Page 42 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire

cyfarfod cariadon

(LOVERS’ MEETING)

We drag our exhausted bodies into the light, covering our eyes against the too bright sun, stepping from the tunnel and straight into the sea.

Waves lap at our shins, our skirts weighed down by the water.

Ceridwen drags me toward the dry pebbles ahead as if getting wet is the worst thing that could happen to us today.

I let her. I’m so tired, so relieved, I’m boneless. I’d let my sister drag me anywhere.

“Habren!” Neirin jumps up from his perch on the steps.

He rushes down the beach, Delyth at his heels. The hills and cliffs behind them are green and gray once more. The small house is old stone, unmarred by coal. I can’t imagine what we look like. Horrifying may be the word, based on the terror on both their faces.

Before I can speak, there’s a great groan behind us.

The dark tendrils of gas creeping through the ground recede slowly, then all at once, disappearing back into Y Lle Tywyll.

The very rock yawns—stretching, growing—until there’s a final crack, and the cave crumbles.

Y Lle Tywyll eats itself alive, spewing dust and coal into the sea.

The coal on Ceridwen’s arm crumbles beneath my hand and falls away when I release her.

The same happens to my leg. The pain from every other injury remains, though I hardly feel it as I watch the dark vein on Ceridwen’s neck recede until it disappears.

She’s so alive, the ice of the last year banished from her eyes.

Neirin lets out a triumphant shout.

I turn toward him as he holds his hand in the air. The infection had crept higher in my absence, all the way to his neck, but it crumbles now, falling off him in dust and broken pieces.

“What’s he doing here?” Ceridwen says in my ear.

“He followed me,” I say, near bashful. “Tried to get himself killed.”

Ceridwen tilts her head, looking between the two of us. We stand paces apart, but I can feel the way my body cants toward him.

“What are you cheering for?” I say flatly. “You didn’t do any of the hard work.”

Neirin’s face falters, and his arm drops to his side. He fixes me with a questioning look that I make him hold for a moment longer than either of us needs, before I laugh and let go of Ceridwen’s hand.

I rush toward him and grab his shoulders to yank him down to my height as I rise onto my toes to kiss him.

This time, he’s soft as a petal beneath me, and his lips part with a sigh that tastes of relief.

Hs hand cradles my face, his thumb stroking over my cheek with a heart-breaking gentleness I never believed anyone would reserve for me.

And then it’s over. I pull away and he’s pink-cheeked.

I take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry about your finger.”

“I’m sorry I misled you and your sister repeatedly, falsely imprisoned you and almost drowned you—Oh, it sounds terrible when I lay it out like that, doesn’t it? I’ll have to forgive the finger, then.” His lips twitch in amusement. “Can I have it back?”

My eyes widen in mild disgust, but I certainly don’t want it, so I quickly grab the finger and drop it into Neirin’s outstretched hand. He tries to hide a look of triumph when he pockets it.

“What?” I hold myself back slightly, so I can see his face better.

He sighs reluctantly. “I can get it reattached.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, then give him a solid shove. “It was supposed to teach you a lesson!”

“Lesson learned, I swear! I just don’t think I need to be permanently mutilated—”

“Stop it before I take your whole hand.”

He looks past me, his jaw locking. I glance back and quickly understand why.

Ceridwen stands with her arms crossed a few paces away, anger radiating from the roots of her hair to the tips of her shoes. I’ve never seen such a fire in her eyes before—I almost cower before her gaze, and it’s not even trained on me.

“Neirin.” She somehow manages to make his name sound like an insult. “Surprised to see me alive?”

“I had the utmost faith in you,” he says, but doesn’t specify what that faith was exactly.

Her eyes flick up and down him, her lip curling. “I can’t say I return the sentiment. Step away from my sister, please.”

I’ve never heard a polite request uttered like a threat before. Ceridwen continues to surprise me.

Neirin’s throat bobs, and he glances at me as if I’m supposed to help him. I shake my head and step away. There’s one more apology he must make, and I hope he makes it a good one. Though I want Neirin, I cannot live without my sister, and we all know it.

I walk toward the house, hoping they won’t kill each other when my back is turned. I nod in greeting to Delyth. Her butterflies have returned, a fluttering crown atop her head.

“I knew it would be you,” she says.

“It was both of us,” I reply. “As it was always meant to be.”

I stand beside Delyth, shoulder to shoulder. At the end of the beach, Neirin and Ceridwen speak, keeping a polite distance apart. We can’t hear them. I think it’s for the best.

Delyth bumps her arm against mine. “If she doesn’t kill him, Emrys might.”

“I’d like to see him try,” I say.

From the beach, Ceridwen looks at me. Her eyes are questioning, as if she’s saying, Really? This is the one?

I can’t quite believe it myself, so my only reply is a shrug.

I watch Ceridwen let out a deep breath before returning her attention to Neirin. She nods. In response to what, I’ll never know, but it seems like forgiveness.

The moment we’re certain Ceridwen doesn’t plan to use her pilfered dagger on him at last, Neirin returns us to his estate.

I wish I could say I’m reformed enough that I took the time to ensure Delyth was comfortable, to help Ceridwen find Morgen, that I even went and apologized to Mabyn, but I absolutely didn’t.

I walked right to the room I had claimed as my own not long ago and hoped no one would question why Neirin immediately followed.

I saved Eu gwlad, after all; I think I’m entitled to be very tired and a little bit terrible.

The room hasn’t changed in my absence. A cocky voice at the back of my mind whispers that it will never change again.

I lie with my head on Neirin’s chest, and his fingers make their home in the waves of my hair. He’s been stroking the strands for what feels like hours, and they’re the smoothest they’ll ever be.

“Do you think Ceridwen plans to kill me?” he asks.

“Depends on how good your apology was,” I say.

He makes a thoughtful noise. “That’s concerning. I’m not very well versed in that field.”

I can hear the smile in his voice as I settle against him, heavy with a comfort I’ve never experienced before but could easily get used to.

“I think you missed your calling,” I tell him. “Not as a hairdresser, mind—that takes too much skill—but you make a wonderful hairbrush.”

Neirin’s laugh rumbles against my cheek, and he goes out of his way to muss one spot of hair, only to repair it a moment later and press his lips to the curls.

“And you were obviously supposed to be a knight.”

I lift my head to grin at him and toy with the string that’s supposed to close his shirt. “Is that how it is, then? A prince and his knight?”

Neirin’s mouth travels to the bridge of my nose, to my cheek. His lips reach mine, but I can’t quite let the conversation end—not yet, anyway.

“What now?” My mouth ghosts against his.

Neirin groans and pulls back slightly. “There will be an audience with my brother tomorrow, where you can ask for your favor. After that”—he smiles lazily—“we have forever. I thought we may explore the north now that it’s not a barren wasteland.”

“You’re welcome,” I say.

“Are you going to hold this over our heads for the rest of eternity?”

“What? That I’m the great hero of Gwlad Y Tylwyth Teg? Whatever gave you that impression?”

“So humble.”

I angle my head to look at him better and he sighs, exasperated, as I dodge another kiss in favor of talking at him. “You haven’t traveled much, have you?”

Neirin’s been as bound to his court as I have been to my village, trapped by fear and the expectations of others. He needs freedom as much as I do. His hand comes to my jaw, urges my face closer to his.

“I never had a reason to before,” he replies, and locks my decision in my chest with an iron key.

He doesn’t need to know yet. His arms tighten around me and chase all thoughts of anything outside of this room from my head.

He kisses me so hard I doubt I’ll ever remember how to breathe, and I certainly don’t care about the rules I learned back home when I pull him over me and twine my fingers into his hair.

Our hands look right locked together, tossed haphazard on the pillow by my head.

And later, when I’m more tired and happy than I’ve ever been, I don’t regret it, either.

I curl up in Neirin’s arms, and I’m safe.

I’ve never been held like this before. I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep.

He’s so solid beneath me, and his heart beats too fast at first.

I caused that, and still, I marvel at it.

I stare at Neirin for a bit before I search for my sister. His court duck their heads in reverence as they offer directions, and I’m not humble enough to stop them from whispering thanks on my route to Ceridwen’s room.

Morgen is there when I enter, standing on uncertain feet, stumbling like a drunk and leaving pools of water in her wake.

Her feet are webbed, and scaled with a blue shimmer.

My sister lies in bed, wearing a pretty silk nightgown.

They talk quietly, with that same ease I’ve grown into with Neirin—only their bond comes with more tenderness and less bickering.

“Being a lady of leisure suits you,” I say.

Ceridwen starts, too absorbed in Morgen to have noticed me opening the door.

“Thanks.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “But I don’t intend to spend another day of my life rotting in a bed.”

Morgen looks to my sister, and Ceridwen nods. She turns toward a second room, then thinks better of it, and races toward me, her arms open.

I jerk back. “Please don’t.”

Morgen ignores me, of course, and yanks me into a bone crushing hug. “Come visit us,” she says in my ear. “Dwp misses you.”

As she draws back, I can’t help smiling as I say, “If you saw what I did to the coblynnod, you wouldn’t want to know what I could do to that little beastie.”

She rolls her eyes. “You and Dwp will be best friends.”

“That will never happen.”

Morgen disappears into the next room, calling over her shoulder, “But stranger things have happened, Habren!”

There’s a splash as she dives into a large bathtub, and her tail flicks water against the walls.

She leaves me and Ceridwen in silence. My sister pats the bed beside her. It’s too normal, too like home, but we’ll never be in that tiny room together again.

I nod toward the bathroom door. “She loves you very much.”

“I know.” The corner of Ceridwen’s mouth twitches.

“Not many people would deal with me willingly, but she did, for your sake,” I say. “Just make sure she keeps that horrible frog away from me when I come for tea.”

She laughs, her smile splitting her face. “What’s wrong with Dwp?”

My brows shoot to my hairline. “Everything, Ceridwen. Absolutely everything.”

“Sabrina?” I jump, hearing my real name. “Tell me a story”—Ceridwen smiles—“the very best one you have.”

“It’s a long one,” I reply, taking a tentative step toward her.

“With tricky pwcas and iron-toothed hags, and I did it all for you anyway. But…” I trail off and watch her quietly, comfortable in her bed, and accept that this is the end of something, and that what comes next will be different, maybe a little sad.

We’ll never share a room again. But it’s still ours, whatever it might be. I swallow and match her smile.

“I want to hear your story, too,” I finally say.

I hope that tells Ceridwen everything I need it to. That I love her too, that I love everything she’ll do with her life as well—that I want to be a part of it.

Ceridwen pulls back the covers and I curl up at her side.

“You can have it,” she says, and places a kiss on my forehead.