Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

The faery nodded and released the weapon. As soon as he did so, Sionnach let go of him and stood. The faery scrabbled backward and sat so that he was leaning against a building.

“Follow the rules or move on.” Sionnach brushed the sand and dirt off his hands and knees, using the gesture to buy himself time to will away the pain that the moment of conflict had caused. Schooling his features into an approximation of a smile, he stood and looked around at them before adding, “We aren’t a court here. You can obey or move on. Your choice. But it might be good to remember that Rika supports my decision. She’s not hiding away in her cave anymore, and she is never going to be weak enough for any of you to defeat.”

Several faeries exchanged looks, as if they were debating trying Sionnach.

“I am the Alpha in this desert.” Sionnach kept his spine straight, still hiding the pain that was now flooding him, and doing his best to look unconcerned about another potential altercation. “Don’t doubt that.”

Then he bent down, grabbed his jacket from the ground, and slipped it on. “Obey the new rules if you mean to stay here.”

He tucked his hands in the jacket pockets and pulled the jacket closed before he walked through the crowd and away into the desert, consciously avoiding the sort of showmanship of the court fey or blurs of speed, opting for a casual stroll into the wide-open desert.

Once he was no longer near them, he glanced down at what his jacket had hidden. The darkness on his shirt made clear that his injury was bleeding again, but he’d successfully covered it with the jacket. The faeries behind him hadn’t seen his blood, and his posture gave nothing away. This time, he’d pulled it off, but there was a limit to his skills. If Rika didn’t come back soon, he wasn’t sure he could manage the growing unease—not without revealing just how injured he was, and an injured Alpha was a quickly replaced Alpha.

Resolutely, Sionnach made his way toward her cave yet again. If she hadn’t returned, he’d have to send someone to find her.

When he arrived, he found Rika and Jayce on the far side of the cave. From the look of it, they had only just returned. She dropped her bag to the floor, and he felt like a pressure in his chest vanished.

“She returns,” he murmured.

“Sionnach.” Rika let go of Jayce’s hand and turned to look over her shoulder at him. Her expression was as unreadable as any court fey, and he thought for a moment at how much she’d changed—and how little. She was never easy to know, but her emotions were usually more accessible to him.

He leaned on the cave wall at the opening, needing it for support as much as falling onto it in relief at the sight of her. Behind him was the bright light of the desert, making him a silhouette, allowing him to hide the pain in his own expression a little longer. “Do you suppose you’ll forgive me?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re stronger than the rest of us? Because I need your support?”

“You lied.” She folded her arms over her chest. “You tricked me. You set me up.”

“You know better than that, Rika. I misled,” he corrected. “I’m horrible, but you knew that years ago.”

She sighed. “I’m not hap—” The word dried up before she finished it.

“You are too. You can’t even finish that word because it’s a lie, princess. Faeries can’t lie.” He shook his head. “You and I both know you’re happier than you’ve been as long as I’ve known you.”

He glanced at Jayce, who was standing silently beside Rika. “Because of you, Jayce.”

Jayce didn’t appear moved, didn’t seem to appreciate the lengths Sionnach had gone to in order for him to have the privilege of standing at her side. “You were still wrong.”

“By Rika’s standards, by mortal standards, I was abhorrent.” Sionnach strode toward them so he was directly in front of Rika; his movements were cautious as much from habit as from injury. Slowly, Sionnach brushed her hair away and cupped her face in his hands. “But you’re a stubborn faery, Rika. I needed you alive and involved.”

“You manipulated me. You should’ve told me.” Her voice was soft, even as she chastised him, but he heard the acceptance too. Rika understood him; she forgave him and challenged him, pushing him to be better—to be worthy of her friendship. He wasn’t. He never would be, but he was grateful that he hadn’t lost her. He’d known that it was a risk, but he’d hoped against hope that it would turn out well. She’d needed to be nudged into her rightful place, out of her seclusion and into the bright desert light. He’d been willing to risk a lot to see her happy, to see her ruling over the solitaries in the desert, to have her at his side.

“My word, princess. I’ll talk to you next time I have plans to manipulate you.” He nodded and kissed her nose in a moment of impertinence. “I’m glad you calmed down and came home. Where were you?”

“Getting help.” Rika shoved him away with a small growl. “Solving the problem you created for me.”

Fear crept over him at her words. There weren’t a lot of faeries she could seek out to help her in the desert. “What did you do? Rika?”

“I’ve sworn fealty.” She started to walk past him as if she were utterly unconcerned by her admission.

“You swore fealty?” Sionnach grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him. “How could you do that? After everything he’s done. . . .”

“But you left me so few choices.”

Sionnach stared at her in horror. He’d arranged everything he could to protect her, and she went to Keenan? He knew his outrage was nowhere near hidden as he asked, “So you gave him an excuse to come to our home? You gave him power over you? How could you do that?”

CHAPTER 21

Rika stared at Sionnach without expression for several moments. She was certain she was missing something. After decades of knowing the fox faery, she found that she could often learn as much by what he didn’t say as what he did. There was more to his upset than worry that she’d let Keenan have an easy and regular influence in the desert. Quietly, she said, “I didn’t swear to him. I don’t trust Keenan.”

Expression still wary, Sionnach let go of her and took one step backward. “Who? Which court have you invited here? The High Court is in seclusion. . . . The Dark Court?” He stepped farther away and glanced at Jayce, who was leaning against the cave wall. “And you? Why didn’t you stop her?”

Jayce shrugged. “I swore it too.”

“Are you mad?” Sionnach looked from one to the other.

Rika walked away and dropped down on one of the pallets on the cave floor. “I offered my loyalty to Donia. She is my queen now. I’m sworn to the Winter Court.”

He stopped, glanced out the cave mouth into the desert, and then back at Rika. “Winter can’t walk here.” He nodded. “The Winter Queen is unable to be here . . . but Keenan fears her.”

“Exactly.” Rika nodded.

At that, Sionnach came to crouch in front of her. He almost looked meek for a moment. “Oh, princess . . . together we are strong enough. We didn’t need her.”

“I disagree. I can deal with the solitaries—with or without you—but she gives me peace from him.” Rika didn’t want to admit her weakness, not even now that she felt like she was finally well and truly free of Keenan. He’d been an obstacle to her peace of mind for almost her entire life.

Keenan is standing in the middle of a path in the middle of a forest. “Don’t run from me.”

“I want you gone.” Ice crystals fall from Rika’s eyes with tiny clatters. All around her it’s summer, but here, in the small circle nearest her, it’s frost-filled.

“I told you. These are the rules. You have to talk to the next mortal I choose.”

“No.”