All that mattered was that she was with Jayce. They walked toward a bench, and she realized that he still had his hand on her back. He was touching her, and they were alone together.
CHAPTER 5
Sionnach amused himself by flitting in and out of visibility around one of the somewhat nearby towns: starting a quarrel between strangers, kissing a mortal girl and fleeing while her eyes were still closed. I’d rather be keeping an eye on Rika. She was his priority, a project of sorts, but not every detail of his plan was something he could handle himself. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d lured the skittish faery out of her cave. The next step was up to her; he just hoped she didn’t screw it up. Or find out what I’m doing.
Dealing with Rika was one of the difficulties of being Alpha . . . or maybe it was a difficulty of being a fox faery . . . or maybe of trying to balance his personal goals and his duties to the desert fey. Sionnach wasn’t sure what the cause of the challenge was, but it didn’t really matter. The course was clear. Rika needed a nudge. She’d holed up in her cave licking her wounds for years—and he’d allowed it. He’d even supported it. Things had changed though. The Summer King, a faery Sionnach loathed, had finally discovered his missing queen. For centuries, he’d wooed mortals looking for her. As a result of his affections, those mortal girls had all been cursed to become faeries. Two of those formerly mortal girls ruled faery courts now. The Winter Queen and Summer Queen were originally mortals. Worse yet, they were both mortals who’d cared enough for Keenan to risk everything. Word had already traveled to the desert about the growing hostilities between the two queens. The final pieces of a multi-court war were coming to bear: the High Queen had taken an interest in a mortal the Summer Queen loved, and the Dark King had bound himself to yet another mortal girl. As rulers, they’d all failed to think of the good of their courts, putting desire ahead of duty. It was precisely what Sionnach was trying to avoid. He felt desire aplenty, but he wasn’t going to risk the safety of the desert fey for his own selfishness. He had to protect them. It was what being Alpha meant, and right now, he was risking everything he wanted in order to do just that. Trouble in the courts was growing, and only a fool would believe that conflict between regents wouldn’t spill over to the rest of their world. Sionnach wasn’t a fool . . . at least he hoped he wasn’t.
“Sionnach?”
He turned and was relieved to see one of his fey spies.
The faery who’d come to deliver the report stood like a corpse, emaciated to the point that his eyes seemed vast in the narrowness of his face.
“Well?” Sionnach’s whole body nearly twitched in expectation. “Is she with him?”
“She is.”
“And?” Sionnach felt the curl of excitement, of possibilities, in his stomach. He’d planned and schemed for years in preparation for this moment. Rika was like a hidden arsenal that he’d hoped not to use, but hope was different than reality. He’d still planned for the possibility. When he’d seen the way she watched the mortal boy, he knew the time was near. The mortal could be useful, and then Rika would be useful.
But then the Summer King had arrived, setting things into motion a bit sooner than Sionnach had planned, causing troubles as court faeries often did. Sionnach’s tail twitched at the thought of the disruption. He’d adjusted, but it made for a more harried plan than he’d have liked. It was messier than it should be. Despite everything, he was finally near to seeing progress. Rika saw the lure and was tempted.
“And what happened?” he prompted his spy.
“She’s with the mortal.”
“Annnd?” Sionnach drew the word out while his hands flitted in the air as if he could gesture his way into bending reality to his will. Sadly, he couldn’t.
The faery who’d carried the report to him was bright enough to know that there was an answer Sionnach sought and that he hadn’t delivered that answer. Still he tried. “They sit on a bench, and they sort of speak to each other.”
“Bo-ring. She’s been watching him for months, and she’s still—” Sionnach cut his own word off with a sigh. He despaired of her sometimes. After all his patience, Rika continued to thwart his plans. He needed her to come out of hiding. He’d set the bait out, all but delivered the boy to her, and still she resisted.
Mortals passed by as he pondered what to do next. There was an answer, and he’d find it. He was as clever as the fox that he resembled, and perhaps also as unscrupulous. Not quite. If he were, he’d have been even less honest with Rika. As it was, he skirted the border of lies in encouraging her interest in the boy.
As he rolled the quandary around in his mind, a mortal caught his attention. She looked a bit like Rika: short hair and a tiny frame, fierce in her posture despite her diminutive size. Unlike Rika, the mortal girl was all wrapped up in jeans and a low-cut top designed to flaunt her body. Perhaps that was what he needed to clear his mind, a mortal who looked like Rika but wasn’t likely to act like her. A flirtation would at least distract him. For all the talk of fey and mortals not mixing, there was something strangely appealing about time with mortals. Regent and solitary alike, faeries tended to be intrigued by mortals. Sionnach himself had dalliance after dalliance with them, none serious, all fleeting, but they fascinated him for long moments.
The girl paused as she noticed his attention. She smiled and then ducked her head.
Sionnach waited, watching as her gaze lifted to see if he watched her. Yes. She’ll do nicely. He didn’t look away from the new mortal as he instructed his spy, “Go threaten the boy. I’ll be along momentarily.”
The faery who’d brought the message loped off across the street, and Sionnach went to meet his newest mortal fascination.
“Carissa,” she said by way of greeting. “And you are?”
“Shy.”
“Really?” She offered him a smile that transformed her face, making her look less like Rika, but still lovely. “You don’t seem very shy.”
He ducked his head, feigning bashfulness for a moment, and was rewarded by her laughter. “It’s a pet name for that very reason,” he admitted. “I’m woefully bold, I’m afraid.”
Carissa stepped closer. “Prove it.”
This was why he appreciated mortal girls. He’d confessed that same thing to so many girls, fey and mortal alike, and he never knew what to expect of the mortals. Faeries were more predictable. In the world at large, he had only to look at their court to know how they’d respond, and here in the desert, he was their Alpha, so they wouldn’t refuse his interest—which was precisely why he didn’t woo any of them. There was no challenge if there was no risk of rejection, a stance some faeries didn’t seem to understand.
The mortal girl was staring at him boldly, so he pulled her near, lowered his lips to hers, closed his eyes, and kissed her until she was unsteady on her feet. When she pulled back several moments later, her arms were twined around his neck, and her breathy words of approval were whispers against his skin. She was happy, and he wouldn’t tell her that he pictured someone else when he closed his eyes. He’d only slipped and admitted that once.
For a moment, he stood with his eyes still closed and enjoyed the illusion, but he didn’t have the luxury of spending his evening standing in the shadows kissing a stranger. He had plans to tend. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked at Carissa. She really was quite pretty in her own right.