Page 53 of Lore of the Wilds

Asher flicked his wrist, cutting a very shallow X into the fae’s throat. Blood dripped from it instantly, landing on the fae’s tunic. “Who sent you? Tell us and I’ll let you live.”

“Swear on it.” His voice was a hiss, emphasizing the S sound in “swear.”

Lore stepped forward. “We swear it. When we pack up camp, we will leave you here alive.”

The male looked at Lore for the first time, eyes blazing with hatred. “I was sent for you, the human who stole from our kingdom. You don’t deserve to set foot on our soil, let alone possess our sacred tomes.”

Lore’s stomach clenched. She wanted to throw up. The heat of shame burned behind her sternum and the sharp taste of hate coated her tongue. But she kept her face still, avoiding Asher’s gaze. “What were you planning on doing with me once you captured me? What were your orders?”

The fae laughed, an oily, guttural sound that made Lore recoil. “Capture you? We were to kill you, as slowly and as painfully as we wanted. He told us we could take our time, as long as we had possession of the book.”

“Who sent you?”

The fae leaned back against the tree, his breathing ragged and shallow. “I don’t know. Truly, I don’t. He came to me anddidn’t reveal his face or his name. Just handed over a heavy purse filled with coin and a story of a filthy human thief.”

Asher stepped forward, raising his sword, but Lore stopped him.

“I know who it was. The chief steward from the castle, or his lord. The one who hired me.” Lore’s voice was a whisper. Was her life worth so little to them?

Asher looked at her sharply. “You knew the steward was after you?”

“No!” Lore touched his arm, turning him so he was looking at her. “I didn’t, but it makes sense now. He told me if I found anything that appeared magical to give it straight to him, and nobody else. When I initially removed the book from the library, I didn’t know it had magic, I swear, or I would have given it to him. Although it was weird how I found it, once I opened it and saw it was just a blank book, I figured it was normal. I had no reason to hide it or try to take it. Humans can’t do magic, and this was just a blank book, I thought. But the day I found out what the book was, was the same day I found out what was happening at home.” Lore bit her lip. “That night, I decided to leave, and I brought the grimoire with me.”

“Okay, this is good. Now we know that they are after us for more than just you running away and me being a deserter. We can plan accordingly.” He turned back to the fae. “Did you say you had a purse full of coin?” Asher’s tone was cool, like shards of ice.

The fae gritted his teeth, then slumped, resigned. “It’s in my boot.” He shook his left boot a little, and they heard the muffled sound of coins clinking together.

Asher kneeled, keeping his sword trained at the fae’s throat, just in case he tried anything. In one swift motion, he reached into the boot, withdrawing a leather pouch. He stood, tucking the pouch into his jacket pocket, and raised his sword again.

Lore blanched. “Asher, no—”

He slit the fae’s throat with one more rapid movement.

She moved forward instinctively, needing to dosomething, but Asher grabbed her, turning her face away and pulling her close against his chest. She shuddered at the choking sounds coming from the dying fae.

“But we swore,” she said into his chest. She fisted her hands into the thick, rough cloth of his tunic.

“No,youswore. I couldn’t let him leave. He would have tracked us and been more prepared to attack us a second time. And next time, I might not be enough to save you. I couldn’t allow him to live.” Asher threaded his fingers through her hair, careful of her curls.

Lore closed her eyes, letting Asher’s scent calm her—his familiar blackberry and cedarwood. The smell of his leathers. The slight tang of sweat. She listened to the sounds from the camp that drifted through the trees, noting the crackling fire and the horses kicking at the ground.

The assassin had gone silent, and relief flooded her body; the sounds of him choking on his lifeblood had been so like those of the guards back at the castle.

“I need to hide these bodies,” Asher said. “It will be dawn soon and the merchants will be up.”

“Oh, right.” She opened her eyes and stepped back from Asher, instantly missing his warmth.

With a flick of his wrist, Asher cut the ropes that secured the fae to the tree. Kneeling, he touched the leaf of a low vine creeping along the forest floor, closed his eyes, and forced the vine to grow beneath his hands. The small vine thickened, curling, and wrapped around the fae’s boots before creeping over the rest of him. More vines popped up from the ground, loosening the dirt, and the body began to sink into the earth.

As Asher used his magic, Lore swore she could feel it in the air—something like a slight buzzing, like that of a bee flying too close. Her nose filled with the scent of growing things.

Lore picked her way carefully through the woods and back to the campsite, feeling every bit of the winter’s chill. It permeated her quilted tunic and settled into her bones, joined by the knowledge that those fae had intended to hurt her badly for nothing more than coin, and a false sense of superiority.

Yet she still had to choke back bile at the thought of their bodies just behind her in the trees, and at the gaping slit in the fae’s throat.

When she got back to her pack, she crouched and retrieved the book again. She pushed all thoughts from her head but one.

“Show me something to ward the camp from anyone who wishes us harm,” she called aloud, angling the book into the moonlight.

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