Page 36 of Lore of the Wilds

Syrelle smiled. “I’ve just returned from a trip to the Sunshine Isles, and I was hoping to pick your brain a bit about what you’vediscovered in the library during my absence. I thought you would appreciate something to graze on during our discussion.”

“I... yes, thank you.” Where were the Sunshine Isles? Lore hadn’t seen them on a map, but it sounded lovely. Especially because winter had decided it was here to stay and anywhere called the Sunshine Isles ought to be warm and sunny year round. If not, it was named by a cretin.

“Fresian, will you please pour each of us a glass of wine?”

The steward startled from where he sat behind his desk.

The steward’s first name wasFresian? For some reason Lore was surprised that the steward’s first name wasn’tHigh Lord.

The steward sputtered, his face flushing with indignation. “I—sir, you want me to pour her wine? Surely, I can call the maidservant back to—”

“Steward, are you so above your station that you cannot pour my guest and me a glass of wine?”

The steward snapped his mouth shut like a toad and walked stiffly toward the table.

Lore decided that she wouldn’t thank him when he thrust the wine into her hands. Instead, she nodded her thanks to Lord Syrelle and drank deeply from the crystal chalice. She had missed wine, and this was spiced. Her favorite.

“How do you like it? This is from my personal collection.” Lord Syrelle drank a small sip.

“It’s lovely. Almost as delicious as my uncle Salim’s spiced wine.” Lore swirled the glass, admiring the robust liquid. “Is that cinnamon, anise, and orange peel?” she asked.

Syrelle raised an eyebrow in amusement. “That it is.” He took a sip himself before remarking, “If your uncle’s wine is indeed better, I’ll have to order a case of it for my own collection.”

“My uncle would be pleased to fulfill that order.” Lore swallowed another mouthful before asking, “Do you have news of Duskmere, my lord?”

“Please, call me Syrelle,” he insisted before sliding a plate of sandwiches toward Lore. “And yes, I do. I’ve just had a report from a courier this morning. The masons and healers I sent have been hard at work rebuilding your town.”

Good. Then all this work and isolation was worth it. Lore took a bite of a sandwich and melted a little bit. Roasted chicken breast, lettuce, tomato, perfectly caramelized onion, thick slices of brie, and tangy vinaigrette on a buttery croissant. Was this what the gods ate? Possibly. Lore devoured the sandwich and promptly grabbed another.

Syrelle, she noticed, was taking small, polite bites. His restraint was impressive. The steward wasn’t eating at all—instead he looked at Lore with open contempt.

“That’s great news. Thank you.” Lore put down her sandwich, though she wanted to eat them all. Maybe she could smuggle some out in her apron? “What would you like to know about my work so far? I’ve been supplying the steward with weekly updates as requested.”

“Yes, we are just concerned that you haven’t found any magical texts yet. We have it on good authority that there were quite a few in the library on the day it was closed off. Have you been checking every area?”

“She’s lazy, my lord. I suspect the girl does not wish to go back to that hovel of a town and is delaying her work here on purpose,” the steward hissed.

“The girl, Steward, would rather be anywhere than here,” Lore replied to the steward before he could continue bad mouthing her to Lord Syrelle. She directed the rest of her reply to Lord Syrelle, “I am working diligently, but the library is quite massive. Admittedly, there are some places I have yet to search.” Because they’re dark. No matter how many candles she lit in some areas, the darkness persisted. It made her skin crawl and she could swear she could hear whispering coming from within the stacks.

“Fresian, from the look of this log book, she has been working tirelessly.” Syrelle had a way of speaking that made the steward visibly wilt in his chair. Lore raised her chin a little in pride.See, you old goat. I have been working hard.Syrelle tapped on the desk idly. “Lore, will you do me a favor and start on those areas tomorrow? We are looking for a collection of magical texts... and I must admit I am growing anxious to have them.”

“Absolutely. I’ll start on them first thing tomorrow.”

“Wonderful. And please, if there is anything you can think of to make the work more efficient do not hesitate to send word to the steward. He knows how important this is to me and to our king.”

“I will, my lord.”

“Do you remember the way back or shall I call the maidservant to guide you?”

Lore drained the rest of her wine—no point in wasting such delicious spirits—and stood up. “I know the way, thank you. I’ll send word the moment I find anything.”

“Would you like to take some of this food with you? I’ve heard you are no longer eating in the servants’ dining hall.”

For someone who supposedly just returned from sunshine land, he sure was keeping tabs on her.

Yes.“No, thank you.”

Syrelle smirked, light amusement playing across his features. There was something nagging Lore about his eyes. Something she didn’t often see in the fae.

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