Page 63 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
So, I nod, and I hold my breath.
“It’s your cunning,” he says. “That ferocity, that vitality. The way you can’t sit still, not even for a moment. Like you can’t wait to get where you need to be.”
I grimace and turn to the open portico door. The glass panes wave in a light breeze, and the trees beyond the river bow toward us. I wonder if his reasons for liking Beth all those years ago were so horrible.
“I’ll bring you a drink.” His hand lands on my waist and lingers there.
I refuse to look at him. “Nothing strong.”
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 saidthat.
“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—”
“Wehaven’tmet before,” Mabyn announces with delight. “The lastyouhad 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 fromhim?”
“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 beenbringing 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,believingNeirin, 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.
