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They stopped for the evening just after sundown. Lore watered and brushed the horses while Asher and Vyncent—the merchant—built a fire and dealt with securing the wagon and carriage.

The merchants had four horses. There were only a handful of them in Lore’s entire village, and this one family ownedfour. She didn’t have much experience with the beasts, but she knew enough to brush them in the direction of their coat and avoid getting behind them. She’d seen a man get kicked by one when she was little and had never forgotten the sight.

She was currently brushing a light brown mare with a white patch in the shape of a star on its face. Lore liked these creatures with their long manes and curious eyes. This one kept nuzzling her hand, likely looking for a carrot or an apple.

“I haven’t got one for you, silly girl.” She laughed and stroked the mare’s strong neck with the brush.

“Fern is always looking for treats. Never full, that one.”

Lore looked down. One of the merchant’s children, Posie, was standing beside her, petting the other mare’s nose.

“Well, she and I are the same, then,” Lore said. “I feel like I’m always looking for treats myself.”

The girl smiled. Her smile was sweet and missing more than one baby tooth, but it felt rare, like she didn’t show it to just anyone.

“Do you always travel with your parents when they have merch to sell?” Lore asked, running her fingers through Fern’s black mane and untangling a few knots.

“No, never. We usually stay home with Mother, but folks have been going missing. Well, not folks—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t tell my brother, but younglings have been disappearing. Well, dark fae younglings. But Mother said we can’t be too sure dryads aren’t next. She didn’t want him to leave us, but Father couldn’t miss the market. So, here we are.”

“Wow. That is quite scary.” Missing fae children? Lore fought off a shiver.

“It is. But my mom told me because I’m the eldest and have to look after my little brother, Jene.” She turned her chin up, puffing her chest out with pride.

“I’m sure you can do just that. You seem like a great big sister.”

The girl nodded before running off to find her little brother.

After a meal of cold sandwiches, the Pineray family locked themselves in their carriage for the night. Asher and Lore sat by the fire on borrowed bedrolls. Tonight, she would sleep under the sky. The wind would be her lullaby and the stars her guardians.

Asher sat across from her, sharpening one of his swords. His muscles rippled beneath his light jacket and his eyebrows were pulled into his usual scowl. Lore would give a thousand coin to know what he was thinking at this moment.

“Draw a picture. I’m sure it will last longer.” The hint of a smirk danced along his lips and a dimple almost showed itself.

Lore’s cheeks heated. Caught.

She raised her eyebrow, hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the low firelight. “And immortalize your constant frown? No, thanks.” But surely there was something better she could do with her time than stare at a brooding fae.

She rummaged through her pack again, pulling out the tome. She had basically signed her life away and who knew what else to this blank book, and it hadn’t made a peep since the night of her escape. No visions. Not even a random joke to pass the time.

She flipped open the book and almost threw it when she realized it was no longer empty. Instead, where the moonlight was shining between the thinner branches above and striking the pages, words and diagrams appeared.

“Moonlight. The keyismoonlight,” Lore whispered, lightly touching the aged paper.

An illustrated plant was drawn on the page now. It showed a thin stem with branches extending in every direction, rounded leaves the color of overripe strawberries hanging from the stems, and tiny budding flowers that were scattered throughout the leaves. Cramped lettering written in a foreign tongue appeared beside the roots, stems, flowers, and seeds. It seemed to her to detail the different times of year to pick this plant and, if the diagrams with the seasons drawn beside it were what Lore thought they were, when the best time to harvest them would be.

Or maybe to plant them. She couldn’t be sure because she couldn’t read it.

The next page showed a recipe for—Lore brought the book closer, squinting her eyes in the low light—some kind of sleeping or calming tonic. She recognized two of the words written in a curling script at the top of the page, as they were Alytherian. The next page showed another recipe for an elixir with a drawing of a dragon in the corner.

She rubbed her finger over its wings. Did this have something to do with the elixir, or was it a doodle, drawn by a student whose mind wandered during a lecture, or maybe a powerful magic user who dreamed of riding dragons?

Lore’s blood sang with excitement. She may only be able to pick out one or two words from the diagrams, but at least the book—no, grimoire—had revealed them at last. As she flipped through the pages, she saw that her book was not just a magical book, but one in which someone had inscribed magic spells, potions, and elixirs.

“Lore. Get down.” Asher’s voice cut through her revelation. His command was quiet, yet filled with steel.

She didn’t give a moment’s thought aboutwhy—she justdid.