Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

overpower the Winter Court.”

“So it’s about Keenan? Or mortals?” she asked.

“Both. I said that he’d come messing around. He has already. He’s always been fond of mortals, so I figured we’d avoid trouble by treating them better. It wasn’t because of Carissa. It’s you too.” The fox faery’s voice dropped with his last admission, and Jayce felt a little sorry for him.

“Me?” Rika sounded like she didn’t know if she should cry or hug him.

“I saw when you were a mortal, princess.” Sionnach looked heartbroken. “I hated what he did, but then I knew you and . . .”

Rika stepped toward Sionnach. “That’s why you became my friend. Because of what I was before?”

“Not just that,” Sionnach said.

Jayce watched them, not with jealousy but with curiosity. Whatever the two faeries shared needed to be discussed. Jayce suspected that Sionnach had manipulated his relationship with Rika—and he suspected that the fox faery had far deeper feelings for her than he admitted to any of them. The same history that made the two faeries friends was what had kept them from having a relationship. Jayce picked up his sketch pad and began drawing Sionnach and Rika.

Rika leaned over and kissed Sionnach’s forehead. “So you fought over mortals.”

“Not entirely. I’m the Alpha; I imposed some rules.” Sionnach took her hand, squeezed it, and then gave her a mischievous look. “Some of the others objected to my suggestions.”

“Objected?” Rika echoed. “You were stabbed. That’s not objecting to suggestions.”

Rika paced away, her mood turned from sad to angry in a moment. “I’ll go to her and explain—”

“Explain? Princess, explain is a verbal thing. I think you mean beat.”

“I can use words.”

“‘Can’ and ‘will’ aren’t the same.” Sionnach turned to Jayce. “Faeries can’t lie. You need to listen carefully to what we say and don’t say.”

“Oh, I have been,” Jayce said levelly.

Sionnach smiled approvingly at him like he was a good pupil, but there was a glint in the fox faery’s eyes that made clear that he realized what Jayce wasn’t saying. Rika, however, was oblivious to the undercurrents in the conversation.

“She has it coming,” Rika muttered.

“You know, I never even said it was Maili.” Sionnach’s eyes widened in false innocence. “Maybe it was —”

“Was it Maili?” Rika interrupted.

“Well, yes.”

“So tell me why I shouldn’t go explain that she best not be so stupid in the future?”

There was an extended pause where the two faeries faced off, and Jayce wasn’t entirely sure what was going on then. Their moods had changed abruptly. It had been a seemingly mild conversation, but suddenly, Rika looked more menacing than he’d seen so far. Her chin was up, her shoulders squared. Sionnach, even though he was in a bed, still looked fierce enough that cowering might be wise.

“Because if you do and she knocks you down, we are without recourse,” Sionnach said gently. His lighter attitude vanished, and Jayce finally glimpsed the faery who was strong enough to keep order in the desert. He and Rika matched each other in subtle ways, looking fierce and projecting a heightened sense of Otherness. They seemed like two animals vying for control, and Jayce realized that to some degree that was exactly what was happening. He was all but invisible to them as they tried to establish which of them was in charge here.

Sionnach held Rika’s gaze and added, “And I really dislike the Summer King . . . almost as much as you do.”

At that, Rika deflated. “She stabbed you, Shy. I can’t just ignore that.”

He held out a hand. Rika went to him, took his hand, and sat on the cave floor.

“And we’ll deal with her, but not now. Not when doing so would leave you, Jayce, me and . . . all the others vulnerable. I cannot be Alpha right now. You can. You could even if I wasn’t injured. Although you back down from me every time you start to challenge me, everyone in this room—most everyone in the desert—knows that you are stronger if you want to be.” He used their combined hands to catch the underside of her chin and forced her to look at him. “You can’t be Alpha if you back down, and I’m injured. We need to be smart about this. Maili’s treacherous. If you fall, she’s the next strongest here. She’s not what we want in power even for a breath. Please?”

“For now. If I’m strong enough—”

“You are beyond strong, but you’re not cruel enough, princess,” Sionnach interrupted.

“You underestimate me, Shy. I think I’m quite able to be cruel.”

“Are you sure enough to risk all of our safety on that belief?”

“No.” Her gaze dropped. “Fine. I won’t go looking for trouble. Yet.”

“Good.” Then the fierce faery who had just convinced Rika she was strong enough to be Alpha, yet also convinced her to bow to his wishes, fastened his gaze on Jayce. It wasn’t an entirely friendly look. “There’s a salve I brought for Jayce, Rika.”

She stilled, her entire body tight and tense, but her voice sounded calm as she said, “There are rules, Shy.”

“None higher than us out here,” he countered. “He’s no use to me if he’s unable to see what’s around him.”

“Right here, Sionnach,” Jayce interjected. “And being of use to you isn’t my top priority.” He glanced at Rika, who looked increasingly nervous. “What’s the salve for?”

“Seeing,” she whispered.

Jayce waited, knowing that there was obviously more to it than what she’d said. He knew that faeries could be invisible to humans and were inaudible when they couldn’t be seen. So, the obvious meaning was that the salve would let him see them. When neither of them spoke further, he prompted, “And?”

Sionnach waved his hand, earning a glare from Rika.

“Giving a mortal the Sight is not something we’re to do,” she said in a shaky voice as she stood and walked over to Jayce. “It’s risky for mortals too. Some of the courts take mortals who can see them, those born with the Sight. Others just take the mortals’ eyes.”

Jayce wrapped an arm around her, but didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that particular risk, but he would rather discuss it away from Sionnach.

When Jayce didn’t reply to Rika’s words on the Sight, Sionnach suggested, “Why don’t you two go do something more fun? All this maudlin business isn’t particular romantic.”

Jayce shrugged and said, “Call if you need us.”

Sionnach held Jayce’s gaze. “I do need you both.”

“For now, we’re both here,” Jayce agreed mildly. He wasn’t committing to anything more than that. He liked Rika, but he didn’t trust Sionnach or know how he felt about a path that included being a potential target for faeries who were willing to cut up people’s eyes.

“I still get to be the one to knock the arrogance out of her,” Rika interjected.

Jayce answered even though she had been talking to Sionnach. “You’re the only one able to. I’m human, and he’s obviously not tough enough—”

Sionnach’s bark of laughter stilled Jayce’s words. “I might like you, Jayce.” Then he gave Rika a very serious look. “It would be a joy to watch you explain the error of her ways when the time is right.”

“Soon,” Rika added. “You’ll be well soon and then—”

“And then we’ll remind her that the most dangerous faery in the desert is you. . . . Now that you aren’t in seclusion.”

Jayce shivered at the way Sionnach smiled at them as they left the cave. The injured faery was clearly manipulative, but Rika seemed oblivious to it and Jayce wasn’t entirely sure he objected. Whatever Sionnach’s endgame was, for now he’d manipulated things so that Jayce was with the most interesting girl he’d ever met. It was hard to object to that.