“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.
