Page 102 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

“Nightmares?” Mor wanted to ask how he hadn’t heard about this until now.

Cress sighed again. “All those poor humans.” He shook his head. “They must be devastated they don’t get to eat more of my cupcakes.”

“Yes. I’m sure that’s what they’re devastated about the most,” Mor said with little enough sarcasm in his tone that Cress wouldn’t know if he was being serious or not. “But on the note of that thieving pickpocket, I’ve been meaning to ask how in the faeborn world Shayne figured out Violet had gotten her memories back?”

“It sounds like Violet gave Shayne hints while she was under his care,” Cress said.

“Hints.” It was a question. Mor folded his hands on his lap, trying to imagine Shayne being the wise detective of the group. It didn’t make a lick of sense.

“Shayne secretly followed her to the cathedral once where she stood outside and stared at the bell tower for hours. Then he caught her reading a Fairy Post, of all things. And last, he saw her running her fingers along the heels of her flat shoes. She even put on your favourite sweater, Mor—Don’t ask me how she got it,” Cress said. “It was all very confusing because every time Shayne asked her if she remembered you, she saidno.”

Mor tapped his fingers together as he thought about that. “She was doing it on purpose,” he said.

Cress nodded. “It would seem so. It appears your human wanted Shayne to know she remembered everything. But for some faeborn reason she couldn’t tell him. I sniff a fox trick on that one.” Cress leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He kicked his legs up onto the footstool, shoving Mor’s feet out of the way and making one of Mor’s legs drop. Kate’s left slipper flew off and Mor scowled at his cold fairy foot.

“Were you as startled as I was to learn that nine tailed fox returned her memories?” Cress asked flat out.

Mor looked over at the fire. He hadn’t stopped asking every moment of the day why Luc would do such a thing when he hated Violet so much.

Cress was quiet for a while, staring at Mor with his naturally cold eyes. Finally, he said, “Are you sure the reason you wanted me to stay out of your fox hunt was because you were worried about what would happen to me if he discovered I was here?”

Mor blinked in astonishment. “Of course! Why else would I have tried to keep you all away?”

Cress made a face, but it didn’t reveal whether he believed him. “The thing is, Mor,” Cress pulled his feet off the footstool and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, “I could have killed that fox another seven times. In the museum, I could have waited for him to come alive, and slain him over and over before he even had a chance to gain his bearings,” he said.

“What’s your point, Cress? Why didn’t you finish him off, then?” Mor asked, hugging his arms to himself.

Cress hadn’t blinked once in the last minute. Mor felt like any little move he made now would be scrutinized by the North Prince. He kept his gaze on their shared footstool.

“I wanted to. He was messing with you. His presence took you away from us,” Cress admitted. “But the thing is…” He tilted his head and squinted his turquoise eyes a little. “I think part of the reason you didn’t want me to get involved in the first place was because you didn’t actually want that fool to die.”

Mor’s wide gaze snapped back up. “What would make you say that?”

Cress relaxed back into his chair again, seeming satisfied. “I’ve known you a long time, Mor. You’re bad at keeping secrets to begin with, but you especially can’t keep secrets from me.”

Mor didn’t find the voice to object. He glanced over at the fire then out the windows, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore now that Luc is long gone. He wanted me dead in the end, and I imagine he’s already vanished into human life somewhere. He probably thinks he succeeded in killing me. It’s probably best to let him believe that.”

Cress said nothing. He reached for a nearby mug on the windowsill and took a long drink of beast milk.

“Though I’m worried about Dranian,” Mor went on. “The fool has declared an oath to not sleep until he’s hunted the nine tailed fox down and finished him off. He wants revenge for his arm that was stolen.”

Cress snorted a laugh through a gulp of his milk. “Good luck to him. I would pay every coin to my name to watch him try to fight a nine tailed fox with one arm,” he said, wiping a milk stain off his upper lip.

Mor smiled at the thought.

“Fool,” Mor and Cress muttered in unison.

49

Violet Miller, Secretary of Doom

Cool air trickled in off the harbour sending a shiver up Violet’s back. All week the weather had grown colder, often starting with a chilly morning and sinking into a hot afternoon. Soon it would stay cool all day long, and the leaves would start to turn. Violet wondered if Jase and Remi were having a good first day of school. If they were thinking about her as much as she thought of them, or if their summer of terror and mysteries had left them never wanting to think about Violet, Mor, or the cathedral ever again.

“You can take your time,” Lily said from beside her on the bench. The officer took a swig of her latte in a burgundy Fae Café paper cup. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” she added after.

Violet scanned the papers on her lap. Papers that told a story about a girl who once had parents, once had a life. A girl who once belonged to someone.

“Haley Whitefield.” Violet uttered her birth name. She’d said it a hundred times over since she’d heard Luc use it. “So, I guess my parents weren’t government agents,” she thought aloud.

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