Page 115 of Lore of the Tides

Lore scanned the seaport, letting the salty desert air calm her nerves. Finndryl had secured passage on a ship for the three of them. Another bell remained until boarding. TheConstellation Weaver—the colossal vessel before her—the one adorned with star-studded sails and gargoyles so realistic Lore wondered for a moment if her unease came from their stone-eyed stares.

It wouldn’t be long before Finn and Lore would be in their private cabin. Hazen had requested his own. Camping with them the last week had been enough for him, apparently. She didn’t blame him. One more bell and they could board. Then, two weeks of travel. Two weeks and they would be on the same continent as Grey and Eshe and Milo.

No, Lore knew it wasn’t the gargoyles giving her nerves. She was filled with trepidation because soon she would be home, and she had no idea what awaited her. She had no idea what state Duskmere was in. Was everyone safe? Duskmere was still clouded in an impregnable fog, and even withAuroradel, when she’d tried scrying that morning in the washbasin at the inn, Lore could not break through the spell. She prayed that everyone was safe. That the king had not retaliated against them.

Of course, if everything went according to plan, in a month’s time, Duskmere would be long behind them. Duskmere would be nothing more than a bad memory—a nightmarish tale the children of today could one day spin to their grandchildren.

Two weeks and Lore would be there with the power of not just the moon but the sun itself. She would ignite the humans’ fury, defeat the King of Alytheria, and together the humans would make a bright future.

One more bell. Two more weeks.

One more bell... two more weeks.

Why, then, did she feel as though everything would go wrong? If not bandits on the wharf, then a faction of pirates could appear out of the blue and attempt to take them. She’d heard stories of slave traders capturing entire ships and selling them to the lands in the west, where flesh was still bought and paid for.

Maybe a goddess would decree Lore’s plans too lofty for a human and descend from the heavens just to smite Lore where she sat on this very bench waiting for Finn and Hazen to return from the harbormaster’s office.

Lore checked the sky. No enraged goddesses to be seen. Just circling gulls. And it appeared that there was about... three-quarters of a bell left to boarding. Already the wharf had quieted a bit as the fishermen sailed their boats out to sea, off to catch a day’s worth of fish.

A travel barge was heading out. It had the same look as the one they had arrived here on. Lore shuddered at the thought. TheConstellation Weaverwould be much better—no cramped quarters or rats. Soon, Lore, Finndryl, and Hazen would walk up the ramp, hand over their papers, and find their cabins.

Lore couldn’t help but wish she had a coffee. With regret, it dawned on her that she’d neglected to inquire about purchasing that assassin romance from the inn’s library. Anything to help her pass the time and stop her from checking for the thousandth time that her books were there. Her bag was on the wooden deck at her feet. Nothing was missing. Everything was going according to plan.

Lore leaned forward and placed her head in her hands. Her nerves were going to flay her alive. She decided to practice Uncle Salim’s breathing exercises.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Half a bell.

And then two weeks.

That was it. Half a bell... and then two weeks.

Where were Finn and Hazen? They should be back by now. Finn was quiet in the mornings; it took him longer to wake up. Even with a cup of strongly brewed coffee or an entire pot of tea, he remained stoic. But Hazen awoke with a grin on his face, no coffee needed. The siren prince could have two bells of sleep and still arise ready to take on the day. Lore needed that kind of energy around her right now. Hazen would distract her.

Where was he?

Gnawing on her lip, she searched the crowd for a tall male withshaggy hair and swirling tattoos on his face. Or Finndryl, who would no doubt be leading the way, his long legs eating up the distance of the dock, oozing confidence, parting the travelers as water eddies around stone.

Nobody stood in his way; it just wasn’t a thing people did.

Lore didn’t even think Finn noticed he had that effect on everyone. A crowd of people, sea-hardened sailors, merchants carrying stacks of ledgers, a gaggle of high-class ladies on a shopping splurge. Everyone naturally parted for him to walk through.

And then Hazen would be at his side or, more likely, slightly behind Finn because he’d gotten distracted by something—a pretty male or female who caught his gaze, a shiny necklace that justhadto be added to his growing collection of jewelry. He was going to have quite the hoard to show off upon his return to Lapis Deep. Screw finding a small painting of each location during his travels to bring home; he would possess a piece of jewelry from every city.

Lore’s gaze skimmed over countless faces. She liked this port city. There was every type of being here. Big, small. Light fae, dark fae, water sprite, siren, tree nymph, orc, everyone living, working, and traveling in peace.

One day, if the humans chose to leave their new home, some might choose to live here.

She continued to scan the dock, when something caught her eye. Not something—someone. Lore froze as dread filled her belly and her heart leaped into her throat.

Fight or flight.

Flee, and maybe he wouldn’t catch her.

Freeze, and maybe he wouldn’t see her.

But of course Syrelle had already seen her, and within a breath, he was looming above her, his gaze a heavy weight.

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