Desert Tales (11 page)

C
HAPTER
13

Keenan stared at the faery he'd once hoped would be his queen. “You're ashamed of loving me?”

Rika laughed. It was painfully different from the soft sound that he'd once found so enchanting. When she was a mortal, she was sweet. She'd trusted him, looked at him with such hope in her eyes, smiled at him with love. He still remembered her that way. He remembered all of the formerly mortal girls he'd wooed. Most of all, though, he remembered those rare girls who had been brave enough or in love enough to take the test to be his queen. Until this year, they'd all failed, but they were special.
Rika
was special.

“I'm not ashamed of it,” he said quietly. “You were br—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I don't want to hear your flattery, Keenan.”

He stood silently beside her for a moment before muttering, “The fox doesn't deserve you.”

“Sionnach knows me better than you ever did.” She shook her head. “All those years I was cursed to stand against you, I'm not sure you ever tried to know me.”

There were words he could say, wicked phrases and lovely reminders, but they would only hide the lie. He hadn't known her. Sometimes, he thought that the only faeries he truly knew were the Winter Queens—the one he loved and the one he'd killed. For nine hundred years, he'd spent all of his time seeking his missing Summer Queen and trying to rule without his full power. He was realizing of late that he had made more than a few mistakes.

“Knowing you doesn't mean deserving you” was all he said.

Rika stared at him for a moment, and foolishly, he felt a brush of hope that they could talk rationally. Unfortunately, that hope faded as she folded her arms over her chest and said, “Go away. Don't come back here.”

He couldn't truly blame her for thinking she could confront a
regent
so boldly. It had been her role from the time she became fey until Donia became the next Winter Girl. He lifted a hand to brush back her hair, but she moved out of his reach. “You can't demand that, not of me,” he told her. “Not now.”

Instead of replying, she turned and returned to her cave. Later, he could try again, but for now, he let her go. Some battles were about steadily wearing away at the defenses, not winning in one glorious fight. He wasn't done here.

Nonetheless, Keenan felt the weight of failure on his shoulders as he left Rika's cave. The desert had always been one of his solaces; it was one of the rare places in the world where the last Winter Queen had been unable to extend her power. When Rika had first been freed from the then–Winter Queen's curse and fled to the Mojave Desert, Keenan had believed that he'd have a future ally there. She'd been angry during her time as a Winter Girl, good at convincing girls not to trust him, but she'd loved him once. He'd believed that her anger would fade, that the core of her love was still there. Now, as he walked across the scorching ground, he realized he'd been tragically wrong. Like both his Summer Queen and the new Winter Queen, Rika simply didn't
trust
him.

There were times when he wished that he could explain, could make them understand that he was as trapped by the curse as they had been. The problem, of course, was that they were trapped because of
his
choices, whereas he was trapped because of the choices of the last Winter Queen. She'd bound his powers, hidden them away inside a mortal girl so he couldn't stand against Winter, and he was left seeking a single grain of sand in the expanse of a great desert. Literally, billions of girls could have been the one he needed. Each time he chose a girl, she was cursed; her humanity faded. She became either a Summer Girl, whose very life required contact with him, or the Winter Girl, who was filled with ice. He understood the anger some of them felt, probably
deserved
it, but if he hadn't tried, the earth would freeze. Over time, every mortal and every faery not of the Winter Court would die.

He bowed his head as he walked. There hadn't been a lot of choices left to him. He'd had to try to find his missing queen. He'd succeeded after nine hundred years, but somehow even success came with problems. His queen refused his affections; the faery he loved had become the new Winter Queen; and war seemed imminent. Even after completing a seemingly impossible challenge, he was still losing.

As Keenan reached a rocky outcropping, the faery he'd been contacted by stepped out.

“Your, ah, highness, or . . . what do you call a king?” Maili asked.

Her attitude irritated him, so he ignored the question. “What do you need?”

“You weren't able to reason with Rika. I can do it. I'll defeat her for you.”

Keenan looked at the faery. Her tone was far more impertinent than he was accustomed to these days, and her posture was anything but respectful. He didn't expect meekness, but whether he was her king or not, he was a regent. He was the embodiment of summer itself, protector and leader of a court. That deserved a bit of respect.

Honestly, he simply didn't understand the solitaries; something about their lack of court always unsettled him. Court, especially the Summer Court, wasn't just about order. They reveled. They danced. They cared for the other members of their court. Sure, there were questions of obedience, but he didn't ask his faeries to do anything that wasn't for their own good or the good of the court. He had spent his entire life striving to make them safe, to protect them from the cold that had threatened, to lead them even though he'd been weakened by the curse. Choosing to be solitary wasn't something he could fathom.

“No,” he said. “Talk to her first.”

Maili flinched as if he'd struck her. “
Talk
to her?”

For a moment Keenan thought about the angry way Rika and her fox had looked at him. They'd never believe he was trying to be fair, never believe he was trying to do the right thing. They saw only their own desire to keep the desert, not the fact that he could now protect them. The desert was a place of heat; it was only logical that it should become part of his territory. Admittedly, his interests weren't totally selfless. He
was
a faery. Allies were increasingly necessary to his court right now. Skirmishes seemed imminent. The Dark King was angry, and the Winter Queen was upset about the time he'd been spending with his queen. Even his own court held the possibility of conflict as his Summer Queen discovered how much he'd misled her in his attempts to hide her mortal lover's whereabouts. Trouble was definitely coming from at
least
one side.

When the Summer Queen's mortal had returned from Faerie, changed into a faery for half the year, Keenan had realized he'd lost the battle for her affections. He could keep fighting, and maybe he would. Right now, he felt a bit like retreating and licking his wounds. He'd lost his advisor to the Dark Court, his beloved to the Winter Court, and his destined queen to a mortal
boy
. He wasn't going to completely give up. He was the Summer King, but he had retreated to seek allies—not just to strengthen his court but also because it would feel good to have a victory.

But I failed at this too.

With an expression that wouldn't reveal the morass of emotions inside him, he stared at Maili and repeated, “Talk to Rika.”

At that, Keenan walked past her. The desert wasn't the only place where he could find allies. As he'd searched for his queen for centuries, he'd met a lot of solitaries, many of whom were organized into loose groups like those here in the desert. He'd done what he could here. Maili would talk to Rika, and then Keenan would follow up. With that in mind, he left the desert behind and headed toward the forests of California. Out there they had the tall redwoods and the wide sequoias. In the boughs of those trees and in the shadows of those forests, faeries made their homes. Perhaps some among them would be willing to join his court now that he was unbound.

C
HAPTER
14

From the room where Jayce was waiting, he could see into the central opening of Rika's cave. Through a fissure in the wall, he'd watched the glowing faery, the one Rika and Sionnach had called Keenan, leave. Jayce hadn't heard every word, but he'd heard enough to know that this faery thought he had a right to Rika's attention—and that Sionnach was acting like Rika was his. Despite everything that had happened the past couple of weeks since he had met Rika, Jayce still knew people. Faeries might have been a big surprise to him, but he'd come to understand pretty quickly that for all their differences, they still had the sort of emotions humans had. It didn't take a genius to notice that Sionnach had feelings for Rika. She, however, acted like she was oblivious. Jayce didn't know if that was because she was trying not to hurt Sionnach or because she had decided she didn't date faeries. Either way, the emotions weren't as hidden as either faery seemed to think.

What am I doing with her?

Jayce walked to the mouth of the cave where Rika stood. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, although he suspected that the smart thing to do was to leave. Rika didn't look at him. Instead, she stood staring out across the desert. He wasn't sure what secrets she hid, but he knew that the past was something she avoided discussing. As Jayce looked at the shadowy desert vista, he could see light radiating from Keenan as he strode across the desert like a ground-level meteor.

“How many faeries are in line for your attention?” Jayce forced himself to stand slightly to the side and behind her.

Rika glanced back and frowned at him. “None, why?”

“The one who left sounded—”

“Keenan's a jerk,” Rika interrupted. Her tone and expression softened instantly as she looked at Jayce. She stayed like that, silently watching him for several heartbeats.

“What?” He didn't soften; he couldn't. He was only eighteen, not looking for a wife or anything, but he wanted a girlfriend. He wanted
this girl
in his life with a ferocity that had shocked him.

For the first time since the night they'd first kissed here in this same cave, he could tell that Rika had just decided to reveal more about herself. Her expression tensed, fear and nervousness filling her eyes, and then she relaxed visibly. “He was the one who made me this.”

“He made you a faery?”

“A long time ago. He thought I could be someone he needed. I tried. I failed. This”—she gestured at herself and the barren cave around her—“is part of the price. The worst part was that there were full decades when my body was filled with ice.”

Suddenly, she seemed vulnerable and very, very sad, and Jayce regretted pushing her to tell him about her life. “Rika . . .”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “I'm trying to be open about everything like you asked, but it's not easy to talk about it.”

“I'm sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and held her in silence.

She didn't cry, but she did curl into his embrace, accepting his comfort or maybe forgiving him for wanting to know. He felt a flash of guilt at the thought. He'd dated a few girls, but he wasn't sure how to truly date Rika. Part of dating was getting to know each other, but it was hard to do that when the girl in question was some sort of supernatural creature with secrets too big for him to truly grasp.

Moments of silence passed, and he wished he had a clue how to be in her world without asking for answers that she wasn't willing to share. He didn't want her to be unhappy, but he wanted to know her. He stroked her hair and kept her clasped tightly to his chest. Talking wasn't the right way to grow closer to her right now. After a moment, though, he had to ask, “How's Sionnach?”

He knew that the faery was obviously alive and alert; Jayce had heard his voice. That didn't mean he was fine, however.

“Weak.” Rika pulled back a little and looked toward the tunnel leading to the cavern where Sionnach was resting. “He'll be fine in time, but she poisoned him. He's not going to be truly well anytime soon.”

Jayce nodded, trying to find the right words to tell her that he was there for her without asking any questions that would make her grow quieter.

But then Rika blurted, “There's no one but
you
in my life.”

When he looked at her, she took a deep, shuddering breath and continued shakily, “I've been alone for . . . ever, really. Keenan left me when he realized I wasn't who he hoped I was. Shy's been my friend, but we're not . . . we've never . . . been anything else.”

“He's something to you.” Jayce wasn't accusing, merely stating the obvious. He wasn't the sort of guy to make a scene or be possessive, but he wasn't going to pretend he didn't notice what was right in front of him either.

“Not what you are.” She blushed. “I've never felt like I do with you.”

Jayce paused before he said, “He's in your life in ways I'm not.”

“And you're here in ways he isn't.” She looked back out to the now darkened and shadowy desert. He knew without her saying it that she'd been checking to make sure that Keenan had left. Now that the glowing faery was gone, Jayce could see her visibly relax. Quietly, she said, “I can't change who I am. I won't. I made that mistake once.”

Jayce stepped behind her and pulled her against him. His arms wrapped around her, and he rested his cheek against her head. “I don't want you to change. I just want to
know
you. Everything seems like such a secret.”

He could feel Rika tense in his arms, but he didn't let go of her.

“I want to be with you,” he added. “Just talk to me, please?”

She leaned back into Jayce's arms. “Shy sent me to see you today. He stayed here, injured, while I came to you. He's my
friend
. Until you, he's been my only true friend.”

Jayce kissed her head. “And the other one? Keenan?”

Rika laughed bitterly. “He's never been my friend. He's never been my lover either.” She turned in Jayce's arms, so she was facing him. “You can trust me, Jayce. There's no competition for my heart. My attention sometimes . . . but not my heart. Until you, I'd never even been properly kissed. No one wanted to draw with me or hike in the desert. I watched you, wanting you, and now I have you in my arms. I want to be with
you
.”

Jayce leaned down and kissed her, meaning to be sweet, worrying that he'd been too forward after what she just admitted. He believed what she'd just said was true, too, because according to Rika faeries couldn't lie. It seemed crazy that the beautiful girl in his arms had been alone for most of her life. It was a little scary.

And cool
, he admitted to himself.

“I didn't know you were so innocent. I won't push you.” He started to step away from her, but she held him close and kissed him thoroughly. One of her hands entwined in his dreads, clutching them to hold him to her.

When they parted, she whispered, “You're not pushing. I'm trying to let you in, but I've been on my own for longer than the town even existed. It takes time. Ask me something else.”

Jayce held her tightly, one hand on her back, one hand cradling her head. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten so lucky. Rika was unlike anyone he'd ever met, and she wanted to be with
him
. They'd figure it out.

They stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying the closeness that they were creating. When he let go, he took Rika's hand and asked, “So why was Keenan here? If he doesn't want to date you. . . . Did he want to try to be friends?”

“No.” Rika made a sound that might've been a laugh. “He wants me to be his
subject
, swear loyalty to him. In exchange, he'll back me in controlling the desert.”

“So you'd be like . . . a sheriff or something? In charge of them?” Jayce sat on the ledge.

Rika sat next to him. “Yeah, but I don't need
him
to be in charge. Might and will determine power out here. Shy was the one who held order. He's Alpha, first in the faeries who choose to live here. To change the rules means changing the Alpha. Most of the rules are so minor that no one bothers. With a king though”—she scowled—“he'd have a host of rules. We're not children to be controlled.”

“But with Shy injured . . . who's that make Alpha?”

“Me,” she said it softly, glancing at him from behind a bit of hair that had fallen into her face. “It means that I need to be ready to deal with a few challenges—unless I have someone strong supporting me.”

“Like Keenan.”

She nodded. “But Keenan's support comes with costs I won't pay.”

Jayce frowned. “Like?”

“Obedience. I've been on my own for forever though. Even as Winter Girl, I had no ruler. I was between two courts, caught in their game, but not sworn to either.” Rika looked fierce, and Jayce was suddenly reminded of wild animals. She might have begun her life as a mortal, but there was something majestic about her that was more than human.

“So tell him no.”

“I did.” She lifted her chin a little. “It felt good too. Now I just need to hold things together until Shy is well; then he can deal with a couple dozen moody faeries. Remind them who's in charge.”

“But you're stronger? Why was he in charge then?”

She shrugged. “Shy's strong, and I didn't want to be involved. He was here when I got here. . . . I just wanted to draw and be alone.” She stood suddenly and reached down for Jayce's hand. “
Now
, I just want to draw and be alone with you.”

Smiling, she led him through the tunnel to reach the room where Sionnach was.

The injured faery lifted his head from the bed and looked at them as they came into the room. He appeared relieved to see them, but he also looked feverish. Sweat was visible on his face and arms. Fresh blood was soaking through the sheet over his stomach. He quickly covered it with his arm and asked, “Keenan's gone?”

“Yes,” Jayce confirmed. Quietly, to Rika, he pointed out, “He's bleeding.”

“You hurt yourself moving, didn't you?” Rika snapped at him as she went over to check his wounds. She tried to lift his arm, but the injured faery didn't cooperate. “That's what the blanket was hiding.”

“Stop!” Sionnach caught her hand in his. He kept the other arm tight to his stomach, holding the sheet in place. He seemed embarrassed. “Jayce? A little help?”

Jayce shook his head. He wasn't going to agree to let anyone stay hurt, especially the faery who was supposed to be keeping order in the desert. “You're injured. Let her look.”

Rika scowled at Sionnach and walked away to get more water. “I didn't realize . . . when I walked out—”

Sionnach interjected, “And neither did Keenan.”

Rika returned with the basin of water. She dipped a cloth into the basin and then twisted the cloth, squeezing out the excess water. “Who cares what he—”

“Being Alpha means appearing strong even when you aren't.”

“Maili.” Rika slapped his arm lightly, gesturing for him to move it out of her way, and then scowled when he didn't comply. “She contacted him to let him know you were injured.”

“I'm sure she contacted him, but I don't think he knew I was injured.” With a sigh, Sionnach moved his arm, letting her pull the sheet away from the bleeding wound on his stomach. “I'm glad he doesn't know I'm this weak.”

“Why?” Jayce walked over to a basketlike chair that he'd helped her bring up to the cave last week. It hung from a bent wooden frame. He settled into it, glad that he didn't have to sit on the ground now that there was a comfortable chair. He'd felt awkward sitting on piles of blankets and furs.

Sionnach and Rika both stared at him as he started to swing in the chair. Rika's hand paused midway between the basin and Sionnach's bare stomach, and Sionnach turned a very appraising gaze on Jayce.

“What will happen if Keenan knows?” Jayce opened his bag. “Explain. It's the only way I learn anything, and maybe talking it out will help you make sense of it all.”

“Rika is hesitant to be in charge,” Sionnach said. “I'm half-useless. Keenan's the king of Summer. Court fey are treacherous, but they're smart. If he thinks we're not strong enough to hold some sort of order here, he'll send out someone with loyalty to him—or openly support Maili.”

“Why?” Jayce pulled out a sketch pad.

“Because it's what he does—rally the forces, bring solitaries into his fold, expand his power base.” Sionnach grabbed the cloth Rika was now trying to use to wipe his face and gave her a put-upon look. “I can do it myself.”

Rika huffed at him in irritation and walked over to get another bowl of the icy water. As she did so, she asked, “Why is Keenan so interested in
our
home?”

“Because he thinks we should be his because of the heat here?” Sionnach shrugged awkwardly, even now trying to appear uninjured but failing to look convincing. “He always thought we should have been loyal to him.”

“So, it could be a revenge thing? Break us to his will now that he's strong. . . .” Rika shook her head. “That doesn't work. Not for Keenan.”

Jayce set his sketch pad in his lap for a moment and reached down to pull a thicker pencil from his bag. As he turned the pages, flipping past the rough sketches of Rika—looking fierce, looking vulnerable, looking pensive—he had to remind himself to focus on the conversation. Even as he wanted to know more, he knew he could quickly forget his questions once he began drawing. He looked purposefully at them and again asked, “Why?”

Sionnach wiped the blood from his skin with the rag he hadn't surrendered to Rika, and then pressed the cloth to his wound, wincing as he did so. “I don't like the Summer King, so I hate to say anything
kind
. . . but Rika's right: he's not that petty.”