Page 2 of Lore of the Wilds

The apothecary they were sitting in was small, with an even smaller second floor, due to the slant of the roof. Boxes were heaped around, obscuring their view of most everything. But through an open door, she could just make out her cramped room. It contained everything she owned: her sleeping mat, one crooked wooden shelf that held her clothes and journals, and a stack of books that she’d loved too much to sell. The rest of the space was the studio where Aunty Eshe and Lore made candles, salves, remedies, tinctures, and soap. It was where she devoured stories and copied them out, letter by letter, to sell in the apothecary during her free time. And though books were a luxury, people still cherished and purchased them when they could afford to.

Grey was sitting on a laughably small stool better suited to a child, with his long legs crossed before him and his broad shoulders squeezed in between two shelves filled with herbs and empty jars.

“I hate it when you lie to me,” he said at last. There was a note of defeat in his voice.

Lore frowned, stung. If she couldn’t admit the truth to herself, why would she admit it to Grey? She couldn’t tell him that she still believed the answers were out there, somewhere beyond the barrier surrounding their town. Or that, at night, she still dreamed of leaving Duskmere and solving the great mystery of how her people came to be trapped in these lands.

She couldn’t tell Grey she had another, secret, explanation—that it had not been the wrath of an angry god, nor the blunder of an inept one that brought them here. Instead, it was the one thing that surrounded them, that they, as humans, could never possess.

Magic.

She shoved the thought away.

“It’s almost time for me to open the shop. Don’t you have work to do?” she asked as she busied herself with the last of the candlewicks.

“We could still do it. We could leave together. I’ve been practicing with—”

“Your sword is no match for the sentries’ arrows,” Lore snapped, the words coming out harsher than she intended.

The sentries, members of the Alytherian army, didn’t usually cross the barrier. They guarded Duskmere from outside, wearing their signature blue stripes across their tunics, which signaled to all their rank and that they took pride in shooting down any human who tried to leave.

For a moment, she was freshly eighteen again and back in that dark forest. Her pack was stuffed with everything precious to her. A knee pressed against her back, so hard that she couldn’t pull in any breath. There was a fist in her hair and a cruel voice, hissing, “What are you doing out at night? And where are you going with that bag?”

She had thought she’d known fear—thought years of food scarcity and deprivation had taught her the meaning of the word—but nothing had prepared her for that. For the terror of being caught past the barrier.

She would never forget the smell of the sentry’s blade—the bitter scent had burned her nostrils. She later learned, while Aunty Eshe set leeches on her wounds with a practiced hand, that the sentries’ weapons were coated in a substance that slowedthe healing process, to make sure that, where the sentries cut, it would scar.

Grey drew her back to the present with a gentle cuff on the shoulder. He was more family than friend; the man knew her better than anyone, and he recognized when her mood had soured. She wouldn’t indulge in the fantasy of escape with him any longer.

She’d changed her tune and expectations that night in the woods three years ago.

“I’ll be late for work if I don’t leave soon.” Grey gestured at the pants he’d just mended for the umpteenth time. “And if I arrive early, maybe I’ll finally be able to afford a new pair.” He gave a dramatic sigh and pushed one hand through his hair—a tell for whenever he was remotely frustrated. As always, his black, silky hair fell back into his face in waves.

Meanwhile, all Lore had to do was look at her curls wrong and they would break free of their coils and try their hardest to imitate a cloud.

“I hope so. Those are starting to resemble one of your mom’s quilts,” Lore said with a straight face.

Grey pulled the pants to his chest protectively as he headed toward the stairs. “I’ll have you know I happen to like the quilted look!”

She followed him down the spiral staircase that led to the shop. “Don’t we all?” She pulled at the skirt of her simple cotton dress; she’d had to let the seams out twice now. The dress had grown up with her and was also beginning to resemble a quilt.

Their goodbye was brief. She would meet him tonight after she closed the shop and checked on the little ones at the shelter. They’d eat dinner at his house with his mother and little sister, and then they would head to one of their usual haunts—either the Burgs’ tavern or the lake. This was her life, and for the most part, she was content.

When she closed the door behind him and flipped the sign to “Open,” she knew it wouldn’t be long before customers arrived. Emalie would be there to pick up the soap order for her family’s shop, and Mai, a midwife, would arrive within the hour to restock her herbs.

A busy shift made the hours pass quickly. It was well into the afternoon when she realized Lex would soon be arriving to pick up the day’s deliveries. Once Lore moved out of the shelter, Lex had taken her place as the eldest. Now fifteen, he oversaw deliveries for the apothecary.

When the door swung open, the familiar tinkle of the bell cascaded through the shop. Lore opened her mouth to tease Lex for running late as always, but her words caught in her throat.

Two figures were standing just inside the doorway. The warm glow of the oil lamps cast flickering shadows over their inhumanly sharp cheekbones, making their faces look hollow. They wore mirrored looks of disdain as they studied the space, which felt all the smaller for their presence.

Fae.

Lore’s mouth went dry, and she felt as if she could taste their power. Magic rolled off them in waves, permeating the room and her mind, and seeping into her pores, heavy with the promise of violence.

Chapter2

From the moment they could toddle, human children were taught to hide when the dark fae ventured down from their mountain keep and stepped through the tree line that surrounded Duskmere.

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