Page 76 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
I let out a breath and return her firm shake. “Habren.”
“Liar,” she says.
“Back at you.”
She grins. Her teeth are crooked like mine, but they suit her.
Delyth drops my hand, takes a step back. She’s so small, this ghost that has haunted my house—my family—since before my father was born.
“Why do you want to help me?” I ask her.
“I wasn’t going to, at first. I saw your sister come and go. You’re both braver than I am,” Delyth whispers. “I recognized her straightaway. She looks like me, and you look like Elin. Your sister called herself Elin when she approached Emrys. That’s part of what made me so certain that we’re kin. It’s cruel, isn’t it? How history repeats itself. I wanted to speak to her, and to you, but I didn’t want Emrys to know. I… because you’re my family, he wouldn’t treat you fairly. I think he would be quite rude. If he knew you were with Neirin, well—he wouldn’t have let you leave the palace at all.”
I lift my chin. “He still doesn’t know?”
“He wonders,” Delyth admits. “But I haven’t told him, if that’s what you mean.”
“Aren’t you here to stop me?”
She shakes her head. “We’re too far past that now. I admit, I’ve been complacent, but it wasn’t my problem to solve. Until word came from Neirin’s court about your injury, and no word came at all about your sister. After you left Neirin, I… I knew I had to help you. I can guide you to Y Lle Tywyll. I’m queen of this land. I feel it like an open wound, right on the back of my hand.”
“And yet it took both of your nieces almost dying for you to care about a disaster that’s claimed many in your kingdom already?” I try to hide my disgust and fail. “Maybe a few decades in the palace have changed you more than you think.”
The butterflies on her shift recoil, their wings trembling. “I want to help you now. Forgive me my hesitancy, if you can—or condemn it. I haven’t left the palace in… I don’t know how long. I barely speak to anyone that isn’t Emrys. The world beyond him is small”—she takes a shuddering breath—“but I’m in it, now. I walked out the gates, and it didn’t hurt. I’m following you and your sister. Just like you, she didn’t tell me her true name. I think I’ll have to earn that right. But I’ll give you mine. It was Alys.”
“Was?”
She draws a long breath, and an errant butterfly crawls out of her hair and onto her shoulder. “I’ve been Delyth longer than I was ever Alys. Who are you then, Habren? You have to tell me everything—”
“I can’t return the fifty years you gave away.” I steel myself as her eyes grow wet. “And I won’t give you any stories about me or my sister or my grandmother until after.”
“After?”
“After I’ve won.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Delyth’s face twists, but she composes it quickly. “Y Lle Tywyll isn’t far, and we have much to discuss.”
I gesture for her to lead on. She steps off the road and walks alongside the lake. I wouldn’t have known to do that.
“Can I…” Delyth trails off, then breathes deep. “… ask one thing?”
I hope she doesn’t ask if Gran was happy. I won’t lie for her sake.
“Do they still have the May Day fair whenever you’re from?” I nod, and she smiles distantly. “I remember the smell of the cheese bread, and how warm it was in my hands. I used to lie in the grasswith my sister when the maypole dance was done, and we’d watch the flags flutter across the sky. I’d stay there in my Sunday dress until my nose burned and Elin went home. I’m still there, waiting for her.” Her words drift away on the clouds, and her face goes hard as clay. “I think about it most around this time of year.”
“You’re the one who left, just like my sister. You’re not the one waiting; you never have been,” I say coolly.
Delyth stares at the ground. “And neither are you, now. You made a decision. You left, too.”
“Gran didn’t have a choice,” I remind her. “She was already married when you disappeared. You kept your secrets from her until it was too late.”
“Please.” Her voice cracks.
We fall into step, and I give a reluctant sigh. “It’s autumn at home. October. But yes, we still have May Day. The village hasn’t changed, not really—I doubt it ever will.”
