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She had hoped her people would be rebuilding. She’d trusted that the fae would have sent builders and healers. Not only had they broken their deal, but they had obviously made the situation much worse. And Syrelle had sat across from her just a few hours before and lied to her face. Promising her that things were much improved. He’d given her wine and food and Lore had fallen for his lies, even working longer hours this evening, searching for any sign of magic. For him. For Alytheria.

The same Alytherians who demanded a certain amount every quarter and then demanded more than they could pay, all while forbidding them to trade with anyone else. The Alytherians who would do anything to keep her people from being whole.

And now, looking at her people, she knew they had been broken.

Perhaps the earthshake wasn’t just a natural occurrence. Perhaps something or someone had caused it, someone who gained from the tragedy of her people.

Hadn’t they been through enough? They already had their world stolen from them and had their history ripped from their hands. They had had to fight tooth and nail for what little they had. And in the span of a few moments, once again they had to start from scratch.

Goddess, had Asher known the true cause of the earthshake?

She fisted her hands and stood. She grabbed the tome, noticing that every word of hope and bit of knowledge she had collected was gone, as if the book itself had devoured them.

The pages were as empty as the day she had found it.

She dressed quickly. It was cold outside, but she couldn’t stay here. She packed all of her clothes—thankful that she had new boots—the coin she’d earned so far, and the tome. Take the book from the castle grounds and whatever was contained within it would give her what she sought? What she wanted above all else was magic, sovereignty, and a life worth living.

She would have it.

She probably should stop and think; in every tale she’d ever heard, and even the ones she’d spun herself, if a deal was too good to be true, it was exactly that.

But she didn’t have time to waffle.

She needed to get home.

Chapter10

“Lore?”

Lore stopped in her tracks, feet sliding on the ground of the garden pathway, slick with frost. She slowly turned around.

There was Asher, in full guard’s uniform, with his sword pointed firmly at her throat.

He’d been gone for weeks. When had he returned?

“Asher.” His name was a prayer on her lips, but his blade didn’t waver even a centimeter.

If he called for another guard, she would be searched. When they discovered the stolen book, she would surely be executed.

She had jokingly asked what would happen to her if she was caught stealing cookies, but she had been raised in terror of the sentries her entire life. She knew they wouldn’t hesitate to execute a thieving human.

His tumultuous black eyes burned in the dark, and she realized she had never seen him look truly furious before. She had thought she’d seen a glimpse of anger when they’d first locked eyes in the dining hall, but it was nothing compared to this. Suddenly, he looked less like the person she remembered and more like a predator.

What was he even doing here? Had he been here the whole time? Watching her still, but without her knowledge? His teeth were bared, and she realized how sharp his canines actually were. Sharper than those of any human. His antlers were no longer alluring; instead, they were frightening weapons that could be used to gouge her, rather than a mere mark of being a fae.

Had she really wanted to touch them the last time they’d spoken? Had she really wondered what his lips tasted like? Had she truly spent the last few weeks with her eyes set on the doors of the dining hall, waiting for him to walk through with a small smile and a complaint about the few weeks away?

“Please.” She tried to sound strong, but her voice was a whimper. She had never been more scared in her life, not even when the sentries had caught her.

He looked at her, stricken, having already noted her cloak and bag. He knew she was running away. “They’ll kill you, Lore. I must... but how can I...” His voice trailed off, thick with fury. He glanced around frantically, as if looking for a way out of the impossible predicament he found himself in.

Lore stood perfectly still, holding her breath. Her life was in his hands.

A single tear dropped from her eye in sync with the lowering of his sword. He slid it back into the scabbard at his hip.

“If I let you go, they will kill me. If I turn you in, they will kill you. What would you have me do? What have you done to me, Lore?”

Her name wasn’t a prayer on his lips as his had been on hers. It was a curse, one she had placed on him, no less.