Page 55 of Lore of the Wilds

Suddenly, he stepped back, the moment broken.

“Okay, show me what I just showed you.”

Lore felt dizzy from his closeness, but she stepped forward, pointing to each spot on his body, all the while trying to control her breathing. She stepped back when she was done.

“Good. Now I’m going to give you the dagger and I’m going to show you the ideal way to grip it.” Asher flipped the knife around with a fluid flick of his wrist. She grabbed the hilt, but he shook his head. “Put your thumb here and grip it like this, see? And when you think of your dagger, think of it like an extension of your own arm. When you thrust, put your entire body into it, not just your arms. Make sure to maintain your center of gravity. Watch.”

He grabbed the blade back and mimicked a series of thrusts, jabs, blocks, and slices. The dagger really did look like an extension of his arm. When he was done, he handed the knife back to her.

She mimicked the grip he’d shown her, but the dagger didn’t feel like an extension of her arm—it felt foreign and dangerous. The edge glinted in the sunlight when she mimicked his moves.

Stars.She felt silly and sent a silent prayer up that she didn’t look as ridiculous as she felt.

To his credit, Asher didn’t laugh. He pushed her arm down, bringing it toward him a little. “Not terrible, but here, see? Widen your stance.” He nudged her left foot forward and tapped her arm lightly. “Be firm. Your arms are like soggy noodles.” A pause as she adjusted. “That’s better,” he said.

Lore went through the motions again, this time tightening the muscles in her core and focusing on the technique. She did it again. And again.

After a few more repetitions, he produced a slim belt and poked a new hole in it before handing it to her. She secured it around her waist before they started working on her drawing the dagger. Then, he blindfolded her and had her draw her dagger using nothing but the muscle memory of where it lay against her hip.

They did this until she was sure she would be drawing the thing in her dreams at night.

By the time they had finished training, the sun was high enough in the sky that it was time to secure the horses to the wagons. The merchants were up, fed, and ready to head out when they returned to the campsite.

Lore was surprised when Asher told her to secure the dagger at her waist and carry it for the day. Its presence at her hip was both comforting and alarming.

How much she had changed.

Chapter15

They reached the city at the base of the Canaan Mountains two days later. Once they passed the gates, Asher hoped they wouldn’t have to worry about the king’s guard any longer; this far south was Rywandall territory, and the people gave allegiance to Queen Riella and her consort.

The farewell with the merchants was brief, consisting of a quick exchange of some coins, well wishes to the little ones, and a swift departure. As they separated from the family, Lore nervously checked and rechecked the knot on her headscarf. She was sure a human had never been this far south, not ever, and if her presence was revealed, the news would surely make itself known to Wyndlin Castle and the chief steward.

Lore was filled with both trepidation and excitement.

The city itself was different from the last one. Here, the houses were built higher and farther apart. Many had decorative walls and tall iron gates that showed picturesque courtyards. Some even had fountains and ponds. The roads weren’t built from packed earth, but instead with red brick placed so evenly she couldn’t even imagine the skill of the stonemasons. Despite the smell of frost in the air and the puff of cloud that accompaniedeach of their breaths, flowers still grew in gardens and hung lusciously from windowsills and balconies.

Lore closed her eyes, breathing in. She couldn’t smell any of the usual putrid aromas that came with people living in close quarters—no horse dung, rotting garbage, sweaty unwashed villagers, or chicken coops like back home. Instead, she just smelled an overpowering floral scent with undertones of the upcoming frost.

They wove through markets selling colorful spices, hand-carved toys for children, cooked meats, and freshly baked bread. Lore kept her eyes lowered, afraid to speak to any of the vendors for fear of them recognizing her for what she was.

Some stalls were loaded down with fruit: grapes so plump they looked like you would barely have to squeeze one between thumb and finger for it to burst and apples so big and shiny they reflected the lantern light. None of the fruits had a single bruise or wormhole in them.

Other stalls were filled with different types of dried sausages, some covered thickly in spices while others swam in sweet-smelling sauces.

Lore’s mouth watered.

Asher stopped and purchased two pieces of meat on a stick. He handed one to her and kept the other for himself.

When she bit into it, she had to stifle her groan of pleasure. The meat was so tender, it practically fell off the stick. When she finished, she licked the sticky sweet and spicy sauce from her fingers and barely resisted the urge to lick the poker clean.

Lore walked past young light fae couples with linked arms and younglings shopping with their parents, begging for toys. She spied a young tree nymph perusing flowers, maybe to woo a lover or place on their kitchen table. Everyone walked so slowly, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

She’d never imagined anything like this place. Not even in her dreams had she imagined such idle decadence.

A few streets past the market, the houses began to change. They were no longer three or four stories tall; instead, they started to shrink. They now had fewer flowers, more weeds, and ill-looking shrubs. The pedestrians sped up or slowed to a crawl. There was a male dark fae asleep in the road, ass in the dirt, bottle in hand, snoring loudly.

Lore felt more at home here than in the wealthier district but, still, she put her hands on her dagger, thumb running over the smooth leather and the embroidered design.

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