by Melissa Marr
“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.”
He glanced at Jayce, who was standing silently beside Rika. “Because of you, Jayce.”
Jayce didn’t appear moved, didn’t seem to appreciate the lengths Sionnach had gone to in order for him to have the privilege of standing at her side. “You were still wrong.”
“By Rika’s standards, by mortal standards, I was abhorrent.” Sionnach strode toward them so he was directly in front of Rika; his movements were cautious as much from habit as from injury. Slowly, Sionnach brushed her hair away and cupped her face in his hands. “But you’re a stubborn faery, Rika. I needed you alive and involved.”
“You manipulated me. You should’ve told me.” Her voice was soft, even as she chastised him, but he heard the acceptance too. Rika understood him; she forgave him and challenged him, pushing him to be better—to be worthy of her friendship. He wasn’t. He never would be, but he was grateful that he hadn’t lost her. He’d known that it was a risk, but he’d hoped against hope that it would turn out well. She’d needed to be nudged into her rightful place, out of her seclusion and into the bright desert light. He’d been willing to risk a lot to see her happy, to see her ruling over the solitaries in the desert, to have her at his side.
“My word, princess. I’ll talk to you next time I have plans to manipulate you.” He nodded and kissed her nose in a moment of impertinence. “I’m glad you calmed down and came home. Where were you?”
“Getting help.” Rika shoved him away with a small growl. “Solving the problem you created for me.”
Fear crept over him at her words. There weren’t a lot of faeries she could seek out to help her in the desert. “What did you do? Rika?”
“I’ve sworn fealty.” She started to walk past him as if she were utterly unconcerned by her admission.
“You swore fealty?” Sionnach grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him. “How could you do that? After everything he’s done. . . .”
“But you left me so few choices.”
Sionnach stared at her in horror. He’d arranged everything he could to protect her, and she went to Keenan? He knew his outrage was nowhere near hidden as he asked, “So you gave him an excuse to come to our home? You gave him power over you? How could you do that?”
CHAPTER 21
Rika stared at Sionnach without expression for several moments. She was certain she was missing something. After decades of knowing the fox faery, she found that she could often learn as much by what he didn’t say as what he did. There was more to his upset than worry that she’d let Keenan have an easy and regular influence in the desert. Quietly, she said, “I didn’t swear to him. I don’t trust Keenan.”
Expression still wary, Sionnach let go of her and took one step backward. “Who? Which court have you invited here? The High Court is in seclusion. . . . The Dark Court?” He stepped farther away and glanced at Jayce, who was leaning against the cave wall. “And you? Why didn’t you stop her?”
Jayce shrugged. “I swore it too.”
“Are you mad?” Sionnach looked from one to the other.
Rika walked away and dropped down on one of the pallets on the cave floor. “I offered my loyalty to Donia. She is my queen now. I’m sworn to the Winter Court.”
He stopped, glanced out the cave mouth into the desert, and then back at Rika. “Winter can’t walk here.” He nodded. “The Winter Queen is unable to be here . . . but Keenan fears her.”
“Exactly.” Rika nodded.
At that, Sionnach came to crouch in front of her. He almost looked meek for a moment. “Oh, princess . . . together we are strong enough. We didn’t need her.”
“I disagree. I can deal with the solitaries—with or without you—but she gives me peace from him.” Rika didn’t want to admit her weakness, not even now that she felt like she was finally well and truly free of Keenan. He’d been an obstacle to her peace of mind for almost her entire life.
Keenan is standing in the middle of a path in the middle of a forest. “Don’t run from me.”
“I want you gone.” Ice crystals fall from Rika’s eyes with tiny clatters. All around her it’s summer, but here, in the small circle nearest her, it’s frost-filled.
“I told you. These are the rules. You have to talk to the next mortal I choose.”
“No.”
“As long as none of them take up the test, you’re the Winter Girl.” He reaches out to her. “Remember how much you said you loved me? This is what I need from you.”
“I hate you.” Rika backs up. The ice backs up with her. “I never want to see you again.”
He sighs. “Our lives are tied together. You’ll never stop seeing me.”
“Stay. Away. From. Me.” She turns and runs into the woods, leaving icy footprints behind her like a trail.
Rika shivered. “I won’t have Keenan in my desert. I made decisions to fix it. Now, all we need to do is deal with Maili.”
After a moment, Sionnach asked hopefully, “We?”
“Yes, we. You’re a fox faery, Shy. I can’t expect you to think like a mortal,” she said gently. If she stayed angry every time he was what he was, they’d never have become friends. She knew that, but she’d needed to calm down before she could even speak with him. Yes, she was hurt, but she also realized that she should have been more suspicious of his actions; she’d known him too long to be so blindly trusting. She could simply have asked him what his motives were in helping her to be with Jayce. For all his flaws, Sionnach would never directly lie to her; she simply hadn’t been paying close attention.
The fox faery grinned. “Really? We fight together?”
Jayce walked over to stand beside Rika and Sionnach. “Don’t get too sure of yourself,” he cautioned.
Sionnach shrugged and held out a hand to Rika. “Shall we let them know they have two Alphas now, princess? Be my co-Alpha for real?”
Rika glanced at Jayce.
He shook his head. “Go work. I’d rather you two were on the same side, and I’m fine with a little quiet. The light’s great for sketching. . . .”
Rika leaned in and kissed Jayce. Although she’d once been a human too, she didn’t always understand him. Maybe it was that they were from different places and times, but the easy way he accepted everything—Sionnach, Donia, Alphas, fealty, faery fights, and faery courts—seemed . . . odd. She hadn’t been so calm when she’d discovered the oddities of faeries, but maybe it was easier being an observer than an active participant in this world.
“I trust you,” Jayce told her quietly. “And when this whole Alpha bit is resolved, you’ll be less tense.”
Rika felt Sionnach watching her, knew that he was aware that she wasn’t telling Jayce everything. Being Alpha wasn’t going to make things easier for her, not really. She’d be busier and have more conflicts to handle.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised Jayce.
And then, avoiding eye contact with the faery she’d reprimanded for omitting truths, she walked out into the sunlight.
Sionnach and Rika crossed the desert in silence. Although Rika was trying to look serious, he was grinning. They exchanged looks a couple of times.
Finally, Rika looked at him. “Well?”
“Well, what?” His fox tail flicked behind him.
“What’s the plan?”
“Make a point. Establish clarity.”
“That’s the whole plan?” she as
ked.
“You mean the part where we capture Maili?” Sionnach nudged her with his shoulder. “And you”—his expression became one of feigned innocence—“‘talk’ to her?”
“Yeah, that part.” Rika couldn’t help it; she felt better. Keenan was banned from the desert; Jayce was accepting of her obligations; and Sionnach was happy and at her side.
“You talk to her, and then we’ll take her before the rest.” He scurried over a rocky outcropping, not quite as quickly as he usually would.
“I shouldn’t look forward to this,” Rika said quietly.
Sionnach paused mid-step and leaped down in front of her with a slight wince. “Princess, the only reason you haven’t been Alpha around here is stubbornness. You are what you are.”
“Looking forward to a fight is—”
“Perfectly normal. You’re a solitary faery. A strong one. . . .” He pulled back a fist as if to strike her. “And you’ve spoken your authority into reality.”
He swung. Without pause, she stopped him, capturing and holding his fist in her hand.
“This is your territory, and there’s a threat in it.” He punched upward with the other hand.
She blocked him again.
Gently, he said, “Just like you defend against me without thought, you will defend them.”
“Maili doesn’t get that about being Alpha, does she?” Rika glanced at Sionnach. In their mock-fight, his jacket had gaped open. She stared at the dried blood on his shirt and at the fresh blood seeping around it like a flower blossoming. “Shy, you’re—”
“Fine.” He waved her concern away.
“Maili wouldn’t understand, not like we do. We have a duty to them, and with you beside me, we can succeed.” He nodded at faeries who had crept out to watch them and pulled his jacket closed again casually. Then, in a low voice he added, “But I think that’s what you want to explain to her.”
Rika shook her head and chastised, “It is, but you need to stop hiding things from me.”
“I am trying.” Sionnach linked his arm with hers. “Come now, princess. Run with me?”
“Where?”
“Let me lead you there, and you can handle the fight.”
She nodded, and they raced toward a crevice in two rock walls. Rika knew that he held on to her in part because he was still healing from being stabbed, and that only served to increase her anger at Maili.
Sionnach flashed Rika a smile. “Shall we knock?”
“No.” She stepped in front of him and disappeared into the opening.
“There’s my princess,” he said as he followed her into what appeared to be a roofless cavern.
Inside were four faeries, including Maili. Rika wasn’t sure how to start. Part of her wanted to simply launch herself at Maili, beat her for her selfishness and the pain she’d caused as a result of it. The rest of her knew that wasn’t the answer.
Sionnach whistled, and when the faeries looked his way, he raised a finger and shook it at them like he was scolding a child. “Stay out of it, or share Maili’s sentence.” Then he gestured Rika toward Maili. “She’s all yours, Rika.”
Maili tilted her chin up in a defiant posture. “I don’t need help fighting her.”
“Pretty to think so,” Sionnach muttered. He knew that Rika could handle the disobedient faery even if she wasn’t angry, and right now, she was still holding on to both anger and hurt over the situation Maili had caused. The fight could only go one way.
The other three faeries stepped back, and Sionnach nodded at them approvingly before clambering up the side of a rock wall and crouching on a ledge. The solitaries were a fickle lot sometimes. They saw the way the winds shifted, and their allegiance shifted with them. It was a large part of why being an Alpha was difficult.
Maili looked at Sionnach appraisingly.
“It would be best if you left the desert,” Rika told her, drawing her attention away from Sionnach. “We’re willing to let you go if you leave now.”
Maili laughed.
“Go.” Rika advanced slowly toward Maili.
“When Keenan comes here, you won’t be so—”
“He won’t be coming here.” Rika spread her feet to give herself better balance. She watched Maili carefully as she added, “Third chance, Maili. Your Alphas direct you to leave.”
With a yell, Maili launched herself at Rika. “You are not my Alpha. Neither of you are.”
For several moments, Rika and Maili exchanged blows. Rika’s punches landed more often than not, but Maili was quick on her feet. Rika was out of practice, but her blows were more forceful than most faeries’ strikes. The fight wasn’t truly well matched; Rika was steadily pummeling Maili, and when the other faery realized that, she grabbed Rika by the throat.
“Bad idea,” Sionnach muttered.
Rika took Maili’s legs out from under her. The rebellious faery stumbled and—needing her arms to keep her balance—released Rika’s throat.
Promptly, Rika delivered a punch to the stomach.
Maili fell to the ground, legs curled to the side. She attempted to get up, and Rika kicked her before glancing up at Sionnach and nodding.
He looked at the faeries who had been there with Maili. “Spread the word that there will be an assembly today.”
As the faeries were departing, Rika yanked Maili to her feet and told her, “This wasn’t what I wanted. I asked you to leave before this had to happen.”
Sionnach hopped down and applauded. He moved slowly, but he’d often moved at that pace, a heightened cautiousness that faeries often saw as his deliberateness. In that moment, Rika wondered how often it had simply been a ploy to hide injuries he’d sustained.
“Step two,” Rika said quietly.
Sionnach smiled and echoed, “Step two.”
They escorted Maili to a mining shack on the hill in the same abandoned mining town that Sionnach often called home. After they trussed her up, they left Maili inside the solitary mine cart that was stored in the shack, and closed the door. Then, they waited for the faeries to arrive for their first assembly with their new co-Alphas.
Once the crowd had begun to gather, Sionnach climbed gracefully to the top of a dilapidated porch roof and balanced along the fractured railing as if he were oblivious to all the faeries—except Rika. He looked only at her as the faeries started coming closer. Then, he held out one hand to her.
She walked closer to the building and looked up at him as he stood motionless on the battered wooden railing. “What are you doing?”
He crouched down and held out a second hand. “Helping you up.”
With far less grace than he had, she clambered up to stand beside him and took his hand in hers.
“Showmanship,” he whispered.
Once she was steady, he released her hand and then hopped up to a higher roof, deftly avoiding a gaping hole that looked like a mess of splinters and glass. Then, he looked back at her.
She didn’t hesitate as she reached both hands up this time, and with a relieved smile, he lifted her to stand beside him.
Letting go of one hand, they took another step—together—to stand on the roof.
On the ground behind them, faeries had assembled in silence.
“Rika will be beside me keeping order here,” Sionnach said by way of introduction. “As co-Alphas we will be happy to keep you safe, at cost to ourselves.”
“We will not forgive betrayals easily,” Rika glanced at Sionnach. “We would rather not have to have any betrayals, but if you do . . .”
She released Sionnach’s hand, and he hopped down with far more ease than they had ascended, looking animal-graceful, and ambled up the hill to the shack. It was once part of the aboveground mine structure, so there were tracks that began near the door. Sionnach pulled the mine cart out and shoved it onto the tracks. Then, he proceeded to push it down the hill and into the dusty street.
The assembled faeries looked alternately amused and curious, and Rika suspected that they were quite aware o
f which faery was being pushed into the crowd.
Once the cart was almost in their midst, Rika raised her voice and told the crowd, “I’ve sworn myself to the Winter Queen in order to keep the Summer King from meddling in our desert. Winter will keep him in check, so Sionnach and I can keep our home safe. I surrendered part of my own freedom for you.”
Sionnach dumped Maili onto the dusty ground in the middle of the street. He untied her, but she still looked rather bruised and dirty.
“This doesn’t mean we will be gentle,” Sionnach said. “Rika is every bit as cruel as I am when our home is threatened.”
“Or more,” Rika added quietly.
“Perhaps.” Sionnach shrugged.
“For betraying your Alphas, Maili, we banish you from our desert until such time as you are judged worthy to return.” Rika lowered herself to the edge of the roof, sitting so that her feet were dangling, and then placed her hands on either side of her legs. Pushing off while simultaneously spinning around so as not to injure herself, she came to the ground. It was a bit showy, very gymnastic in the fluidity of it, far more so than Sionnach’s graceful dismount, but she figured that if she was going to co-rule the desert, she’d best start acting like it. With that in mind she crouched down and jerked Maili to her feet. “If I thought you could remain here—”
“As your dog?” Maili spat the words, her expression haughty. “No. There are other deserts and—”
“You’ll be going somewhere else.” Sionnach stepped closer to Rika. “You stabbed me. You brought the Summer King to our desert. You conspired to injure all of us.”
“I tried to take power from the weaker faeries, those not fit to hold dominion here.” Maili’s gaze darted to the faces of the faeries around them, seeking support.
The faeries weren’t responding. Some glared at her; some looked sorry for her. A few seemed gleeful.
“There is a correct way to take power: you challenge the Alpha. You do not conspire and endanger those the Alpha protects,” Sionnach reminded her and all there. “Challenges are fine; treachery is not.”
