Page 4 of Lore of the Wilds

“Pricey? How much?” The beautiful woman arched a brow, disdain evident on her face, but she still withdrew a coin purse from a hidden pocket.

Lore named the price—high enough to cover new boots for both sets of twinsandthe new flooring they needed in the cellar at the shelter.

“That costs more than my shoes, human.” She turned to the male and grumbled, “Which have been ruined from walking through these filthy streets.”

Lore shrugged. “Perhaps another option, then. A bottle of wine, perhaps?” She began to slide the book back onto the shelf, treating it with far more care than she had when she’d shelved it last month.

The female opened her mouth to retort—probably to eviscerate Lore with a single word or something equally terrible.

The male cut her off. “We’ll take it.”

Something deep in his eyes briefly glittered.

Was it mischief? Lore couldn’t tell.

The female looked shocked, then delighted. “It’s a gift, so wrap it up. If you know how to, that is.”

Lore had to hide her sigh of relief as she walked to the counter. She crouched unnecessarily low so she could rub out the chalk marking of the real price, which was a fraction of what she’d told them.

By the time she wrapped the gift in fabric, tied it with an extra-large ribbon—because of course she knew how to gift wrap—and the coin had been exchanged, Lore was already thinking of how pleased Aunty would be. And furious if she knew Lore had willingly tricked the Alytherians.

“These books here... some of the titles are in Alytherian. How did you come by them?” the male asked.

Lore bit her lip. “My aunt and I trade with the merchants when they come. Then we translate them to our common language and sell them in our store. Some of the townsfolk like to collect the originals as well, so we put them up for sale.”

“You help your aunt with the translations?” His voice was coated with surprise.

“Yes, my lord. I have since I was little.” Lore held his gaze, a lick of pride raising her chin.

“I thought humans too dimwitted to write in our language, but I see now that I must have been mistaken.” It was casual cruelty in the highest form.

Lore dared not reply. Her feelings wouldn’t matter to him, anyway.

He broke off the look first, dismissing her and snuffing her pride out like a candle.

The woman frowned at her companion. “Are we done here? Can we go back? My clothes are starting to stink like them.”

The male placed his hand on the female’s lower back, leading her toward the door. “We can pause our search. I might have found what I’m looking for, after all.”

They left, and the door swung shut behind him.

Lore slid down against the counter, laughing, half from the hysteria—that she had, somehow, survived her first encounter with noble Alytherians unscathed—and half from the weight of the coin in her hands. She’d never held a purse this heavy in her life.

She could take a copper and donate it to the elders. In appreciation, they might let Lore look through the skyglass and track the movement of the stars at service that weekend. Baba used to say the stars sang a song that only she could hear, and she knew the words rang true. When she looked through the skyglass, she swore she could hear a ballad spun from stardust, with the sweet promise of home.

She tucked the coin into the purse on her belt with shaking hands, then reached into the pocket of her apron for the small, rounded stone with a gap in its center. It was shaped like the crescent moon. The curved hole, just big enough to peer through, had reminded Grey of Lore.

“For the girl whose eyes always stray to the moon,” he had said as he pressed the rock into her palm.

Her thumb found the crescent-shaped hole in the stone’s center and circled it, a nervous habit she’d picked up years ago. The cool touch of the stone settled her racing heart.

She returned to work. She cleaned, helped Lex compile his delivery order once he finally arrived, and finished shelving items while keeping an eye on the changing shadows, ready for the day to end so she could race to tell Grey about the noble fae and her brush with death.

She might exaggerate the tale a little, but Grey loved a good story.

At last, it was time to close the shop. Lore began to tally the day’s coin when she heard a loud noise. The floor trembled, as if a thousand people were stomping their feet outside. Lore reached out, stilling a rattling stack of coppers.

The earth began to shake. To sway.

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