Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

looking out for her while you were busy ruining other mortals’ lives.”

“I want to talk to her. We have business—”

“Let me guess. Fealty? The benefit of your court’s protection in exchange for meddling with our lives?” Sionnach sat up, holding the sheet to his abdomen, casually keeping it over his wounds as if he were protecting his modesty. “Where were you all these years when we struggled to keep any semblance of order in the desert? Where were you with your offers when I was getting bloodied to keep the unruly ones from slaughtering mortals? Not interested.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m here for Rika.” Sun sparks glittered around Keenan as he became increasingly agitated.

Sionnach looked to the hallway behind Keenan. Rika’s silhouette was barely visible in the dark. This opportunity was too good to ignore. King or not, the arrogant court faery needed to be reminded that there were things that were not acceptable, like leaving Rika so sorrowful that she had hidden herself away from everyone for years. Although Sionnach had hidden his own sorrow at seeing her so lost and confused, he certainly hadn’t forgotten it. He never would. To Keenan, Rika was one of scores of mortals whose lives had been changed irreparably by nothing more than the bad luck of his having noticed them. For nine hundred years, the Summer King had wooed mortal after mortal, trying to convince them to love him, hoping that they would love him enough to take the ridiculous test to determine if they were the one mortal who could free him. Those who loved him enough were the unluckiest: for their foolish trust in him, they were cursed to carry ice in their bodies until the next girl agreed to the test. If Sionnach had been a different faery, if he’d been Keenan’s friend, he would feel sorry for the king’s centuries of searching. He wasn’t, though. He was Rika’s friend.

He stared at Keenan, offering him his most convincingly innocent expression. “It won’t matter what you’re here to say. Rika doesn’t follow very well; she’s more of a leader.”

“Rika?” Keenan gave Sionnach a look of incredulity at that. “She was a sweet girl when I met her. Time doesn’t change that. She might have a few fits of temper, but—”

“But what?” Rika interrupted as she walked closer to them.

Keenan turned to face her. He shrugged, arrogant and apparently not concerned that she’d heard his idiocy. “I came back to give you another chance to discuss this. I can give you the security I never could before. You could keep order here in the desert for me. You give me your vow, and I give you my strength to get things safer here. It’s better for everyone. . . .”

Sionnach laughed, interrupting the Summer King, who fixed him with a glare. Sionnach’s laughter was only a little forced. Logic had begun reminding him that he shouldn’t use those stomach muscles, that moving and laughing were liable to make him cry in pain before long. He swallowed against the sound that wanted to crawl out of his throat.

“Shy, no laughing,” Rika ordered, and he knew that she was well aware of the way it was making him feel.

“Yes, Rika,” he demurred, giving her a very obedient look, and then he smirked at Keenan. “She’s a natural leader, only a fool wouldn’t see that.”

Keenan continued to glare at Sionnach, holding the other faery’s eyes for a heartbeat or two, and then returned his attention to Rika. “We can talk out the details. Things are different now. You’d be an extension of my court. It’s not a difficult task, and you could enlist whatever”—he gestured vaguely at Sionnach—“faeries you wanted as staff.”

“Did you miss the part where I said no when you were here before?” Resolutely, Rika walked past Keenan and came to gently sit down on the bed beside Sionnach, putting herself between them. Her hand brushed his cheek gently, a gesture that looked like affection but Sionnach knew to be a subtle way of checking his fever.

As she withdrew her hand, Sionnach realized that he was barely resisting touching her. He’d let Keenan think that she was his. She wasn’t. He’d known that for decades. They were friends. He’d all but shoved Jayce into her arms. Still . . . he could rationalize it away right now as simply encouraging the image he had set before the Summer King. He ran his fingertips over Rika’s upper arm, enjoying touching her as he so rarely could. She didn’t pull away.

“I’m not interested in what you are offering,” Rika told Keenan, her voice soft but firm. Her body was motionless, but Sionnach felt the tension in her muscles. He didn’t know if it was her anger or his touch that made her so stiff. Just in case his touch was making her unhappy, Sionnach stilled his hand.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Rika said.

Keenan raked his hand through his hair. “Be reasonable, Rika. You can’t think that having this many uncontrolled faeries without leadership is wise. The Summer Court can establish order here. If you help—”

“No.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sionnach then and added, “I have all the help I need.”

Sionnach reclined, letting himself relax farther into the pillows now that she was there. The pain from hiding his injury and moving as if he were unharmed had made him feel sick. A wise Alpha didn’t show such things— especially to court faeries who were determined to take over where they weren’t wanted. Moreover, an Alpha didn’t show weakness to the one who’d hurt the faery he most wanted to shelter. Sionnach wrapped an arm around Rika’s waist and closed his eyes as if he were bored. “Wake me when he’s gone.”

“He’s leaving now.” Rika wrapped her hand around Sionnach’s where it rested on her, keeping him held tightly to her, letting him know that his embrace was wanted. This, at least, was familiar territory with them. He had embraced her a few times over the decades when she was upset—usually because of the Summer King’s unwanted visits.

Sionnach could feel her tremble as he held her. Seeing Keenan had always upset her, and the helplessness Sionnach felt every time hadn’t faded. He couldn’t undo the hurt, the self-doubt, the sorrow that Keenan’s actions had caused her. He couldn’t even strike out at the faery king. All he could do was stay by her side, and try to help her when he had a chance. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, reminding her that she was not alone.

“There are other faeries who would be strong enough to run the desert for me if you won’t, Rika.” Keenan’s words were spoken softly, but the threat in them was implicit: he would control the desert with or without her.

Sionnach’s eyes snapped open as his temper flared, but even the strongest Alpha was no match for a faery king. Years ago, when Keenan was a bound king, Sionnach might have considered attacking him. He would’ve lost, but he might have survived it. Now, though? The Summer King was unbound; he was all but invincible. A fight would likely end in death, or at the least, such a severe defeat that Sionnach would be useless to Rika. And attempting anything while he had poison in his body would be a potentially fatal act.

Rika, however, didn’t seem to have even reacted to Keenan’s quiet threat. She said only, “You need to go, Keenan. I don’t have anything more to say to you, and I don’t want to see you.”

The Summer King, however, was nothing if not persistent. He was a faery who had spent nine centuries seeking one girl. He didn’t surrender easily. “Think about what’s best,” he said. “The solitaries here don’t need to be without protection. The Summer Court has a plan to create sub-regions with local rulers and—”

“No,” she cut him off. “We are strong enough without you. No one bothers us out here.”

“But if there’s trouble from one of the other courts—”

“Why would they bring their conflicts here? Our only troubles are from our own, and Shy and I are strong enough to mete out discipline. You made me stronger than most every faery when you stole my humanity. I didn’t need your help these past years.” She faltered then, looking bereft for a moment.

“You were already strong inside. That’s why he chose you,” Sionnach murmured gently, giving her the encouragement she deserved. “Still are. You can hold order over the desert, Rika. Without him. Without me.”

Rika glanced back at Sionnach. An all-too-familiar look of worry crossed her face. “Am I? You were always Alpha here.”

“Only because the stronger faery didn’t take it from me. You’re strong and brave and smart,” Sionnach told her honestly, not caring that they had an audience. “You know that. We don’t need him here.”

After a grateful smile at him, Rika looked back at Keenan and announced, “We have nothing to discuss.”

As Keenan glared at Sionnach, heat wafted toward them. The Summer King said bluntly, “Maili has