Page 139 of Lore of the Tides

Syrelle had brought her to the library. He’d hidden them in a stack near the back, one that she had spent days putting to rights. Every tome was in its place, as she’d left it. Each shelf still wiped clean, free from dust or debris. The spines of the books on the shelf behind him had been some of her favorites. Almost all decoratively, artfully designed and ornamented with gold leaf, the lettering of each title rendered with strokes of pigmented paint. Designs had been pressed into the vellum along the bottom of each spine. A collectionof toadstools on one, an ornate key on another, a silly frog holding a teacup on a third. Each spine had a different impression to represent one of the stories within.

A collection of children’s tales made by a loving hand for a child who must have been very cherished.

As all children should be.

Her hands had placed them on the shelf, rendering order where there had been none. This, once, had been a joy, to spend her days among these books. Lonely, these books had seemed like friends to her, with their occasional murmurs and vibrations.

Or what she’d thought had been loneliness back then.

She wished, almost, that she could put her thoughts to rights, organize them like she had these books. Each memory could be a story with a rightful place upon the shelf of her life. She reached out a hand toward one of the books before lowering it back into her lap. There was a reason her mind was hesitant to remember. It was protecting her from something.

Someone? No, something. A monster.

Pain lanced through her chest, and she pulled in a ragged breath that rattled in her lungs. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to remember.

“Please just leave me be... I can’t... do this... anymore.” Lore was sobbing, and Syrelle pulled her into his arms. She folded in her legs, wrapped her hands in his shirt, leaned into him, and wept. He enveloped her, holding her to him.

“I know it’s hard, but there are people whoneedyou. Finndryl and...”

“Don’t say his name!” Lore heaved in between sobs. “Don’t say any of their names; I can’t bear it.” She pressed her face harder into his chest. His arms tightened around her.

She thought that if he let her go, the fragile seams stitching her together would tear, and she would fall to pieces like rotted fabric. “I can’t bear this, Syrelle, I need it to stop.”

“I know he hurt you so badly that you think that his visions are your reality; I’ve been there. It took me years, learning to discern between his will and what was real. Whatever he showed you, it wasn’t real. There is still hope.”

“What doyouknow of hope?” she asked, her mouth filled with bitter regrets.

All Syrelle did was lie. He was still lying to her, even now.

She wanted to shove him away, but her body rebelled, and she clung to him and his beautiful lies as though he were a life raft.

Syrelle shifted her a little so that he could place a hand beneath her chin. He peeled her face from his shirt and lifted her chin until she was blinking at him through tears. “I knew not of hope, until I met you, Mouse. Youarehope. All our hopes reside within you.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “And right now, the others don’t know where you are or what has happened to you. But I trust the knowledge you are coming to save them is keeping them alive.” Syrelle swallowed, and Lore tracked a tear as it spilled over and slid down his cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away, choosing instead to search her eyes, to push through, even if his voice was thick with emotion and threatened to break. “Even now, youburnwith hope. They tried to take it from you, but I can see it kindled within you. Let it burn, Lore.”

“Hope for what?” Lore wiped at her eyes. She’d been full of false hope before. But there was only darkness within her now. It whispered at her to give up. She wasn’t enough. He was lying. He was lying to her again. She couldn’t trust him. He couldn’t be trusted.

“We have one bell to get to the woods. By tonight there won’t be any of them left, but as of right now, they are alive, and they are waiting foryou.”

Lore shook her head. “I can’t protect them against the monster. I tried, I’m not—”

“He outwitted you. He learned that you had magic, and heturned his throne room into a trap, so he was the only being who could wield it within those walls.”

Lore’s mind still shied away from memories of that room. She tasted bile in her throat; her eyes shuddered. “He’s too powerful. I am nothing, he is—”

“You. Are. Everything! He is nothing! Hehasnothing. He has no one. You have family waiting for you. So let’s go.” Syrelle pulled her up to a standing position. She felt weak, exhausted to her bones.

“They are alive?”

“Yes. Arelas, the king’s commander, fucked it all up. He was supposed to bring your corpse to them, break their spirits. But your little Ember got there first. She shifted into a godsdamned griffin, caused a disruption; Arelas had to join his troops before he got the chance. By the time he got out there, the humans had fled to the woods, where Finndryl and Isla put up a spell around them, but they can’t hold it forever.”

“Isla... I cleansed the curse from her. This morning.”

“Good. You remember. You did well. She is a natural. She and Finn singlehandedly defeated the troops outside the gate.”

“How do you...”

“Ember found me, with a note explaining all of it attached to her fur. She led me to you too.”

“Where is she?”

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