Faint beeping was the tune that carried Cress out of his deep slumber. Sharp scents filled the air that were not of nature—terrible and stuffy and smelling of a hogbeast’s buttocks. In fact, he had to open his eyes to convince himself he was not stuck in a creature’s rear. He sniffed and grimaced, then took in an ugly white ceiling made of panels.
Aches burned through his body when he tried to move, but he paused when he realized someone’s hand was in his.
A human sat in a chair, leaning her top half forward on his bed with her cheek pressed down to the white bedsheets. Her burgundy hair was pulled back with a tie, but loose strands fell over her sleeping face. Cress’s hand tightened around hers.
He could hardly believe the subtle sound of her rhythm, or the fragrance of her soap, or the light sound of her breathing.
The back of his bed was tilted up, turning it into more of an odd, mattress-covered chair. His armour had been replaced with a white shirt, and the waistband of loose black pants peeked from the sheets covering his legs. A short moment of horror washed over him as he wondered if Kate had changed him like one might have changed the garments of a squealing childling.
He noticed a thick stack of papers in her other hand. The top page had slid off and was out of reach on the floor, but Cress tugged the rest from her fingers.
The Prince leaned back, a smile forming over his mouth when he realized what it was.
HIGH COURT OF THE COFFEE BEAN, it read.
Cress scowled at the horrendous title, then smirked, because deep down he liked it more than he would ever admit to his human mate.
The door to the room flung open, and in marched Mor. The inches of his exposed skin glistened with cuts still healing, but he looked otherwise as healthy as a fresh-born crossbeast.
“Cress,” Mor said when he saw that Cress was awake.
Shayne and Dranian appeared in the doorway at the same time, both trying to push in first. The ruckus made Kate stir, and Cress lifted a finger to his lips to hush them. But he looked from one fairy to the next, sure there were no words to express his relief to see them—even for a remarkable poet and writer such as himself.
As Mor smiled and tiptoed over to shove Shayne and Dranian back out of the room, Cress leaned against the chair-bed and dragged the manuscript over his lap.
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.
