Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

CHAPTER 19

Donia invited Rika and her mortal into the least formal of the sitting rooms. She suspected that the last Winter Queen had intended to have this room renovated, but the shabbiness of it was oddly comfortable. The rug that covered the hardwood floor was almost threadbare, although the muted greens and golds still somehow seemed opulent. More than once, Donia had thought that the rug was more suited to a museum than daily use. Delicate snow globes lined a shelf on the wall, proof perhaps that the dead queen had possessed a sense of humor. The only vibrant thing in the room was the bright crimson chair where Donia now sat with her bare feet curled under her. The rest of the furnishings were all muted with age, reminding her of the cottage where she’d lived when she was the Winter Girl. She felt like this room wasn’t as tainted by her predecessor’s often disquieting taste. The rest of the house she’d been slowly changing, but here she felt at peace.

Rika’s mortal, Jayce, sat on a faded floral divan. Rika, however, was pacing angrily as she said, “Keenan is trying to force allegiances.”

“With your solitary desert faeries?”

“Yes!”

“Which is unacceptable,” Donia said.

“I can’t let him force the desert under his control.” Rika paused in the middle of the rug and caught Donia’s gaze. “I won’t be under his control, not again, not ever again.”

Donia remained motionless. “I see.”

“The Summer King is too focused on strengthening his court.”

“That hasn’t changed.” Absently, Donia smoothed her skirt over her ankles, thinking about the long-gone days when she’d needed boots in the cold winter. Now, the cold radiated from her very skin, and footwear was a nuisance.

“It won’t change, and others will continue to pay the price. Maybe not like we did, but it’s still all about him.” Rika folded her arms over her chest.

Donia knew that the price they both had paid for Keenan’s single-sighted attention to his goals was high, but it appeared that they were both again being caught in the machinations of the Summer King. It was his actions that had led to Donia’s being made queen—trying to remake a court that had thrived on violence and unchecked power for centuries. Ruling wasn’t without its benefits, but it was not the freedom she’d dreamed of one day having, nor was it a union with the only faery she’d ever loved. No, in his pursuit of his queen, Donia had been left injured. Her choices had been death or becoming the embodiment of Winter, and with it, being unable to touch the Summer King without pain to them both.

“Now that he’s stronger, I need help,” Rika said, drawing Donia out of her reverie. “He’s working with solitaries who shouldn’t have power. They are vile to mortals. One stabbed the desert Alpha, Sionnach. . . .”

“And you?”

“I can hold order against even the strongest solitaries. I’ve just not been interested”—Rika glanced at Jayce—“but things change. I’m willing to keep order, with or without the current Alpha, but I need something—someone—to spare me from Keenan’s meddling. I need a regent who will allow me to keep most of my autonomy. . . .”

Donia nodded. “You want me as a buffer between you and Keenan.”

Rika dropped to her knees on the rug in front of Donia. “I would offer you my fealty. I would be your subject—not his. Never his.”

“Pledging your support would mean fighting should I ask it of you. It could mean moving or surrendering anything I ask of you—” Donia glanced meaningfully at Jayce.

At that, Jayce said, “I’ll offer you my loyalty too if you accept a human’s fealty.”

Donia smiled at his unexpected offer, and a shower of ice crystals like falling stars appeared in the air. “Mortals don’t generally pledge to a court, as they don’t even know we exist, but I’d offer you my court’s protection if you love my sister enough.”

Jayce knelt beside Rika and took her hand in his. “Done.”

Rika bowed her head and vowed, “I vow to obey you, Donia. I will fight at your word, hold your friends as my own, and your enemies as my own.”

Jayce echoed her words.

“Your vow”—Donia reached a hand out to touch Rika and Jayce’s entwined hands—“is accepted. The Winter Court proclaims you both as our own.”

“Not just sister, but Queen,” Rika whispered. Then with a small smile, she came to her feet and embraced Donia.

And Donia tried not to think of what Keenan’s reaction would be when he learned what she had done. There weren’t many times that she had stood against him yet. It was the nature of their courts to be in opposition, but hers was still so much stronger that she had no need yet to be cruel. This, though, he would see as an insult. She sent a messenger to tell his faeries what she’d done, to invite the inevitable conversation to happen in her territory.

Hours later, they had moved to the Winter Garden to await Keenan’s arrival. Donia knew he’d come soon, and she’d rather not destroy the house with the inevitable argument that would accompany his appearance. She was more comfortable out here in the frost-heavy grass. It was one of the spots where she came for solace now. Inside, there were faeries awaiting her orders, seeking favors, or trying to make sense of their new queen. In the garden, there was silence. Wooden benches—fitted together by a craftsman’s skill, no screws or bolts anywhere in them—were tucked among the trees and shrubbery. Bird feeders and winter plants invited animals to find nourishment, and a few tamed creatures crept from their dens to seek her company. Beside the bench slept one such creature, an arctic fox. Only its dark eyes and nose showed in the snow bank. The rest of its body blended with the stark white ground. Absently, Donia ran her bare toes over its back.

Rika and Jayce were cuddled together on another bench. They had heaps of furs wrapped around them like blankets, and Donia smiled at the way Rika stroked the pelt across her lap. It was good to see her less angry at the past she’d known. For years as the Winter Girl, these same furs were what they’d had for blankets. When Rika had been freed, she’d cast off most everything that reminded her of the life she’d been living. When Donia became the Winter Girl, she hadn’t realized the extent of Rika’s anger. Over time, she’d seen through the illusion that Rika had created to protect Donia. Rika had been far more furious than she’d admitted. Once Donia realized that, Rika stopped visiting, as if she couldn’t bear to see reminders of the curse. Now, though, Rika finally seemed closer to actual peace. Her time in the desert had mellowed her—perhaps her mortal had helped too.

A red-eyed Hawthorn Girl alit from the tree branches; her wings glittered as if the frost clung to her. “The Summer King is here.”

“Let the games begin,” Donia murmured.

Rika reached for Jayce’s hand.

Donia smiled. “Rika?”

She looked up at her queen, a question plain in her eyes.

“Nothing has changed . . . not truly. I won’t silence your voice,” Donia said. “I owe you too much for that.”

The look Rika gave her was one of extreme gratitude and relief. Some of the tension left her body. “You are kinder than I could ever be.”

Keenan strode into the garden, glowing brightly enough that Rika darted forward to shield Jayce with her body. “Turn off the glow. There’s a mortal here.”

The light blinked out, but the heat was still oppressive. The garden was in a fast melt. Water poured from the trees where ice had covered the branches a heartbeat before—it looked like a waterfall crashing to the ground and rushing away.

Two of the Hawthorn Girls pulled Jayce toward the house in a flash of movement. By the time Keenan stood staring at Donia, Jayce was safely out of reach. Rika felt foolish for even bringing him, but now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

“What have you done?” Keenan snapped. Earth was boiling at his feet, bubbling up in black ooze.

“It’s good to see you too.” Donia pointedly lowered one bare foot to the earth, holding her skirt up just a bit so her bare ankles and calves were visible. Snow spread from her foot over the earth in a thickening blanket.

“Don . . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “Why?”

“She came offering fealty.” Donia was motionless, winter-still. The only movement was the ice and snow crackling out over the ground. Water droplets froze mid-fall, forming icy spires under the tree, sharp, jutting angles that looked menacing in direct contrast to the calm on her face and in her tone. “This is a Winter Court matter, between a queen and her subjects.”

“You know . . .” He growled in frustration. “She told you I offered her my protect—”

“I refused. Several times,” Rika interrupted. She shivered in the icy blast of Donia’s temper.

Keenan ignored Rika.

“She’s a desert-dweller,” he said.

“Strong enough to be Alpha, as I understand.”

“You can’t even walk there, Donia. Even at the height of the last Winter Queen’s power, she couldn’t take the desert.” Steam sizzled around him as the snow approached him like a white wave. It melted as fast as it grew. The ice didn’t recede from the garden, but the area around him had become verdant. Plants were flowering at his feet, and a morning glory vine was twined around his leg, blossoming.

“I don’t want to rule it, Keenan, but allies . . . perhaps it’s good to have allies, especially when Summer is trying my patience.” Donia schooled her features to keep her less regal emotions hidden. He was beautiful, and the anger on him only heightened that. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts. She would let Rika have her words with Keenan, and then . . . then Donia would enjoy the sight of the Summer King.

As the two regents exchanged words, one of the Winter fey reached for Rika, but she wasn’t done yet. She’d brought this problem to Donia’s court, sought intervention, but all three knew that Keenan’s actions were what had pushed her into needing to do so. He wouldn’t be returning to the desert now, and although she was grateful that she’d not see him again, she wanted to say her piece before leaving.

“You pushed me,” she said, interrupting the silence between Keenan and Donia. “You made the mistake of thinking I was yours to manipulate. . . .”

“So you swore loyalty to my opposing court? I offered to protect you, to strengthen the safety of the desert, and you do this?” Keenan’s voice made clear that his emotions were riding high.

“It would be neutral territory if you hadn’t tried to bully me,” Rika told him.

He stared at her with hurt plain on his face. Once that hurt would’ve made her agree to anything he asked. Now she held his gaze unflinchingly.

Air so hot that it was hazy beat against her as he stalked forward. The greenery around his feet extended with him. The Summer King unbound and angry was a daunting thing, and Rika had a brief moment of gratitude that he hadn’t been so forceful when he’d visited her in the desert a few weeks ago.

Sweat formed on Rika’s face, but she stood her ground.

A tree branch overhead burst into bloom so forcefully that the ice launched from it like an explosion. He looked sad, as if the shattering of ice had transformed his temper into sorrow. His volatility hadn’t decreased with his being unbound. If anything, in this moment, she would say that it had grown worse. Back when she was a girl he was trying to woo, she hadn’t seen his moods. Then, she saw only the charm. Later, when she tried to convince girl after girl not to trust him, she’d seen his temper and his sorrow. Even then, his sorrow worked on her more than his anger ever would.

He stopped in front of her, his eyes filled with loss and longing, and said, “I am not your enemy, Rika.”

Unwilling to let him have even a moment of victory, Rika pointed out, “You are not my friend either. You never were. You were my almost lover, my biggest mistake, my opposition, but you were never my friend. Friends don’t turn away when someone is lost and hurt, when someone is freezing . . . literally freezing for trusting the wrong person.”

Behind her, she knew Donia waited, the cool flow of arctic air pushing forward, easing the unpleasant sting of heat, and Rika was surprised to find the cold momentarily comforting.

Keenan opened his mouth, but before he could utter a misdirection or perhaps an apology, she said, “The fey in the desert have their freedom now even though it cost me mine. That is the choice I made. This time I chose to sacrifice my freedom knowingly, not as a result of lies.”

“Faeries can’t l—”

“Shading the truth is the same as lying, Keenan. Failing to tell dozens of girls what they are truly risking is the worst kind of lie.” She felt tears on her cheeks. “Don’t pretend that faeries are truthful. I am one now. I know exactly what we are capable of doing.”

For a moment he said nothing, and she had a sliver of softening in her anger. Then he spoke. “You rage that the ice was so horrific that you retreated to the desert for years, yet you chose Donia’s court. Wouldn’t you rather have the sunlight? We can work this out. Offer your fealty to me instead. . . .”

Even now, he focused only on what he wanted. She shouldn’t be surprised, not really. She’d said for years that he’d never change. Rika looked over her shoulder to see Donia. The Winter Queen didn’t look worried. She knew Rika too well to think that Keenan’s words would convince her.

“Keenan,” Rika started.

He reached for her wrist.

“No.” She pulled her hand to her stomach to avoid his touch, and then flung it forward and up to strike his face.

Keenan captured her fist in his hand and kissed her knuckles. “You’ve made a bad choice.”

This time the Winter Queen did speak. “Don’t touch her again.”

The possessive anger in Donia’s voice made Rika grateful that the Winter Queen knew that Rika no longer loved the flirtatious Summer King. He was not made for constancy; his court was one of frolicking, not faithfulness. When Rika had been forced to spend decades in his company watching him woo mortal after mortal, knowing that he spoke words of forever to them as he once had to her, she’d hated him. She’d hated herself more for having once believed that he meant those pretty promises. Since then, she’d thought that he could not mean them, had never meant them, but as Keenan’s gaze fell on Donia, Rika realized that she’d been wrong. Every beautiful dream Keenan had ever whispered was true—just not for the hundreds of girls before Donia. The Summer King truly loved the Winter Queen.

Rika would never tell him, but if he would have still smiled at her that way when she had been filled with ice—or even last year, she reluctantly admitted to herself—she would’ve said yes to most any question he asked. There were very few things in the world as beautiful as the Summer King’s smile when he was in love. Even still, Rika wished she could save Donia from the hurt of being loved by Keenan. Unfortunately, she’d been unable to do that when Donia was a mortal, and she certainly couldn’t do it now.

“I’m sorry, Donia,” she whispered. “I’m so very sorry I couldn’t protect you from this life.”

In a blink, Donia was standing behind her, gently squeezing her hand in acknowledgment of those whispered words.

“Go home, Rika,” her queen said evenly. Her gaze was still fastened on Keenan, and it was very clear that she still loved the Summer King, despite being cursed to be Winter Girl and now being the regent of his opposing court. Without looking away from Keenan, the Winter Queen added, “If you need anything, my court—and my allies who can enter the desert to aid you—will be here to call upon.”

Silently, Rika walked toward the house. The door opened at her approach, and another Hawthorn Girl stepped aside to let her pass.

From the relative shelter of the doorway, Rika glanced back to see Keenan brush his hand over Donia’s hair. At his touch, the Winter Queen’s hair became soft blond instead of ice-white. She leaned into his caress for a heartbeat, face flushed and steam rising from her skin. He was no better off: ice clung to his hair, his fingertips, and his lips. The curse had been cruelest to these two. Despite not being the Summer Queen he’d sought, Donia was someone he loved. Rika’s heart hurt for both of them when she realized that, despite everything, the two regents were in love—and no more likely to find a future than they had been when she’d been first cursed.

Donia stayed still until Rika was gone. She knew well that her court would relax now that the former Winter Girl and her mortal were safely away. The stakes in her quarrels with Keenan had always been high, and not too many decades ago, faeries had died when her temper was left unchecked. No one save another regent could survive if they were caught between Summer and Winter in true conflict—and Donia wasn’t sure how angry the Summer King was.

“The desert wasn’t yours to take,” Keenan said. His hand was next to her face, not touching, but near enough that his hand almost caressed Donia’s cheek. She’d settled for these half touches for so long, dreamed they could be more, and then he’d found his queen.

And I am an afterthought yet again.

She turned and kissed the palm of his hand; as she did so, her hair brushed against his arm, and even that brief caress left frost-flowers traced on his skin. “You’re wrong. It’s all mine to take, Keenan . . . especially if it brings you to my step.”

The sky grew gray, and a fierce shriek from a sudden storm gave voice to the hurt Donia couldn’t. The air became snow-filled. Still, glowing at the center was Keenan, illuminated in sunlight, still smiling at the faery who stood against him. All around him was a blizzard, but he looked happy.

He’d broken her heart time and again, but all Donia could think was that he was here and he was hers in this instant. Not Rika’s. Not Ash’s. Not any of the former Winter Girls or current Summer Girls. He smiled, and she shoved a torrent of ice at him. His answering flare of sunlight turned every bit of ice into steam.

She knew that her court was inside the safety of her home and would turn their faces away. Like her, they too often looked on him with affection. Centuries ago, he’d been a child who’d played in this Winter Garden, the son of another queen, a queen he’d killed. The woman who’d cursed him and her both had bid them to cherish him, and they still did.

“I miss you,” he whispered into the storm.

“Yet you curl up with your queen and leave me alone,” she reminded him.

“Don—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I know every objection, every word, every wish you’ll utter, Keenan. I’ve heard them for decades.”

“You know I never wanted this,” he swore. His sunlit skin glowed as he walked toward her, stalking her like she was something he could capture.

Embarrassingly, she wanted to be captured.

When she stayed still, letting the ice roll out across the ground but not striking him, he paused. His eyes widened slightly. “Don?”

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she whispered, and then she pulled him to her, unmindful of the burns his sunlight left on her skin and the frostbite she left on his. They’d obliterate each other one day if they kept this up, but she couldn’t step away any more than he could.

This is who we are. This is how we destroy everything. He’d turned away from her, abandoned her for his Summer Queen. Even now that he was back, he was trying his damnedest to convince his queen to accept him. Aislinn is his queen; he should be with her. Donia understood everything he’d done—why he’d rejected her, why he’d tried to romance his queen. She could even admit that she might’ve done the same things in his position. We’re wrong together. He was the embodiment of Summer, and she was Winter. Everything about them was in opposition.

This will end badly.

But when he kissed her it was hard to remember why it was so wrong, and when she pressed her body to his, she couldn’t help but wonder if the cost was worth it.