Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

“I know.”

“And the same faery who helped Shy stabbed him.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“Maili tried to injure me earlier. She said all she wanted to do was talk, but she hurt me to do it.” Rika moved away from him, hoping that distance from his touch would strengthen her resolve to leave him in the desert. She held up her bruised and burned wrists. “She did this.”

“I know.” Jayce followed her. “I listened when you explained it—and when you yelled at Shy. I heard it all, but I’m not giving up on you just because we were manipulated or because you’re a faery.”

“You should. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t let Shy or Keenan or any of them”—Jayce gestured into the direction the faeries went—“make you give up on us.”

“Faeries can’t keep mortals,” Rika said sorrowfully. “And now that Shy . . . and Maili . . . and Keenan have put me in this position. . . .” She looked away, unable to bear the tangled frustration and determination in his expression.

“So tell me you’d be happier without me. Tell me you haven’t had more fun these past few weeks than you have had in a very long time.”

She looked back at him and admitted, “I can’t, but I’ll have responsibilities now. If I’m going to be Alpha or even co-Alpha, things will change. Maili won’t be the only faery to challenge me. There will be fights, and I have to figure out what to do about Sionnach, and if Donia won’t help, I need to deal with Keenan, and—”

“You’ll be busier,” he interrupted. “That’s fine. You do your Alpha thing, and we’ll date around your schedule of fighting rowdy faeries. It’s not like I can’t find things to do when you’re busy: classes, skating, art, climbing. . . .” He caught her hands and pulled her closer. “I have a life of my own, you know? I just want to be a part of yours, too.”

Rika shook her head. It sounded too easy, and she’d never exactly known a relationship to be easy. Maybe he was right though. With more hope than she’d felt since before Sionnach was stabbed and she was captured, she asked, “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” Jayce kissed her, giving her the reassurance that she needed.

When she pulled away, she kept hold of one of his hands. “Fine. Let’s go see the Winter Queen then. With her help, I won’t have to fight as often.”

With his hand in hers, she began to run across the desert. The speed at which she could move was something that she’d cherished about being fey from the very beginning. At first, she’d needed that speed to better serve the last Winter Queen. She’d helped to freeze the earth, a painful process that hadn’t ever gotten easier with time. Carrying some of the weight of winter inside a body was painful for anyone other than the Winter Queen. She’d done it as her punishment for trusting Keenan, the cost of being willing to cross the then Winter Queen, who had wanted no one to take the test. The only benefits of the curse were that she had been made fey—given speed and near-immortality—and those advantages were only conferred on the Winter Girls because without them, the girls would die when they took the test. Now, that same faery speed was simply a benefit that she could utilize for her own purposes. As they ran, the scenery blurred as they raced by cities, fields, and mountains, until they stopped in a busy street in front of a house that had featured in far too many of her nightmares.

The massive gray house before them had turrets and oddly shaped windows that were filled by faces of creatures that had once seemed stranger than she could’ve created in her darkest hours. Those same faeries were no longer a threat to her, but back then she’d been the Winter Girl cursed by the old Winter Queen, who had seemed to live to terrorize everyone.

The house seemed less ominous now even though faces still peered from the windows, and the yard was snow-draped despite it being spring. Rika’s grasp on Jayce’s hand tightened as they approached the iron fence that still wrapped around the property. She was briefly surprised that Donia hadn’t had the poisonous metal removed, but with the upheaval between the courts, maybe that touch of menace was wise. Winter was still the strongest of the courts, even though Summer was recently unbound. A reminder that Donia could be a force to fear was a good move politically.

“Everything should be fine,” Rika whispered, but she still shivered as she stepped through the gate and onto the elegantly curved sidewalk that wound between trees that were bowing under the weight of snow and ice. She wasn’t sure that everything would be fine. An awful lot of things were very not fine in her life, but she’d known Donia since the girl was a mortal. Like Rika, Donia had been one of the unlucky girls who had caught the then–bound Summer King’s attention. Rika had done all she could to convince her not to take the test. Afterward, she’d worked hard to hide her own bitterness from Donia, hoping that she could ease the newly fey girl’s pain by creating the illusion that one day forgiveness and freedom would come. Donia had been the last Winter Girl, though. Recently, she had been freed from the curse and replaced Beira, the Winter Queen who had made them all suffer for so long. Of all the faeries Rika had met, none were so easily trusted as the former Winter Girls. None of them spent much time together, choosing instead to forge new lives, but they all helped when one of their sisters needed them. Rika would be surprised if Donia refused her offer—especially when what she’d come to propose would also be an asset to the new queen. 

CHAPTER 17

As Rika approached her house, Donia felt a twinge of envy. The former Winter Girl was holding the hand of a mortal boy. Like the Summer Queen and her mortal, Rika had someone at her side. Of late, even the Dark King had found a way to be reunited with the one he loved. It was only the High Queen and the Winter Queen who were without partners, and even the High Queen had found some affection. For her it was creating a son. So in reality, it was only Donia who remained without love, just as she had been when she was the Winter Girl. For a person who had risked everything for love, who had lost her mortality and then almost given her life for the one she loved, being deserted seemed an unreasonably cruel fate. It wasn’t that Donia wanted any of them to lose their loved ones—she wasn’t so heartless as her predecessor—she merely wished that she wasn’t without her beloved. Keenan was and had always been the one faery she couldn’t have, a faery who had only claimed his court because he’d found his rightful queen. A queen who is not me.

Many years ago, Donia had dreamed that she was the one he sought. Like Rika and numerous others, she’d thought that loving Keenan would be enough to break the curse that bound him. She’d believed that love really could conquer all. Now, she knew better. Maybe for Rika or the other former Winter Girls, there would be happy futures. Donia hoped so.

She smiled as she stood in the open doorway with Sasha, her white wolf, beside her. She lowered her hand to caress her constant companion behind his ears. He leaned against her affectionately.

At the foot of the stairs to Donia’s house, Rika stopped, let go of the boy’s hand, and stepped forward. Even now, so very crushable in front of a regent, the former Winter Girl stood unbending. Donia smiled at how familiar Rika’s posture was: that strength was what had enabled them both to survive the curse.

“Hello, Rika.” Donia’s words were accompanied by a white cloud of frozen air.

“Sister,” Rika greeted. She ascended the steps and held open her arms.

The boy stayed on the sidewalk behind her. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and shivered, but his gaze didn’t leave Rika.

“Sisters always,” Donia promised as she embraced Rika. They shared no blood, but as with the rest of the former Winter Girls, there would always be an affection between them that no one other than a former Winter Girl would understand. Carrying ice and snow inside a body not made for such pain wasn’t something that could be explained—nor would those who’d experienced it want to try to describe it. Some experiences were not meant to be spoken.

When Rika stepped back, she said, “You look healthier.”