Page 66 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
But it’s the human who fades fastest. Beth’s glamour crumbles. She’s an old woman in the regalia of her youth. She was me once, and if Neirin has his way, I’ll become her. Pickled and preserved but rotting slowly, nonetheless.
He tricked me and made me think he liked me. He spat on me, for God’s sake. The worst part is, I let him.
And I was happy to do it.
I back away and twitch, my body shuddering. The court is delighted. People even clap.
“Don’t look at me!” I yell. “I’m not an animal. I’m not a pet.”
Neirin reaches for my hand. Though his face remains unchanged, his jewels are dusted and milky with age, and dust sits on the shoulders of his coat.
I step back, taking with me my youth, and my rushing blood, and the vitality they crave like fine wine.
“You can’t have me,” I say quietly. “You’re just like them, like John and his family. Playing silly games with the rest of us, like our livesdon’t matter, and I almost let you buy me! With your pretty things and pretty words.”
“We have a deal,” Neirin reminds me.
“Only if I lose in Y Lle Tywyll do I return as yourguest.” Venom leaks through my teeth. “So, I won’t lose.”
“You’ll never win alone.”
I lift my chin. “Then I shall happily die trying.”
20
yn fygythiad ac yn addewid
(A THREAT AND A PROMISE)
Neirin doesn’t follow when I sprint back to my room to grab my sword.
I find the clothes I got from Peg hanging on the wardrobe door in perfect condition. There’s a pang in my chest as I realize Neirin must have organized this, but I smother the sentiment as I change outfits quickly.
I race through the gardens toward the wall of trees that rings us in like a pen, but when I try to run into the forest, I can’t. The barrier is there, but I can see it more clearly now. It’s less a strange shimmer in the air and more a great cobweb encasing the entire grounds, spun with silken strands of magic. I pound my fists against it, sending ripples of shimmering light up to the sky, but it doesn’t give as it did before.
“Habren.”
I whip around and press my back tight to a tree. Neirin stands ten steps away, his hands in his pockets. My chest heaves for breath, heart fluttering from more than the exertion. He’s unruffled. He hasn’t run after me. He didn’t need to: he merely wanted to be here, and so he is.
“Stay back.” I reach for my blade.
He obeys but offers a hand. “Come with me, you’re upset.”
“Is that an emotion you can understand?” I laugh mirthlessly. “Obviously, I’m upset—you’re pitting me against my sister, and you held me hostage here to give her a chance to die!”
“Or to win.” He takes a step forward. “That was my hope. That she would win, that I’d claim her favor, and you could stay with me. I’d only have sent you down there if I had to.”
I can almost ignore all of it, bar those five words:You could stay with me.
I wince at how easy I am to tempt. “You don’t care about Y Lle Tywyll. You don’t care about anything.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that much,” he admits blithely. “I’ve got my reasons, same as you.”
“You want the king’s favor,” I say, brimming with condescension.
Neirin scoffs. “Everyone wants favor from the king.”
“But why doyouwant his favor? You owe me one honest answer.”
