Page 7 of Lore of the Wilds

She turned back to Grey, covering his hand with her own. “I’m fine,” she said. But then she corrected herself—she never did like to lie to him. “I’llbefine. Head back home, Grey. After the kids are taken care of, I’ll try to come by to check in on your place.”

Grey nodded and stood, attempting and failing to brush the dust from his pants. It would take multiple washings before his trousers looked clean again. He gave her one last worried smile before he picked his way carefully through the cracked courtyard and slipped into the dawning night.

It took hours to clear the debris from the main dormitory. The six oldest kids were set to shaking out the bedding, sweeping, minding the younger children, or scrounging up food and water from the one still-intact well.

It was while she was settling the kids in with some bread and cheese that the outside sounds of a village on fire quieted. But although the last of the fires had been extinguished, the night skywas darkened further by the billowing smoke, pitching them into a nightmarish haze.

She finished feeding the kids, cleaned them of dust, dressed them in fresh clothes, and got them to sleep on their shared mats, clutching each other. She knew she couldn’t risk navigating the streets at night given all the debris that likely still filled them, so she would go to Grey’s first thing in the morning.

Lore counted the sleeping little ones before realizing that Milo was missing. She turned quickly, eyes searching the dormitory, and smiled. He was curled up on the pallet she’d scavenged and put in the corner for herself.

She slid beneath the blanket beside the small boy. He was sleeping so peacefully that Lore could almost forget this day had been a waking nightmare. As she lay down, exhaustion took over, and she was asleep before her head touched the mat.

***

As usual, Lore woke up before the sun with a weight on her chest and lead in her stomach. Her head pounded, signaling a migraine. She massaged her jaw, trying to ease the tension there, and blinked until the tears dried in her eyes.

Another dream about her parents.

She extracted herself from Milo’s octopus grip and looked out one of the broken windows at the town. A small part of her had hoped that she would find that the day before had been a nightmare.

It wasn’t.

By the time she was ready to face the devastation, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. It illuminated the vineyard, highlighting entire rows of trees that had been uprooted, flooded, and lost to the jagged cracks that spread across the field. Beyond that, where the edge of the town center used to stand, were manymissing buildings. It was as if they’d once been drawn with a stylus and then erased by a careless rag, leaving scattered remnants across the ground.

She placed her rock into the pocket of her dress before sneaking out so she didn’t disturb the sleeping kids. She wanted to check in with her aunt and uncle before heading to Grey’s place. After checking Eshe’s office—which was also in ruins—and the kitchen, which was mostly intact, thank the goddess, she went to the courtyard.

She stopped short. Two fae wearing the black and gold uniforms of the Wyndlin Castle guard and the realm to the south of their town were in the courtyard.

She crept across the cracked earth, skirting around a fallen tree. Aunty Eshe was nowhere to be found, nor was Uncle Salim. The children would wake up soon, and she needed to make sure none of them crossed paths with the two guards—one tall, with a sword on his hip, and the other short, with a bow and arrows.

She stepped toward the guards hesitantly. “Are you lost?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” the taller guard snarled.

Lore took an involuntary step backward.

The taller guard didn’t bother reaching for the sword sheathed at his hip. He didn’t need any weapon other than himself to split her from navel to neck. Instead, he reached out a taloned finger and raked it through her curls. The feeling of his hand made her shudder, and the guard smirked at this, revealing sharp teeth. He all but purred with satisfaction at her display of fear.

And she was, truly, terrified. She abruptly realized that despite the disgust the fae the afternoon before had treated her with, they had been civil.

These guards would not extend the same courtesy.

Suddenly the guard barked a laugh, wound his hand farther into her hair, and yanked hard, tossing her to the ground.

Lore didn’t give them the satisfaction of crying out, though her body screamed in pain as she collided with the stone. Stunned, she leaned back on her hands and stared up at them.

“Don’t you kneel when speaking to your superiors, human?” the shorter one crooned.

Her heart was in her throat, pounding with fear and choking her up. But she wouldn’t,couldn’tbring herself to bow. She struggled to her feet.

Their smiles grew. After all, what fun was prey that gave up so easily?

“How may I be of service?” she managed.

“We have come to escort the owner of the apothecary to Wyndlin Castle. Bring her to us,” the tall one said, dark eyes flashing dangerously.

Lore almost choked on air. Escort? As in leave? As in walk past the tree line?

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