Desert Tales by Melissa Marr Page A

rebutted.
    â€œMinimalist.” She mock sighed.
    â€œThe simple things are best.” He kissed her.
    When he pulled away, she gave him a look of adoration. “Good argument.”
    Then she looked back at the graffiti, smiling and leaning close to Jayce. They stayed together for several moments, and she marveled again at how much these past few weeks had meant to her. After long years where no one touched her in affection, now she felt like the span of minutes between caresses was too long.
    Jayce motioned toward an opening between buildings, not quite an alley but more of a passageway. “Cut through here.”
    They wound their way through it to a wider passage and then one alley and a second. Together, they crossed a small street, Jayce leading. Rika trailed behind him, holding his hand as they stepped into a third alley.
    When she saw the ground, saw the body there, she yanked her hand free and ran. “No!”
    â€œWhat?”
    Jayce couldn’t see because he had only human sight, but there, unconscious on the ground, was Sionnach. He was the only faery in the desert that she’d called a friend, and he was bleeding on the ground.
    She dropped to the ground and reached out to see if Sionnach was alive.
    As she touched his arm, he became visible to Jayce as well.
    Jayce dropped to his knees beside her, looking as shocked as she felt, and she wished now that she could shelter him from her world. Seeing bloodied bodies appearing out of the air was understandably startling; the ugly part of Rika’s world—the part where violence was not rare—wasn’t something she’d ever planned to share with Jayce.
    He looked like he might be sick for a moment, but then he swallowed and asked, “Is he alive?”
    â€œYes. He’s alive still.” As she examined Sionnach, her hand brushed the weapon, still dirty with Sionnach’s blood. She recoiled in pain and disgust. “Iron.”
    Jayce glanced at the weapon she was carefully not touching now.
    â€œCan you pick it up so I can have someone get the . . . scent from it later? To track who did this?” She knew she was blushing, as if the faeries’ more natural animal traits were embarrassing. This, too, she would rather have not shared with him.
    Silently, Jayce pulled a bandana from his satchel and wrapped the bloody weapon in it. His gaze darted worriedly at Sionnach, as he tucked the weapon into his satchel. Later, Rika would need to talk to Jayce about how attacks were handled in the world of solitary faeries—or hope that he didn’t ask questions she wanted to avoid answering. For now, though, she was simply grateful that he was willing to help her and that she didn’t have to touch the noxious weapon.
    Rika opened Sionnach’s shirt and held it away from his stomach. The gouges in his stomach were inflamed, swollen, and angry.
    Sionnach moaned as she prodded the injuries, and she tried to examine him without letting her own whimpers or cries of fury out. There would be time enough for temper later. Right now, she needed to be strong.
    In his state of weakness, Sionnach’s fox-ish traits were more obvious. His features were sharper, cheeks more defined, tail obvious, and the tips of his pointed ears visible. He looked more faery than she ever would.
    â€œWhere do you go when one of you are hurt. . . . I mean . . . You can’t take him to the hospital, right?” Jayce stepped back from them, near but obviously not knowing quite what to do. “I want to help. Tell me how.”
    â€œIn the courts, there are healers. Here”—she pulled Sionnach’s shirt farther up, and she could see the slash was partially healed—“Shy will make do with my care. I need to move him.”
    â€œIs he going to be—”
    â€œHe’ll be fine .” Rika looked up as soon as the words left her lips and offered Jayce a contrite smile to soften the