by Melissa Marr
“Don’t. Do. That.” Rika bit off each word, but she didn’t strike anyone. She still wanted Sionnach to be the Alpha here. Meting out physical punishments was an Alpha’s obligation and right, not hers. Unless she was the Alpha, all Rika was rightly able to do was respond to aggression.
“You shouldn’t meddle,” Maili said as she stepped out of her hiding place. In her hands were manacles, and since she wore leather gloves that stretched up to her elbows to protect her from the metal, Rika knew that the restraints were fashioned of steel or iron.
The air became heavy with dust, impairing her vision. She shook her head and blinked against the dust. “Your inability to fight fair is embarrassing.”
As she clambered up the rocks, she saw the source of the dust: a pair of faeries tossed sand into the air while another with balloon-ish cheeks exhaled in big gasps. From behind her another faery tackled her, piercing her skin with the thin needles that covered him. She pulled her knee up hard, and when his grip loosened, she slammed her head into his face.
Several more faeries launched themselves toward the fight immediately. At least two were those she’d often seen at Maili’s side, ones she’d fought a few weeks ago in town. Two others, one male and one female, also jumped into the fray.
Rika wasn’t fragile, but her odds were slim against six faeries during a dust storm. Still, she wasn’t going to accept defeat easily. She kicked the leg of one of the largest faeries, snapping his knee backward, and headbutted another one of those not covered in thorns.
After only a few moments, though, she was overwhelmed. Between the sand blinding her and the sheer number of them, Maili’s group of faeries had her pinned to the ground. Quickly, Maili snapped the manacles closed on Rika’s ankles and then her wrists.
As soon as Maili had the restraints in place, she stepped back, and the other faeries started releasing Rika.
She promptly smashed her bound hands into another faery’s face. She fell back to the ground, and at the same time, she kicked her legs up and yanked another faery down with her feet. She might be down, but that didn’t mean she was done fighting.
“Stop!” Maili snarled as she snatched hold of Rika and jerked her to her feet with the manacles that now bound Rika’s wrists.
Rika slammed her head upward as hard as she could, catching Maili under the chin.
“I said stop!” Maili wrenched the chain downward, causing Rika to stumble.
It took concentration not to wince from the metal burning her skin or to fall from the limited movement still allowed by her bound ankles. Rika shook her hair out of her face, dabbed at her bleeding mouth with her upper arm, and stared directly at Maili. “You get stupider by the week.”
The other faeries shuffled nervously.
“I told Shy I wouldn’t attack you.” Rika kept her voice almost conversational as she took a somewhat steady step toward Maili.
Foolishly, Maili didn’t back up. The others, however, did.
“Do you honestly think I’ll forgive this?” Rika asked.
Maili still didn’t move.
“You shouldn’t get involved,” Rika said, looking briefly at the other faeries, hoping that they had the sense to leave. She could still take Maili, but not all of them, especially not bound. She kept her voice level and said, “Stop backing her, and I’ll forgive you. I understand boredom.”
No one spoke, but they grew even more still, a thing Rika wouldn’t have thought possible many years ago.
“If you cross me, if you cross Shy,” Rika continued hopefully, “you won’t be staying in my desert much longer.”
At that, Maili laughed. “Your desert?”
“Mine,” Rika reiterated.
Maili made a disgusted sound—and shoved a syringe into Rika’s arm.
When Rika woke, manacles still restrained her. Her wrists were red, and one was bleeding from her resisting even while only semiconscious. She looked around and realized that she was in an alley. Several rusted fire escapes jutted out from the buildings, and she was now suspended from one of them. Her feet dangled down to brush the ground, but she had very little slack in the chains.
“Are you blind?” Maili’s voice drew her attention. The faery who’d trapped her was sitting on a wooden crate out of reach. In her hand she held the end of a cord that was attached to the chains holding Rika. “Shy is playing you.”
Rika ignored the attempt at conversation and tugged her arms forward, causing her wrist to bleed more freely. “This is stupid—even for you.”
“Do you think he’s any different than the Summer King? They both use their charms to make you pliable.” Maili jerked on the cord, pulling the chain taut. The steel cuffs jerked Rika’s arms back over her head. “At his request, I helped him push you toward the mortal.”
“What? Why?” Rika stared at Maili, trying to understand why the faery would entrap her and tell her such things. She hadn’t expected to be killed or any such thing. Murder was extreme for faeries, even one so unstable as Maili. Extended torture wasn’t unheard of; some courts thrived on such things. Being captured to talk, however, was peculiar.
When Maili said nothing else, Rika said, “Why would he do that?”
Maili’s arrogant expression vanished, but then quickly returned. “What difference does it make?”
“You don’t know why.” Rika felt a surge of relief at that. Unfortunately, she also felt a burst of worry. Faeries couldn’t lie outright, so Maili had known something Rika hadn’t known. Why would Shy push me toward Jayce? It didn’t make sense.
It also wasn’t her primary problem just then. She focused her attention on Maili, but studied her surroundings casually too. There weren’t any faeries nearby to help Rika, and Maili was too far away to attack—plus there was the matter of the steel restraints that were currently searing Rika’s skin.
Maili seemed lost in her thoughts too. She scowled briefly and then said, “He misled you. He treats us different now. Making new rules. Trying to control us. Solitaries don’t do that. His being Alpha doesn’t mean he’s a king.”
Rika rattled her chains. “He didn’t attack me though, did he? He didn’t chain me up with poison binding my skin.”
“Are you really going to let him get away with this?” Maili came close enough now that Rika could almost reach her. In doing so, Maili had allowed the chains to get slack.
“I don’t know. Sionnach is the only faery out here who’s made me any offers. No one else has even wanted to talk, but I’d listen if you had a better offer,” Rika said misleadingly as she tried to keep her temper hidden. For a brief moment, she was grateful for the years she’d spent twisting her words and learning to hide her emotions around court fey.
Maili looked at Rika pensively.
“And do I truly need to be shackled to talk?” She shook one arm a bit, causing the chain to shiver. “I’m not opposed to talking, but not like this.”
“You understand, don’t you?” Maili’s eyes widened in excitement. “He’s trying to make us into something we aren’t. We make our own way. Humans are fair game. So what if a few of them get broken. . . .”
Rika tilted her head and gave Maili an attentive look. “It has always been that way.”
“Exactly.” Maili let the chains fall looser still. “Keenan’s people tell me we can have our freedom still . . . that it won’t be any different. . . .”
“So you’re going to swear to him?”
“No, I’m not, but if they’ll let me break Sionnach and be independent, convincing the others to offer the Summer King a little obedience here and there isn’t so bad. I’ll become Alpha. Sionnach will either obey or leave. The ones I decide need extra leashing will be forced to swear fealty to the Summer King.”
“He’s not trustworthy,” Rika said mildly.
“Exactly. That’s why I need you to help me get rid of him.” Maili smiled at Rika like she’d given a particularly insightful answer.
Her chains were finally sagging enough that she could pu
nch Maili—so she did. Then she grabbed her and pulled her close, spinning her so that her back was to Rika’s chest. To anyone watching it would look like Rika was embracing her.
“I meant that Keenan isn’t trustworthy,” Rika corrected.
Maili struggled as Rika choked her with the chains until she was unconscious. Then, holding Maili’s limp form in one arm, she used her other hand to go through Maili’s pockets until she found the keys. It was not a quick or easy process, but it worked. She retrieved the key and let Maili slump to the ground, alive but not conscious.
“Of course, Shy isn’t trustworthy either,” Rika told the unconscious faery. “But he also isn’t trying to steal everyone’s freedom.”
She unlocked the manacles, put them on Maili, and left her chained up to the fire escape.
Then Rika pocketed the keys and walked away. When she reached the end of the alley and stepped out, Maili’s helpers stared at her. None of them moved to attack her now. They weren’t malicious. Being a solitary faery meant obeying those stronger; it meant making allegiances that faded when power shifted.
“Don’t be stupid,” she cautioned them. “Scratch that. Don’t be any stupider than you’ve already been. Following Maili or believing her theories about trusting the Summer King would be a bad idea.”
One of them started to attempt to explain. “Maili said . . . but we didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just that Maili said—”
“She’s not the strongest faery in the desert,” Rika interjected. “Neither is Shy. I am.”
They didn’t reply, but there was nothing truthful they could say. Even those who’d never lived among the court fey knew about the curse. Many of the solitary fey in the desert were those who had fled there to escape the cold that had become so pervasive in much of the world because of the curse. Knowing about the curse also meant that they knew that the former Winter Girls were strong, much stronger than fey who’d hidden in the desert.
“I’m not going to be so forgiving in the future if you keep helping her—or if you injure humans.” Rika looked at them each in turn. “I was human a long time ago. It would be wise to remember that next time you think about harassing mortals.”
Some of them nodded; others looked surly. It didn’t matter if they agreed with her rule, though. They would obey her. If not, she’d remind them of how strong she really was. That wasn’t the fate she’d sought, but she wasn’t going to let anyone push her around again.
When Rika returned to her home, she went to the cavern where Jayce and Sionnach were playing a game. They both looked up at her when she entered. She barely nodded at Jayce. She was afraid that if she spoke at all, her anger at Sionnach would boil over. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so foolish with anyone but Keenan. The first faery she’d trusted since the Summer King, the first faery in the desert she’d thought of as a friend, and he’d used her.
“You!” She poked Sionnach in the chest. “How dare you manipulate me?”
“So you know,” he said levelly.
“Get out, Sionnach. Now.”
He didn’t move. However, Jayce quietly turned away from them, giving her the illusion of privacy. Rika wasn’t sure she could stay in the same space with Sionnach. She turned and kept walking, heading back to her bed, not sure of much other than the need to curl into her nest until her temper was cooled.
Sionnach didn’t have the sense to let her do that. He followed her, not just into the room but close enough that he now stood directly in front of her. He caught her gaze and simply stared at her for a moment, not speaking or moving. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never been as furious as she was right then, and he just stood there staring at her.
Rika shoved him. “What were you thinking? I trusted you.”
“I made some calculated risks when I knew Maili had gone to Keenan.” His voice grew louder as he spoke. “Don’t you understand? He’s—” Suddenly, Sionnach’s words broke off. He walked away, pacing as he did when he was tense or cornered, and when he continued, his voice was level. “I don’t want to fight with you. I had a plan, but I needed time before I could explain it all to you.”
“Maili told me. So nice to be a pawn again.” Rika watched him as she told him about being trapped and chained up. She stared at him as she told him everything Maili had said.
Fear was plain on Sionnach’s face, but he said nothing.
“You aren’t denying any of it,” she said quietly.
“Would you believe me?” he asked just as quietly.
“So Jayce was what? A distraction? A prize?” She felt a familiar tangle of embarrassment and anger. She’d let Sionnach know that she’d cared for Jayce, let him see that she wanted so desperately just to be loved that she’d taken to following a mortal boy around.
Sionnach still said nothing in his defense, nothing to explain away his actions or even ask about Maili’s fate or her injuries. He simply stared at her silently.
“How could you do this to me?” She repeated the one question that had been playing over and over in her mind since Maili’s revelations.
Finally, Sionnach looked as furious as Rika felt, anger replacing the fear in his eyes. “You didn’t leave me a lot of options. I’ve waited for years for you to find a reason to come out of your gloom and look at the world. You did nothing. You stayed here in the dark and pouted. Caring for someone . . . it makes you see what matters.” His fox tail had flicked madly behind him while he spoke, and then all at once, it stopped. He stilled completely and said only, “I care about you.”
Rika knew that tears were streaking down her cheeks, knew that he saw them and felt guilty for it, but none of that changed anything. He’d manipulated her. She walked up to him, standing closer than she’d ever stood when they’d argued, and folded her arms over her chest. “Not enough to make you honest though.”
Sionnach didn’t back down. “Jayce is good for you. Look how happy you’ve been lately. I just moved a few pieces so you’d have to act on it. Once you were with him, I knew you’d want to make things safer in the desert.”
“You really aren’t any different than Keenan, are you?” Tears dripped down her cheeks, falling onto her chest and crossed arms. She didn’t wipe away her tears, afraid that if she stopped holding on to herself she’d strike Sionnach.
“You know that’s not true, Rika,” he said. “I heard about Keenan being unbound. I tried to make changes so we weren’t doing things that would attract his attention too soon, but I wasn’t strong enough to handle it alone if he came here . . . and he did. I needed help. You’re stronger, and if we work together—if we act like friends—we can keep the desert safe.” Sionnach reached out as if to wipe her tears away.
She slapped his hand. “Friends don’t manipulate one another.”
“I needed you, and you needed someone who—”
“What about letting me decide what I need?”
“You weren’t deciding anything.” His anger returned, and his tail swished rapidly behind him again.
“So that makes it right to manipulate me?”
“Politics, love, passion—giving Jayce to you solved so many things.” He reached out again, but didn’t touch her. “This is best for everyone.”
“So I’m simply to be okay with being manipulated for your plans?”
“I care for you enough to want you happy, and I love my freedom enough to want to—”
“To want to use me.” Rika turned and walked into the main room, where Jayce was waiting. He didn’t say anything, but he’d obviously heard all of it. After only a moment, he opened his arms, and she went into his embrace.
She buried her face against him and cried.
After her sobs let up, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, but didn’t press her to talk. Somewhere inside her home, Sionnach quietly waited, but he didn’t seek her out and force her to speak either.
Rika rested her head on Jayce’s shoulder, and they sat there silently until evening fell. Jayce didn’t chastise her for
the mess he’d been drawn into because of her. She waited for him to leave, grateful that he hadn’t walked out while she and Sionnach argued.
Finally, Rika went to a trunk and retrieved an oft-folded and refolded letter. She smoothed it out and carried it to Jayce. “Can you dial this number before you go?”
He pulled out his cell phone, put it on speakerphone, and dialed.
Through the phone, a cold voice answered, “Hello.”
“I need to speak to Donia. This is Rika.”
Then Donia’s voice came over the line: “Rika? Are you okay?”
“I need your help. Can I see you?”
Donia’s laughter was short but genuinely amused. “Not in the desert. You could come to me though.”
“I’m on my way.” Rika waited until Donia disconnected, and then she went to collect her things to travel before Sionnach could notice her departure.
CHAPTER 16
“Where is that salve?” Jayce asked as she was shoving things into her bag.
Rika said nothing at first. She thought it through one more time. Jayce was at risk with or without the Sight. If he had the ability to see the fey when they were invisible to mortals, he was in danger of having his eyes gouged out. If he didn’t have the ability to see them, he was unable to see those that could hurt him.
“Rika?”
“You can’t let the court fey know that you can see them without their consent.” She stopped packing and stared at him. “Can you be sure you can do that for the rest of your life?”
Jayce paused, his expression flickering between thoughtful and determined. After a few moments, he said, “There are creatures all around me that I can only see when they allow it. I want to see the whole world because . . . it seems wrong not to see, and I don’t want to be blind to threats.”
Silently, Rika retrieved the tiny pot of salve from her bag. She’d stuffed it in there before anything else, figuring it was best to carry it with them just in case they needed it. Jayce watched her with a solemn gaze that altered only briefly when he saw where the salve had been.
