Page 20 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire

My hand shoots out to grab his arm, but the landlord calls his name—“Richard!”—and the old man pivots like an obedient dog.

The name lingers in the air, crackling like a building storm.

Even I can feel the magic at work. Richard disappears behind the bar, and no one pays him any mind.

This could have been my fate—and it could be my fate still.

If I fail and live, I’ll be bound to Neirin’s side.

Neirin returns, his brow creasing as he sees me staring at another human.

“That’s what happens to sightless, loose-tongued fools who stumble into our world,” he tells me, devoid of emotion.

Bile churns in my stomach. “Is that a common occurrence?”

“Fairly.” He shrugs. “Not everyone is lucky enough to happen across a protector, like you have.”

I should repay that with an insult, but I can only watch the man, who by all rights should be dead from old age and misuse, as he mindlessly stacks the cups on a shelf.

“Why hasn’t anyone helped him?”

Neirin gives me a dubious look. “Are you going to do it?”

I roll my eyes, then realize I’ve answered my own question, and his. No, I’m not going to help this man. I’ve got far more important things to do, just like everyone else who’s ever wandered past and paid him no mind.

“Just be glad that you’re smart enough to keep your name a secret,” Neirin says pointedly.

“If anyone truly cared about rescuing human strays, we’d lose half the taverns in the realm.

He’ll drop eventually, poor fool. There’s nothing you can do for him.

He gave his name to the landlord for a pint, and now the landlord’ll never give Richard up. ”

Neirin has spoken my cruelest thought aloud: that I am relieved it is Richard, not I, who was stupid enough to get stuck here.

“They’re working him to the bone,” I say, though the observation serves no purpose beyond making me feel a little guilty.

“And he has no idea,” Neirin assures me. “He was a young man when he got here. Now he’s little more than a corpse. You could free him, but you’ll never give him those years back.”

“You assume he has no idea.”

“What?”

I shrug. “You don’t know that he’s oblivious. I’ll wager no one’s asked him, and if they ever did, he can’t give an honest answer. He could’ve been in there all these years, screaming to get out.”

An unreadable expression ghosts over Neirin’s face. I think it might be discomfort or disgust, but I’m not sure if he’s ever truly experienced either. He certainly doesn’t like the idea I’ve handed him, though.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it could be true.”

Neirin’s lip curls down unpleasantly. “I’d prefer it if you’d lie, on this occasion.”

“I will not,” I say. “The way they’re treating him is vile.”

And still I’m not going to do anything about it. Neirin and I both know that. Ceridwen is my priority, and I’ll forget Richard when I leave this pub, just like everyone else who’s ever passed through.

“This is the way of things.” Neirin’s voice is almost gentle for a moment, until he chuckles to himself and adds, “Besides, I received a very generous room rate. I’m glad I picked a pragmatic human. I doubt the landlord would ever indulge me like that again if I let my thrall steal his.”

I make a disgusted sound. “I’m no thrall.”

A slow smile spreads over his face. “For now. Come.”

I wince at the reminder. Neirin nods to the stairs and steps into the corridor, expecting me to follow. To prove him wrong, I linger in the tavern a moment longer, but when I look for Richard, he’s disappeared.

“Don’t tell me,” I say flippantly when I finally follow, “there was only one room available?”

“How ever did you guess?” He winks over his shoulder.

“Because it’s exactly the kind of horrid trick you would find funny,” I tell him. “Also, because you lack basic morals—”

“You don’t have that many morals, Habren.” Neirin waves me off.

Exhaustion is a heavy cloud threatening to break over me at any moment, so I gather my skirts and rush after him. Morality is for those who can afford it. No one in Llanadwen will ever know of this, and I doubt most would believe me if I told them.

The old stairs creak as I trek up to a gloomy hallway lined with ten doors.

The only light comes from a green lamp on a small table and the window at the end of the hall.

Neirin doesn’t have a key, but the moment his hand touches a door it swings open.

He goes inside first, kicks off his boots and tosses his coat aside.

He lies back on the bed, eyes covered by his arm and his legs dangling over the edge. No matter how powerful he is, in that moment, Neirin is as worn as me. I stare at him before I close the door, and it’s only when it’s shut that I realize.

This room has only one bed.

It’s large enough for two and covered in clean, white sheets. An armchair is tucked in a corner beside a set of drawers with a washbasin, and a window juts out from the wall, underneath which is a small bench.

I’m so tired that a part of me just wants to accept it. But I can’t.

“I’ll not share a bed with you,” I say.

Neirin uncovers his eyes and cranes his neck to look at me. It’s an unflattering angle, and I’m happy to know that even he can look terrible at times. “Why?”

I shoot him an incredulous look. “Because it’s improper. You’re a boy; I’m a girl.”

“I’m hardly a boy,” he reminds me.

“But I’m still a girl,” I protest. “And you certainly act like a boy.”

Neirin glances at me quizzically. “Is it true that in your time only people who are married can share a bed?”

“Yes,” I say slowly, as if talking to an imbecile, “and we aren’t married.”

Neirin looks at the palm of his hand, then turns it to me, revealing the smooth, raised scar where I burned him with my ring.

“We’re bound to each other in our own way,” he reminds me.

Indeed.

I cross to the window seat and shrug off my coat. The bench isn’t big enough for me to lie down on, but I can sit and rest my head on the glass.

“I’ll sleep here.” I toe off my boots, clamber up onto the seat and draw my knees to my chest.

“Am I really so unappealing?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. The village is still, while the music and shouts from the pub below are muffled, by magic, I assume. A fox creeps up the road, sticking to the silver path left by the moon.

I glance over at Neirin, and the confusion on his face is obvious. He looks away and says, “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Not physically, at least.

He’s still a handsome lord, and I’m still a girl pretending I don’t want to be every bit as great as he is.

“There’s a fox,” I tell him, trying to steer us away from conversations about beds and exactly how appealing I find him. “Gran says they were her sister’s favorite animal. We have a fox that sits in our garden at night. Gran would say it was her sister come to visit, to watch over us.”

“Is her sister… dead?” He says it like it’s a foreign word.

“I don’t know. She disappeared.” I lean my forehead against the cold glass. “Just like mine. I need to find her. I can’t… I can’t be like Gran. I wouldn’t survive without my sister.”

Neirin’s shadow shifts in the dark reflection of the glass as he sits up. “All along you’ve been saying she’s going to die without you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m close to drawing blood.

“She will, and so would I if I were back in Llanadwen, waiting for her. They’re different deaths, one far more drawn out than the other, but they’re both deaths nonetheless.

We’re sisters,” I say tightly. “We’re not supposed to be apart. ”

“You’re avoiding the truth,” he says. “I like it when humans do that, and you do it more than most. I think you’ve been lying since the moment we met.”

I turn to face him slowly. His shirt is hanging open more than usual—I wonder if that’s supposed to catch my eye.

Unfortunately, it absolutely does. His chest is as pale as the rest of him and smooth over taut muscle.

I stare for a beat too long, pretending it’s merely out of academic curiosity about whether ellyll anatomy is any different from human, and Neirin leans back, like he wants me to keep looking.

My face is hot, but who am I to refuse? He seems to enjoy the attention just as much as I hate being the one to give it.

“No retort?” he says.

The string between us snaps, striking me as it breaks. I blink, and I finally understand what he said moments before.

“What have I been lying about?” I inquire. I’m curious to know what exactly he’s picked up on.

“Almost everything.” He leans forward, that ridiculous shirt dangling even further open until his silver chain swings out from beneath it. “But especially about your plans for your sister.”

I cross my arms. “Oh?”

“You don’t intend to let her take the favor.” He meets my gaze with a ruthless smile. “You’re going to take it for yourself.”

My mouth goes dry, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.

He’s got part of that right, at least. There’s no way I’m letting Ceridwen win immortality.

I’m going to drag her kicking and screaming back to Llanadwen, where she belongs, with me.

I won’t patronize you by pretending that I’m only concerned about her safety anymore.

I want to punish my sister for keeping her secrets, for abandoning me.

When I pull her out of Y Lle Tywyll, where she’s going to fail, I’ll be her hero.

I want to hurt her as she’s hurt me, and I want to make her thank me for it.

But I’ll admit I still don’t know what I intend to do about my own favor.

“Fine.” I force a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “You caught me. I do plan on preventing her from taking immortality. I’m making her go home, but I don’t know what I plan to ask for when I win.”

“When,” he repeats with a grin. “I like that. You’re a spiteful, jealous thing, aren’t you. No plan for your own life, just a burning desire to ruin everyone else’s.”