Page 36 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
What do I want? What have I ever wanted? I have a list the length of my arm of things I hate, of lives I’d dread to live, but suddenly, for the first time, anything is within my grasp.
And I have no idea what it should be.
13
Peg gyda’r dannedd haearn
(PEG WITH THE IRON TEETH)
The palace gates slam firmly shut behind me. The message is clear:Return a champion, or don’t return at all.
I’m only a few feet into the woods when Neirin reveals himself, stepping out from behind a tree with a tentative smile on his lips.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I raise both thumbs. Neirin laughs, then returns the gesture just as quickly as I drop it.
“As you said, the king needs a champion. He’ll take anyone. The consort, Delyth, says my sister came and went two days ago, and she should be close to Y Lle Tywyll.We mustn’t tarry.”
Neirin’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head. “The king told you all that?”
“He was rather talkative, actually.”
The wind whistles around us, carrying the distant scent of civilization mingling with the mossy, green smell of the forest.
Neirin considers me, brows knitted together in thought. “Really? That’s unlike him.”
“I put on a show,” I tell him. “Played the basher.”
“Basher?”
“I pretended to be far more confident and arrogant than I am.”
Neirin laughs, throwing his head back. “I daresay you werebarelypretending.”
One corner of my mouth pulls up, though I try to stop it. “We should go.”
Neirin sweeps an arm toward the depths of the forest. “By all means. It should be a few hours’ walk to Peg.”
“Peg?” I ask.
Neirin nods. “To get you a weapon, a necessary detour for a would-be champion, surely?”
A weapon, of course. He had mentioned it before the palace, but you must forgive me forgetting something like that after being torn across Eu gwlad on a magic horse and having an audience with the king.
“All right, but who is Peg?”
Neirin laughs, tilting his head. “Peg Ironteeth, the only teg who can handle sharp things. Have we finally found one of our legends that you haven’t heard of?”
I bristle at his teasing. I think about telling him that if tales of this famed Peg haven’t reached humans, then she can’t be very interesting at all, not really, but that merely opens me up for further bickering.
“Must we walk there? Can’t you… summon a carriage for us?” I say instead.
“Easily.” Neirin takes a jaunty step further into the woods, beaming over his shoulder. “But we are far too close to the palace. The king will feel my magic, will recognize that it’s me.” He falters mid-stride, slows. “Did he ask if you had… company?”
Shadows limn his face as he watches me, an apprehensive light in his eyes. Though I know he must be telling the truth about his magic, I wonder about his motivations. I know hardly anything about Neirin, so he doesn’t get to know the truth, either.
“No,” I lie. “Why do you hate each other so?”
