Rika started to grab Jayce to pull him to safety.
The second faery grabbed Rika’s hair. He was much bigger than her, so much so that his palm cupped the back of her skull like he was cradling a ball.
She glared and yanked back, tilting her head so her chin was pointing upward and her head was at an angle. “You really don’t want to do this.”
The faery tilted his head downward and tugged her so he was mouth-to-forehead with her. “Yeah. I do.”
She darted a glance at Jayce. He was staring at the faery that had grabbed him.
“I’m still stronger than any of you out here,” Rika whispered to the faery in front of her. Then, she headbutted him.
Surprised, he reached up to touch his face. Until now, Rika had avoided fighting with faeries. When they would act out, she always extricated herself. Tonight, though, she was tired of avoiding conflict. She kicked the faery, the heel of her foot slamming into his lower ribs, and he stumbled.
The mortals who were nearby started to back away.
Jayce glanced at her and, seeing that she was in a fight, looked worried. Almost in perfect synchronicity, they both took a swing at their attackers. The faery facing her winced at the impact, but the faery in front of Jayce laughed.
“What’s your problem?” Jayce snarled at the faery, simultaneously trying to pull Rika behind him.
She was touched by the gesture, but mortals weren’t strong enough to defeat faeries. She, however, was a faery fierce enough to defeat most anyone who stood against her. Such was the consequence of having been a Winter Girl. Choosing not to fight all of these years didn’t mean she was unable; it merely meant that she’d been making a different choice. Tonight, she’d revised her plan.
The mortals around them watched the growing conflict. Rika stood beside Jayce, staring at the faeries who’d come here looking for trouble. “This is a bad idea,” she told them.
The growing comprehension in their expressions said that they knew she was right, but they didn’t retreat. Neither did she—or Jayce, for that matter. He had no idea of how capable she was. She looked tiny next to him, but it was her that the faeries were watching. Rika had avoided the desert quarrels and dominance disputes, so the faeries she faced weren’t used to her fighting. They had no sense of her technique to rely on to help them. Even more, they were obviously shocked by her uncharacteristic behavior; they watched her warily, neither advancing nor retreating.
“Let’s go.” Rika started to back away, not looking away from them.
“Or not,” Maili said as she joined them—finally visible to humans now. She held a knife that looked like a carved horn, sharp and primitive.
Rika didn’t hesitate: she punched Maili, knocking her back hard enough that she landed on her backside on the club floor.
Maili’s face twisted in an angry snarl.
Rika pointed at the knife. “That doesn’t make you equal to fighting me.”
For a moment, Jayce stood stunned beside her; then he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him deeper into the sea of bodies.
“What was that?” Jayce glanced over his shoulder at her as they moved away from the faeries.
Rika pretended not to hear him. There was no answer Rika could give without using lies or misdirection. All that mattered was getting Jayce away from danger. Later, she’d find a solution, but right now she needed to get him away from Maili. The faeries weren’t going after the mortals in the club, but they were pursuing her.
Then—standing so near she almost ran into him—Sionnach was in front of her like a savior in a crisis. If she were the hugging sort, she would wrap her arms around him. Instead she tugged Jayce the rest of the way toward the fox faery.
“They’re not making sense, Shy,” she half yelled as she reached his side, and then promptly blushed as she realized that she called him by his pet name—and that she’d rushed to his side. “I mean, Sionnach . . .”
He grinned but didn’t call her on either of her slips.
Beside her, Jayce grew suddenly still. He gave Sionnach a wary look, and then his gaze drifted from the fox faery to her. Rika hated that Jayce was involved in an altercation with faeries almost as much as she hated the suspicious looks he was giving her and Sionnach. She didn’t want him to think that she’d misled him—and on her relationship to Sionnach, at least, she hadn’t. What she was, what they’d fought, why he’d fallen earlier, those were all truths she couldn’t share, but on the subject of her interest in him she had been true.
Jayce obviously had doubts, though. He released her hand.
“I’m sure they make sense, but you two being here doesn’t. Come on.” Sionnach looped an arm around her waist. Other faeries, those who were here with him, cleared a path through the crowd and then vanished when they reached a doorway.
Sionnach looked past her to catch Jayce’s eye. “This way.”
The fox faery held open the door so Jayce and Rika could step into a short hallway. It was starkly empty, except for a mortal girl who smiled widely at Sionnach as they approached. She’d been leaning against the wall with a dreamy expression on her face, looking at Sionnach like he was a god. Sionnach flashed her a blindingly sweet expression, but he didn’t speak to her. Instead, he focused his attention on Rika, as if her slip into familiarity with him had changed something between them.
“What do you need?”
Rika stepped protectively close to Jayce. “I need to get him out of here.”
Jayce started, “I can—”
“So go.” Sionnach gestured to the door at the other end of the hall. “I’ll stay and sort out the rabble. Take him to your den.”
Rika hesitated. It made sense, but she couldn’t begin to figure out how she’d explain that to Jayce. At the same time, she rebelled at the idea of abandoning Sionnach to face the faeries who’d started trouble. He wasn’t flawless by any stretch of the imagination, but he was the closest thing she had to a friend in the desert, the only faery she almost trusted. “If they hurt you . . .”
Not surprisingly, Sionnach was amused at the idea. “You know better than that, princess. They’re my responsibility anyhow. So go on; take your boy for a run.”
Jayce raised both brows at Sionnach, but this time, he remained silent. The sound of an old horn interrupted the silence, and Jayce pulled out his phone. “Del texted,” he said after a moment. “They split when things got weird in there. He doesn’t like violence.”
“Good,” Rika said quietly, carefully not meeting Sionnach’s gaze even as the fox faery stared at her.
“Take him home,” Sionnach urged her again.
As he waited for her reply, his twinkling eyes and crooked grin were in such contrast to the chaos she could hear inside the club, as if he weren’t at all disturbed by the way Maili had behaved, as if he weren’t encouraging her to reveal secrets to a mortal. There were rules, actions faeries ought not engage in unless they wanted the courts coming round and starting to interfere.
“They can’t do that.” Rika scowled in the direction of the main room, choosing to focus on the fight rather than the decision she needed to make. “They’re out of hand. Starting trouble around . . . people. We can’t ignore that.”
“So I guess we need to figure out how to stop them. Leash them.” Sionnach stared at her, waiting for her as he had so many other times over the years she’d known him.