Page 116 of Lore of the Tides

He’d come for her grimoires.

“Hello, Mouse,” he murmured. “I see you’ve survived the Golden Cascades.”

“How did you—”

“Did you think I would not be watching over you?”

“I don’t understand. You said you were going home.”

“Home?” His face twisted on the word, like it had a bitter tang to it. “No, I didn’t go ‘home.’ I’ve been in Ma Serach. If I had shown myself before now, I would only have served as a distraction. The only way you would succeed in findingAuroradelunscathed was if I held to the shadows.”

He stepped closer to where she sat frozen on the bench. She felt like a mouse, indeed, too scared to run and hide when faced with a lion about to pounce.

The salted breeze picked up and swirled her curls. Lore pushed them back from her face.

Syrelle’s nostrils flared. He sniffed the air, and his face shuttered. His eyes widened, and then... they darkened. His lips spread into a grimace.

“You smell likehim.” His voice was a growl. Lore flinched back from the fury emanating from his eyes.

She raised her chin in defiance. “As I should. I woke up beside him this morning.”

Syrelle’s hands, which had clenched into fists at his sides, relaxed, and his expression went cold. “I see.”

His words had a bitter sting to them that Lore rejected on principle. She threw up her hands in exasperation. “What did you expect? That I would forgive you? Even now, another lie, as you continue to make decisions for me, manipulate me, keep me in the godsdamned dark. Even now, you are here to take from me.” She gripped her satchel as if that would stop him from cutting her belt and taking the books from her. Or using his magic to freeze her in place once more, his deft fingers unlatching her belt and taking the books as unhurried as he wished.

Syrelle followed the movement of her hands and, for the first time since he’d surprised her with his presence, his gaze dropped tothe satchel on her belt holding the two grimoires. He barked out a hollow laugh.

Lore shivered at the sound. There was somethingoffabout it.

“Here to take from you? These grimoires that are my birthright?” He narrowed his eyes at her; his voice dropped low, thick with emotion that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “If you had let me, I would have been the salvation of your people and mine.”

What? If she hadlethim? Why was he pretending that this conflict between them was in the past? Maybe he felt so close to having what he wanted that itwasover for him. Her mouth screwed up in confusion. Why was he pretending he’d been here the whole time?

If he had known she’d foundAuroradel, he would have cut her off the first chance he’d gotten and taken the book for himself.

He’d been clear that that was his plan—she would lead him to the grimoire, and he would bond it to him, harnessing that power. He would use it to overthrow his uncle. Crown himself king. Then he would fix the fertility problem of the Alytherian fae while slapping a useless bandage on the hindrance that was Lore’s entire community. Her entire world.

So, was him being in Ma Serach all along the lie? She wanted to scream in frustration.

Syrelle was playing a new kind of ruse, or game, and Lore couldn’t parse the rules. She shook her head, feeling irrational.

“You are mistaken. They could not be your birthright, because you calledAuroradelandDeeping Lune, and they denied you. Theychoseme.”

A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “Yes. They chose you. And you chose him.” Syrelle ripped his gaze from hers and looked out at the sea, running his hand across his short hair.

“His scent is twined with yours, as if...” His voice faltered for a moment. He swallowed. “...as if you are one being.”

Lore had failed to best him. Again and again she failed. Despite her tries, Syrelle... he had always been stronger than her. Morecunning. He’d held power over her since the beginning. Always putting his wants above hers. And yet, she could see that despite him baffling her now, he was hurt by Finndryl’s scent being tied to her own.

Truly hurt.

She was furious with him for pushing his feelings on her. She could not have chosen him after what he’d done.

She ignored his confusing words and focused on the one thing she could control when it came to him. And, yes, at this moment, she relished his pain, and she wanted to hurt him more. “Yes, I chose him. Ichoosehim.” She spat the words, wielding them like poison-coated daggers. She wanted them to cut him, peel away his confidence. “The choice was easy, as you wereneveran option.” She huffed a laugh, checking her nails. “You’ve turned bitter, Syrelle, and I’ve just gotten better.”

He flinched away from her as if her words had indeed harmed him.

“Easy?” A hollow, humorless laugh of his own cleaved free from his chest. “You claim that there was ‘never a choice,’ but you loved me once.” His gaze swept away from hers, over the wharf, but his look was distant. He wasn’t truly seeing the commotion of the port. “Just know, I wouldn’t have made you choose.” When his gaze landed back on her, hurt and fury and something else—something Lore refused to acknowledge—churned in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have made you choose. If you had wanted, you could have had us both.”

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