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He leaned back, stretching his long arms to the window, and pulled one frayed curtain aside. Lore eyed the delicious bit of skin that appeared where his shirt rode up, distracted by how his lower abs rippled in the low light.

Focus, she told herself. She scooted over an inch, twisting so the closed grimoire sat in the moonlight. She ran her fingers lightly over the stitched moons, lingering on the waxing crescent, which was her favorite. Then she lightly brushed her fingertips over the flowers and vines that surrounded the moons.

Whoever had designed this book had seemed to make it just for her, because she could gaze upon it for hours and never grow tired of its beauty.

“Okay, Isla. I’m going to show you something, something I don’t even understand myself.” Lore flipped the book open. At first the pages were blank, like always, until the moonlight illuminated the aged pages and ink bled into existence.

Lore flipped through the pages, showing Isla glimpses of recipes and diagrams as she told her the story of how she’d come to be in possession of the grimoire.

***

When her story led to the present, Lore lowered the book onto the woven rug beneath her.

Isla reached out a hand, gold-painted nails gleaming in the flickering lamplight, and squeezed Lore’s hand. “Thank you for sharing your truth with me, Lore. I guess I didn’t have any ideawhat your people have gone through. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’d never actually thought about it. Humans just seemed like an interesting anecdote in Raelysh’s long history. I never gave your kind much thought.”

Lore already knew this, but the burning anger that normally accompanied this realization didn’t blaze into life at Isla’s words.

“I honestly didn’t realize that you all couldn’t leave—what was your town called again? Duskmere?” At Lore’s nod, she squeezed Lore’s hand again. Isla wasn’t afraid to show affection, that was for sure; she appeared to grant her love freely and openly.

Lore envied her that. She was always second-guessing herself.

“I just want to apologize again, that I didn’t realize,” Isla continued. “I thought Duskmere must have been a paradise, and that’s why you didn’t leave. I didn’t realize it was basically a prison. I’m determined to help however I can. Finndryl will, too—he just doesn’t know it yet!”

Lore muttered an awkward “Thank you.” She didn’t know how to handle Isla’s intense look of pity or Asher’s searching gaze, knowing how upset she got when she thought of Duskmere and her people’s circumstances.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the grimoire had started to fill with ink. A picture appeared, one of hands reaching up, detached from a body. But then she realized each hand was different—the first drawing showed the whole hand and wrist, the next drawing was just the hand, as if something invisible had swallowed up the wrist, and the last drawing was just fingertips.

Beneath it was a script she couldn’t quite read. She pulled her hand from Isla’s, picked up the book, and brought it closer to her face, squinting to try to see the messy scrawl better. She had the oddest feeling, as if she could almost read the words. It was similar to the feeling when she knew a word but couldn’t remember it at that exact moment, when it was on the tip of her tongue.

Was this a more powerful spell than the protection one she had cast over the campsite? Was that why there was so much more script and vague diagrams?

“Can you read this?” She showed the pages to Asher and Isla.

They both shook their heads. Asher took a swig of his whiskey before answering, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

How is he attractive even when swallowing a drink?

“I can see what looks like a disappearing hand, I guess? But the words don’t mean anything to me. It might be Old Alytherian?” Asher said. “I think I recognize the characters, but I never learned how to read it. I don’t know anyone who can.”

“Can I call my brother to come look? He reads a lot, so he might know!”

“Okay. But let’s just see if he can read it. He doesn’t need to know the story behind the book. If that’s okay?”

Lore didn’t feel comfortable telling Finndryl her life story just yet; she still felt raw from exposing so much of herself to Isla. Being so honest felt like she’d been burned, and her skin was new and extra sensitive. Not to mention, Finndryl hadn’t exactly been welcoming. She couldn’t imagine he would share Isla’s compassionate response.

Lore reached into her pocket, pulled out Grey’s stone, and kneaded it with her thumb.

Isla threw her head back and yelled for her brother. All three peered down the dim hallway just as Finndryl shouted back a loud “No!”

Isla threw up her hands. “He is the worst! Lore, never have a twin.”

“Chances are slim I will ever acquire a twin,” she said.

“Good point. Let me go get this grump.”

Isla grabbed the bottle of whiskey before stomping down the hallway, possibly to go smack her brother with it, or else to pour it on his head and light him on fire.

“Should we intervene and possibly save Finndryl?” Lore asked Asher, a smile dancing on her lips.