Page 124 of Lore of the Tides

Katu and Lex were sent to fetch the village elders and others with sway within the community.

The adults and older teens, who no longer had the privilege of childhood, gathered in the family room by the hearth. The fire wasn’t lit, and despite the growing number of bodies and people filing in from all over the village, Lore’s breath bloomed from her lips like a ghost of her past mocking her. She just didn’t know if this ghost was her former self, or ifshewas the ghost, an echo of the girl she’d been when all she’d ever known was this place.

She eyed the stack of firewood in the corner, which should be piled higher, even this late in winter, but had dwindled to only a few skinny logs and stacks of twigs. Finding firewood had always been a problem. Forbidden from hunting or gathering in the forest proper, fresh meat and firewood were precious, but therewerea few groves within Duskmere, and so the people had always had just enough to burn. Cookfires and heat in the winter had been one of the few things they hadn’t had to go without.

But Lore could see that this, as well, had changed.

Uncle Salim, who, like an old owl whose large, intelligent eyes saw everything, noticed her eyeing the meager stack of sticks that would be devoured by the fire too quickly to provide lasting warmth. “They burned Dorren Grove and Ndulu’s Thicket on the day they salted our land and withdrew their sentries. We only light the fire to cook now, and as you can see, soon that won’t be enough.”

“I stopped everyone in the town from burning your books, hon. Don’t worry,” Aunty Eshe said, patting Lore’s shoulder from where she sat behind her. Lore patted her hand back, conveying how grateful she was, though in truth, she would rather they burn them than have the children shivering or without a hot meal, and leaned back into her skirts, settling in against her legs, feeling oddly like a child for a moment. She had sat just like this countless times growing up, but now she was not settling in to listen to stories during a winter storm or to listen while Aunty Eshe and Uncle Salim demonstrated skills to the children; she would have to speak.

The elders trickled in, sitting in the few chairs positioned throughout the room, and everyone else whose hair hadn’t yet begun to gray or whose body allowed it sat on cushions on the floor. Lore was glad to see the chairs stillexistedfor them to sit in and hadn’t had to be used as firewood yet. They were too old to be sitting on the floor.

And it was entirelytoocold in here.

Lore flicked her hand and muttered a word in unison with Finndryl. Lore felt Finndryl’s magic being cast beside her. They’d had the thought simultaneously, and their efforts were doubled for it as a firewhooshed in the fireplace, almost setting fire to the rug, as the others gasped around them.

His own form of power had become familiar to Lore, hisSourceunique to him, but they had never cast a spell together. Their two powers had woven together on their own, for neither of them knew that the other was going to be casting, and yet their two powers merged instantly, combining to become one.

Lore’s fingers jerked back in surprise, and she slowed her current ofSource, feeling Finn do the same with his. They played with the levels until their fire was less likely to set the place ablaze and was a sensible height.

More cozy, less...burn everyone to a crisp.

She winked at Finn, who sat on the ground beside her, his long legs pulled crisscross. The room was cramped with so many people within such a small space, and he and Hazen took up a lot of space compared to the humans. Lore had never seen Finndryl sit like this before, and for the first time since she’d met him, she could almost imagine what he was like as a child.

The room began to warm, and people sighed, shifting in their seats, relaxing their muscles. Lore was glad to bring warmth to them. Who knew how long it had been since they’d felt warm enough? This fire would burn as long as she or Finn tended to it, and it would never consume the logs in the fireplace.

She nudged Finndryl’s arm with her own, wishing she could kiss him, but kissing him... or anyone, but especially a fae male, wouldnotbe appropriate in a room that was slowly filling with elders.

While they waited for the rest of the elders and unofficial village leaders to arrive (they were forbidden by the king to elect official community leaders), someone brewed tea and passed cups out to eager hands. Though there wasn’t any cream or sugar, and coffee stores had apparently been exhausted weeks before, it was enough to gather with a hot drink clasped between their hands.

The room hummed with restrained excitement. Her return had kindled a spark of hope within her community—hope that the king had ruthlessly sought to extinguish. Though it had flickered and wavered, the embers of defiance still glowed within her people. It could never be banked.

Conversations flowed in hushed tones, punctuated by the clinking of cups, as everyone tried to avoid overtly staring at Finn, Hazen, and Lore herself. She had returned to Duskmere transformed, as foreign to them now as the fae themselves. The women and children who had been abducted and imprisoned, while their suffering was undeniable, were more familiar to the villagers than the concept of a human willingly venturing out, only to return on her own terms, accompanied by two imposing fae, and wielding newfound power.

They were uncertain of what it meant that a human could do magic.

Was she going to save them like she had their grandchildren, children, siblings, or even themselves? She recognized a few of the women sitting on the floor with her as former tower prisoners. Their eyes held a haunted look, and the famine seemed to have ravaged their bodies more than most. They were grateful, yes, but a gnawing fear lingered within them. Did Lore bring false hope—or were they doomed to watch their loved ones succumb to cold and starvation?

But, despite this, all waited patiently and refrained from bombarding Lore with questions before everyone had arrived—which Lore was thankful for, as she hadn’t the strength to repeat herself tonight.

She hadn’t slept for days, she’d used an enormous amount of power forcing an entire ship across an ocean in three days, which should have been impossible, and then she’d had to trek unseen across leagues to get from the harbor to Duskmere.

All the while worrying that she wouldn’t arrive here in time.

She knew that the only reason she was still coherent was because ofAuroradel, which even now was furnishing her with a constant stream of vitality. As far as Lore could tell, its magic was bottomless, and the more magic she drew from it, the more powerful it felt. It was as though theSourceof theAuroradelbegot moreSource. It was a never-ending well. The more she drew from it, the more it held, the deeper it descended.

This concerned Lore, as the one constant in her life was that everything had a price. Nothing came free.Deeping Lunehad been difficult for her to pull magic from at first; the spells had been complicated and out of reach, and it had avoided permitting her to discover its secrets. At first, she’d only been able to harness its power when she was terrified or stressed. And after that, with Finndryl’s help and weeks of study, she had only managed trivial spells that hadn’t worked very well and often didn’t provide the result she was after.

But this grimoire was different.

Auroradelwas eager to provide, not just to sustain her but to envelop her. Lore had been tapping into theSourceof the book since Ma Serach three and a half days ago.

If she was honest with herself, for the entire journey to Duskmere, she fretted that she wouldn’t have the strength to detach.

The well of power was filled with sweet, fresh, life-giving water, but she wondered if she could halt the flow or if the well would giveout instead. She would tumble head over foot, swallowed whole, in a bottomless well with no way out.

Lore stopped gnawing on her lip when she realized the room had quieted around her.

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