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Uneasy shivers rose up Lore’s spine.

“The library is in shambles. We need someone to clean the space.”

Lore wanted to laugh.They just want a servant. Then why demand the owner of the apothecary—

“You can read Alytherian, yes?”

“I can.”Oh, this is why.

“Good. We want you to clean up the library, but your main focus will be organizing the tomes and artifacts within, meticulously logging and categorizing each and every book, scroll, and pamphlet you find. At the end of every week, you will provide me with a list, and I will let you know if I wish you to bring any of them to me. Of course, you will be compensated for your time. We’ll send you home with enough coin to rebuild your shop and more. We’ll throw in a horse too. I’ve heard those are quite rare.”

So, theydidknow that Duskmere had been destroyed. They just hadn’t bothered to help.

Wait.Lore’s eyes widened. Spend all day in a library? Oneprobably filled with fae relics, history, medical, and alchemical texts? One that nobody had set foot into for millennia? Lore pinched her leg to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

This could be the answer to their problems. She might even learn where humans came from.

“You theorize that I will be unharmed when entering the library, but if you’re wrong, will I be killed?” she asked.

“We have every reason to believe that you will be unharmed.”

It wasn’t an answer to her question, but access to the books within the library could be incredibly beneficial. There was so much humans didn’t know about the outside world, information that was purposefully withheld from them.

Even so, if his theory was wrong, she was gambling with her life; she better make it worth her while.

“I will risk my life, but I won’t do it forjustcoin and a single horse.”

Anger flashed across the steward’s face.

“You’re lucky my patron is offering you anything at all, human, and yet you wish to negotiate?”

Lore wanted to tell him and his mysterious patron to shove the offer somewhere private, but the steward seemed like he would have her executed for such a slight. Though he had appeared respectful initially, it was clear he believed he was lowering himself by speaking to her.

“What is this about negotiation?”

Lore startled, her head whipping around. She recognized that voice; she’d heard it just yesterday.

Sure enough, the fae from the apothecary was stepping into the steward’s office. Only, the male looked different. His face was the same: same sharp jaw, manicured brow, full lips, smooth, dewy brown skin, but he had...

“Wings?”

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but the shock of seeing wings that had definitely not been sprouting from his shoulder blades yesterday loosened her tongue.

The male continued into the room until he stood beside the steward’s desk. Once again, that power radiated from him. Lore couldfeelthe magnitude of his magic.

“Lord Syrelle, I was just telling her that—”

“Hush.”

The steward’s mouth snapped closed.

“I would like to hear what she has to say,” Lord Syrelle said.

There was that fear again. It was impossible not to want to shrink back from his presence. And now, dressed as he was in a black cloak, with trousers, boots, and black, eagle-like wings that brushed the floor, he looked beyond intimidating.

Lore had to clear her throat three times before she remembered how to speak. “I would love to help,” she eventually managed. “But as it is, the only good coin does us is paying taxes and tithes. Without trade, it’s just pretty, but useless, metal. If you were to send supplies along with skilled masons and healers to Duskmere to help with the devastation from the earthshake...”

She trailed off.Goddess, his eyes are intense.They gazed into her soul, as if demanding she spill her secrets.