Page 54 of Lore of the Wilds

The book complied this time, and her fingertips tingled with the magic within it. A recipe appeared on the page, filled with detailed diagrams and drawings.

Lore gathered all that she needed: dirt from the campsite floor, a handful of pine needles, and a piece of her hair. She yanked the coiled strand from her scalp, stretching it between her fingers.

She chanted the words, a poem in a language she didn’t know but could somehow read, tossing the pine needles into the flames first, followed by the sprinkles of dirt from their campsite floor, and finishing by dropping her hair into the fire last. The flames roared up, and the heat licked at her hand for a moment as the fire changed from orange to a pale lavender color.

She felt something within her—a connection extending from the grimoire to her chest and then casting out toward the fire. The connection pulled taut before splitting thousands of times into a web that sank into the ground all throughout the clearing.

It rushed out in front of her and beside her, running through the trees until it even enveloped Asher, who was kneeling on the ground with his forehead pressed to the earth in meditation.

She didn’t know how she had this knowledge without being able to see him, but it came to her as an undeniable, certain feeling.

A tingle from the tips of her toes spread up to her hairline, and she knew the spell was done. She’d cast a spell.

Magic.

She’d done magic.

Chapter14

As dawn spread its light through the trees, Lore and Asher sat by the fire. Lore added coffee to the pot of boiling water over the low flames. Frost blanketed the world around them, and Lore marveled at the beauty that was a forest awakening.

“Teach me to use a sword and dagger,” she was saying. “I’m a quick study, I promise.” Lore grinned into her cup of black coffee. She longed for a dollop of fresh cream—which she’d gotten used to at the castle—but she was still delighted by the fragrant nutty flavor of the coffee and the warmth of the ceramic mug between her hands.

Asher didn’t grin back. In fact, he frowned into his tea. “You want me to teach you to use a sword? Lo, I’m no teacher. I’ve never had to teach anyone in my life, and I’m afraid I’ll probably be too hard on you.”

Lore’s insides thrilled when he said “Lo.”

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze. “Sobehard on me. I’m not asking you to tutor me to dance. I want to be able to protect myself, so you don’t have to. I never want to feel that helpless again. Ever.”

Their gazes locked, his molten onyx to her rich brown. Theyonly broke their gaze when he removed his dagger from its hiding place in his boot.

“We will start with the dagger. Come on.”

A few moments later, she stood with him, surrounded by trees and the morning songs of birds. The sunrays glinted off stray highlights in his wooly hair, showcasing reddish tones she hadn’t noticed before.

Asher stood with his feet shoulder length apart, knees slightly bent, and the dagger between them pointed at her. Lore mimicked his stance, wishing she had a dagger of her own.

“You’ll start with the dagger because you can hide it in your boots. Realistically, you’ll probably be fighting with this more than a sword. Largely because if we start with the sword right now, you likely won’t be able to lift anything tomorrow.”

Lore blew a stray curl out of her eyes and nodded. She’d already been struggling with the heavy tomes in the library; she knew she had to work on her strength.

“Now, there are a few important things about the dagger. If an opponent gets too close and you aren’t able to stick them with it, they might be able to wrestle it away and kill you with your own weapon. We want to avoid this, so I’m going to show you where to stab to drop someone instantly. Another thing—make sure you don’t leave the dagger in them either. Once you’ve stabbed, you’ll want to pull it back out. They’ll bleed out faster that wayandyou won’t be leaving your weapon behind.”

Asher lowered his dagger, stepping close. He brushed his hand lightly on her throat, just above her collarbone. Her pulse quickened at the feather-light touch of his thumb. “Make sure to stab your assailant here.”

Her mouth went very dry. She longed for the wild mint water that’d been infusing all night.

He brought his hand down to her sternum. “Or here.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

His hand dropped to her lower hip, and he tightened his grip, rubbing a small circle with his thumb. “Here.” He took a half step closer, sliding his hand to her back and pressing lightly. “Or here.”

Lore bit her lip.Stars, he smells good.His usual blackberry and cedarwood scent had mixed with the smell of smoke from sleeping next to the fire.

Asher reached up and brushed that stubborn, stray curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingered there for a moment before tracing his thumb lightly down her face, following the curve of her jaw. His eyes smoldered like banked coals as they dipped from her eyes down to her lips.

Gods, his touch ignited something inside her, that desire within him calling to her own. Her pulse quickened and her breath hitched. Would he close the distance between them?

---