Page 110 of Lore of the Tides

She gazed upon what was left of Matleus. Power thrummed within her, she vibrated with it. “My friends are on the other side of that door and I will go to them.” Nothing would stand in her way now. She would blast a hole through the Golden Cascades if she had to. She flexed her fingers, feeling a jolt ofSourcehot and waiting beneath the surface of her skin. It was antsy. Ready to be wielded. “I would love to leave here with your blessing.”

Matleus closed his eyes, a small smile playing on what was left of his lips. “You have it, then, child. Take my blessing. I shall rest now.”

The door behind her slid open, and Lore could hear shouts from Finndryl and Hazen as they tried to get past the reverie.

“Rest, Matleus. And know that your creations will help restore balance.”

A beam of moonlight pierced the ceiling, encasing the ancient alchemist in a radiant circle. From this circle, a faery ring of luminous mushrooms and moonflowers bloomed. The alchemist’s form shimmered, dissolving into a flurry of moon moths that filled the cavern. Lore laughed, twirling with outstretched arms to marvel at the delicate white-and-green moths flickering like candlelight.

Lore stilled a moment amid the fluttering wingbeats to thank Matleus for allowing her to gain the knowledge and power she needed.

She had done it.

Now she could free her people, and no one, not even a king, could stand in her way.

Chapter 36

AuroradelandDeeping Luneworked as a compass, a guiding hand, a friend whispering in Lore’s ear to lead them out of the cave system. But without Finndryl and Hazen, Lore would have been doomed to wander the desert forever.

The days blurred into a whirlwind of parchment and arcane symbols. She barely spared a moment for chatter with her companions, her focus consumed by the two grimoires she carried. Every possible second, whether resting beneath the scorching desert sun, shuffling through dunes, avoiding snakes, or huddling around a meager campfire, was dedicated to deciphering their secrets. The endless sands shifted around her, but Lore’s mind remained fixed on the mysticism and spellcraft hidden within those ancient tomes—which, now that she possessed both, appeared infinite.

When finally the trio stumbled out of the desert, caked in sand and dust, Lore almost cried when they arrived back in Jamal and checked into the inn.

Joya was the one to book them this time. She was disappointed to see that Pytheah was not with them but was relieved to hear that they had not encountered any deadly dragons. After coin was exchanged, Joya led them to their rooms—Lore was delighted to see the steaming copper tub. On a small table sat tiny vials filled withsoaps and oils and even—Lore squealed—lotion! She peeled the clothes from her body, stiff with salt, cave grime, caked mud, and sand; piled her clothes into a cloth sack with a stitched patch labeledto be laundered; and placed the sack outside her door.

Lore lay a fluffy towel across the arm of a chair and sank into the tub. The hot water immediately evaporated all the tension that she carried like a talisman on her shoulders. She dipped below the water and scrubbed her scalp.

She had to wash her hair twice before the stubborn grime was completely gone. She emptied one of the small vials of hair cream and began the process of removing knots and tangles until her coils bounced and gleamed.

When Lore was done, she rang Joya and paid extra for her to remove the embarrassingly gray and grimy water and refill the tub with fresh water that coiled peppermint-scented steam into the room.

The muscles in her arms aching from the simple act of detangling her hair, she laid her head against the copper tub and closed her eyes. Lore soaked in the new clean water until her fingers pruned and the water grew tepid.

If she was ever back in Jamal seaport, she would refuse to stay anywhere else but here.

When she finished her bath, a small copper bucket filled with fresh hot water was waiting by the fire. She rinsed off with that and rang for Joya to come and remove the water once more.

By the time that was done, she had wrapped herself in a robe and crawled into the cushioned bed. She was just about to doze off when a knock came at the door.

Lore opened the door a crack and peeked out. Finndryl was standing in the hall, freshly bathed, holding two glasses and a bottle of wine. He was wearing a cloth shirt and soft sleeping pants that tapered at his ankles. How did he look this good innightclothes?

“I thought you might like a glass of wine before bed.” Finndryl usually oozed confidence, but now he lookedalmostnervous. He couldn’t really be worried that Lore would ever turn him away, could he?

“I’m not dressed.” Lore squeezed the panels of her robe tighter together.

Finndryl’s eyes glinted with heat as they trailed over what he could see of her robe. Was he imagining what was beneath it? “I will never complain about your state of undress. But I can come back if you want to—”

“No, no need! Come in. I would love some wine.” She held the door open for him to pass through, closed it, and locked it behind him.

Lore sat down on the bed as Finndryl opened the bottle with a wine key he procured from a pocket and poured the wine into the glasses.

“When did you get the wine?”

“Svalja has a small shop downstairs for patrons; there was... an overwhelming selection of wine on the shelves.” He sank down beside her on the bed. “Remind me to return the wine key when we check out. They charge if it’s not returned, and the fine is at least six times more than one of these would normally cost.”

“Svalja knows how to run an inn. I imagine wine keys went missing quite a lot before she made that rule—oh gods, this is yummy.” The wine had hints of sugared black cherries with dark-chocolate undertones.

“Mmm,” he intoned. “Dangerously good. I wish there was a way to serve this at the Dragon’s Exile—people would go wild for it.”

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