by Melissa Marr
“We?” he repeated. “There’s a we in this, princess? I thought you were unwilling to get involved in faery politics?”
Carefully not looking at him, she sat on the ground next to the bed where he was recovering, dipped the cloth into the bowl of water, and then squeezed out the excess. His words forced her to face the part of being a faery that she had tried for years to avoid, but in the past few weeks, she’d been drawn into the world of faery politics and conflicts. First, Maili’d struck Jayce, then she’d fought with Rika, and now she’d stabbed Sionnach.
Sionnach didn’t speak as she wiped away the fresh blood on his arm with the wet rag in her hand. He watched her motions, but avoided looking into her eyes. She’d had enough conversations with him over the past few years that she knew that he was merely waiting for her to admit what she’d rather not say. This alone she knew with complete certainty when it came to the fox faery: he was wily and patient.
She rinsed the blood from the rag in her hand, looking at the water rather than him, and said, “I don’t seem to have many choices right now. The only other faery strong enough to hold order in the desert is bleeding in my bed.”
“And, sadly, far too weak for either of us to enjoy my being here . . .”
Her gaze snapped to him, and her cheeks colored with embarrassment. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why? It’s who I am.”
“But it’s not . . . we’re not . . .” She tried to look stern as she wiped blood from his stomach, looking at her hand rather than at his face. “You just shouldn’t say things like that, Sionnach.”
“So it’s Sionnach now, not Shy?” he murmured.
She met his gaze. “I can’t . . . we’re not like that.”
He looked serious now. He put his hand over hers, keeping her from escaping. “I know. You need a relationship without any ulterior motives. I knew that Jayce could give you that. I can’t.”
She paused, processing the implications of his words and the feel of his hand on hers. If she were more fey, she’d focus on the offer that he wasn’t making, at the admission he wasn’t speaking, but she couldn’t think about that. Her body tensed as if she were poised to flee. All she said was, “So you have ulterior motives?”
“Always.” Sionnach didn’t look the least bit apologetic—nor did he remove his hand from hers.
“Will you tell me what they are?”
“Someday.” His tricksy smile returned, chasing away the seriousness that felt strangely heavy between them. “Some of them.”
“How am I to trust you then?”
Sionnach squeezed her hand once and then entwined his fingers with hers. He pulled her hand away from his bare skin but held on to her, keeping her from retreating. “You aren’t to trust me . . . not on everything. Trust your instincts. Trust your judgment.”
“You’re—”
“A faery by blood,” he interrupted. “Just like Keenan.”
She wasn’t sure what Sionnach was admitting—that he was manipulative, capricious, deceitful?—but she did know that nothing she could think of was particularly comforting. Trusting a faery was what had gotten her into this strange world; it was why she had never had the mortal life that she’d wanted. Despite all of that, she did trust Sionnach. He was the closest friend she’d ever had in either her mortal or fey lives.
Sionnach used his grasp on her hand to turn her arm and then kissed the underside of her wrist where her pulse was thudding. “And, like the Summer King, I’ve never been prone to lingering; that’s why I didn’t try to get in your bed when we met. Jayce is good for you right now. I’m not. Not in that way. . . .”
Despite having known Sionnach for years, she felt off-kilter. She hadn’t felt like a human girl for a very long time, but Sionnach was right in that she didn’t want to be cast away as if she were unimportant. At the same time, she felt foolish that she hadn’t realized that Sionnach had genuinely looked at her in any way other than as a friend. He’d flirted for years, but he was a fox faery. It was his nature. She’d thought he might have had such thoughts a couple of weeks ago on the night when he wore Jayce’s face and pretended he would kiss her—and the next day—but then he’d helped her explain what she was to Jayce.
“You wanted me to be with Jayce,” she half protested. It seemed odd that he would admit that he’d thought of her in a way other than friends, yet continue to push her toward Jayce. She wasn’t sure what to think, but she was unsettled by the realizations that Sionnach was eliciting—and the way he watched her.
“Go get Jayce, Rika,” Sionnach said gently as he released his hold on her hand. “I’m fine for the few moments you’ll be away, and you have the mortal boy you wanted.”
Rika was silent as she watched him. She ran her recently freed fingers around the top rim of the water bowl. “I care for you, but I love him. He doesn’t know, but I fell in love before he knew I existed. I just want that, to be loved—even though loving mortals is foolish.”
“Love—even with such finite creatures—is everything, Rika,” Sionnach said gently. “He’s what I want for you, and I’m sure you’re worried about him. Just go fetch him. Please?”
“Why?”
Sionnach pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out to take her hand from the bowl she now clutched tightly. She let go of it and instead busied herself putting extra pillows behind him so he was propped up on them.
“Why?” she repeated. “Why do you want me to be with Jayce if you . . .” She felt stupid, trying to verbalize what he didn’t say.
“There’s a price for spilling secrets,” he warned her.
“I know what you are, Shy. I’ve known since we met. ‘Fox faeries are equally loyal and deceitful,’” Rika said it as if she was reading it from a page. She shook her head. “I had a lot of time to read when I was hiding out here those first years—and even more before . . . when I carried winter. Cursed faeries are solitary faeries. Formerly mortal faeries are even more so.”
Sionnach looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.
Rika picked up the knife from the floor, buying a moment to hide her hurt expression. She handed the knife to him hilt first. “I’ve always known what and who you were, but I still trusted you. I do trust you.”
“You probably shouldn’t,” he said, but he looked happier than he usually did—not secretive, not tricksy, just genuinely happy.
Rika shrugged. “It sounds like I should. You just admitted that you cared enough not to seduce me.”
“What I need from you matters more than sex.” He gave her an impish grin before adding, “You’re awfully scrawny anyhow. I usually like—”
“I know.” She held up a hand, grateful that he’d resorted to his usual lighthearted ways. “I’ve heard enough stories.”
Sionnach laughed, and then he promptly put a hand atop his injury. “Ouch . . . I’ll stay right here and”—he glanced down at his wounds and scowled—“not laugh while you’re gone.”
“I could stay,” she offered.
“No.” He made a shooing gesture. “Go get Jayce. Please?”
“Okay.” Rika turned and walked away, but she paused at the doorway and said, “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
When Rika reached the skate park, she stopped and remained invisible briefly, standing behind the mortals who were gathered there. She felt a strange mix of inclusion and exclusion around Jayce’s friends. On the other side of a wire-mesh fence—coated steel far too toxic for a faery to touch—Jayce sat with Del on metal bleachers while Kayley was on a vertical half-pipe. The boys watched her. Del’s skateboard was propped next to him, but neither of the boys took it out to the ramps. Kayley was the artist here.
Jayce grinned at Del as Kayley executed another nice trick. Several other people noticed her prowess as well. “Your girl would shame me if I went out there,” Jayce said.
Del preened. “She shames me. I swear I’m going to get as good as her, but she comes out harder e
very time.”
They watched her for a moment, and Rika was struck at how different they were from the men she’d known in her human life—and the faeries she knew in the courts. Keenan had believed that women were to be delicate, that men were to be better at every act of skill. Rika had tried to be that, even after she was fey. It hadn’t worked. She smiled to herself at the thought of Donia, the girl who’d become Winter Queen. She wasn’t ever meek, and from the rumors that had made their way to the desert so far, neither was the Summer Queen. Not for the first time, Rika hoped that both formerly mortal faeries were making Keenan squirm.
On the other side of the chain fence, Del and Jayce continued to discuss Kayley. “She outskates me, but on a climb”—Del grinned at Jayce—“I get her back.”
After a few more minutes, Kayley walked up to the guys.
“Nice.” Jayce gestured with his chin toward the ramp where Kayley had been.
Although she shrugged like she was unconcerned, her posture and the grin on her face revealed her pleasure as she accepted the compliment Jayce offered her.
“I’ve seen worse.” Del extended his bottle of water to Kayley.
“Yeah, you.” Kayley drained the rest of the bottle and tossed it into a recycling bin. She smiled at Del, who promptly caught her by the hips and pulled her toward him.
“Compared to you?” He paused and kissed her lightly. “Every day.”
“Get off your ass then.” Kayley looked from Del to Jayce. “Neither of you are going to get any better if all you do is sit around watching me.”
At that, Rika decided it was time to interrupt. If Jayce went to the ramps, she’d be left in the awkward position of trying to explain why she couldn’t come inside the park and why she couldn’t stay. She backed farther away from the park, and then after a quick glance around to verify that no one was looking in her direction, she became visible to human eyes. Jayce and Del wouldn’t notice her for a few moments, so she waited, walking slowly toward them. She couldn’t approach the metal bleachers and the fence surrounding the park, but she wouldn’t have to. They’d see her, or she’d call out.
After a few steps, Kayley noticed her and waved. Del glanced over his shoulder, waved, and then grabbed his board. They both said, “Later, Jayce.”
Rika waited, knowing that Jayce would come to her so she didn’t have to come any closer to the poisonous metal. She felt her cheeks flush as he smiled at her, and she couldn’t believe that he was hers now, that he saw her and wanted to be with her.
“Everyone okay?” Jayce asked as he reached her side.
She nodded, and he pulled her into his arms. Before the last few weeks, Rika had only been kissed a few times in her life, chaste kisses that didn’t leave her feeling consumed, but in the past couple of weeks, she’d discovered why people kissed. As Jayce’s lips pressed against hers, his arms tightened around her. Even still, she felt like they were too far apart, and when he pulled away, she wanted to whimper at the loss. Instead, she asked, “Come with me?”
She entwined their hands, unable to be this close to him without touching.
“Anywhere,” Jayce agreed.
This was what she’d wanted, this togetherness, this hunger to be with another person. She’d thought she’d lost the chance at it when she’d believed Keenan’s lies, and now, she couldn’t imagine life without it. Someday, this would pass. Unless they were cursed, mortals didn’t become faeries, so Jayce would leave her someday. Rika hadn’t told him that, not wanting to bring up how fleeting their time was. For now, she had found the heady mix of like and want that she’d been dreaming of for years.
She smiled, and they started across the desert . . . fading to invisible as they walked away from the people in town. Things might be unstable in the desert, and she had no doubt that there would be conflict until Maili realized that she couldn’t become Alpha. Right now, though, Sionnach was alive and healing, and Jayce was at Rika’s side. Both her faery friend and her mortal boyfriend were safe, and Rika couldn’t stop the smile that came over her.
CHAPTER 12
Sionnach knew that the Summer King was standing nearby: Keenan didn’t exactly try to hide the heat that radiated from his body. No one else, save for the newly ascended Summer Queen, would exude such heat, and there was no reason that the new queen would visit the home of a former Winter Girl. So without opening his eyes, Sionnach knew that the Summer King stood in the mouth of the room in Rika’s cave where Sionnach was reclining, half-propped on the mound of pillows Rika had arranged behind him.
When he did open his eyes, Sionnach had to resist the urge to grin. The wide-eyed shock on the Summer King’s face was enough to improve even the lowest of moods, and his temper was accompanied by eddies of heat that made the air shimmer.
“What are you doing there?” Keenan didn’t gesture, but the disdain and possessiveness were both clear in his tone. Even now, the Summer King did not expect to see someone else in the bed of one of his former pseudo-beloveds.
Sionnach offered his practiced expression of wide-eyed innocence and said, “Recovering.”
The bowl with the hilt of the knife in it was hidden on the opposite side of Sionnach’s body, so Keenan wouldn’t see it. To keep the Summer King’s temper pricked and his attention diverted, Sionnach smiled in the way of the falsely modest and added, “Forgive me for not standing, but I can’t find the energy just yet.”
The answering heat flare was enough to raise the temperature in the cave, enough to explain the fine sheen of sweat on Sionnach’s body. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was useful at hiding the truth. He waited as Keenan’s gaze took in the candles, the glasses beside the bed, and the fact that Sionnach was seemingly naked. There were moments in every faery’s life that were too perfect to have been planned, and Sionnach was having just such a moment as he reclined in Rika’s bed grinning while the faery who had caused such upheaval in Rika’s life—and in their desert—very obviously misinterpreted the clues.
“Were you looking for something?” Sionnach queried. In a moment of feigned modesty, he pulled the blanket higher as if to cover his upper chest, intentionally drawing the Summer King’s eye to his bared arms and shoulders. In shifting the blanket, one of Sionnach’s legs became partially exposed. The result, as Sionnach intended, was that he appeared to be sans trousers too.
After a disgusted look at Sionnach, Keenan asked, “Where is she?”
“Rika?” Sionnach stretched and, trying not to wince, rolled onto his hip. “She’s out.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Hmmm. I don’t think she’s interested.” Casually, Sionnach reached down and lifted one of the glasses Rika had left next to him. He took a sip, stalling to hide his fight with pain, and watched Keenan. Then, he swallowed and said, “You had your chance. She’s moved on to better things.”
“I’m not here for that. I respect Rika—”
Sionnach couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped his lips. “Sure you do.” He dragged out the words. “I respect Rika; you upset her. You hurt her. I’ve been looking out for her while you were busy ruining other mortals’ lives.”
“I want to talk to her. We have business—”
“Let me guess. Fealty? The benefit of your court’s protection in exchange for meddling with our lives?” Sionnach sat up, holding the sheet to his abdomen, casually keeping it over his wounds as if he were protecting his modesty. “Where were you all these years when we struggled to keep any semblance of order in the desert? Where were you with your offers when I was getting bloodied to keep the unruly ones from slaughtering mortals? Not interested.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m here for Rika.” Sun sparks glittered around Keenan as he became increasingly agitated.
Sionnach looked to the hallway behind Keenan. Rika’s silhouette was barely visible in the dark. This opportunity was too good to ignore. King or not, the arrogant court faery needed to be reminded that there were things that were not acceptable, like leaving
Rika so sorrowful that she had hidden herself away from everyone for years. Although Sionnach had hidden his own sorrow at seeing her so lost and confused, he certainly hadn’t forgotten it. He never would. To Keenan, Rika was one of scores of mortals whose lives had been changed irreparably by nothing more than the bad luck of his having noticed them. For nine hundred years, the Summer King had wooed mortal after mortal, trying to convince them to love him, hoping that they would love him enough to take the ridiculous test to determine if they were the one mortal who could free him. Those who loved him enough were the unluckiest: for their foolish trust in him, they were cursed to carry ice in their bodies until the next girl agreed to the test. If Sionnach had been a different faery, if he’d been Keenan’s friend, he would feel sorry for the king’s centuries of searching. He wasn’t, though. He was Rika’s friend.
He stared at Keenan, offering him his most convincingly innocent expression. “It won’t matter what you’re here to say. Rika doesn’t follow very well; she’s more of a leader.”
“Rika?” Keenan gave Sionnach a look of incredulity at that. “She was a sweet girl when I met her. Time doesn’t change that. She might have a few fits of temper, but—”
“But what?” Rika interrupted as she walked closer to them.
Keenan turned to face her. He shrugged, arrogant and apparently not concerned that she’d heard his idiocy. “I came back to give you another chance to discuss this. I can give you the security I never could before. You could keep order here in the desert for me. You give me your vow, and I give you my strength to get things safer here. It’s better for everyone. . . .”
Sionnach laughed, interrupting the Summer King, who fixed him with a glare. Sionnach’s laughter was only a little forced. Logic had begun reminding him that he shouldn’t use those stomach muscles, that moving and laughing were liable to make him cry in pain before long. He swallowed against the sound that wanted to crawl out of his throat.