Page 8 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
Gran pads across the kitchen, stops before the open back door and stares at the woods beyond.
“She’s out there.”
I creep up beside her, squinting into the dark line of trees curtained by the rain-ruined sheets. Gran can’t mean the woods. Ceridwen isn’t that stupid. We’ve been warned since we were small that that forest is a death trap, that fools who wander in seldom come back out.
“I told her to stay away,” she murmurs.
“From what?” I ask incredulously.
Gran ignores me and rubs a hand over her eyes. “Honestly, Sabrina, I thought she was smarter than this. I thought it would be you who’d bring us a new heartbreak, you were always… looking for it. But you were never in danger—not from them.”
Cold rain spits through the door. I shrink deeper into my coat, lips parting with slow understanding as I stare at the trees and the black void beyond.
I laugh. I don’t know what else to do. “You don’t mean…” I can’t bring myself to say it.
The tylwyth teg.Fairies. It’s absurd.
What if they’re real?a sour voice at the back of my mind whispers.What if they’re real, and they came, but they were never coming for you?
Gran’s hand lands on my shoulder, fingers bruising. “She’s lost to us.”
I go cold at Gran’s words and my mouth sets into an ugly line. “No.”
“Sabrina—”
I wrench my shoulder from her grasp and near stumble down the first step into the garden, shaking my head.
There’s something Gran isn’t telling me, that she’s never told anyone. Maybe she has always expected this to happen. Maybe her sisterdidwander into the woods all those years ago; maybe Ceridwen has too, though only hours ago she promised to try and marry, for our sakes.
Was Ceridwen lying?
Fear is smothered by thick, slithering resentment. Has Ceridwen run off to avoid the one thing that’s ever been asked of her? My dissatisfaction and my desire to leave home is no secret, but Ceridwen has always encouraged compromise and acceptance in response. If she has been planning this escape all along, I’m going to make her wish she’d never been found.
“No,” I say. “That’s not happening. No. She doesn’t get to leave me here—leaveushere. I don’t care if she’s a bloody fairy princess or if she’s just gone mad and run off into the forest—she’s coming back.” I twitch and a brittle breath runs through me until clarity forces me to still. I meet Gran’s eyes, ignoring the terror on her face. “I’m going tomakeher come back.”
As I turn to run to the woods. Gran lurches forward and grabs me by the scruff of my collar like I’m no more than a naughty kitten. I thrash against her hold. Despite her age, she’s made of sturdy stuff and she doesn’t release me easily, until a fist pounds on the front door of our house and we both leap apart.
I shrink, remembering the other troubles that follow our family—the troubles I’ve brought down on us.
“It’s the constable,” I say quietly.
Gran squeezes her eyes shut. “Duw, Sabrina, you don’t do anything by halves, do you?”
The fist pounds on the door again, near hard enough to break it.
“May I take some air while you welcome our guests?” I say, strained.
We both know what I’m really asking.Can I go? Can I follow Ceridwen?More importantly:Can I drag her back here kicking and screaming?
Gran looks up, her eyes wet and small, barely containing her disappointment. “What will I tell them?”
“The truth,” I say. “That Ceridwen is missing and I’m searching for her.”
“This will reflect poorly on both of you,” Gran reminds me.
“I know,” I reply flatly. “Can I go?”
The fist pounds on the door again. Gran sighs raggedly. “Why ask for permission now, Sabrina?”
