Page 80 of Lore of the Wilds

“Lore... how would he have known to?” Finndryl asked.

Lore felt like she was drowning. She didn’t answer Finndryl, choosing instead to focus on the task ahead of her. “I have to get him back.”

“Love, even if you managed to infiltrate the grounds, navigate the palace, and then somehow find Grey,your friend would not wish to leave. From how you described his eyes, he has surely tasted her food,” Gryph said, sadness in his eyes.

Lore shook her head. “That isn’t a good enough reason to leave him.”

“What is one human girl going to do against a powerful fae queen?” Finndryl asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Lore stood up so fast, her chair crashed to the ground behind her. She ignored it, lifting her chin in defiance. “This human will do what I have always done: fight back. I will find a way.”

She stormed down the rickety stairs and waded through icy mud to unlock the Exile. She needed to be alone. She needed to think. She pressed through the empty tavern, closed the kitchen door behind her, and began to pace.

Back home, there were some who couldn’t handle the hardships of life in Duskmere. They grew a plant, a beautiful one with pink petals covered in a fine dust and the palest of green stems. When the plant matured, they plucked the petals, crushed them,and mixed them with water. When this mixture became putrid, stinking of rot and decay, they drank it.

It made them forget that they were starving, in debt, overworked, and trapped, but it came with a price. The more they drank, the more they craved.

Dust water allowed them to forget their worries, but it also made them forget they had families, children, parents, and that they needed water and food. Those who became addicted died of dehydration with smiles on their faces.

Lore had seen it happen too many times. Desperate families came to her aunt, begging them for a cure, but Aunty Eshecouldn’thelp them. Only by looking inside themselves and finding strength could they break their habit.

There was no way Lore would leave Grey to a fate like that. Grey was family. He was the single most important person in her life and Lore would risk anything if it meant saving him. She stopped pacing, rifling through pages of notes, diagrams, and scrolls until she landed on a map of Rywandall.

That night, as the sun set and the shadows began to collect in the kitchen, Lore snuck out the back door and slipped silently into the forest.

Chapter24

Lore was led through the palace gates with the sharp end of a sword pressed into her back.

Bitter, icy winter wind blasted her cheeks, and her curls blew wildly around her face, embracing their freedom where Lore could not. She stilled for a moment, boots skidding on a mosaic of multicolored tiles, looking toward the flickering lights cast by torches as they turned the pretty courtyard into one of nightmares.

She cast her eyes past a fountain, its water frozen in a gravity-defying filigree, before landing on the palace. Vines crept up the gleaming stone, in bloom even at night, and their flowers cast their cloying scent around every visitor. Servants milled about in matching uniforms, completing the day’s tasks. They studiously ignored the prisoner being directed into the house; either this was commonplace, or they were well trained not to meddle.

The guards directed her through a side entrance, and she stepped into a colossal foyer. Marble statues lined the room, all fae in different levels of undress. The marble was carved with such skill that their clothing appeared to flow in a permanent breeze. Their faces were alive with emotion, alight with either pleasure or horror, depending on the scene chiseled by the artist.

The details of each statue made Lore’s breath catch in her throat.

If circumstances were different, Lore imagined she could look upon each one for days and never have her fill of their beauty. Unfortunately, she barely had a moment to take in the room before she was pushed forward, through sparkling corridor after sparkling corridor, until she was spat out into a ballroom.

It wasn’t the one she’d seen in her vision.

This one was smaller and more private, but no less grand. The party from the night before seemed to be dwindling; there was only a single violinist left in the corner. The rest of his quartet had joined the festivities. He played by himself, an eerie melody that sent chills down Lore’s spine.

Many of the revelers who had been dancing in her vision were now sleeping in bundles around the room—on the stairs, against pillars, or even under the ornate buffet table still overflowing with food and drink.

Then, she saw her, sat upon the dais.

Queen Riella.

She wore a gown that was beautiful in its simplicity. The thin, ribbon-like sleeves slipped down her shoulders, seeming to celebrate the large swell of her breasts. The dress was short, hugging her knees. She wore high stockings that kissed her shapely calves, and her heels ended in points so sharp they could skewer someone easily. Her white hair was gathered high atop her head, artfully woven with glistening pearls and bright gemstones. Her red lips popped against deep ebony skin.

The queen was as beautiful as she was terrifying.

The guard pressed the sharp point of her sword into Lore’s back, urging her toward the dais.

She couldn’t make her feet move; that dais spelled death, terror, horror.

But she had to do this. For Grey.

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