Page 12 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
Damn.Just because they can’t lie doesn’t mean they’re stupid enough not to realize when they’re being liedto. It seems I don’t know anything about my sister’s life.
“That ring is iron.” Morgen squeezes her eyes shut. “Duw, you’ve doomed her. Where she’s going she needs protection. She needs that ring!”
Cold dread blankets me like snowfall. I lift my hand, my heart stopping in my chest. The dull band, the dark metal. Of course it’s iron. Iron that burns fairies—iron that keeps humans safe.
I imagine Ceridwen rousing, ready to execute her perfect plan, and finding her protection gone. Slipped from her finger in thenight. Maybe she searched for it, thinking it had fallen off, terrified of waking me and getting caught. How was she to know that her lifeline was wrapped around my finger, hidden purposefully beneath my pillow?
And I only took it out of spite.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Where has Ceridwen gone?”
Morgen takes shuddering, furious breaths. My guilt sits between us, though I refuse to acknowledge it aloud. I think she’s deciding whether it’s worth asking me for my help after all—now that she knows I’m a liar and a thief. I can’t blame her. You’d have to be an idiot to trust me, but I am the only person here.
“To Llys-y-Ellyllon, the Hollow Court of the Ellyllon,” she says finally.
Ellyllon, in the stories, are elves. Those beautiful high fairies who watch the world from afar without a care and play games with mortals who catch their interest.
“She’s gone deep into Gwlad y Tylwyth Teg to seek the king. Ceridwen wants to be his champion.”
My mouth fills with ash.Gwlad y Tylwyth Teg.The Land of the Fair Ones.
Morgen stares at me for a moment and complete silence cloaks us. Finally, she laughs and throws her arms wide.
“You may not have Ceridwen’s eyes but you haven’t been eaten yet”—she beams at me and adds, almost conspiratorially—“which isveryimpressive for someone like you. Most people get got by apwcathe moment they cross over. Pwcas—”
“I know what a pwca is,” I snap. “And my sister can… see it all?”
Morgen nods. “Which is why she can move between the worlds like the teg can. She’s been sneaking away to come here for years now—in the nights, and while the rest of you were at school or work.”
The next question cuts my lips like a knife. “And she didn’t tell me?”
Morgen doesn’t need to answer. We both know the truth. Mymouth dries up. Ceridwen never enjoyed fairy tales as much as I did—she doesn’t partake in the rituals I’ve formed over the years to force a bit of magic into our lives—and yet this gift was handed to her on a silver plate. Just like everything else always has been.
“I must say I’m less glad you’re here now that I know you’re a lying sneak—which Ceridwen failed to mention—but it is still a relief. You’re the only person who loves her as much as I do.” Her smile is shockingly genuine. “But you’re in danger. People fall into our world quite a bit. A few come with a purpose and true sight, and they’re usually fine, but people like you are at the whims of the teg. Worse than that, if you want to leave, it’s… hard to get out. Almost impossible to walk back into the moment you left. You could wander into your world fifty years later and have every lost minute rush up to meet you at once.”
I laugh. I can’t think of anything else to do. “You can’t be serious.”
“Wecan’t lie,” she says accusingly. “But if you help me, I’ll help you.”
Morgen takes my stunned silence as an opportunity to elaborate.
“I need you to go after Ceridwen. She’s taken the King’s Road to the Ellyllon court and I can’t follow because no river runs nearby. She’s trying her luck as the champion.”
“Champion of what?” I say, happy to focus on something other than my near-certain doom.
Morgen pauses again. She says she can’t lie, but she’s being very careful.
“Our king has put out a call to the humans that move among us,” Morgen says delicately. “We have a… problem only a human can solve. He asks for a champion to appeal to your fanciful natures, because of the stories you’ve all heard before.”
Ceridwen isn’t a fighter. She’s seldom able to leave the bed and she can’t walk for long without her chest paining her; there’s no chance she’ll be strong enough for whatever this task involves. She’ll get herself killed.
“She can’t! Ceridwen’s weak, she… Why?”
“The reward is a favor, promised by the king,” Morgen says. “A large favor. He’s given his word and now he’s bound to provide it. Whoever wins can ask for riches, power, anything, but the assumption is that the human who succeeds will want immortality.”
“Why is that the assumption?”
“Well, you’re human, aren’t you?”
