Page 44 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire

hiraeth

(NO DIRECT TRANSLATION: HOMESICKNESS, NOSTALGIA, YEARNING. A LONGING FOR A WALES THAT NEVER WAS AND NEVER CAN BE.)

We land at the edge of the forest, staring down at Llanadwen.

Ceridwen, Delyth, Neirin and I linger at the tree line.

Below us, the town begins to stir. Chimneys billow their first smoke of a cold winter morning.

Curtains twitch, and boots are tugged on by front doors. Children walk in pairs to school.

“Is this it?” Neirin asks.

I nod and wait for the barb to sting.

“It’s lovely,” he says instead.

It is. Birds gather in the trees to chatter, while the women do the same on the street. The scent of baking bread reaches us. Rain sits heavy in the air. There’s the big house on the horizon, looking down like the eyes of God, and the pit is waiting in the valley to eat us whole.

“The laundry is still out,” Delyth says in wonder.

I look to her and Ceridwen. “Will you come with me?”

Ceridwen shakes her head. She’s as certain of her path as I am—mine just has more bends to it—but Delyth takes a tentative step forward into the world she was born to. Her shoulders sag with a forgotten weight, but her eyes shine.

Neirin turns me to him before I can follow her. There’s desperation in his face that shouldn’t be there, brought about by me. How odd.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” he asks.

“I will.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I promise,” I say.

Neirin tucks my hair behind my rounded ear. “That means nothing from any human, and even less from you, Habren Faire.”

He knows me well. I wouldn’t blame him if he walked away now, but I think it would kill me, so I give him the one piece of honesty I’ve held tight in my chest. I pull him close and rise onto my toes.

In his ear, I whisper a name. My name. I pull back and his lips form Sabrina.

No sound comes out, but even that’s enough to send strokes up my spine.

“You have it now. I’m trusting you to use it well.”

Neirin says nothing, only folds both his hands over mine and draws them to his lips. He presses a kiss to my fingers, holding my gaze as long as we can both bear.

Just over the boundary between worlds, Delyth chokes on a deeply held breath.

“She must hate me.”

“She doesn’t,” I assure her. “But if she does, she’ll get over it fast. You’re sisters.”

I catch Ceridwen’s gaze and she smiles, wrapping her arms around herself in lieu of holding me.

I pull back from Neirin. Delyth told us before we left the castle that she wants to invite Gran to live with her, to find a cottage together in Eu gwlad where Gran will wait for Dad and spend her last years in peace and comfort.

I don’t know what Gran will choose—I don’t even know what I would choose in her place.

Delyth’s chin wobbles. “It’s been so long.”

I remember Ceridwen when we were younger, her hand in mine as we walked to the shops.

How she bought a whole bag of sweets to share but only took two, and we spent the day laid out in the field, sun melting the boiled sweets to a shining paste as we told stories and made fairies out of flowers.

She carried me home that day and tucked me into bed, and though she wasn’t tired, when I grasped her hand, she stayed.

I think of Delyth and Gran as girls at the maypole, and I don’t reply, because I don’t need to.

Gran wants to see Delyth. Alys.

Ceridwen rushes forward and grabs me, and I breathe deep, committing the apple-sweet smell of her to memory.

“Don’t resent me,” I beg.

“Never,” she whispers.

“This is the end, isn’t it?”

Ceridwen’s arms tighten around me. “Childhood isn’t meant to last, and there are so many adventures to be had, even if we can’t share all of them anymore.”

I pull away first.

“Bring me back stories, Sabrina,” Ceridwen says.

I turn to stare down the hill. My eyes snag on the big white house. After tunnels and monsters, dead men and kings, it looks terribly small on its pedestal—and breakable, too. Then I see my cottage. The curtains open as Gran rises and prepares her pot of tea.

I glance at Neirin once more and smile. He doesn’t return it.

You can’t be surprised that I left. Not really. I told you from the beginning that I would. Neirin wasn’t paying attention, but I know you were, and you know that I will earn lines on my face through a thousand poorly planned, fantastic adventures, and that I’ll love each one.

“Goodbye forever,” I say.

Neirin’s smile is dragged from him by force.

He both loves and hates me, but what I won’t know for many years is that he to the border between my world and his every day.

He will wait for an hour, just in case, and when I’m not there, he’ll travel and collect treasures to share with me when I finally come back.

He doesn’t know that either, yet.

“Sabrina.”

I stagger and look back.

We both wait to see what Neirin will do, if he will use my surrender to trap me, finally, but his smile only grows, and he ducks his head in a simple bow.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says.