Page 98 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
The next morning, we pile into Neirin’s coach and take a rather awkward but blessedly fast drive to the palace. He and I sit on one bench; my sister, her lover, and our great-aunt sit opposite. Ceridwen has always been pleasant to everyone, but the glare she directs Neirin’s way is lethal.
“I thought we agreed to forgive and forget,” he tries, after a few minutes.
Ceridwen laughs humorlessly. “I do forgive you—for sendingmeto die. That doesn’t mean I have to like you after all the trouble you’ve given my sister.”
Neirin blinks, his smile faltering like he hadn’t considered this complication. I catch Morgen’s eye and snort. She still looks slightly bemused, both at being on two legs and with Ceridwen again, and at sharing a carriage with her prince.
“You couldn’t have tidied the story up a bit?” Neirin says in my ear, though everyone can hear him.
I give him a curious look. “Why? Don’t you want everyone to hear about your daring exploits?”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly…” Neirin trails off, searching for the right word.
“Go on,” I say. “You weren’t what exactly?”
“I can tell you what youwere,” Ceridwen says, “but it’s rather impolite.”
“Let’s not fall out.” Neirin holds his hands up. “We always used toget along so well when you’d visit before—and let’s not forget who lied to whom in the first place.”
Ceridwen ignores him in favor of shooting me a conspiratorial look. “Explaining him to Dad will be fun.”
I snort. “And the mermaid?”
“I think your father will like me,” Morgen says with a smile. “Everyone does!”
I laugh—I can’t help it. I think Morgen may actually be right.
This time, we enter the palace through the golden front door. The courtly teg gather along our route, smiling and toasting our success. Ceridwen rolls her eyes at me. We both know these creatures wouldn’t blink in our direction if we hadn’t made ourselves extraordinary.
We gather in the throne room, the paper-doll court shifting for a better look at their heroes. Delyth lingers behind us. With their ears covered, she and Ceridwen pass with ease for two of the ellyll.Morgen holds Ceridwen’s hand, undaunted, while Neirin’s fingers brush mine in the folds of my skirt, then dance away.
Garlands hang overhead, and lights twinkle like stars everywhere we look. Celebration is in the eyes of the court, though the king is silent. He has his champions, but his brother stands alongside them. Neirin is rigid under his gaze.
“You lied,” the king says to me. “About many things.”
“Human.” I tap my ear. “I was telling a story. I thought you wanted to be entertained.”
Emrys narrows his eyes. “Are they the same thing? Stories and lies?”
“Not if you tell them well enough,” I reply.
“This tale has a boring ending. I suppose my brother has managed to romance you into forfeiting your boon to him?” Emrys sinks lower in his chair, but the sharp way his gaze darts to Neirin betrays the crafted, bored expression on his face.
“He certainly tried. I was far too stubborn.”
At my side, Neirin’s hand dances back to brush against mine.
Emrys lets out a loud sigh. “Fine. Your success is obvious; make your requests. The redhead first. She’s honest.”
I don’t need to look at my sister to know she only sees Morgen when she replies.
“I want a home by a lake, so Morgen can spend her time with me and never lose her tail, I want to run my own house, take her as my wife. I want to be healthy—free,” she says, “but I can do all that myself. All I ask from you is a long life, so I never leave her.”
“And eternal youth and beauty,” I interject. “Don’t give him any loopholes.”
“I want to live as long as Morgen, which will be a very long time indeed,” Ceridwen amends. “And I want to be young, and healthy, all that time.”
Beauty is something she already has in abundance. It’s something she will always have, even if she were to grow old.
