Melissa Marr: Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

Sionnach ignored the faeries milling about, instead studying the dusty streets and scrubby plants that grew alongside sagging porches and storefronts. One porch had a dry-rotted plank, but after the first faery stepped on it and put his foot through the wood, the others realized not to step there.

For now, he didn’t move from his position. He didn’t glance at them, even though they were staring at him. Some were openly curious, but still he waited, letting the tension build.

Finally, a faery who was leaning against a railing kitty-corner from the building he was on called out, “Sionnach?”

He let his gaze drop to the crowd of faeries, taking their measure, dragging it out to keep the tension high. “Well then . . .” he drawled. “Are we having a party I didn’t know about?”

A few faeries smiled, but no one answered. Instead, there was a restless shifting around, foot shuffling, and downcast gazes. They were nervous. Maili had caused that, sowing seeds of dissention and inviting the Summer King to walk among them. There were reasons they all eschewed the courts; more than a few solitaries had once belonged in one or another court—not all of the solitaries, of course, but at least a few of their number had lived among the stiffer sort of faeries. Some had left on their own; others had been cast out. A few had even lived in Faerie itself, a place ruled by an unchanging queen who—if myths were true—was one of the first fey. Here in the desert was as far from Faerie and the courts as they could get.

And Maili would have a regent come here!

Sionnach remained as still as when he was watching the sky; his expression didn’t hint at his thoughts or his feelings about the assembled faeries’ scrutiny. His jacket was folded over one leg, and his posture was relaxed. Almost casually, he looked up at the sun. “I’ve been here far too long to want to move. Things don’t often change out here . . . not really. But sometimes, changes must happen.”

They waited.

“We need to work on letting the mortals have peace here.”

Grumbling rose up at Sionnach’s words.

“Why?”

“Where’s the sport in that ?”

“Just because you’re with—”

Sionnach fixed the latter faery with a glare that stopped him mid-sentence. Then, he looked back out at the sky and said, “The new Winter Queen was once a mortal. The missing Summer Queen was a mortal. The new Dark King loved a mortal. Would you have any of the courts come here angry?” He looked at them, allowing his gaze to slowly drift over the crowd, before adding, “Or would you keep your freedom?”

A few nodded. Some exchanged looks with one another. They knew; they mightn’t like it, but they knew that he was right. All things changed in time. As mortals spread over the world, mingling more and more in the matters of faeries, a change was upon them all. Maybe if the courts had never left Faerie things would be different, but they had left. They’d come here, set up their courts and lived among mortals. Now, because of a curse, mortals had become fey, and as the regents loved and lived with mortals, their stances had changed. Sionnach had to do his part to protect those under his sway in the desert.

“I won’t let Maili or her ilk take away my right as Alpha in our home.” Sionnach bared his teeth. “Aside from Rika, no one here is strong enough to wrest power from me.”

“And where is Rika?” a faery asked.

Sionnach didn’t even glance his way, much less answer the question. “You will all follow the new rules or pay the price.”

A faery with a wicked grin said, “Why? I heard you were too injured to—”

At that Sionnach was off the roof and in a fraction of a moment had knocked the faery to the sand. The jacket from Sionnach’s lap dropped to the ground in the process.

As Sionnach pressed his arm to the faery’s throat, he looked over his shoulder at the crowd standing around them in a loose circle now. “I’m feeling quite fine. Good of you to ask. . . .”

The faery grasped at the sand near him, searching for a weapon and finding a piece of broken wood nearby. His fingertips grazed it, and almost immediately, he gripped it and swung.

Seemingly without looking, Sionnach caught the faery’s wrist and forced it to the ground. Then, he looked into the faery’s face and whispered, “Don’t.”

The faery nodded and released the weapon. As soon as he did so, Sionnach let go of him and stood. The faery scrabbled backward and sat so that he was leaning against a building.

“Follow the rules or move on.” Sionnach brushed the sand and dirt off his hands and knees, using the gesture to buy himself time to will away the pain that the moment of conflict had caused. Schooling his features into an approximation of a smile, he stood and looked around at them before adding, “We aren’t a court here. You can obey or move on. Your choice. But it might be good to remember that Rika supports my decision. She’s not hiding away in her cave anymore, and she is never going to be weak enough for any of you to defeat.”

Several faeries exchanged looks, as if they were debating trying Sionnach.

“I am the Alpha in this desert.” Sionnach kept his spine straight, still hiding the pain that was now flooding him, and doing his best to look unconcerned about another potential altercation. “Don’t doubt that.”

Then he bent down, grabbed his jacket from the ground, and slipped it on. “Obey the new rules if you mean to stay here.”

He tucked his hands in the jacket pockets and pulled the jacket closed before he walked through the crowd and away into the desert, consciously avoiding the sort of showmanship of the court fey or blurs of speed, opting for a casual stroll into the wide-open desert.

Once he was no longer near them, he glanced down at what his jacket had hidden. The darkness on his shirt made clear that his injury was bleeding again, but he’d successfully covered it with the jacket. The faeries behind him hadn’t seen his blood, and his posture gave nothing away. This time, he’d pulled it off, but there was a limit to his skills. If Rika didn’t come back soon, he wasn’t sure he could manage the growing unease—not without revealing just how injured he was, and an injured Alpha was a quickly replaced Alpha.

Resolutely, Sionnach made his way toward her cave yet again. If she hadn’t returned, he’d have to send someone to find her.

When he arrived, he found Rika and Jayce on the far side of the cave. From the look of it, they had only just returned. She dropped her bag to the floor, and he felt like a pressure in his chest vanished.

“She returns,” he murmured.

“Sionnach.” Rika let go of Jayce’s hand and turned to look over her shoulder at him. Her expression was as unreadable as any court fey, and he thought for a moment at how much she’d changed—and how little. She was never easy to know, but her emotions were usually more accessible to him.

He leaned on the cave wall at the opening, needing it for support as much as falling onto it in relief at the sight of her. Behind him was the bright light of the desert, making him a silhouette, allowing him to hide the pain in his own expression a little longer. “Do you suppose you’ll forgive me?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re stronger than the rest of us? Because I need your support?”

“You lied. ” She folded her arms over her chest. “You tricked me. You set me up .”

“You know better than that, Rika. I misled ,” he corrected. “I’m horrible, but you knew that years ago.”

She sighed. “I’m not hap—” The word dried up before she finished it.

“You are too. You can’t even finish that word because it’s a lie, princess. Faeries can’t lie.” He shook his head. “You and I both know you’re happier than you’ve been as long as I’ve known you.”