Page 72 of Lore of the Tides

Intrigued, Lore inquired, “Services, how?”

“When we were little, the tavern was so hectic, my mother was often too busy or tired to braid Isla’s hair, so I taught myself to do it. If you want... I can braid yours as well.”

“You want to... braid my hair?”

“Only if you wish.”

“I do wish.”

“Excellent.” Finndryl swung a satchel off his shoulder. “Because I had Cuan procure bands and oil.”

Lore laughed. “All right, let’s see those skills.”

Finndryl lowered himself onto the bench. Lore knelt on the floor below him, leaning against his knees.

“Are you tender-headed?” he asked as he applied oil to her hair. Lore closed her eyes, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he massaged it into her scalp.

“Yes, I’m convinced I was cursed as a baby. Mama’s beautiful hair—but with a tender scalp to accompany it.”

“Isla is, too, so I’m used to it.”

But Lore needn’t have worried.

His touch was impossibly light as he parted her hair. It was more than just braiding; it was a nuanced cadence of his fingers. Lore could feel his care for her in every twist, lace, and twine—a warmth that spread from his dancing fingertips down through her chest to settle into her spirit. Lore leaned into his caress, a sigh escaping her lips as she closed her eyes. All other sounds faded away save the rhythmic whispering of his fingers against her crown. She would savor this moment—carve it into her memory as if it were stone so that she could always return to this time with him.

“Your hair is so mischievous.” He chuckled, a mini-current from his breath tickling her ear. “Like the first curling vines of spring.”

As he wove the final strands into place, Lore almost wished she had more hair for him to braid. She didn’t want this to be over. She opened her eyes, turning to meet Finndryl’s gaze.

Finndryl smiled, twisting a braid that lay over her shoulder between thumb and finger. “Let me know what you think.”

She stood up and once again gazed into the looking glass. Only this time, she saw that he had woven her hair into a masterpiece—a macramé of hair and cowry shells—eight-stitch braids tightly woven in horizontal rows to fall down her back in exquisite ropes. Turning side to side to see it better, Lore grinned—her hair had no chance to escape.

Finndryl came up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone.

“Thank you,” she whispered, locking her eyes with his in the mirror, her throat tight with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

Finndryl leaned forward, his lips brushing against her shoulder in a fleeting kiss. “As are you,” he murmured, his tone resonant, an echo of his favorite wildwood.

Chapter 25

One three-hour strategy meeting masquerading as the midday meal in the council chamber and a fitful night’s sleep later, Lore found herself miles from the Lapis Deep Palace, searching for a volcano.

Searchingfor avolcano.

She’d heard stories about volcanoes, of course, and had generally thought that one should avoid them when at all possible.

Many people chose to do the opposite... but she never understood why. Why build your house at the base of something that could erupt without notice, swallowing you and everything and everyone you hold dear in ash and smoke and debris, only to eventually end the spectacle with blazingmoltenrock?

Especially when this particular volcano was a slumbering god?

Lore knew all about gods—and she was thankful that none of the ones she was raised with chose the shape of a volcano. They had spiders and stars and even one odd one that preferred the shape of a stunted, barren pear tree... but she could only imagine what kind of havoc a volcano deity would inflict upon the humans. Instead of exiled and stranded in this hostile world, her ancestors would probably have been suctioned into the volcano deity’s mouth. Shewhispered a silent prayer that the sirens’ volcanic deity was one of the rare benevolent ones...

Lore wasn’t quite sure how it had come to this.

And she still couldn’t fathom how Syrelle had wrestled his way onto this expedition. Despite Lore’s protests during the midday meal, he’d somehow convinced Queen Naia that he wasn’t a conniving, lying, imprisoning villain. She’d insisted Syrelle accompany them to protect Prince Hazen.

Lore then tried to dissuade Prince Hazen from coming at all, but he’d been adamant about protectingher, given the risks she was taking for his empire.