Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

CHAPTER 8

After their kiss, Jayce had asked her to explain what she meant, but she couldn’t, not really. “I need to get permission to say any more,” she’d told him. Jayce went back to town, and Rika set out to find Sionnach, realizing that this would be the first time she went to her Alpha with a request. It rankled, and she pondered what she’d do if Sionnach said no.

Do I want this enough to challenge him?

She wasn’t sure. All she could say for certain was that while she wasn’t sure of the rules for courtship in this modern world, she was pretty sure that lying wasn’t a good plan. So she needed to seek Sionnach’s permission.

She found the fox faery nestled in the shadows of a rocky edge that formed the side of what would become a water hole in the wet season. He wouldn’t be visible if she hadn’t wound her way through the canyon and through a narrow opening. He didn’t quite flinch at her appearance, but he didn’t offer her a smile either. All he said was “Princess.”

Rika smothered a sigh. He didn’t often sink into melancholy moods—or if he did, she hadn’t seen many of them—so she was at a momentary loss. Carefully, she skirted the cacti that flourished here and walked over to stand awkwardly in front of him. “Why do you call me that?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t the queen of winter or summer, but you could’ve been. You aren’t the Alpha, but you could be . . . so, princess.”

She sat down next to him on the ground. “I never wanted to be a queen or Alpha. I just wanted to be loved.”

Sionnach stared at her for long enough that she squirmed. They had discussed her past enough that he shouldn’t be surprised by her words. Maybe it was his mood, or maybe it was because he’d almost kissed her. Either way, she felt uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Shy?”

“You like the mortal,” Sionnach said.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you’re here.” He looked away from her to stare out at the desert.

Rika frowned. Sionnach had all but shoved Jayce into her arms, yet now he was looking at her like she was wrong to have done exactly what he seemed to want. Cautiously, she said, “I won’t tell him what I am if you forbid it.”

The fox faery nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “Do you remember when we met?”

She smiled. “You were dancing in the moonlight like you didn’t know anyone was around.”

“I knew you were there.” He glanced at her. “I knew you were there every time before that too. I thought maybe if I waited you’d come out of your prison and join me. I wanted you to love the desert like I do. I wanted you to be happy here.”

“I am. Now.”

“Because of the mortal?”

Rika nodded.

“If I say no, will you challenge me?” Sionnach asked. His voice was more cautious than she’d ever heard.

“You’re my friend.”

“Is that a no?”

Rika still didn’t have an answer to that question. She’d thought about it, but she had no desire to be in power. That wasn’t her goal. All she wanted was happiness. She settled on saying, “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You’d win.” Sionnach flashed her one of his mischievous smiles. “We both know that.”

“You’d leave the desert if you weren’t Alpha,” she half said, half asked.

Sionnach shrugged, neither agreeing with her nor denying her claim. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the distance. They both watched it hit the ground before he stood and brushed the sand from his legs. He glanced down at her. “You should tell him what you are. I’ll do the same.” He touched his misshapen ears. “I suspect the look of me without a glamour will convince him faster than anything you say.”

Rika came to her feet and impulsively hugged Sionnach. “You’re a good friend.”

“Not always,” he murmured.

She laughed. “For a faery, you’re amazing.”

He said nothing as he walked toward the gap in the rocks that would lead to the more open desert. He stayed silent as they walked toward Silver Ridge. It was only when they were almost at the town that he stopped her with a hand on her arm and said, “Don’t forget that you are fey too.”

At that, Rika stared at him, mouth open but no words coming to her lips. She knew what she was: she’d been mortal for less than two decades and faery for much longer. She wanted to argue with him, but all of her words were close enough to lies that they dried up before she could utter them.

“You have held yourself apart from us for years, Rika. Tell your mortal what you are, but stop hiding yourself away from the fey who live here.” Then Sionnach gestured back at the land they’d just crossed. “Bring him to your den, princess. I’ll be there to help him believe you.”

Rika was silent as he turned and fled. She knew that her insistence on seclusion frustrated him, but she hadn’t realized just how much until that moment. She’d been separate from the faeries in both the Winter Court and Summer Court, and they’d seemed to prefer it. Since she’d been in the desert, she’d assumed that the faeries here wanted the same thing, that her origin as something else bothered them. Faeries had a long history of treating mortals like playthings, sometimes like beloved toys but more often like things that could be discarded or broken. She’d watched them knock Jayce to what could have been serious injury only yesterday. She wasn’t like that—or okay with it.

Still pondering the things Sionnach had said, and trying not to think about things he had left unsaid, she walked through town until she found Jayce. He was sitting with Del and Kayley, and they all seemed to be having a loud discussion about the best way to reach a petroglyph site. When Jayce saw her, he smiled.

When she was near enough that only he would hear, she leaned in and whispered, “I can answer those questions if you want.”

He leaned back to look into her eyes. “When?”

“Now.”

At that, he stood and told his friends, “I’m out.”

Del’s expression wasn’t friendly. “Too good to be around—”

“Stop,” Kayley hissed at him. She flashed a smile at Rika and said, “Sorry.”

“We’ll be back,” Jayce offered. “We just need to talk.”

Kayley nodded, and Del made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go.”

When they reached the open desert, Rika took his hand in hers and reminded him, “Remember to run.”

Then they raced across the desert as they had when she’d taken him to her home the first time. It was an unsettling feeling, as if the ground didn’t quite exist but was instead almost like water. He felt his feet touch and slide, but it wasn’t the same as stepping on solid surface. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or found it frightening. What he did know was that it was different. She was different, and out here where the world was a vast expanse of the same thing, different was extra exciting. He loved the desert, the way the sky seemed to stretch out endlessly and the air sometimes seemed to leave a trace of a taste on his lips. He loved the fierce and sometimes odd creatures that thrived in what some would call an unfriendly land. None of that changed the fact that he’d lived here his whole life and was excited by the prospect of someone unusual.

They reached the cave where she lived, and he stiffened at the sight of her friend Sionnach, who sat on a small ledge, kicking his feet like a child and watching them with an unreadable expression. He’d obviously seen their approach, but he made no move to greet them.

“Shy,” Rika said, her tone holding something of both a greeting and a warning.

He flashed teeth at them in a smile that didn’t look very friendly, and Jayce tensed. He’d thought that the two were friends, but right now, he wondered if they’d argued or he’d misunderstood their friendship. He stepped closer to Rika. Sure, she’d more than held her own in the fight at Dead Ends, but for some reason, Sionnach seemed more menacing than that group.

For a fraction of a moment, Jayce could have sworn that Sionnach’s ears were pointed and—disturbingly—that he had a fluffy fox tail that flicked to the side. He blinked to try to clear his eyes, thinking maybe he had sand in them and it was messing with his vision.

“Something wrong?” Sionnach said in a teasing voice.

“Shy!” This time Rika definitely sounded like she was warning him.

“Seeing things maybe?”

Jayce looked at Rika and then down at his ankles. “Maybe I was bitten.” He lifted one foot and looked at his hiking boots. There were no holes where something could have gotten to his skin. He didn’t feel like he had heat stroke, so he suspected he wasn’t hallucinating. He looked back at Sionnach, who was now standing at the mouth of the cave.

Rika sighed while staring at Sionnach, and then she looked at Jayce. “You’re not seeing things.” She motioned toward the rocks. “Climb up. We can talk inside.”

Mutely Jayce did as she asked. Sionnach was standing inside the cave, his back against the wall and body angled to the side. It was dim enough that Jayce couldn’t look at his ears without going over close to him. He didn’t need to do that though because in the next moment, Sionnach said, “I’m not human.”

He pushed his hair away from his ears, revealing pointed tips. He flashed his teeth at Jayce again, showing sharper-than-normal incisors. Finally, he stared at Jayce as he flicked his tail forward.

Jayce didn’t fall to the ground in shock, but he did lower himself to the cave floor. “Huh.”

“I’m not either.” Rika’s voice was soft, but it still felt loud in the silence that followed Sionnach’s little show. “I used to be. I told you that.”

“I thought it was, I don’t know, a metaphor or something.” Jayce looked from her to the guy with the fox tail and back. “Do you have a tail too?”

“No.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I was human, like you.”

“And now you’re . . . what?”

“Faeries,” Sionnach answered. “We live for pretty much ever, and we have some traits that are different.”

“I thought faeries were little winged—”

“No,” Sionnach all but snarled. “We’re not the things of children’s stories. I don’t know when that rumor started, but we’re not going to throw glitter at you and simper. We’re the things that nightmares—”

“Shy,” Rika cut him off. She sighed and walked closer to Jayce. Cautiously, like she expected him to flee, she sat down beside him. “There are faeries who are frightening, but not all of us. I don’t mean you any harm. I like you, and I hope you still want to . . . be around me now that you know.”

Jayce looked at her and then at Sionnach. Some part of his mind wanted to explain this away, to have an answer that proved that they were messing with him. The rest of him realized that this was real. He was talking to creatures that shouldn’t exist. He wasn’t afraid, though. Mostly, he was fascinated.

“So why didn’t I see the tail before?”

“Glamour. We can hide our true appearances from mortals, or”—Sionnach vanished and then reappeared crouching down beside Jayce a moment later—“hide from you completely.”

“Whoa!”

Sionnach laughed, turned away, waved over his shoulder, and then vanished again.

“Is he still here? Can you see him?” Jayce asked quietly.

“I can. Faeries can.” She smiled nervously before adding, “But he’s gone now. It’s just us. Is that okay?”

Jayce reached out and traced her cheek with his fingertips. “I’m alone with the girl I like who happens to be even cooler than I already thought. It’s very okay.” He leaned closer and kissed her. He’d known she was different, but he couldn’t have guessed she was this unusual. He was kissing a faery. The thought made him pull back and grin at her. “This is awesome.”