered on his most beautiful smile. “What did I miss?” he asked in a melodic, low voice. “A really boring chat about character-driven plots,” she answered after a moment without looking up. Her speaking voice was filled with the same sweet rasp as her singing voice, and Cress’s mind flooded with that song: “Daffodils sway and the golden sun sings, la, la, la, la…” It was a voice filled with curves and cracks and likely tasted of the human beverage of fresh coffee. But what was insufferably irritating about it was that her speaking voice sounded just as innocent as her song one. Cress’s smile faded. What a clever, deceitful thing she was. When underneath that pretty mask of innocence, she was a cold-blooded killer.

His gaze travelled down to the brown stain on the corner of the book below her hand. It was the very book he’d seen in Whyp’s memories. The book that had made him believe her real name was Kate Kole. He reached to tap it. “You must drink coffee—” “I’m not really in the mood for chit-chat,” his human target stated with a tone as icy as the Queene’s. Ah. There it was. So, she was cruel after all.

The human’s eyes were big when he pulled away, gazing at him with all the love and adoration of a silver-winged castle puppy. Yes, she would see it all now. He was the feared Prince of the North, dangerous assassin of— She smacked him. Cress’s face recoiled to the side; his lips parted in disbelief. He dragged his gaze back to her, unable to blink. Never… Never in his faeborn life… “Don’t touch me,” the human said.

“There’s a hunk of human brick in my cooked bird eggs,” Dranian complained in a low, monotone voice. “That’s what you get for sitting across from the Prince of Nightmares,” Mor said, wrestling a human-mouth-cloth from the metal box contraption and extending it to the perturbed auburn-haired fairy. Dranian took the human-mouth-cloth. He stared at his eggs for a moment. Then he began dabbing them with the cloth to get the bits of brick out.

“And the hog meat is good here,” Shayne added, holding up a strip and dunking it into a heap of thick fruit juice the humans called ketchup. Cress made a repulsed face as he watched Shayne shove three more pieces into his mouth at once, followed by a scoop of cooked bird eggs. “Human food is repulsive,” the Prince muttered. He pulled his warm milk over and took a long drink. A second later, he choked on a piece of brick and spat it across the table into Dranian’s eggs.

Kate sat at a bistro table by the café window in her sweater with her laptop open, thinking too hard about what to write. She had an idea for a story, but every time she typed a line, she deleted it. Nothing sounded right. Not: Once upon a time a mean guy walked into a coffee shop, and I killed him… Or: On a cold autumn day, a golden-eyed demon strutted into a café and couldn’t figure out what a frappe was… The next voice she heard in her head was Lily’s: Maybe if you actually went to your literature classes, you’d know how to write a good story. “I resent that my conscience’s voice is the same as yours, Lily Baker,” she mumbled to the empty café, stealing a glance at the large clock on the wall that told her she only had forty-five minutes until the class began if she wanted to go.

Mor ignored the question and kept reading, “But as with many rules of the fairies, the opposite can take place too, and a fairy ought to be careful not to kiss a human if there are any romantic feelings—” “How did she not have any romantic feelings for me?” Cress stood—his chair screeched over the library floor. Mor slapped the book shut and set it back on the table. “I can’t imagine how.” He was too composed to reveal if it was sarcasm. “Females have been proposing to me for ten faeborn years. That measly human cannot possibly be an exception to my appeal.” Mor placed a fist over his grinning mouth. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he said through his fingers. “This is the funniest thing that I have seen all year.” “It’s not funny!” Cress kicked his chair, then folded his arms and paced. “She hid her real name, and it seems she cannot be swayed by an enchanted kiss. And now she’s enslaved my brothers! I’ve never been this furious in my entire faeborn life!” “Yes. I know.” Mor nodded and turned the book back to himself. He bit his lips together tightly as he flipped through more pages. The corners of his mouth almost lifted again.

“Why did I say that to him?” she whispered to herself into the silence. “And why did I laugh?” “I don’t think you can.” She moaned and fell into the seat of the closest bistro table. She might as well have invited the Prince to chase her into a dark corner of the city and get his revenge. Kate hated her impulse to giggle when she was nervous—it made her feel like a child. It was a thing she’d spent years trying to overcome to no avail.

“You can’t… shoot a cop,” Lily said, raising her hands. “Is that a command?” The fae scowled, positioning the gun. He pulled the trigger before either of them could move—Lily’s shriek rang through the café, Kate’s heart faltered. But there was no blast. The fae glanced down at the gun, his mouth twisting to the side. He shook it a little. He tried pulling the trigger again, and still—nothing. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he turned it over in his hands. “Queensbane,” he muttered to himself. Kate stifled an untimely grin. An anxious laugh squeaked out. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, but it wasn’t enough. She snorted through her fingers. Lily’s glossed-over eyes dragged to Kate. Her hands were still frozen in the air. A lock of the fae’s curly hair fell from its bun as he shook the gun up and down. He tried tapping it against the counter. Lily watched, and even though it looked like she might cry, a slow smile spread across her face, too. “Are you crazy, Kate?” she whispered. “I hope not.” Kate’s raspy laughter sailed through the café, too loud to stifle now. “Then why are you laughing?” “B…” Kate dropped to a knee and flattened her hand against the floor to support herself as she lost control. “Because he’s an idiot.” The fae’s brown-silver eyes lifted from the gun at that. “He can’t shoot a gun,” Kate said,

“So, tell me, how did you do it? How did you live through the week?” “Well, I found that book,” she started, “and I—” “You enslaved them,” Freida interrupted with a weird grin. “Didn’t you?!” “All but the Prince.” Freida burst out laughing so loud, Kate was sure everyone down the street could hear. “Hazel owes me fifty human dollars,” Freida said, wiping a tear from her eye. “The Prince of the North will tear the whole city apart now, I imagine. I heard he has a temper.”

Lily was quiet for too long. When Kate looked up, she saw a strange mix of anger and hurt on Lily’s face. “I always knew you’d go crazy one day, Katherine Lewis, but this takes the cake!” Lily finally blurted. “Gah-p-shhhh!” Kate slapped her hand over Lily’s mouth. “Don’t say that name ever again!” Kate’s wide eyes drifted to the counter where the three fae had gone perfectly still inside. Kate cursed and burst into the café with her finger up. “Don’t ever repeat that name!” she shouted. “Do you hear me? Don’t say it, don’t write it down, don’t even think it! Don’t help that fae Prince learn my name!” Shayne moaned and went back to admiring himself. Dranian shoved his cappuccino away and stared back at her with death in his eyes, and Mor snatched the dish soap to scrub the new mugs.

“Well, we’ll start with one to the neighbours. We’ve been at war for three years now over them hauling their leaves into my yard and dumping them there. Last year I had to hire someone to get all the leaf piles removed,” Thelma said with a grunt. “I’m too old to stuff them into bags and haul them away myself. I think they’re trying to take advantage of me. I’d like to let them know that I see exactly what they’re doing.” Cress nodded and sat at the table, spreading the first page flat. “I shall tell them they are insubordinate fools who will suffer the wrath of the sky deities—” “Don’t be ridiculous. Tell them I have a granddaughter who’s a cop. And that she’ll be paying them a visit soon if they try tossing their leaves onto my property again.” Cress made a doubtful face. “You think threatening to send one measly human after them will frighten them into obedience?” “I think that’s just where I’m going to start. Plan A is this letter. Plan B—” the old woman smiled. Cress knew the look of a plotter when he saw one. “—Plan B comes later if they don’t smarten up.”

But he turned and snatched the pen back up. “Dearest neighbours,” he read aloud as the pen soared over the paper in beautiful, elegant strokes. “I’ll have you know that my granddaughter is a deadly, powerful, menacing—” Thelma’s deep laugh roared through the kitchen. Cress smacked the pen down on the table. “Do you insist on letting your neighbours harass you, then? I am excellent at writing letters, Thelma. Allow me to take care of this for you.” But Thelma’s laughter didn’t cease, and he bristled. “Just call me Grandma Lewis,” she said when she finally collected herself. “And only write what I tell you, all right? I can’t really send Lily after them anyway. If I tell her what was going on, she’ll lose it.” Cress dragged a hand through his short hair and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” “Dear neighbours,” Thelma began. “I’d like to politely inform you that I’m aware you’ve been dropping your leaf piles into my yard.” “That’s terrible,” Cress mumbled. “This won’t frighten them at all.”

“Katherine,” Thelma began. The old woman hobbled around the kitchen as she thought aloud. “You are the best kind of human there is—” Cress sighed loudly. “—You’re kind and caring. You’re always helping those weaker than you, even when it doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Cress stopped writing. Thelma continued to speak, but his fingers lifted to trace over a warm spot in his chest. It had been many faeborn years since he felt a spot of warmth. “You were never the same after the accident,” Thelma went on. “That day was terrible for all of us, but it was the worst for you. Something like that would have broken most people, but—” “What accident?” Cress asked quietly, and Thelma stopped pacing. Rain began spitting against the window from outside. The sound filled the kitchen as Thelma drifted back to the table. “The day her parents were killed. She was in the back seat of the car. She survived, and they didn’t.” The old woman swallowed. “Katherine woke up in the hospital and asked for them, but they were already gone.” Thelma stared out at the rain. “It’s why she’s afraid of thunderstorms,” she added.

Cress folded his hands, and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d gone several full days without feeling the affects of the enchantment. He thought that meant it had worn off. But it knocked at the door now as it dawned on him why he hadn’t been able to hear any tricks in his human target’s laugh. Why he hadn’t been able to detect any cruelty on her when he first saw her. Why she’d raced across the street to save the red-haired female in the middle of the night and got smacked for it. Why she’d stopped to help the childling in the academy hall. Why she’d sneaked outside her building to help an aged woman and donated her yellow sweater when the woman was cold while the assassins had stalked her. Queensbane.

“What are you wearing?” The Prince made a face at Shayne’s human cooking apron. “I’m cleaning,” Shayne said. “Well, I’m sort of cleaning. Honestly, I just flit around from corner to corner until Mor and Dranian do everything.” Cress rubbed his temples. Though the thought of his immaculately trained, glory-receiving assassins cleaning human dirt placed the hottest shade of blue fire in his faeborn veins, he reminded himself of his larger problem.

“You just have to reverse it,” Shayne said. “I did it with Lady Rosebellow when I was a childling. She enchanted me with a kiss, and so I enchanted her right back. Only one can be enchanted at a time, you know.” Cress’s rounded eyes darted back. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?!” Shayne put his hands on his hips. “Queensbane, where were you when the rest of us were studying defense at the Assassins’ House? Most of what I know of these things aren’t even from my childling days at the academy!” “I was on assignment more than the rest of you,” Cress pointed out, and Shayne rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, you were so much better than all of us. Please, keep reminding everyone,” he said. Cress snarled and glanced back at the building. “She’ll probably smack me if I try to kiss her again.” Another grin spread over Shayne’s face. “Yes, she seems absolutely fantastic like that.”

Shayne’s irritating smile was full and glowing like the sun. “Careful, Cress. You’re going to make her your forever mate at this rate. You’re dabbling in things you’re not good at.” “I’m good at everything,” Cress objected. “You’re dreadful at romance. You’re like a crossbeast blazing through a twig forest. You leave a mess.” “That is not true.” Shayne snorted a laugh. “Well, hurry it up then before you enter the territorial stage. If you can’t shake this, you might start ripping other males apart for standing too close to her, and no one wants to see you go through that embarrassment.”

“We need to have a discussion, Kate Kole,” he said. “Just a few words.” “No thank you. I’m fully aware you want to trick me,” she said. She leaned sideways and stole a look at the building tops behind her, but she couldn’t spot the fae assassins. “Of course I do.” The Prince smiled, but his turquoise eyes darkened. “However, first I want to know what in the faeborn-cursed world you’re doing making my assassins wash dishes.” He was worried about the dishes? Kate could have laughed. “Honestly, I think they sort of like it,” she said, abandoning her hunt for the fae in the street. “They do not. I assure you. And they will get revenge.”

A loud boom of thunder made her jump. Her back slammed the umbrella, nearly toppling them both over, but the umbrella scooped her up before she could fall. The Prince’s hand was out, his fingers dangerously close to touching her arm like he’d been about to catch her. He tore it back and shoved it in his pocket. Kate hid her own trembling hands beneath the damp sweater, and an odd look crossed the Prince’s face. “That’s right,” he said more to himself. “You’re afraid of the sky’s anger.” His voice seemed bored, but there was a strange edge to it.

She scratched behind her ear. “Listen, I’ll release your assassin friends from their chores if you all promise to leave here and never come back.” She quickly raised a hand. “Actually, if I could just keep them for one more week though, that would be great.” The Prince laughed, deep and sweet.

“Stop doing that,” she said. “Doing what, Human?” “I don’t know—whatever it is you’re trying to do with your soft kisses, and your warm stare, and your deep laugh.” She hugged her cold arms tighter to herself, and the Prince blinked in surprise. “Do those things make you feel something?” He stepped under the umbrella with her, escaping the rain. “Anything at all?” Something doubled over in Kate’s chest. “What? No—” “Kiss me, Human. I’ll leave you alone after that,” he promised, and Kate made a revolted face. “Not a chance.”

“Why don’t you just go home, your royal-pompous-fae-highness? I already told you I’ll give you your assassins back if you leave forever. It’s not that difficult to just say yes.” A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Do you really think I would bring my brothers home to a cruel death? I kill for a living, Human. But I’m not entirely heartless.” It was Kate who frowned this time. She glanced back toward the café. “Then we should come up with a plan. Obviously, I can’t roll over and die for you, so if that means those assassins can’t go home, then you should leave them here with me. And you should go home alone.” The Prince’s lips thinned. “I would never leave my brothers under the rule of a human.” Kate nodded. “Then we’ll keep doing this.”

“I have one last question before I let you go,” he finally said, and Kate reluctantly gave him the last ounce of her attention she could manage. “Tell me, where in the name of the sky deities did you get that sweater?” A slow smile spread across Kate’s face, and she tried to smother it by biting on her lip. It was a terrible time to laugh. “No,” she said. The Prince glared at her smiling mouth.

“Were you telling the truth when you said that if you go home, you’re going to get killed?” she asked the assassins puttering about. She rubbed her stinging skin, realizing she smacked herself too hard. “Yes,” Shayne said. “But only if we fail.” She nodded. “I’m sorry that’s the fate waiting for you. But I don’t plan on offering myself as a sacrifice. In fact, I’m changing my orders. I don’t want you to just protect me from the Prince, I want you to protect me from everything. If he—or anyone else—is trying to trick me, I want you to give me a heads up. If someone tries to kill me, I want you to stop them. And since that means you can’t go back to where you came from”—she glanced at the bookshelf behind the counter and pulled three novels from her collection: all popular fae fantasy books— “you might as well get reading. You should really know how humans perceive a fae if you’re going to live among us.” She walked around and smacked a book against each of the fae’s chests. Dranian lifted his book in disgust. “Human literature,” he grumbled. “How preposterous.” Thirty minutes later, three assassins sat around the café sipping warm pumpkin spice lattes and flipping the pages of their novels quietly.

Cress’s heartbeat punched Kate’s back. One of his hands was flat on her stomach, holding her in place, and the other nudged his cold sword closer to her throat. “W… Where’s Mor?” Kate whispered, trying to steal a look at the street without letting her jaw brush his blade. Cress released a dark chuckle. “Mor will not come for you, Human. He is well distracted with the others you left behind.” Kate’s mind filled with Lily’s sad blue eyes. A sob slipped from her mouth. She hadn’t patched things up with Lily. She meant to—she’d thought about doing it every day—but she was so preoccupied with teaching the fae how to run the café. And maybe she’d been scared Lily wouldn’t come back even if she asked. The pressure of Cress’s hand tightened against her stomach. “Don’t do that,” he mumbled through his teeth. It sounded like begging. “Don’t you dare cry, Human—”

Shayne’s jaw slid to the side. His nostrils flared, but he obeyed, clicking the door shut. A second later, he yelled through it, “Why did you concern yourself with our Prince, anyway? You ran back here to tell us about him.” Kate sighed. “I don’t know.” A pause followed before Shayne spoke again. “His enchanted kiss didn’t work on you, Human. You shouldn’t be concerned for someone who wants you dead.” “Is that advice?” Something thumped lightly on the door like Shayne was leaning against it. “Perhaps.”

“Why did you concern yourself with our Prince, anyway?” Only you would save someone who’s trying to kill you, Katherine Lewis. Her conscience took on Lily Baker’s voice again.

“Now!” Thelma said, shoving him forward. Cress caught his feet and glided across the yard as smooth as the Northern winds, peeking through trees and shrubs to ensure no humans were watching. The neighbour’s chariot rumbled down the street as Cress came to their spare chariot parked before the house. He flung the vessel door open and began hauling fistfuls of leaves into the backseat from the large bag. “That’s not enough!” Thelma’s voice came from beside him. Her floral gardening gloves covered her hands. “I thought you were going to stay back and keep watch!” Cress whispered in return. “Heck, no! I came to show these neighbours of mine not to mess with me.” Thelma picked up the whole bag and dumped half into the vessel. Cress’s eyes widened. He reached to help her until only half the leaves were left. “We can’t fit much more,” he said, glancing into the bag. “Then we’ll put them somewhere else.” Thelma headed to the house and nudged a loose window open. She glanced back at Cress with a wicked smile and gave him a nod. Cress looked between the old woman and the window. “Queensbane,” he muttered, hiding a preposterous grin. He hoisted the bag over to the house and held it up, tipping it into the window so the remaining leaves spilled into the quaint living room beyond.

The old woman snickered as they hustled, and Cress smothered a grin. “What will you do if they come over angry?” he asked. “I’ll just get you to answer the door!” Thelma’s roaring laughter rang through the pines as Cress reached around to support her weight. She leaned against him, limping as fast as she could. “You’re an evil human,” he said. But the old woman’s joy seeped into his bones, leaving a thousand phantom giggles in the air, and after a moment, Cress’s smile faded. Evil was immoral agendas hidden behind cruel smiles and the threat of death in the air. The truth was, Thelma Lewis was far from being evil. Cress didn’t believe there was a drop of evil in her, whether her granddaughter was a fairy killer or not.

Seconds later, Cress took the sisters down two at a time right in the dreaded middle of the human street, but the treacherous members of the Sisterhood of Assassins kept getting back up. They beat him, only by a miracle of the sky deities, with claws and needles and wills of iron. They forced him into an alley, and there Cress laid his head back as the dizzy, endless dark came to steal him. But then her voice sailed in against the black waves, plunging into his mind and releasing ripples through his thoughts. “Wait!” she screamed before the Sisterhood killed him. And that had been enough. Cress stifled a moan as the heartache rushed in, worse than any puncture in his flesh. For the first time, he was too weak to deny his wants. When she came to him, he begged her to stay like a fool who deserved to lose his tongue.

One could learn a lot from watching people. If you watched them long enough, you’d learn their habits, their hearts’ desires, their instincts, the little things they do when they think no one is looking.

Sun warmed Kate’s back, and she stirred. She had a vague recollection of hearing snickers through the night, but when she opened her eyes, her bedroom was empty—though, a few books were missing from her nightstand TBR pile.

The other half of the morning Kate had spent trying unsuccessfully to teach Shayne how to drive a car he said he bought. The lesson lasted until the fae admitted the car was stolen and Kate had jumped out of it and smacked his shoulder. The shortened lesson was for the best anyway since it turned out Shayne had horrifyingly aggressive road rage.

“I’m not going to kill you, Human. I’m not going to kill your grandmother, either, or speak your real names in the way required to enslave you,” Cress said. “There’s no point now. Killing you will only prolong my suffering anyway with how preposterously wrong everything has gone since we met.” His hand softened back to flesh, and he shook her wrist until the butterknife fell onto the carpet. “So, stop trying to stab me with everything.”

Six hundred and thirty-four dollars later, Cress paraded out of the outerwear store like he was in a fashion show. Kate’s grandfather’s coat was rolled into a ball under his arm. Cress had decided he needed the scarf the mannequin wore, too, and the exact pair of sunglasses. “So much for a profitable day.” Kate slid her wallet away. “Well, you wouldn’t let me pay with fairy gold,” Cress said. “It’s your own fault, Human.” “You can’t just pay for something with a handful of rocks! There are rules here, you know.” “You’re too kind-hearted,” he stated. “It’s weak.” “You’re still a monster. It’s scary.”

“Why do you keep holding my hand?” Kate asked. “They’re still watching us,” Cress said immediately. “And isn’t this what humans do on dates?” “This isn’t a real date though,” she pointed out. She stole a glance over her shoulder when he wasn’t looking, but she still couldn’t see anyone following them. It was the first moment she wondered if he was making it all up.

“Try it!” Kate chuckled. He reluctantly brought the cup to his mouth and took a small, careful sip. His eyes widened. He began to chug. Kate’s face changed as he kept drinking and drinking and drinking. “Um… maybe you should take a break—” Cress slammed the empty paper cup on the table between them and shouted, “That is the best warm beast’s milk I have ever tasted in my entire faeborn life!” Kate covered the blush on her face with her hands as people’s heads turned. “Seriously, how did you fool an entire police department into thinking you were one of them?” she asked through her fingers.

“I’m putting on a show, Human,” he said. “For the stalkers.” Right. The ‘stalkers’. Cress leaned back in his chair, his beautiful smile not budging an inch, and Kate could have smacked herself. He was trying to embarrass her. “Wow. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She pointed to her red cheeks. “Very much.” “You’re seriously evil.” “You don’t know the half of it.” “What’s your plan? To embarrass me to death?” Kate folded her arms, trying to calm the flush in her face. Cress tapped the brim of the empty latte cup. “If I make you like me, Human, maybe my next enchanted kiss will stick.”

Cress’s jaw slid to the side. “It’s forbidden and cruel to enslave another living being. You should not have done it to my brothers, and I should not do it to you.” “You were going to before.” “When I thought you were guilty.” “I am guilty. I killed a fae.” Cress looked back and forth between her eyes. “You’re innocent, Katherine. You wouldn’t hurt a moonbug if it landed on your food.” Kate chewed on her lip. “Don’t call me that. My name is Kate Kole.” He almost smiled again. “I’m quite positive by now that it’s not.” She dropped her eyes. After a second, she broke a piece off the end of her cookie. “You’re not a monster at all, are you?” She stared at the cookie chunk for a moment before eating it. “I think I finally understand why your assassins’ life stories all include you.”

Cress flicked a crumb off the table. “Shayne gave him a hard time in the beginning. He stole things, started fights, flirted with the wrong High Lords’ daughters… Dranian couldn’t keep up. But one day Dranian followed Shayne to the childling academy, and the other noble faeborn fools there began beating Dranian when he seized up, forcing his face to the dirt and demanding he kiss their filthy shoes before they would allow him to stand again.” Kate’s fingers pressed lightly over her mouth, thinking of the look on Mor’s face at the fundraiser when she made Dranian kiss Lily’s shoe… “So, Shayne went back and broke each of those noble fools’ ribs,” Cress said. Kate’s jaw dropped. “Shayne broke their bones…?” Cress lifted his shoulder into a shrug. “The healers snapped everything back and the bones melded. But Shayne’s father was so angry, he put cold iron in the bottom of Shayne’s boots and strapped them on with locks so Shayne couldn’t get them off. His feet were bound in them for three days. It’s why Shayne hates shoes now.” His eyes darted back up. “So, you see, Dranian’s story has nothing to do with me.”

“I thought you weren’t going to start a war with the Dark until after you had a day to think,” Mor said. “Those were your words, Cress.” “I provoked them so the human could get away. Now for the love of the sky deities, at least hold your faeborn-cursed punches!” Cress complained. “Well, that explains it.” Mor nodded. “I’m relieved you were just protecting your fairy crush like any weak-minded, irrational, possessive male.” Pure and fresh sarcasm. “I was worried you were trying to take on the whole Dark army by yourself like a fool.”