Page 65 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
“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 andhim.
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.
Theyare 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.Thisisn’t the boy I danced with, not by half. He isn’t even a boy.
“I have to touch you, Habren.”
“Youspatat 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, brightensand 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.
