At that, Sionnach’s patience expired. He stood in a move almost too quick for mortal eyes. The faery who was standing and the one who’d dragged the chair over both jumped and promptly scurried backward. Calmly, Sionnach said, “Carissa, would you go up to the counter and ask our waitress for a piece of pie?”

“Sure.” She stretched the word out. “And how long do you need me gone in search of this pie?”

Sionnach flashed her a toothy smile. That was part of her charm: she didn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer or expect him to behave like he was completely civilized. “Just a few minutes,” he assured her. “Your patience is kind, Riss.”

“In case your lips are bruised later . . .” She slid out of the booth and kissed him full on the mouth.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her while they kissed. When he pulled away, he turned and lowered her feet; in the process, he moved her away from the other faeries. “Never too bruised for you,” he whispered. “Go on now.”

She walked away laughing with a swish in her steps. Unlike Rika, Carissa didn’t question him when he asserted his dominance. If anything, she seemed excited when she glimpsed it.

As soon as she was at the counter, her back to them, Sionnach turned to face the faeries. His words were low as he ordered, “Leave. Now.”

The faery who had remained standing was suddenly very serious. “There is taking of sides. There are words, Sionnach. There are rumors that Maili has invited Keenan to—”

“He is not welcome in my desert.” Sionnach pulled his shoulders back. His tail—which the faeries could see although mortals, fortunately, could not—was held high and to the side in an aggressive posture. He flashed his teeth.

One of the seated faeries stood and raised a hand as if he’d strike Sionnach. “Maybe it’s not your desert after all.”

Sionnach punched him, an uppercut to the face. “You forget yourself.”

The waitress called out, “Fights outside. Not in here.”

“There is no fight,” Sionnach answered without taking his attention from the faery staring at him. “Is there?”

“If you can’t keep us safe, maybe there should be,” the faery said.

“Do you challenge me?”

Several heartbeats passed as they all waited.

The faery looked down and took a step back. “No. Not me.”

The other faeries didn’t move, but they all lowered their gazes to the ground submissively.

The one faery who had remained seated stood finally. Like Sionnach, he was a fox, but his tail was tucked between his legs. Quietly, he said, “Rika ran because Keenan’s coming here. The Summer King. Here!” He looked around worriedly, lowered his voice further still, and said, “He’ll change everything. Even Rika is afraid. She left because—”