Desert Tales (12 page)

“Strategy.” Rika returned to Sionnach's side with a bandage. “There's a benefit to claiming us. If he can bring those of us who are sworn free under his thumb somehow, it increases his strength. It makes him look clever.” She scowled at Sionnach and informed him, “I'm wrapping that.”

Jayce quickly stifled his burst of laughter, but the quirk of Sionnach's lips and the way his gaze darted to Jayce made it obvious he'd heard.

“Plus, there are fighters aplenty out here,” Sionnach said. “Maybe our little Summer King is thinking of wars to come.” He kept his hand pressed to the wound as if Rika hadn't just informed him that she was tending the wound.

“Shy,” Rika began warningly.

“Fine.” Sionnach tossed the cloth into the washbasin. Carefully, he rolled to his side so she could wrap the bandage round him. The look on his face made it abundantly clear that he wasn't pleased that she was forcing him to be tended. Jayce suspected that Sionnach would be less irritated if not for his presence. This was the faery who was supposed to be the strongest in the desert, and here he was being coddled in front of someone. Jayce looked studiously at his sketch pad while Rika wrapped the bandage around the injured faery. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't look up until after she had taken a new sheet and covered Sionnach with it.

“We won't fight his battles for him,” Rika said as she stepped away from the now-bandaged faery. “We don't do anything without choice.”

“We will if he has an Alpha out here who swears to him.” The temper in Sionnach's voice was matched by the fury in his expression, and Jayce began to understand that the intense, changeable moods that Rika sometimes exhibited were simply the way of faeries. Sionnach looked livid where he'd been calm only moments before.

When Rika didn't reply, Sionnach added, “I won't stay here sworn to him, Rika. I won't. You shouldn't either. He's not someone we can trust.”

“So is there someone you can trust?” Jayce turned the page and began sketching. It was a way to force himself not to stare at the two faeries, not to remind them that they were letting him see their world so much more than he'd expected.

“Donia!” Rika breathed the word. “She's the new Winter Queen. She exists to oppose him, and she was like me, carrying Winter because we trusted him . . . and were mistreated by him. Her mortality was stolen by him.”

“It doesn't matter,” Sionnach insisted. “There's always a price with the court fey.”

“Donia was once like me, Shy. She's not like them. Maybe—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I won't swear to
either
of them—or any other court. We don't need them here. Be my co-Alpha, Rika. Help me through this. Then, I'll get well, and together we'll keep the desert free. If you share Alpha status, we're untouchable.”

“Not to a king or queen. He held his throne even when he was a bound king.” Rika's voice had grown louder. Suddenly, she let out an audible sigh and walked over to Jayce. She looked down at his sketchbook. “Nice.”

Jayce flipped it around to show Sionnach a sketch of himself, but he looked healthy in it, reclining on the bed like a decadent monarch with platters of fruits and a decanter of wine in his reach. The food was overflowing, as if from a horn of plenty.

Sionnach laughed, his anger of a moment ago seemingly vanished, and he asked, “Is that a hint that it's dinnertime?”

“It didn't start that way, but maybe.”

Rika shook her head. “You”—she pointed at Sionnach—“rest. I'll be back. . . .”

Sionnach made a faux-serious face. “Yes, Rika.”

After she left, Sionnach looked at Jayce and said, “I'm not interested in competing for Rika. She's dating you, and sharing Alpha is
not
romantic.”

For a brief moment, Jayce considered pointing out that he knew that Sionnach had romantic feelings for Rika, but he also realized that since faeries didn't lie, Sionnach truly wasn't intending on trying to woo Rika away. Jayce didn't understand how the faery could have such obviously strong feelings for her, but not act on them. He also knew that Sionnach wouldn't tell him, so he simply prompted, “So . . .”

“So help me keep her safe.” Sionnach darted a look at the doorway. “Maili is trouble. Rika's been in her cave so long . . . she's never really lived around faeries. She's been near us, but I didn't let anyone bother her. If she's in the world with us, she'll need your love even more. You'll remind her why keeping peace matters.”

Jayce didn't respond, but he had a growing suspicion that Sionnach was more involved in Jayce and Rika's relationship than Jayce had realized. That suspicion was confirmed when Sionnach muttered, “I didn't mean for things to happen like this when I finally got you two together.”

“
You
got us together?” Jayce gave the faery a stern look, although he was probably about as intimidating as a tortoise was if it were glaring at a coyote. “What did you mean to have happen?”

The fox faery flashed his teeth at Jayce in an approximation of a smile, but he didn't admit anything further.

“Jayce? I have fruit, bread, cheese, but”—she stepped in the doorway and paused, her expression uncomfortable—“
I
can't give you food.”

“Right. Faery rules: no food from your hand.” Jayce scrambled to his feet. “Sorry.”

Sionnach was silent as Jayce followed Rika to her pantry.

After they were out of his earshot, Jayce asked Rika, “So you talked to Sionnach about me before we met?”

She paused. “How did you . . . ?”

“Something Sionnach said,” Jayce replied. He started heaping food onto the wooden plate that Rika pointed out. “Does he spend a lot of time around humans?”

“Some. He wants everyone to be safe, so he watches out for them. He didn't used to, but more and more over the years, he has. I've been glad; it's the right thing to do.” She was filling a second plate for Sionnach. “I think it's smart too. Both the Summer Queen and the Winter Queen used to be mortal.”

If not for the fact that Rika was a faery discussing faery politics in a cave, the quiet gathering of food would seem normal. Sometimes it was easy to see the mortal girl that she had been. Those glimpses of Rika were enchanting in a way that her Otherness wasn't. He didn't mind that she was fey, didn't want her to change, but the world she lived in was a little alien and unsettling. Knowing that an entire civilization existed hidden within his own left him with a sense of peril that he wished he didn't have. Until Rika, the desert had seemed safe—potentially harsh and filled with natural dangers, but those weren't threats with motive. Snakes didn't bite with malice; the sun didn't create heatstroke with intent.

Except according to Shy and Rika, the sun sometimes did just that when it was a manifestation of the Summer King . . . who is my girlfriend's ex.

Jayce shook his head at the oddity that was now a part of his life and then followed Rika back into the main chamber. Sionnach had been dozing. He looked up at them drowsily, eyes half-lidded. Even injured and still, the fox faery had something of the feral animal that Rika didn't.

“The other problem is that Maili has taken some issue with Shy, so . . .” Rika's words faded away when she noticed Sionnach blinking sleepily. “Sorry.”

Jayce handed the faery a plate of food while Rika balanced her own plate on the vaguely table-shaped rock outcropping. “Why does Maili have issue with you?”

“It was inevitable.” Sionnach suddenly looked uncomfortable, not meeting Rika's eyes.

“Why, Sionnach?”

“Seriously, Rika . . .”

“A girl,” Jayce said in relief. The injured faery might have feelings for Rika, but he obviously also had someone else in his life that he hadn't told Rika about. “There's a girl.”

“No.” Rika laughed. “Shy doesn't do relationships, so that's not it. So what is it?”

After a long moment of silence, Sionnach asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Because you flirt with Rika to get her to do what you want, but you
say
you aren't interested in pursuing her that way, right?” Jayce flashed Sionnach a smile, half daring him to admit that he hadn't been honest with Rika about his feelings but half hoping the faery would keep his secret. He admitted to himself that he felt threatened by the history the two faeries shared, but they both insisted that there was nothing more. Jayce hoped his expression was not too revealing as he added, “And because a girl being involved seems like the only thing you'd be hesitant to admit.”

“Shy?” Rika sounded puzzled.

“So maybe there is a girl. . . .” Sionnach sat up straighter in the bed. “I spent some time with a mortal lately, but it'll pass. I've never been one for relationships, Rika. Everyone knows that.”

“But?” Jayce prompted, enjoying watching him squirm.

“But I told Maili and the rest that we ought to be a bit less invasive with the mortals and maybe consider being more respectful. She thinks it's because of my mortal.” Sionnach looked defensive, tilting his chin upward and staring directly at Jayce, as he continued, “I think treating mortals like toys is just not where we need to be. The world's changed and—”

“So have you. Good idea,” Jayce interjected with a faux-somber look.

Rika looked stunned and a little speechless.

“It's not just because of Caris— . . . the mortal,” Sionnach added hurriedly with a look at Rika. “Now that the Summer King has power for the first time in centuries, there will be trouble. He'll be trying to be strong enough to overpower the Winter Court.”

“So it's about Keenan? Or mortals?” she asked.

“Both. I said that he'd come messing around. He has already. He's always been fond of mortals, so I figured we'd avoid trouble by treating them better. It wasn't because of Carissa. It's you too.” The fox faery's voice dropped with his last admission, and Jayce felt a little sorry for him.

“Me?” Rika sounded like she didn't know if she should cry or hug him.

“I saw when you were a mortal, princess.” Sionnach looked heartbroken. “I hated what he did, but then I knew you and . . .”

Rika stepped toward Sionnach. “That's why you became my friend. Because of what I was before?”

“Not just that,” Sionnach said.

Jayce watched them, not with jealousy but with curiosity. Whatever the two faeries shared needed to be discussed. Jayce suspected that Sionnach had manipulated his relationship with Rika—and he suspected that the fox faery had far deeper feelings for her than he admitted to any of them. The same history that made the two faeries friends was what had kept them from having a relationship. Jayce picked up his sketch pad and began drawing Sionnach and Rika.

Rika leaned over and kissed Sionnach's forehead. “So you fought over mortals.”

“Not entirely. I'm the Alpha; I imposed some rules.” Sionnach took her hand, squeezed it, and then gave her a mischievous look. “Some of the others objected to my suggestions.”

“Objected?” Rika echoed. “You were
stabbed
. That's not objecting to suggestions.”

Rika paced away, her mood turned from sad to angry in a moment. “I'll go to her and explain—”

“Explain? Princess,
explain
is a verbal thing. I think you mean
beat
.”

“I can use words.”

“‘Can' and ‘will' aren't the same.” Sionnach turned to Jayce. “Faeries can't lie. You need to listen carefully to what we say and don't say.”

“Oh, I have been,” Jayce said levelly.

Sionnach smiled approvingly at him like he was a good pupil, but there was a glint in the fox faery's eyes that made clear that he realized what Jayce wasn't saying. Rika, however, was oblivious to the undercurrents in the conversation.

“She has it coming,” Rika muttered.

“You know, I never even said it was Maili.” Sionnach's eyes widened in false innocence. “Maybe it was—”

“
Was
it Maili?” Rika interrupted.

“Well, yes.”

“So tell me why I shouldn't go explain that she best not be so stupid in the future?”

There was an extended pause where the two faeries faced off, and Jayce wasn't entirely sure what was going on then. Their moods had changed abruptly. It had been a seemingly mild conversation, but suddenly, Rika looked more menacing than he'd seen so far. Her chin was up, her shoulders squared. Sionnach, even though he was in a bed, still looked fierce enough that cowering might be wise.

“Because if you do and she knocks you down, we are without recourse,” Sionnach said gently. His lighter attitude vanished, and Jayce finally glimpsed the faery who was strong enough to keep order in the desert. He and Rika matched each other in subtle ways, looking fierce and projecting a heightened sense of Otherness. They seemed like two animals vying for control, and Jayce realized that to some degree that was exactly what was happening. He was all but invisible to them as they tried to establish which of them was in charge here.

Sionnach held Rika's gaze and added, “And I really dislike the Summer King . . . almost as much as you do.”

At that, Rika deflated. “She
stabbed
you, Shy. I can't just ignore that.”

He held out a hand. Rika went to him, took his hand, and sat on the cave floor.

“And we'll deal with her, but not now. Not when doing so would leave you, Jayce, me and . . . all the others vulnerable. I cannot be Alpha right now.
You
can. You could even if I wasn't injured. Although you back down from me every time you start to challenge me, everyone in this room—most everyone in the desert—knows that you are stronger
if you want to be
.” He used their combined hands to catch the underside of her chin and forced her to look at him. “You can't be Alpha if you back down, and I'm injured. We need to be smart about this. Maili's treacherous. If you fall, she's the next strongest here. She's not what we want in power even for a breath. Please?”