Page 29 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire

He leans closer, and for the second time I get the strangest notion that he’s going to kiss me. My lips part, readier than I ever thought I could be—until he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and leaves.

Neirin had nothing kind to say about me. The parts of me he finds so fascinating are things I’ve always been ashamed of. I can’t believe I still wanted him to kiss me after he said that.

“Habren!”

Mabyn throws her arms around my shoulders.

“Hello.” I try to extricate myself from her drunken grip.

She grasps my chin between two cold fingers and turns my head left and right, her pretty face crumpled in thought.

“Now it makes sense!” She forces me to nod.

I slap her hands away. “I’m not a puppet—”

“We haven’t met before,” Mabyn announces with delight. “The last you had red hair!”

I go rigid in her hands, my eyes snapping to meet hers.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, I remember.” Mabyn nods. “You were prettier and had red hair. You used to visit us a lot, then you stopped, and then you came back! But you are both going to the same place. You told us so last time, when Morgen wasn’t with you.”

Ceridwen.

Ceridwen was here, and Morgen, too. My stomach churns as I surge forward and grab Mabyn’s wrist, stopping her hand from flailing in the air any further.

“Did… the other me come here with Neirin?” I ask.

“Of course—Oh!” Her free hand flies to her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say.”

I point in Neirin’s vague direction. “Was that an order from him?”

“I can’t—”

“I have an iron sword in my room: you will answer my question, or I will shove it down your throat.”

Mabyn laughs, then catches the fire in my eyes and tries to flinch back. “We’re forbidden to speak about it or answer any questions. We can’t lie—”

I drop her arm and take a furious step back. “But you can evade.”

Neirin knows my sister. He brought her to court—had been bringing her here for years.

He was the one who took her to Peg. The witch even tried to tell me.

You’re not the first mayfly to buzz around that apple thinking it’s a feast. I was so busy watching Neirin, entertaining Neirin, believing Neirin, that when the truth was whispered in my ear I barely heard it.

I storm away from Mabyn. She follows at my heels.

I won’t make it to my room for my sword in time, but my ring is in the pocket of my discarded coat.

She shrieks when I retrieve it and ram it onto my finger.

The fairies nearest to me jump at the intrusion of iron but I don’t care as I march toward Neirin, who is standing with his back to me across the room.

I bellow his name, and he turns, his grin immediately falling when he sees my face.

“I didn’t want to tell her!” Mabyn squeaks.

Neirin puts down the drinks he was holding. “Tell her what, Mab?”

“That my sister was here.” I clench my fist tight, the band still cold against my skin. “You knew her, all along, well before I met you.”

Fairies have formed a circle around us, watching, murmuring behind glasses. They give me sidelong looks, as if I’m the insane one here, and it’s just like being back in Llanadwen.

“You can’t lie.” I hold his gaze. “But you can misdirect, right? What else am I missing? Will you not even tell me now?”

I think of how I keep falling asleep and waking up foggy, more able to forget my sister. How the food tastes so wonderful but never fills me. My eyes land on the table of sweets behind him, and my throat fills with bile.

I’ve fallen asleep every time I’ve eaten anything he’s given me. The cake, the tea.

Mabyn’s whine interrupts my horror. “We all did as you said and kept away—”

“Was my injury part of the plan, too?” I ask over her, as my heart plummets to the floor. Everything was planned—everything was to keep me here. “Or was that just good luck?”

“Neirin would never—”

But Mabyn’s protest is cut off when I wheel around and strike her with an iron-ringed slap.

She drops to the floor, clutching her burned cheek. Her spindly green legs thrash. Someone peels Mabyn’s hand away, and part of her skin comes with it.

I stagger back, gagging at the burning bacon smell infecting the air.

“It wasn’t planned! How could I plan your injury?” Neirin replies, as if Mabyn isn’t screaming on the floor between us. “Contrary to what you think, Habren, I don’t want to hurt you. Only to win, same as you.”

I turn back to him, horror plastered on my face. “T-to win?”

“What do you humans call it? Oh, yes—I stacked the deck.” He shrugs. “Two champions are better than one, after all. Your sister may have abandoned me, but our deal still stands. Word is bond here. Her favor is still mine to claim, should she win.”

My empty stomach threatens to cast itself up. He wanted us both to attempt to fix Y Lle Tywyll so he has two chances at winning.

“She could die!” I scream at him.

“Of course she could die.” A notch forms between his brows.

“That’s why I needed you, obviously—as a backup.

You could die too, of course, but I’d prefer it if that didn’t happen now.

Hence why I’m letting Ceridwen have a proper crack at it first—though I knew her as Elin before you and Morgen started talking a little too loudly. ”

I stare at him, my mouth open. I can’t argue—there’s no point. Neirin will never understand. His cruelty, using Ceridwen and me as pawns in some game and thinking neither of us would ever notice, is beyond comprehension. I shake my head and storm away.

I don’t make it to the door before he follows and catches my arm. “Does it matter? We were going to leave in the morning anyway—”

“No, we weren’t.” I jerk free from his grasp. “We were going to stay here until you got bored of me, or until you’d had confirmation that my sister had lost. Why?”

I feel pathetic as my lip wobbles and tears prick my eyes, but I won’t let them fall.

Neirin only blinks, peering intently at my face like he’s looking for a guide to understanding my reaction.

“I want to keep you, regardless of the challenge or your sister. I’m sure Ceridwen is already in Y Lle Tywyll: you wasted enough time of your own accord.

I did as I promised, I slowed time. I’m sure she’s fine. ”

I shake my head furiously. “You said you’d pause it.”

“No, I said I can manipulate time,” he points out. “You took that to mean halting it entirely. I cannot do that; no one can. I merely slowed it down, but I still gave you what you wanted. A chance to rest—to have your little holiday away from being the responsible sister.”

I want to tear my hair out. I’ve done exactly what I’ve judged others for—I’ve fallen for clever wordplay, pretty parlor tricks.

Time may have been slowed, but that only does so much.

Ceridwen is in Y Lle Tywyll and I’m here.

He built another cage within the one his brother put him in, and he lured me inside both.

A prisoner watching over another prisoner, entertaining himself, as if I’m a little show put on just for him.

“I told Mabyn you wouldn’t understand.” He runs a hand through his hair. “She was trying to be nice to you, and you”—he jabs a finger in my direction—“have ruined her face. And it’s not like she has a brain to compensate it with.”

I can’t bear to look at Mabyn, so I turn to Neirin with an expression of fury that, for a moment, cows him.

“If you point that finger in my face again,” I say slowly, “I’ll cut it off.”

Silence washes over the room like a fog, broken only by Mabyn’s fading sobs as she’s led away.

“Eat something,” says Neirin.

The food looks flat on the table, like set dressing that could be knocked down in an errant breeze.

“I’m not stupid,” I reply.

Every time I’ve been plied with sweetcakes and fruits, I’ve forgotten my sister, fallen asleep, slipped deeper into his court.

Time might have moved at a snail’s pace, but how long did Neirin intend to keep it that way?

A part of me doubts I would have ever been allowed to leave.

He wanted me here—blinded by gifts, attention and him.

He reaches out to me, and I back away, colliding with the table. Blackberries fall to the floor, bursting like clots and leaving bloodstains on the marble.

“Stay away.” I hold up a warning hand.

“Habren,” he says gently.

I barely hear him. A fly buzzes around the squashed blackberries, dipping into the fresh juice. More follow, flocking to the forgotten fruit as if it were dung. My heart hitches in my chest. There are flies around all of the food. When I look up once more, I finally see the truth.

“Don’t forget,” Peg had said, “he’s rotten underneath.”

“You never gave me sight.”

I turn rapidly, examining each fairy. They’re as perfect as they ever were, while the fruit rots before my eyes.

They are the illusion. They are his party trick. The fairies hid and revealed themselves at Neirin’s order, too. They bring his court to life, and when they’re gone, there’s only the prison cell Neirin’s brother lured him into long ago.

For as long as I’ve been with him, I haven’t seen a single thing clearly.

“Give me sight,” I demand, turning on him with no weapon and no plan.

“I gave—”

“You didn’t. You let me see when I’m with you, that’s it, isn’t it? As much or as little as you want me to see. You never lied, just misdirected.”

Neirin tilts his head quizzically and reaches for me. I jerk back, heart racing. This isn’t the boy I danced with, not by half. He isn’t even a boy.

“I have to touch you, Habren.”

“You spat at me last time,” I snap.

“I thought it was funny.”

He shoots forward, a hand clamping to the back of my head, fingers weaving their way into the hair he claimed to like so well.

I jerk against him, but his grip is firm, and his other hand descends upon my eyes, blinding me to the world.

The pressure is so strong I think for a moment he’s going to crush my skull.

Colors bloom behind my eyes and a knife digs into the soft mass of my brain, tearing through it easily.

I shriek though I try my hardest not to, and in seconds, it’s done.

Neirin releases me and I fall to the floor at his feet, heaving for breath.

“I hope it’s worth it.” His shoes disappear from my line of view.

I struggle to push myself up on my arms, gasping. I stay there for a moment, head bowed, the tiles shifting before my eyes.

They begin to crack, to gather a layer of grime.

I gasp and finally glance up at him. “We made a deal.”

He holds out a hand to help me stand. “And now I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. You must do the same.”

I swat him away and stagger up as my vision pulses, brightens and then begins to settle. Lurching forward, I shove Neirin out of my path. He doesn’t resist, and I come face-to-face with the table we once dined at.

This is a feast for flies, maggots and carrion beetles.

Rot seeps from the meat, turning the air putrid, and mold creeps over the cakes and bread.

The fruit has withered, festering in the bowls as stinking juices leak from cracked, wrinkling flesh.

The wine has a film of pond scum, the sweet milks have a rancid top, and the teg gathered around, eating it for sport, are oblivious and no livelier than their feast. They are beautiful still, eternally young, yes, but clothed in moth-eaten gowns from bygone eras and the cheap, lackluster rags of the future.

A pannier juts, skeletal, from a torn skirt.

Elaborate sleeves drag through the rotten food, stained with filth.

Makeup applied centuries ago cracks at the corners and cakes over youthful eyes.

But it’s the human who fades fastest. Beth’s glamour crumbles. She’s an old woman in the regalia of her youth. She was me once, and if Neirin has his way, I’ll become her. Pickled and preserved but rotting slowly, nonetheless.

He tricked me and made me think he liked me. He spat on me, for God’s sake. The worst part is, I let him.

And I was happy to do it.

I back away and twitch, my body shuddering. The court is delighted. People even clap.

“Don’t look at me!” I yell. “I’m not an animal. I’m not a pet.”

Neirin reaches for my hand. Though his face remains unchanged, his jewels are dusted and milky with age, and dust sits on the shoulders of his coat.

I step back, taking with me my youth, and my rushing blood, and the vitality they crave like fine wine.

“You can’t have me,” I say quietly. “You’re just like them, like John and his family. Playing silly games with the rest of us, like our lives don’t matter, and I almost let you buy me! With your pretty things and pretty words.”

“We have a deal,” Neirin reminds me.

“Only if I lose in Y Lle Tywyll do I return as your guest.” Venom leaks through my teeth. “So, I won’t lose.”

“You’ll never win alone.”

I lift my chin. “Then I shall happily die trying.”