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

by Jennifer Kropf

His attention snapped to the human coming from her room, drenched apart from her clothes. She gasped and halted at her bedroom door. “What happened?!” Her raspy voice filled the space. “You told us to beat him up if he touched you, Human,” Mor muttered, nodding to Cress. From the couch, Shayne snorted a laugh. “I would have come and begged you to stop us, but you commanded us never to disturb you while you were in the shower,” he said. Kate’s green-brown eyes flickered from fairy to fairy. When she looked directly at Cress, Cress was certain she was the most fragile, humany-human in the entire realm. Her lips were parted, her hair was damp, her eyes were wide like a forest doe, and she balanced herself on slightly wobbly legs. How in the cursed Corners had he ever thought she was an assassin?

“You can not go to knitting club, Human. I forbid it.” The words Cress said over and over for the rest of the week. It was like he thought he was her Prince and had the right to make absurd royal fae decrees around the café. Kate either pretended she didn’t hear when he gave her instructions, or blatantly disobeyed just to see his reaction. Every second of his tightening skin, thinning lips, and narrowing turquoise eyes was worth it.

Kate constantly felt the warm touches of Cress’s stare on her back. Throughout the days, he asked Kate small, quiet questions like, “What is the purpose of dish soap when water cleans the human goblets just fine?” and “Why do you read such boring literature?” and “Which of my assassins is your least favourite? I want to see if we picked the same one.”

Mor flipped down the page corner to peer over it. “He came in demanding money, and those faeborn fools didn’t like it. This has nothing to do with me.” He nodded toward Shayne and Dranian and went back to his paper. “What is Desmount Tech Industries? Every scroll column is babbling on about them,” he added, and then with a mutter, “This text is simple, yet astoundingly informative. I could create a news scroll like this. I’m a faeborn vessel of information.”

Mor snorted. “Then I should warn them of the enchantments you put in the baking,” he said. Kate looked from Mor to the glass display of tarts and cakes, then back to Mor. “Did you just say there are enchantments in the baking?” “Yes. Those two mixed the batter with magic to ensure that every human who tries it is compelled to come back. The coffee is enchanted, too,” he said. “The bad news is that no one really came back here because they liked your coffee, Human. The good news is you have hundreds of lifetime customers,” Mor said, and Kate’s jaw dropped. Her gaze darted to Shayne’s writing in the window that said, COME TRY THE BUTTER TARTS. WE GUARANTEE YOU’LL COME BACK FOR MORE IF YOU DO. “Are you kidding me?!” she shrieked. “You’re always such a tattletale, Mor,” Shayne said as he rolled his eyes. “We all have roles here. That’s mine.” Mor shook his newspaper to straighten it again.

“We’re not finished,” Connor promised Cress. His hand rested on the hilt of his gun. “I’m friends with all the captains on the force. You don’t want to mess with someone like me.” Mor’s chuckle lifted from behind the newspaper, and cold malice filled Cress’s smile. “I can’t wait to mess with someone like you,” Cress assured.

The café bell almost broke off when Cress barged in. Kate dropped the chalkboard she was hanging on the wall. The chalk rolled across the floor and bumped into Cress’s boot and the board hit the floor with a clang. “Where is he? Did he come back here?!” Cress asked through a strained growl that reminded Kate of a struck puppy. She abandoned the chalkboard. “Who?” “Mor!” Cress shouted his name. It echoed through the café.

The Prince stood at the top of the hill with his arms folded watching Shayne and Dranian bound down on a human sled, their pompom hats bouncing along with them. Kate’s raspy laugh flooded the hill as she reached the top after a painfully slow climb. She was out of breath, her fair cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling wide enough to bloom fresh flowers right here in the human realm snow. And only the sky deities knew how adorable she looked in that wretched hat. Cress cleared his throat and looked back at Shayne whipping a ball of snow into Dranian’s face below. “Aren’t you going to try it, Cress?” Kate asked, panting. She wobbled on her feet over the uneven snow as she tried to reach him. It was all Cress could do to keep himself from grabbing her to carry her around for the rest of the day before she lost her footing and broke all her little fragile human bones. “Absolutely not,” he announced. “This is a game for immature childlings.”

She tugged him toward her sled. “Just try it once,” she begged. “Please? You won’t regret it.” Cress yanked his arm back. “Absolutely not.” “Cress.” Why did she have to say his name like that? A foot came against his back, and Cress was shoved forward. He whipped around to glare at Mor. The curly-haired fairy winked. “How insufferable,” Cress muttered as he marched toward the sled after all. “I’ll try it only one time.”

Mor appeared like a cursed nightmare that wouldn’t rest. He pushed against Cress’s shoulders, and the sled tipped forward. Cress’s royal eyes widened as the wooden board picked up speed. He screamed a little.

Mor’s brown-silver eyes flickered. “You’re assuming I’ll let you go back to the North High Court.” “Yes.” Cress glanced back at the rippling flames. “I am.” Mor worked his jaw. “You fool,” he whispered. “I can’t honour that bargain you made with him.” “Careful,” Cress warned. “I’m still a prince even if I’m to die, so do not call me names. And promise me you’ll do as I ask.” When Mor said nothing in return, Cress added, “I went after the Queene alone, so I’ll face the punishment alone. Promise me, Mor.” Mor adjusted himself on his seat. After a moment, his broad shoulders dropped, and he twisted the recipe book back and forth so the paperback spine cracked. “If I go back with my memories, Levress will use a Shadow Fairy to look into my head and she’ll know I’m lying about you all being dead. Promise me, in return for you stealing my memories before. This is how you can make it right with me.” The crackling fire logs seemed to grow louder in the quiet café. But finally, Mor dropped his silver-laced gaze to the floor. “I promise, Your Highness,” he said, almost too quiet to hear.

Mor stood before the full-length mirror in her room, tying his apron. “Cress is engaged?!” Kate shouted at him when she barged in. Mor raised an eyebrow. “Yes. To the High Princess of the North.” He went back to smoothing his apron. Kate gaped. She tried to smack his arm. Mor buckled and raised his hands as a shield, so Kate grabbed a novel off her bookshelf and tried to smack him with that, too, but he darted out of the way too fast. “You don’t see a problem with keeping that from me?!” she barked. “Queensbane, what’s wrong with you, crazy Human?!” he shouted back at her, using his height to reach over her and pluck the novel from her fingers.

Kate marched back out of her apartment, banging the door behind her. She thudded down the stairs to find Cress leaning against the counter on his palms—no, gripping the edge of the counter so tightly that his knuckles were white. Shayne was a basket case of laughter on the floor behind the counter. “How?!” he wailed. “How could you let it happen again?! How—” He slapped a hand over his eyes when tears gushed out. “How did you manage to get enchanted twice?!” “Stop. Laughing. Or I’ll Cut. Out. Your. Tongue.”

She started washing dishes with vigour on the third day. A mug splashed back into the soapy water when Cress emerged from the stairs of her apartment. He looked angry and exhausted. Shayne had a shiny, new black eye on his handsome face. Cress stopped walking when he saw Kate. She dried her hands on a towel and went to meet him, but he grabbed her wet hands around the towel. “I want to make you laugh, Human. Hearing your laugh is my highest obsession. And your smile, too. And for some faeborn-cursed reason, I’m fascinated by your lack of evil—” “Aaaaaand back into the closet you go,” Shayne said, yanking Cress back by his shoulder. “I guess it’s not worn off yet.”

Lily rested her elbow on her knee where she squatted. “What happened to the real Officer Riley?” Strange, terrible thoughts came to Kate’s mind as she made her guesses. She’d never found the nerve to ask the fae. “He’s wandering around the human realm with his pockets full of fairy gold,” Cress announced as he strutted over.

He extended a hand toward Kate like he wanted to help her up. “Are you feeling better?” Kate asked warily. She gave him her hand, and he tugged her to her feet. “Yes.” He mumbled it. “But I curse the day I met you, Kate Kole.” That brought a smile to her face. “How sweet.”

Cress’s jaw slid to the side. “I cannot articulate the joy and merriment it will bring me if you’re jealous,” he said. And there it was—the first hint of a smile. He smothered it away though and hardened his face. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kate said. “I don’t need to do such a thing, Human. You’re doing it for me.” Kate shook her head in disbelief. “You’re the worst.” “You’re irritatingly immune to tricks.” “You’re astoundingly self-absorbed,” she stated. “Yes, well, I’m a prince. It’s only natural.

“What makes you think I like you?” Kate chuckled. “Oh, come on, Human.” Cress’s wide grin said it all. “I’m handsome and powerful and you’re a weak human who can’t help herself.” “Tell that to the last two enchanted kisses you tried to give me—” “I don’t want to talk about that.” His smile fell. “I’m bad at fairy tricks because I avoided them as a childling. That’s the only reason,” he assured, veering Kate into a store of framed prints and paintings.

“You can read it when I’m finished,” he said. But a second later, he glanced up and seemed to take in her unbrushed hair, the bags under her eyes, and her stretched collar. “Go to bed, Katherine. You’re tired.” “I’m fine. It’s just stress.” “Why are you stressed?” “Because of you.” Cress’s turquoise eyes turned doubtful. “Your feelings about me leaving are your own fault. I never successfully enchanted you.” Kate snorted a laugh. “Right, it’s always my fault.” Cress grinned. “Now you seem to be getting it, Human.”

He went back to reading the novel, and Kate’s smile faded. “You can’t go, Cress,” she rasped. “All I think about is running off and doing something crazy to make you stay.” Her phone felt heavy in her pocket. Cress pursed his lips, his brows bunching together. “Yes, I know. It’s been written all over your faeborn-cursed face all week.” And then he added, “Do you know how difficult it is to have a girlfriend who speaks with a tone like that all the time?” “What does my tone tell you?” she asked. “It tells me you’ve more than thought about doing something crazy. It tells me you have plans to do something if I can’t figure out a way to change the bargain. It tells me you perhaps care more than I thought. And that’s dangerous.”

Shayne grinned as the carollers broke out into slightly pitchy harmonies. He tried to snap along, missing a few beats. Cress didn’t hide his repulsed face as he joined them at the door. “Must we stand here and listen to this?” he whispered to Kate. “It’s kind of a common courtesy to stay and listen until they’re finished,” she said back. “How horrifying,” he mumbled, eyeing a man at the back singing louder than the rest. “That human should lose his tongue.”

“This brings back good memories,” she said. “I used to sing in a choir when I was young. I bet you didn’t know I can sing.” Cress released a soft grunt. “Your singing has haunted me since I came here, pesky Human. I bet you didn’t know that.”

The carollers finished their song, and Kate felt Cress breathe a sigh of relief. He barely turned away before one of the carollers started a new song and the rest burst into harmony again. Cress’s jaw tightened, and he glanced at the sky like he was trying to keep from rolling his eyes. “What in the faeborn-cursed human world is wrong with these people?” he said loudly. “I like it,” Shayne said with a shrug. Cress grunted. “Of course you would, you tone-deaf fool.”

“Did I fall asleep downstairs?” she guessed. “You’ve been sleeping terribly,” he said, “so I ensured you’d have a restful slumber. Lily Baker unleashed dull human insults when I told her I was sneaking sleep remedies into your tea and keeping you here with me through the night. She called me a ‘creep’ and warned me to ‘keep my hands to myself’ before she left.” Kate raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, waking up to find you watching me isn’t creepy at all.” She wasn’t sure if he picked up on her sarcasm.

“Don’t give me false hope,” she warned, pushing the laptop away. “Is there any chance you think things could end differently in real life?” “No.” He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. “But if I can’t be happy in this faeborn life, then I want it to at least end this way in the story humans will read.” Her vision glossed over. “Are you trying to enchant me again?” she tried to joke, but a hot tear rolled off the ledge of her eye and painted a clear streak down her face. Cress cast her a smile and swiped the tear away with his thumb. “I know by now, Human, that enchanting you is not possible.” He tugged her to her feet. “Forget the novel. Let’s get ready for the ugly human Christmas sweaters party. Lily insisted we have a full day of festivities in our hideous garments. I think she believes that throwing a celebration will make it easier to let me leave at dawn. But I’ve made sure you’ll all suffer in my absence by finding little traces of me in every corner and cranny. I expect you all to miss me terribly.”

He tore his eyes off the human girl across the room for just a moment to choose his cookie. After a quick count, he selected the one with the most chocolate chips, as only such a dessert was worthy of a prince. When he bit into it, he spat it back out. “What is this?” he demanded, turning the dessert over in his hands. “Lily brought those,” Mor said. “And what in the name of the sky deities are these?” Cress plucked out one of the chocolate chips to find it squishy. He made a horrified face. “What is it, Mor?! Why does it squeeze like a bug?” “It’s a raisin.” Kate appeared and took a cookie for herself. She bit into it. “They’re not everyone’s cup of tea, but I don’t mind them.” Cress stared as she consumed the bite instead of spitting it as he had done. He held his cookie toward her and pointed at the raisins. “This is human trickery of the highest sort!”

“I’ll deliver you to the human medical building,” Cress told Lily. “But make no mistake, Lily Baker, if you ever trick a fairy into eating a raisin cookie again, the sky deities will show no mercy. I hope you realize that what happened here today was punishment for that wretched cookie I ate this morning.”

Kate tore the medallion from her pocket and smacked it against his cheek. Bonswick ripped himself back, kicking her chair over as a sizzling sound filled the room. The medallion clattered to the floor, and his hand slapped over his pale cheek. Kate crashed to the tiles and rolled from the chair. She winced and licked her lip, tasting blood. Through her fluttering lashes, she eyed the closest window, half-hidden behind a fae body. It was cracked open an inch; icy air slid through. Her hair was grabbed, and she was yanked to her feet. The fae bent her head backward to expose her throat, his silvery eyes grazing over it like a hot string running along her neck. “That was for Mor,” she rasped, throat bobbing. His warm breath rushed over her when he laughed. “Queensbane,” he whispered. “Maybe I can understand after all, Human.”

“Laugh all your wishes away, Human. I can make you miserable while I wait for the illegitimate Prince to come hold up his end of our bargain,” Bonswick said. “And I assure you, you’ll wish you’d never met me after he’s gone.” He tore his nails out, and Kate gripped the armrests, fighting to not release a sound. Greyson’s face had been horrified before Kate vanished. Lily had just been a hostage on the job. Neither of them would be okay if Kate didn’t make it back. It was the first pulse of fear that paralyzed her into the chair. Yet, still, she hoped he wouldn’t come.

He read until he was insulted by Kate’s use of adjectives for the fae Prince. Then he smacked his hand down on the top page to startle her awake so he could give her feedback.

“Mor,” Kate asked, brushing the sprinkles off her hands and turning to face him. The fae raised a brow. “What’s a forever mate?” Mor fumbled the cake lifter, and it clattered over the counter into the sink. “I… um…” Kate watched with wide eyes. She’d never seen Mor flustered. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s going to give you a heart attack,” she muttered. “Well… Human… It’s a fairy thing.” He blushed—Mor blushed. “It’s when a fairy bonds to someone in a way that can’t be undone. It’s an unbreakable tether… It essentially means that a fairy’s heart has fallen for a person they will chase forever.” Mor shifted his footing as he plucked the lifter from the sink. “It’s exactly how it sounds. Forever-mate.”

“Well, I do consider myself something of a literary genius in comparison to humans,” Cress admitted and flashed his beautiful smile at the room. Everyone laughed like they thought he was making a fae joke as one of the café’s hired actors. But Kate’s smile dropped. She knew he wasn’t joking at all. “Who is this other author you have listed at the bottom where it says, ‘Written with help from C. Prince?’” a journalist stood to ask Kate. Kate yanked her gaze from Cress. “I made that up,” she decided, and Cress spat his milk. “I wrote the book by myself.”

Kate’s red-toothed smile was real this time. “Cress,” she said in her sweetest voice, “don’t let me have it all. Please—” she shoved the platter of destroyed cake in his direction, “—let’s enjoy it together.” “I don’t want to,” he said through his teeth. Kate batted her eyelashes. “Please?” She pouted and watched the Prince’s face turn anguished with the sort of spellbinding, enchanting love that wouldn’t wear off for at least seventy-eight hours. Mor took Shayne’s phone and raised it to take a video. Dranian leaned over to watch the screen.