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“Asher, stop it.” What was he saying? Why was he being so cruel? Lore turned to look at Finndryl, preparing to reach out to him, thinking he might do something violent. “Asher, I’m sure you don’t mean that. Finndryl is right. We need to go.”

But Finndryl’s head was cocked to the side as he surveyed Asher. “I knew it was only a matter of time until you showed your true colors. You’ve always had Isla and my father fooled, but you never deceived me.”

“He needs to go, Lore. I need to talk to you. Don’t you trust me?”

“I—yes. I trust you, Asher. Of course, I do. But I don’t feel safe here.”

“You’re safe with me. I would never let anyone hurt you.” Asher took a step toward Lore, and Lore had the oddest feeling that, in this moment, she needed to step backward and keep the space between them the same.

“Something isn’t right. Lore, get behind me,” Finndryl said. Even the moth hiding in Lore’s hair was fluttering with agitation.

“Oh, come on now. You’re going to believe this fuck-up over me? Lore, come here, now.”

Lore couldn’t believe this was happening. They had all been working together just fine. What changed within the past hour?

“Asher, I—”

Something in Asher changed. Suddenly, waves of power rolled off him. They permeated the garden, seeping into her pores and invading her body and mind. She’d felt this power before, but not from Asher.

She’d felt it from the noble fae male who had come into the shop.

That fae had had wings and short-cropped hair.

But, as if he were aware of her thoughts, Asher’s face changed. His antlers morphed and seemed to disappear into his curly hair. His hair changed, turning from brown to the darkest black and shrinking to a short, cropped style. Wings sprouted from his back.

She knew him. She knew this face. The beautiful clothes. The feeling of such power.

“Syrelle?” The acidic taste of terror coated her tongue. “Where is Asher? What have you done with him?”

Finndryl growled from where he stood in front of her. It wasa low, predatory sound. Lore didn’t have to see him to know his face promised violence.

She spread her fingers out by her thigh.Wait.She hoped Finndryl saw her signal.

“IamAsher,” the noble fae said. “I let your precious humans go, but I can’t let you leave the grounds with the grimoire.”

Lore’s mind spun. She knew what he was saying, but his words sounded far away and muddled like he was underwater. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

“You—what?” She couldn’t make her mouth work properly.

“Do try to keep up, Mouse. You’re a smart girl. Come with me and I’ll even let Finndryl go.”

Mouse.

Mouse.

How would an imposter know that was what Asher called her?

“Lore, run,” Finndryl hissed as he drew his sword from its scabbard. He widened his stance, preparing to fight this Asher who was not Asher.

But Lore couldn’t move. Her limbs weren’t working. “Asher, stop. This isn’t funny.” Lore hated that tears were welling up in her eyes and clouding her vision. This couldn’t be real. It was a trick of some kind.

“Call me Syrelle.”

“Syrelle is the fae lord who tasked me with organizing the library.”

The imposter smiled. Gone was Asher’s easy grin. And in its place was something foul. A warped version of the smile Lore had come to love. “Yes. I wanted to thank you for finding my book for me. But I couldn’t do that until now.”

“Yourbook?”