Page 77

Mor put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and rubbed his temples. “You really trust theSisterhood of the Travelling Knit-Pantsto protect our humans if we leave?” he asked.

“No,” Cress stated. “They’re severely out of practice, and if I’m being honest, they’re wildly unhealthy. They ride around on those mopeds all day like they’ve forgotten how to faeborn walk! But we’ll strike fear into them with our dominance, and they will obey us.”

Mor cast a look to Dranian indicating he didn’t believe for one second the Sisterhood of Assassins would abide by Cress’s fearsome demands.

Dranian noticed Cress’s gaze dart to Kate while her back was turned. The sorrow that spilled into his turquoise eyes made Dranian shift his footing. Cress’s tones gave off a story of worry that if he returned to the Ever Corners and his identity was revealed, he might be trapped there forever. It was as though Cress feared he might never hold onto Kate again, and that sent prickly guilt crawling all over Dranian’s flesh.

This was the exact sort of situation he’d wanted to avoid when he had decided not to involve Cress and Mor and their humans in Ever Corner business in the first place. If something happened to Cress, Kate would lose her forever mate. She wouldn’t understand why she felt her human heart torn from her chest without notice, why she would wait by a window for the rest of her life, or why she would never be able to forget about him or let him go and why time would not heal all things as the humans claim. She wouldn’t understand because she was from a realm where the relevance and power of bonding to a mate were entirely unexplained. The same thing would happen to Violet if something happened to Mor.

Dranian glanced through the kitchen doors, out at the café, at the street beyond the windows, and he wondered just how different the human realm might become if the fairies in his company did not return home.

Thirty minutes later, three fairy assassins stepped out of Fae Café.

Cress pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his fashionable snow coat. He put them on as a warm gust of wind fluttered his silken hair, and a beam of sunlight pierced through the clouds overhead, turning him gold for a split second. Time seemed to slow as he flexed his jaw, his coat flapping while he took his first step across the sidewalk. Dranian’s eyes got stuck; he couldn’t look away from Cress’s greatness. In fact, Dranian could have sworn he heard some sort of sweet-toned, stringed music rise from the ground that aligned perfectly with Cress’s movements.

“Stop doing that,” Mor muttered at Cress.

The slow-motion, the magical wisp of breeze, and the music all disappeared in an instant, and Cress’s hair fell flat. Cress grunted and adjusted his coat which seemed far less flashy all of a sudden. “If Icando it, Ishould,” he said back. “It’s a great act of theft to all those watching if I don’t.”

Mor rolled his eyes and buttoned up his own coat; the long black one he usually kept in the closet at his cathedral. In comparison to theirs, Dranian’s coat was pretty boring.

The sound of revving, chunky bicycle engines lifted from behind the buildings, sending ear-piercing echoes in all directions, and Dranian winced.

“Ah. Right on time,” Cress said, looking at his wrist even though he didn’t have a watch there.

The assassins turned toward the end of the street where two dozen mopeds inched their way around the bend, ridden by females wearing tight knit scarves, unsightly yarn vests, helmets, and bug-eyed goggles. The machines took up the whole road, and Mor shook his head.

The Sisterhood rolled up to Fae Café and stopped before the Brotherhood when they saw them standing there. Freida slid the goggles off her eyes and hung them around her neck as she looked Cress over first, then Mor. She hardly spared a glance at Dranian. “Well, something’s not right,” she said. “Where is Kate Kole?”

“She’sfine.” Cress made a tsking sound. “I take good care of her.” He folded his arms and leveled his sunglasses-covered eyes with Freida’s. “We’re about to—”

“Go on a trip, I imagine. Isn’t that right, Prince?” Freida interrupted. “Ah. I see you’re all dressed up.” She made a face at Cress’s outfit in particular. “Not well, but dressed up, nevertheless.”

The corners of Cress’s frown tightened.

“We’ll be back soon.Pleasekeep an eye on our humans for us,” Mor said, and Freida’s gaze darted over to him. She had a cat-like way of looking people over, and even though Dranian wasn’t the object of her attention, he fidgeted with his hands.

Freida folded her arms and tapped a finger against her ugly sweater. Then she said, “Fine. We’ll watch over Kate Kole and the humans—”

“It’s not an enormous request!” Cress howled out of nowhere. “Just say you’ll do it! Or when I return, you will suffer my unrestrained wrath!”

Mor and Dranian leaned forward to look at Cress.

Freida unfolded her arms and barked at her fellow moped-riders, “Is he deaf, Hazel? I did say we’d do it, right?”

Hazel nodded but said nothing, and Cress’s stance relaxed. “Oh,” he said.

“We’re a gang, Prince Cressica.Andwe’re former assassins. We’ll guard the humans well,” Freida swore.

“A gang?” Dranian didn’t mean to mutter it out loud or say it with doubt, but Freida’s gaze—along with all the pointed gazes of the whole ‘gang’—darted to him. At that moment, he felt a bit like he might melt into the sidewalk.

“Gangs ride around on bikes and are deadly to mess with,” Freida challenged him. “Seems like we’re a gang then.” With that, she replaced her goggles, turning her back into a giant, fuzzy bug.

The Sisterhood filled the street with the scent of exhaust and screechy whining sounds as they flew three more doors down the road on their mopeds and stopped in front of the Yarn & Stitch.

And just then, Dranian was struck with the horror of what might happen if the girl with no name he’d spent so many years without decided to join that knit-wearing band of old women if he managed to get her to the human realm. The females were all on the same side after all. What if the girl was more loyal to the knitters than the café? What if Dranian was forced to whip pudding and cupcakes across the street at her? And—queensbane—what if she threw macaronsbackat him?

It was still on his mind as he and his brothers walked down the streets of Toronto. As they rounded the shops and made their way toward the gate that would take them back into the Ever Corners—hopefully for the last time.