Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

“Not us. Not real faeries.”

“Even us, Maili.”

“Not all of us.” She took a step away from him, tucking one hand behind her back at the waistband of her pants, where he knew a weapon was undoubtedly hidden.

“We are strong, and they are disposable. They don’t matter.”

“Mortals matter.” As he looked at Maili, he tilted his head as if his animal nature would let him see what she still hid. There was something more to see here. This scene was too carefully constructed for it to be about a dead or injured boy.

“They shouldn’t, not to us,” Maili insisted.

“If we want to survive in the world today—” Sionnach stopped midsentence, caught by the sight of a silhouette at the end of the alley. He didn’t need to turn around to see that the person peering into the shadows was Carissa.

He knew that the alley looked deserted to Carissa; she couldn’t see him or Maili. She would see the body if not for the fact that Sionnach hurriedly crouched down and touched the boy’s arm to extend his own invisibility over the fallen mortal. In touching him, Sionnach knew that he was dead.

“Sionnach?” Carissa called. “Are you here? I got your message.”

He didn’t answer, and Maili grinned cruelly. Two of her lackeys came to stand on either side of the mortal girl. Carissa didn’t see them either. She was a pawn to Maili, nothing more than an object to force his hand. The boy was killed to set the stage, to clarify the threat to Carissa that Maili wanted Sionnach to understand.

Sionnach didn’t move away from the boy; he couldn’t without revealing him. His tail flicked wildly as he ordered, “You’ve made your point. Leave her alone.”

“For tonight,” Maili agreed. “But I haven’t made my point, not yet.”

He felt the wound that followed her words almost before he realized what was happening. Maili swung her arm up and slashed across Sionnach’s chest with her carved bone knife.

“They are a distraction, Sionnach. You were so busy watching her and hiding him that you didn’t see the real danger, the danger to a faery.” Maili unwrapped a rusty iron quad-pronged thing, and before he could reply, she jabbed it into his stomach. “Faeries have no business worrying about mortals.”

Maili didn’t pull the weapon out of his stomach. She just let go. Sionnach stared at it, trying to determine the best next step. The pain was excruciating enough that he felt separate from himself, as if he weren’t exactly anchored within his body.

Maili swallowed audibly before she said, “Power, strength, that’s what gives you voice. You are weakening because of her, because of Rika’s influence.”

There was no help for it. Sionnach fell, but he didn’t crumple or cry out. He hadn’t become Alpha in this territory without learning to hide his pain. In a sort of slow-motion tilt, he let himself fall back against the wall, and then he slid down so he was reclining in the dirty street. “That was really foolish.”

“Smart, actually. It’s iron, Sionnach. Rusty bits of poison just broke off inside your body. The others will see you like this, an example of what happens when I’m not obeyed.” Maili sounded weak, shivery with either the pain of her own contact with the iron or the fear of what she had just done. She glanced at her hand. In that brief contact, it was already bruised and had raised welts from gripping the vile metal. “You’ve forgotten what you are, and I need you out of my way.”

“I know exactly what I am.” Sionnach slid the weapon out of his stomach. He didn’t fling it away; instead he dropped it in the puddle beside him. He didn’t want to have it tucked between his body and his hand, but he had no other weapon. He’d keep this one near him in case he needed it. Pointedly, he looked from her injured hand to his own. His hand was barely bruised by touching the handle. He was stronger, and they both knew it.

“Think about this,” he cautioned her.

“I have. Rule of might: I have it, and you’re losing it.” Maili’s expression was anxious, but she squared her shoulders before adding, “I just need a chance to prove I’m strong enough to be Alpha. You were in the way.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Sionnach glanced at the mouth of the alley. Several of Carissa’s friends that he hadn’t yet met had just joined her. Despite the worried look on her face, she was safer now, and he was relieved. Right now, he didn’t think Maili would harm her; her goal seemed to have been merely to use her to distract him, to make him look away. It had worked. Nonetheless, he was glad Carissa wasn’t alone now—and therefore not as vulnerable.

Maili squatted beside him, glaring. “You are no better than us, fox.”

“Maybe not better, but I am smarter. Rika won’t forgive this, and she’s stronger than all of us.”

Maili laughed. “Power is only valuable if you use it. Rika doesn’t.”

In silence, Sionnach watched Carissa walk away with her friends. He wished he could tell her that he hadn’t sent a message and then abandoned her, but there were more important things than a few moments of her worry. Being Alpha in the desert meant that he had to put security and order in front of his own interests. Alpha was a duty, one that he sometimes wished he could hand to another faery—not forever, but for a few years so he could enjoy life more. It had been far too long since he’d had a true holiday.

Maili didn’t understand what being Alpha meant. She saw being Alpha as a thing of power. It wasn’t. It was a responsibility, and the only reason Rika hadn’t claimed it was because she hadn’t had someone to protect or defend. Now that she had Jayce, she was more likely to be receptive. That had been his original plan. Now that Sionnach had been poisoned with a toxic weapon, Rika had another reason to step forward.

Maybe I should’ve just gotten myself stabbed instead of finding her a date. He wasn’t quite sure which of the two had caused more pain. He closed his eyes with a laugh at his own expense. 

CHAPTER 10

Since the day she’d kissed Jayce, Rika had been happier than she’d thought possible. He was with her as a real part of her life, and the faeries in the desert had been leaving them alone since that odd night at Dead Ends. She knew Sionnach was responsible for that, but he acted like it was the most normal thing in the world to help her navigate the difficulties of dating a mortal while keeping him safe from meddling faeries.

Today, Rika walked through town visibly with Jayce’s arm around her. Maybe Jayce was what she’d been waiting for all this time. She could finally have a relationship. When she’d “dated” Keenan, it had been a different century, and the Summer King hadn’t ever kissed her with the sort of fervor Jayce now did. Keenan had never touched her without ulterior motivation, but Jayce . . . he was different. When he pulled her into his arms, he wasn’t trying to convince her to sacrifice anything, wasn’t trying to hide his true intentions from her. Jayce’s only interest seemed to be making her forget the world around them—and that was an interest she could happily support.

Being with him, being out around people, made her realize how much of living she’d been missing. She wanted more of it, the silly jokes and the casual touches. She wanted to spend days doing nothing but kissing. She wanted to be lost to the dizzying joy of touch. What Jayce wanted, however, was more talking.

“I want to know you better,” he repeated. “It was a sentence he’d used far too often, one that hinted at more than she could offer right now.

“You do know me. We’ve spent hours talking and—”

“Are you happy being with me?”

She paused. If there was a right way to say that she was happier than when she had watched him in secret, she didn’t know it. Instead, she said, “I never expected to get to touch you. I didn’t think I’d become this . . . I don’t know . . . free.”

“Free enough to answer more questions?” His voice sounded teasing, and his fingers trailed over her arm.