Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

“I’m real,” she assured him. That part she could say with certainty.

“Are you sure? You seemed almost like a dream earlier, vanishing when I looked away.” He was flirting, but there was an undercurrent of something else there. He might not consciously know that she wasn’t human, but an instinctive wariness in him tangled with a desperate hopefulness she’d seen when he drew his more fanciful images. Jayce caught her gaze as he said, “A beautiful girl shows up, saves me, and vanishes into the desert. . . . It’s either a dream or magic.”

Rika couldn’t speak. He thinks I’m beautiful. She should be thinking about the fact that he was implying that she’d vanished, but it was his compliment that made her stare back at him in wonder.

“You did save me, you know. I’m not broken anywhere. Just bruises,” he said in a voice so low that it felt like it was only the two of them in the world.

They were not alone though: not only were there faeries, but Del and Kayley also stood nearby. Del was watching them. Rika could see the couple in her peripheral vision. Kayley spoke to him, but his attention was fixed on Jayce. Despite the twinge she felt at their protective gazes, she was grateful that Jayce had such good friends.

Jayce turned to look over his shoulder, noticing that Rika was looking past him. “They’re okay.” He looked back at her and smiled. “Are you always this shy?”

Without having quite meant to, Rika nodded. She wasn’t used to talking to people. Months would pass when her only conversations were with Sionnach or with Jayce—who until today didn’t hear her because of faery glamour. When she had been the Winter Girl, she hadn’t exactly been beset by social invitations either. She spoke to whichever mortal girl Keenan tried to seduce, to Keenan, and to his advisors and court members. None of them had been faeries she could call friends: they all wanted Keenan to succeed; her job was to thwart him. Those were the terms of the curse that had ensnared her when he’d picked her for the test. If she’d been his missing queen, she would’ve freed him, been beside him for eternity. If she had refused the test, she’d have been his subject—one of the flighty Summer Girls who frolicked and danced. When she took the test and failed, she’d been cursed to carry winter and sworn to attempt to convince the next girl to refuse him. Even though she’d risked everything for Keenan—and lost—she’d been cursed to have to work against him as he tried to find the missing Summer Queen. Her situation hadn’t exactly made her popular.

She forced herself to look only at Jayce. After an awkward silent moment, several heartbeats too long, Rika blurted, “I’ve watched you climb before.”

What a stupid thing to say!

Jayce smiled though. “I wish I’d seen you then . . . maybe you wouldn’t have run away earlier.”

Tentatively, she said, “I don’t need to run right now.”

Despite how awkwardly she’d handled everything, he still seemed interested. “So do you want to walk”—he gestured at the benches—“or sit? We’re probably both too sore to walk too far.”

Faeries clustered closer, surrounding the bench. They didn’t speak, chortle, or react. They just pressed too near, their bodies brushing against hers and his, making Rika tense. She should tuck him into some safe steel- walled house. But I want to talk to him. She shouldn’t do it, but still she said, “Stay. I want to just stay here with you.”

“Later,” Jayce called to Del and Kayley. Then he put a hand on the small of her back. “There’s a quiet spot out this way.”

At the feel of his hand against her—even though there was a shirt between her skin and his hand—she hesitated, and then, shakily, let him guide her to a bench. Lingering with him felt more dangerous than anything she’d done since becoming a faery. There had only ever been one other boy she’d trusted, and he’d stolen everything from her. The fear and the memories of that mistake rushed back so intensely that she felt paralyzed and stopped mid-step.

“You said you didn’t need to run; remember?” Jayce said. She nodded and took another tentative step.

Behind them, faeries whispered. A number of them vanished in different directions, and she was silently grateful that they weren’t going to challenge her here. Maybe Sionnach was wrong about the threat; maybe the faeries had better things to do. She didn’t know, and just then, she didn’t care.

All that mattered was that she was with Jayce. They walked toward a bench, and she realized that he still had his hand on her back. He was touching her, and they were alone together.

CHAPTER 5

Sionnach amused himself by flitting in and out of visibility around one of the somewhat nearby towns: starting a quarrel between strangers, kissing a mortal girl and fleeing while her eyes were still closed. I’d rather be keeping an eye on Rika. She was his priority, a project of sorts, but not every detail of his plan was something he could handle himself. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d lured the skittish faery out of her cave. The next step was up to her; he just hoped she didn’t screw it up. Or find out what I’m doing.

Dealing with Rika was one of the difficulties of being Alpha . . . or maybe it was a difficulty of being a fox faery . . . or maybe of trying to balance his personal goals and his duties to the desert fey. Sionnach wasn’t sure what the cause of the challenge was, but it didn’t really matter. The course was clear. Rika needed a nudge. She’d holed up in her cave licking her wounds for years—and he’d allowed it. He’d even supported it. Things had changed though. The Summer King, a faery Sionnach loathed, had finally discovered his missing queen. For centuries, he’d wooed mortals looking for her. As a result of his affections, those mortal girls had all been cursed to become faeries. Two of those formerly mortal girls ruled faery courts now. The Winter Queen and Summer Queen were originally mortals. Worse yet, they were both mortals who’d cared enough for Keenan to risk everything. Word had already traveled to the desert about the growing hostilities between the two queens. The final pieces of a multi-court war were coming to bear: the High Queen had taken an interest in a mortal the Summer Queen loved, and the Dark King had bound himself to yet another mortal girl. As rulers, they’d all failed to think of the good of their courts, putting desire ahead of duty. It was precisely what Sionnach was trying to avoid. He felt desire aplenty, but he wasn’t going to risk the safety of the desert fey for his own selfishness. He had to protect them. It was what being Alpha meant, and right now, he was risking everything he wanted in order to do just that. Trouble in the courts was growing, and only a fool would believe that conflict between regents wouldn’t spill over to the rest of their world. Sionnach wasn’t a fool . . . at least he hoped he wasn’t.

“Sionnach?”

He turned and was relieved to see one of his fey spies.

The faery who’d come to deliver the report stood like a corpse, emaciated to the point that his eyes seemed vast in the narrowness of his face.

“Well?” Sionnach’s whole body nearly twitched in expectation. “Is she with him?”

“She is.”

“And?” Sionnach felt the curl of excitement, of possibilities, in his stomach. He’d planned and schemed for years in preparation for this moment. Rika was like a hidden arsenal that he’d hoped not to use, but hope was different than reality. He’d still planned for the possibility. When he’d seen the way she watched the mortal boy, he knew the time was near. The mortal could be useful, and then Rika would be useful.

But then the Summer King had arrived, setting things into motion a bit sooner than Sionnach had planned, causing troubles as court faeries often did. Sionnach’s tail twitched at the thought of the disruption. He’d adjusted, but it made for a more harried plan than he’d have liked. It was messier than it should be. Despite everything, he was finally near to seeing progress. Rika saw the lure and was tempted.

“And what happened?” he prompted his spy.

“She’s with the mortal.”

“Annnd?” Sionnach drew the word out while his hands flitted in the air as if he could gesture his way into bending reality to his will. Sadly, he couldn’t.