Page 31 of Lore of the Wilds

One depicted a small child underwater, with her thick curling hair fanning around her earth-brown face and wide-open eyes. Beneath the child, thin green plants stretched up to the water’s surface. On another tapestry, a monstrous creature sat in a field of wildflowers. Though it looked like a beast with massive fangs and claws and spiked, webbed wings along its back, it had a lookof utter peace on its face. A third tapestry showed two fae sitting in a hollowed-out tree holding hands with their eyes closed in meditation or prayer.

With a shudder of unease, she realized there was a teapot and a steaming cup of tea on the end table, as if someone had just served it. Although the voices were louder and clearer now, she couldn’t see anyone filling the seats or to whom the solitary teacup belonged.

Her eyes snagged on a lone tome laying open on the floor. It looked as if it had been abruptly discarded, as if someone had stood up from the chair and the book had dropped from their lap. As soon as her eyes found the book, the whispers stopped.

Her ears rang in the sudden silence.

What was this magic? She was in the library, but not in the library at all. It was a study of some kind, though there were no doors or windows. In fact, behind her, where she had just come from, was another tapestry, this one of a garden scene. A stag stood in the center, head down as it grazed on berries. Though it appeared to be eating with contentment, its coat had been nicked by small cuts from the thorns of nearby rose bushes. From these wounds, droplets of ruby-red blood fell. Where the drops spilled on the ground, yet more roses bloomed.

She reached her hand out to touch a petal and her fingertips slid through the tapestry as if it were air. An illusion, then; there wasn’t truly a tapestry here. And she knew at once that if she walked through it, she would be back in the library.

Feeling a little more at ease knowing she could get back to the library should she wish, she turned back to the room, kneeled on the thick carpet, and dug her fingers into the fabric. This, however, didn’t feel like an illusion. It was the softest rug she had ever felt, making this a perfect spot to lie and sleep the day away.

Instead, Lore picked up the tome on the floor, turning it this way and that.

It was marvelous. The binding was cloth, similar to the tapestries. In the center of the cover, the phases of the moon were expertly stitched in shimmering silver thread. It started with a crescent moon, then below, a waxing moon, with the full moon in the center, only for the pattern to start over again in reverse, ending with a mirrored crescent moon at the bottom.

Lore ran her hands over the full moon, marveling at the likeness. Surrounding the moons was a circle of vines with small flowering buds. Moon moths circled the flowers in perpetual flight. The back was solid black cloth.

Lore held the tome. It was heavy and solid, heavier than a normal book, and, instead of being cool from disuse, the book radiated a slight warmth. It warmed her cold hands and calmed her soul in a way nothing ever had before.

She sniffed the edges of the book.

This was what smelled of roses and wild sage.

Her hands were steady, but her breath hitched as she opened the tome.

Lore’s shoulders slumped. Blank. She quickly thumbed through the pages—empty.

All of them, empty.

Within a breath, the room around her melted away, and she found herself kneeling on the hard marble floor of the library. Her head felt cloudy and as if it wasn’t attached to her body. She inhaled deeply, pulling in the regular dusty library air, but couldn’t quite manage to catch her breath.

Gone was the tea set, the plush carpet, and the tapestries, and yet, her hands gripped the book so hard her brown knuckles were almost white.

She felt an odd sense of relief that the book hadn’t disappeared with the rest of the illusion because the book was proof that the room had been real enough, an illusion cast by some advanced magical spell, yes, but it was not a delusion.

With shaking hands, Lore tucked the tome behind a stack of books detailing the flora and fauna of Alytheria. She would be back for it later. For now, she needed to get out of this library, get her bearings, and catch her breath.

She knew she should call to the boys and have them send for the steward at once. That this was probably one of the books they were looking for. But Lore couldn’t make herself do it. Whatever had just transpired had been for her, and her alone. She would think about it before turning the tome over to the steward or Lord Syrelle.

If she waited a day or two they would be none the wiser.

She just needed to take a break from the library. To eat and process whatever had just happened. Then she could decide what to do.

***

Though Lore’s head was still cloudy, and her hands still had a slight tremor from the events in the library, she had to hide her grin when Asher placed his plate across from her in the dining hall and sat. She had eaten alone since arriving; no fae had sat with her, and she’d had enough of this forced isolation.

Back home, the only time Lore spent alone was during the quiet mornings at the apothecary, when she made her tinctures or potted her salves—especially when she potted her salves. No amount of rosemary was going to hide the smell of most of them.

She was used to either being out with Grey, Aunty Eshe in the shop, or any number of kids at the shelter. Now, she was spending all her time alone, trapped in her room or sorting books. She couldn’t have traded her coin for a smile from these people. Save Asher, who’d smiled at her last night in the garden.

That seemed like a dream. Had she imagined it, along with the voices saying her name in the library? No, because here he was, plopping down in front of her like they were old friends.

Though he wasn’t smiling today. He ran his hand through his hair, tapping one antler three times with his index finger. With a slight thrill in her stomach, she noticed his bottom lip was doing the pouty thing.

Was it as soft as it looked?

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