Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

and gave her an intense look. “You’re a little scary, Rika.”

She turned her face away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . And we shouldn’t . . . I didn’t see any other way. You were in danger.”

He put a hand on her cheek, tentatively. When she looked at him, he whispered, “I didn’t say scary was a bad thing.”

“Oh.” She didn’t move any closer to him, even though there were very few things she could imagine wanting more than being closer to him. This is a mistake. She was frozen, unable to either close the distance or retreat.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

And then he lowered his hand and stepped back a little. “So show me around your home?”

As they walked farther into the cave, Jayce didn’t ask about the oddity of living here. Instead, he took her hand in his. In his other hand, he held a lantern she’d given him. Silently, they wandered through the labyrinth of tunnels. He trusted her to lead him, and she marveled silently at the gift of his trust.

Tentatively, she led him to an immense room. Pipe organ stalactites and cascading veils hung like precious art. Smaller passageways led from the room, and several more camping lanterns sat on the ground beside their feet. She lit one, bringing a bit more light to the immense cavern. Above them in the shadows, the faint shape of some of the colony of bats that nest in the caves stirred, but didn’t flee. They had become used to her over time.

“I’ve never brought anyone in here. They’re my company.” She gestured at the bats and then laughed self- consciously, realizing that she sounded nervous and more than a little peculiar.

Jayce didn’t laugh. Instead, he whispered, “They’re beautiful. The whole place is—” He stopped and looked intently at the far wall, at the mural she wanted to share with him. He lifted his lantern higher as he walked toward it. “Amazing.”

Rika couldn’t move. She stayed frozen in the center of the cavern, feeling extra vulnerable and trapped despite the vast cavern. She’d seen his art so often, but she hadn’t shared her art with more than a handful of people in her life.

Jayce was wide-eyed as he studied her art. “This is incredible. It’s not old though. I’ve seen cave art. This is new. . . . But the materials . . .” He walked along the wall, gaze fixed on the art, occasionally glancing at the uneven ground at his feet as he walked. Although the mural extended as far as the light reached and beyond, he stopped after a few moments and looked back at her. “Did you do this?”

She shrugged. “I get lonely. I needed to talk, and there was no one . . . so I did that.”

“Art to talk . . . Yeah. I get that.” Jayce nodded, watching her as he said it. It was the same look of wonder he’d had when he’d first seen her, before the weirdness, before the fight, before their run across the desert. “It’s hard to find words sometimes.”

“Or anyone trustworthy enough to listen.” She walked over to stand beside him.

“I draw. Not like this, but . . .”

Suddenly, the bats stirred en masse as they heard a voice calling into the tunnels, “Princess? Come out; come out.”

The whole colony seemed to leave in one black wave, and for a moment, Rika and Jayce stood together silently watching the bats.

“That’s Sionnach, from earlier. He’s here,” Rika babbled awkwardly.

Jayce’s expression clouded at the intrusion, but he was silent as she took his hand in hers. His fingers were warm, and for a moment, she wanted to stay silent and hidden with this boy who understood the need to speak with art. That wasn’t an option though; she’d indebted herself to the fox faery who was waiting for them.

“Come on,” she said.

They followed the twisting maze of tunnels to the first cavern they’d entered when they came into the cave. Sionnach’s back was to them, and Rika could already see that there were various scrapes visible on his arms, as if something with talons slashed him. When he turned to face Jayce and Rika, more injuries became visible.

“I need to talk to him,” Rika said. At Jayce’s nod, she released his hand reluctantly and went to stand beside Sionnach. In a very low voice, she told the faery, “Maili’s in need of a few reminders of her place . . .”

“No courts out here, princess,” Sionnach murmured softly enough that Jayce wouldn’t hear. “Rule of strength or influence.”

She growled a little and said, “They’re acting like animals.” She reached up to check the injuries on his face, touching him as she only did when he’d come to her injured and seeking help. “That’s my fault. . . . I’m—”

“Shhh.” Sionnach stepped away, leaving Rika with one hand still in the air, and turned his attention to Jayce. “So . . . Jayce, right?”

Jayce nodded. “And you’re . . . ?”

“Sionnach,” he said, drawing out the word so it sounded like “shhh knock.” The faery circled Jayce, not looking very human. He leaned in behind Jayce and sniffed him. “If it’s easier, you can call me ‘Shy.’”

“Thanks for the help at the club, Sionnach,” Jayce said levelly.

Jayce either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Sionnach had just sniffed him. Rika had spent enough time with Jayce that she couldn’t say she was completely surprised by how well he’d reacted to everything so far; he was naturally mellow. But Rika didn’t like Sionnach acting more like an animal than a human. He wasn’t even playing at being one of them right now; he could act like a human. She’d seen it, but right now, he was acting like himself. Seeing him around Jayce, being so much the solitary faery, made Rika remind herself that he was all faery; he wasn’t someone she should trust. He was and had always been a faery, one with motivations she’d never wanted to understand—and still didn’t.

She scowled at him, thinking back on his earlier visit, when he had so casually told her that he knew that Jayce was in danger and that he’d done nothing about it.

However, Sionnach was well accustomed to her censure after several decades of their friendship. He merely folded his arms and gave her a wide smile. He sniffed Jayce again.

“Stop it, Sionnach.” Rika stepped between them and took Jayce’s hand. Then, she walked toward the same pallet where she’d been sitting when Sionnach had visited earlier and sat, tugging Jayce down beside her in the process.

Jayce looked a bit amused, no longer seeming as perplexed as when they’d first arrived or as awed as when they were in the tunnel. He leaned back against the wall, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and then looked from her to Sionnach and back again. “You’re both a little unusual.”

“Quite,” Sionnach said, and then he laughed.

Rika knew him well enough to understand that he approved of how Jayce was responding to the situation. A lot of people would be freaking out over her cave home, the fight, the speed at which they’d moved, and Sionnach’s odd behavior. Jayce wasn’t. Still, Rika told Sionnach, “I can’t ask him to stay here.”

“I don’t mind,” Jayce said softly from beside her. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

Rika glanced at him, but didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The flare of happiness inside of her threatened to make her sound like even more of a fool than she probably already had. By all rights, Jayce should be fleeing. He should be trying to escape her, wondering if she was crazed and dangerous. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.

Still staring at her, Jayce added, “I can go get my gear and—”

In an almost human-like walk, Sionnach went to a shadowed edge of the room. When he retrieved a rucksack and bedroll and dropped them on the ground in front of Rika and Jayce, they broke their locked gaze and looked at Sionnach instead.

“How? Where? . . . Never mind.” Jayce smiled wryly and shook his head. “I’m guessing you’re part of the I- can’t-answer-questions team.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Ask away.” Sionnach sounded somewhere between amused and malicious, and Rika wondered what game he was playing at.

After a tension-filled pause, Jayce asked, “Anything?”

With a speed too quick to truly appear human, Rika stood and snatched hold of Sionnach’s arm. “Move, Shy. Now.”

She pulled him away from Jayce, toward the door, so they could speak in relative privacy.

“Oh my . . . Are you asking me to keep secrets,