Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

CHAPTER 9

For the next two weeks, the desert fey were quiet. Sionnach had called in what favors he could to assure that Rika had time alone with her mortal boy. Seeing her come out of her shell to be romanced by the human boy was exactly what Sionnach had planned, but as he’d watched them smile tentatively at each other, his heart hurt at the sight—enough that he’d increasingly sought comfort in a mortal as well. He’d let himself grow closer to Carissa, although he’d almost called her the wrong name more than once.

But the more time he’d spent with her, the more Sionnach realized that she was nothing like Rika. The two shared the same tiny stature, but Carissa was lighthearted where Rika was serious. Carissa was quick to laughter, teasing as if she were fey, happy to dance in the middle of the desert. There were no long-carried sorrows in his Carissa, and as the days passed, Sionnach had lost himself a little more in her affection. At first, he thought only to distract himself, but as time passed, he remembered why he had enjoyed frolicking with mortals: there was something pure in the lives of the finite.

Sionnach found himself temporarily enchanted by the girl with whom he spent his days. Today, though, he was interrupted before he could reach his evening date with the mortal girl. Maili had waited in the shadows. She stalked toward him, looking like something darker than should be in his town. At Maili’s feet a mortal teen lay facedown on the ground. One arm was flung out so the fingertips were in the edge of a puddle. The streetlight at the end of the alley cast enough light to illuminate the blood that the boy had lost. The mortal was either unconscious or dead.

“You need to rein it in,” Sionnach said warningly. “I’ve been patient.”

“I get bored, Shy. Before you got so close to someone who used to be one of them”—she wrinkled her nose like she smelled something unpleasant—“you used to understand that.”

“Things change.” He was so tense that his tail flicked to the side. He didn’t bother pointing out that Rika had been fey far longer than she’d been mortal. Mildly, he added, “People change; faeries change.”

“Not us. Not real faeries.”

“Even us, Maili.”

“Not all of us.” She took a step away from him, tucking one hand behind her back at the waistband of her pants, where he knew a weapon was undoubtedly hidden.

“We are strong, and they are disposable. They don’t matter.”

“Mortals matter.” As he looked at Maili, he tilted his head as if his animal nature would let him see what she still hid. There was something more to see here. This scene was too carefully constructed for it to be about a dead or injured boy.

“They shouldn’t, not to us,” Maili insisted.

“If we want to survive in the world today—” Sionnach stopped midsentence, caught by the sight of a silhouette at the end of the alley. He didn’t need to turn around to see that the person peering into the shadows was Carissa.

He knew that the alley looked deserted to Carissa; she couldn’t see him or Maili. She would see the body if not for the fact that Sionnach hurriedly crouched down and touched the boy’s arm to extend his own invisibility over the fallen mortal. In touching him, Sionnach knew that he was dead.

“Sionnach?” Carissa called. “Are you here? I got your message.”

He didn’t answer, and Maili grinned cruelly. Two of her lackeys came to stand on either side of the mortal girl. Carissa didn’t see them either. She was a pawn to Maili, nothing more than an object to force his hand. The boy was killed to set the stage, to clarify the threat to Carissa that Maili wanted Sionnach to understand.

Sionnach didn’t move away from the boy; he couldn’t without revealing him. His tail flicked wildly as he ordered, “You’ve made your point. Leave her alone.”

“For tonight,” Maili agreed. “But I haven’t made my point, not yet.”

He felt the wound that followed her words almost before he realized what was happening. Maili swung her arm up and slashed across Sionnach’s chest with her carved bone knife.

“They are a distraction, Sionnach. You were so busy watching her and hiding him that you didn’t see the real danger, the danger to a faery.” Maili unwrapped a rusty iron quad-pronged thing, and before he could reply, she jabbed it into his stomach. “Faeries have no business worrying about mortals.”

Maili didn’t pull the weapon out of his stomach. She just let go. Sionnach stared at it, trying to determine the best next step. The pain was excruciating enough that he felt separate from himself, as if he weren’t exactly anchored within his body.

Maili swallowed audibly before she said, “Power, strength, that’s what gives you voice. You are weakening because of her, because of Rika’s influence.”

There was no help for it. Sionnach fell, but he didn’t crumple or cry out. He hadn’t become Alpha in this territory without learning to hide his pain. In a sort of slow-motion tilt, he let himself fall back against the wall, and then he slid down so he was reclining in the dirty street. “That was really foolish.”

“Smart, actually. It’s iron, Sionnach. Rusty bits of poison just broke off inside your body. The others will see you like this, an example of what happens when I’m not obeyed.” Maili sounded weak, shivery with either the pain of her own contact with the iron or the fear of what she had just done. She glanced at her hand. In that brief contact, it was already bruised and had raised welts from gripping the vile metal. “You’ve forgotten what you are, and I need you out of my way.”

“I know exactly what I am.” Sionnach slid the weapon out of his stomach. He didn’t fling it away; instead he dropped it in the puddle beside him. He didn’t want to have it tucked between his body and his hand, but he had no other weapon. He’d keep this one near him in case he needed it. Pointedly, he looked from her injured hand to his own. His hand was barely bruised by touching the handle. He was stronger, and they both knew it.

“Think about this,” he cautioned her.

“I have. Rule of might: I have it, and you’re losing it.” Maili’s expression was anxious, but she squared her shoulders before adding, “I just need a chance to prove I’m strong enough to be Alpha. You were in the way.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Sionnach glanced at the mouth of the alley. Several of Carissa’s friends that he hadn’t yet met had just joined her. Despite the worried look on her face, she was safer now, and he was relieved. Right now, he didn’t think Maili would harm her; her goal seemed to have been merely to use her to distract him, to make him look away. It had worked. Nonetheless, he was glad Carissa wasn’t alone now—and therefore not as vulnerable.

Maili squatted beside him, glaring. “You are no better than us, fox.”

“Maybe not better, but I am smarter. Rika won’t forgive this, and she’s stronger than all of us.”

Maili laughed. “Power is only valuable if you use it. Rika doesn’t.”

In silence, Sionnach watched Carissa walk away with her friends. He wished he could tell her that he hadn’t sent a message and then abandoned her, but there were more important things than a few moments of her worry. Being Alpha in the desert meant that he had to put security and order in front of his own interests. Alpha was a duty, one that he sometimes wished he could hand to another faery—not forever, but for a few years so he could enjoy life more. It had been far too long since he’d had a true holiday.

Maili didn’t understand what being Alpha meant. She saw being Alpha as a thing of power. It wasn’t. It was a responsibility, and the only reason Rika hadn’t claimed it was because she hadn’t had someone to protect or defend. Now that she had Jayce, she was more likely to be receptive. That had been his original plan. Now that Sionnach had been poisoned with a toxic weapon, Rika had another reason to step forward.

Maybe I should’ve just gotten myself stabbed instead of finding her a date. He wasn’t quite sure which of the two had caused more pain. He closed his eyes with a laugh at his own expense.