3

Dranian Evelry and Mugs of Mayhem

It was Beth who broke the tension heating the room. Her smile went to Dranian, then to Luc, then back to Dranian again. She thought she'd done a good thing. She thought she'd saved him.

She had no idea what she'd really done.

"There's a problem with this contract," Dranian found his voice to say. He grabbed the paper from the floor and waved it at Beth. Her sweet smile dropped.

"What problem?" She took the contract and looked it over, her brows scrunching together. "I don't see a problem."

"Well… there is." Dranian's weak arm felt heavier than a moment ago. "I cannot honour it."

Beth released a strange laugh. "I mean, you can't really get out of it now. You signed it."

"You did." Luc took two more utterly invasive steps into the apartment. He had the audacity to set his bag on the sofa. After a second of looking around, he sat down and stretched his legs onto the coffee table. "As did I, you foolish mutt—"

"Wow, that was uncalled for—" Beth started.

"—so, it seems we're stuck in this predicament. The penalty for breaking the contract is more coin than I possess," Luc finished. He brought his arms up behind his head to relax, and Dranian felt his insides heat. Surely, Beth would not force him to honour the contract after the rude words the Shadow Fairy had spewed.

"Well," Beth said with a shrug as she handed the contract back to Dranian, "at least it's only for a few months."

Dranian blinked at her. Perhaps she was making a jest. Perhaps she wasn't really planning to force him to see this through. She could not possibly imagine the damage that could take place in three hours, let alone three months .

The human female shot him an apologetic smile that didn't undo her betrayal, then she turned to Luc who'd made himself comfortable in Dranian's apartment. She picked up the one bag of groceries dripping ice cream where she'd left it by the door, and she held it up for Luc to see.

"There are a few rules around here," she told him. "The first is: don't leave things around like whoever left all this dairy by the entrance. The second is: make sure you pay your rent on time, which can be delivered by cheque right to my room across the hall or sent via e-transfer. The third is: no loud noises—" Dranian and Luc locked eyes. There would certainly be loud noises. There would certainly be stabbing, and the breaking of bones, and the wailing of pain. "—and the last one is easy. We all want to get along here. So, be nice."

Never in a million faeborn years would Dranian be nice .

Luc's horrid, broad smile returned like he'd read Dranian's mind.

"All of that is written on the contract you both signed, so keep it handy and read over it a few times to remember the rules," Beth went on. "I'll pop in later to make sure you guys are all settled!"

With a skip that was far too chipper for the situation, Beth left the apartment and closed the door behind her, sealing Dranian in with the fox.

"I will break the contract. I will pay the fee, whatever it is. You will be cast out of here." Dranian wasted no time stating his intentions.

Luc brushed a fluff off his jacket, seeming more interested in his cleanliness than the threat. "Oh dear. I imagine you can't afford it if you needed a roommate so terribly. And by this binding human law, you cannot cast me out. If you wish to break the contract, you must be the one to leave." His wild eyes flickered up to Dranian, deadly and cold. "And I will absolutely find a way to get you to leave by choice."

Dranian growled. "That will never happen." This was his apartment. This apartment had been here for him when others weren't. This apartment was the one thing he had—even if it was difficult to get groceries here from the market and the journey to Fae Café was long and tiresome. "I will repay the cruelty you showed me by stealing my arm," he promised instead. "I will call upon my brothers, and we will finish you once and for all."

Luc's face fell at the mention of Dranian's brothers. The fox hopped up off the couch, slid his hands into his pockets, and sauntered around the furniture. His expression turned serious as he looked Dranian over, taking particular interest in the arm that hung slightly limp at Dranian's side. He smiled again, like he was reliving a fond memory, and a fresh growl stirred in Dranian's throat.

"Have you always needed someone to take care of you, North Fairy?" Luc asked with a falsely sympathetic tilt of his head. He pursed his lips, then added, "Are you truly so broken?"

Dranian found his hand wrapped around the handle of his spear in his back pocket. He didn't dare draw it out, didn't dare attempt to start a fight with the powerful nine tailed fox in his condition. But his heart hammered, his arm injury burning its way through his body, through his soul.

"It seems you can't even hold your own territory by yourself," Luc mused. He flicked his hand toward Dranian. "But go. Run to your caretakers, by all means. I won't stop you if you don't think you can accomplish a single thing on your own."

Dranian's stomach dropped.

On .

Your.

Own.

Dranian's fingers slowly uncurled from his weapon. He wasn't na?ve. He didn't truly think this Shadow Fairy was right…

Cress would have destroyed everything in the room at a moment like this. The Prince refused to accept comments of disrespect. Mor might have gone quiet and thought it over, but he would have come to the same conclusion—that pointed comments ought to be ignored. He would have handled it his own way, through cunning and rules.

Shayne was probably the only fairy that would have plotted revenge for no good reason.

But Dranian…

Dranian swallowed as he realized that his first instinct was, and always had been, to call upon his brothers. He would not have jumped to tear apart the fairy with his own two hands like Cress, he would not have gone to lengths to solve the problem like Mor, he would not have plotted a scandalous retaliation like Shayne.

He would have called for help. He would have let Cress handle it. He would have sat back and done whatever he was told.

And though it had never bothered him before, for the very first time, he hated himself for it.

Luc's dazzling silver eyes darted back up as if waiting for an answer to a question he never officially asked. At the look in those stormy gray eyes, it dawned on Dranian what he must do. What he would live or die trying to do.

"I will take back this apartment. I will drive you out all on my own," he promised the fox. "And once you've ended the contract yourself, and I am no longer bound by it, I shall kill you."

Luc's smile had no place in the conversation, but he put it back on anyway. "We'll see who drives out whom," he said in his sweet, syrupy voice.

The fox sauntered back to the couch, sat, laid back, and pulled his arms up behind his head. He closed his eyes like he didn't fear Dranian, like he couldn't possibly imagine Dranian being capable of grabbing the coffee table and using it to crush all of Luc's bones as he lay there.

Also, Luc was resting in Dranian's favourite spot on the couch. The seat beside had an uneven cushion, and Dranian despised placing his rear upon a cushion that would force him to sit at a tilt.

Dranian stifled a growl as he grabbed his rolled-up jacket off the end table. It seemed he would go to work today after all. He needed space to think. To plot.

He just needed space.

"I thought you said you didn't want to come in today. That you were invoking part time ." Cress put his hands on his hips when Dranian walked rigidly into Fae Café where a dozen customers were scattered around tables. The air smelled of cookies with secret enchantments and freshly brewed coffee. Dranian stared at the Prince he had spent so many years serving. Whom he had killed for. Whom he had fought for. Whom he would still die for.

There were many words trapped in Dranian's mouth. There were many words trapped in his ears, too.

"Run to your caretakers, by all means. I won't stop you if you don't think you can accomplish a single thing on your own."

Dranian turned for the hallway to hang his jacket and went to find his apron without a word. He struggled to get it on, but once he had the thing somewhat tied by the strength of one good arm, he came back around and headed for the counter to begin washing the mugs that had piled up.

He filled the basin with water from the pump, and he squeezed in a dollop of soap. The soap began to bubble like a hot cauldron.

When he looked up at Cress again, he found the North Prince with a wide smile. "You couldn't stay away, could you?" he asked. "You love this place so much."

A presumptuous fox lounging on a couch flashed through Dranian's mind before he could stop it.

"I changed my mind. I'll take the evening shift," he murmured. He dove his hands into the sudsy water and began to scrub the Fae Café mugs, wondering why he couldn't seem to spit it out to Cress that there was a dangerous nine tailed fox hiding in his dwelling. One they had all fought together. One they had hoped was gone from the human realm.

Why couldn't Dranian even tell Cress that Luc wasn't, in fact, back in the Ever Corners like they'd hoped? Why could he not at least warn Cress and Mor that the fox who had tried to kill Mor was just an hour's bus ride away?

Dranian grunted.

"If you're in a mood, I'll let you taste my new cherry-topped tarts," Cress offered. "One of those ought to do the trick." He ducked into the kitchen to go tart hunting, and Dranian sighed.

He tossed a washed mug onto the counter too hard, and the whole goblet smashed. Two females at a nearby table shrieked at the noise, and Dranian mustered as much of an apologetic look as he could with the stone-face the sky deities had given him to work with. He glanced back at the broken goblet split right down the middle—two burgundy chunks.

Even though it was mug chunks on the counter before him, Dranian saw an orange pumpkin with stringy seedy bits, broken and a mess. For a moment, he forgot his hands were resting in piping hot dishwater.

First, he'd knocked a pumpkin from its barrel. Then he'd smashed a mug atop the counter. Now, they were both just like him.

Broken.