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Lore shut her mouth, which was hanging open. She couldn’t fathom what they were saying. If she brought Aunty Eshe to the fae, she would have to go. Uncle Salim would never be able to put this place back together, rebuild their businesses, and take care of the kids on his own. Not to mention, these fae clearly had no qualms about hurting humans.

She couldn’t allow such harm to befall Aunty Eshe. She was the glue that held this entire shelter together. Uncle Salim was the heart, but Aunty was the driving force. If anyone was going to travel into the unknown and make this dangerous trip, it should be herself. The children would be okay without her, but they wouldn’t survive if Aunty or Uncle left.

Yes, the kids needed Eshe more than they needed Lore.

“I’m the owner of the apothecary,” she choked out. She hoped they couldn’t smell a lie.

“Does she seem a bit young to you?” the one with the bow and arrows asked the other. His demeanor had changed in thefew moments she had taken to consider her circumstances. He no longer looked at her, instead looking bored and indifferent as he stared at his claws.

That was how mercurial the fae were.

That was how easy it was for him to decide whether she was worth toying with or worth killing.

“He said we can bring the owner or her ward,” he drawled. “I do not care which one it is.” He looked at Lore. “Come.”

Whosaid?

“Can I make my goodbyes?” Lore took a hesitant step backward, preparing to run back to the shelter.

“I think not.”

But her family wouldn’t know where she went. If she didn’t return—and there was a good chance she would not—they would never know what had happened to her.

She couldn’t catch her breath. It felt like clamps had seized her lungs.

She opened her mouth to beg or plead, when the guard’s hand flashed out, wrapping around her arm in a cruel grip.

“Don’t make us repeat ourselves, human.”

Lore stepped back, trying to tug her arm free. Tears sprang to her eyes at the tightness of his grip. His fingernails dug into her skin harder.

“We said, it’s time to go—”

He was interrupted by Milo. The boy, clad only in his sleeping tunic, ran full speed into the taller of the dark fae, tiny fists flying.

“Milo!” Lore could barely get his name out; her heart was in her throat.

She stepped forward at the same time Aunty Eshe did. She must’ve seen him run out. They both grabbed for the boy, trying to get to him before—

The fae sneered, piercing eyes boring into the boy. With aflick of his other wrist, he knocked Milo away and into a small pile of stones. Milo cried out as he hit the ground.

“Milo!” She finally tore free from the guard and knelt, scooping the boy up before he could try to attack the fae again. She held him tightly and rubbed soothing circles on his back while examining him for injuries. His body might be a little sore from the fall, but, ultimately, he would be okay. She squeezed him gently until his panting stopped and a tiny, scraped hand reached up to twist one of her curls around his small finger.

Lore whispered in his ear, voice thick with unshed tears. “Milo, I’ll be back soon. You be good and listen to Aunty. She needs your help, all right? I love you.”

She handed him directly to Aunty Eshe, whispering, “I’ll be back soon. Check under my mattress for the earnings from the apothecary.” Her aunt nodded, her eyes wide with fear for Lore, but she had had more run-ins with the guards than Lore had. Aunty Eshe knew you didn’t argue with them, didn’t question them, or hold them up. She nodded and cradled a squirming Milo.

Lore backed away, not daring to look at the two guards so they wouldn’t see the fury that burned in her. What kind of person shoves a child?

Then again, she supposed they weren’t people at all. The Alytherians were fae.

Instead of looking at them, she kept her eyes on Milo as she walked away, willing him to stay and be strong.

When they stepped through the forest, passing by the sentries stationed in this zone, she turned back once. Aunty stood there still, her mouth moving while she rocked Milo. Lore didn’t need to hear her to know that she would be singing softly, likely something she’d sung to Lore when she herself had been a scared child.

Lore turned back, sending a prayer to the goddess above that this wouldn’t be the last time she saw her loved ones.

***