Page 14 of Lore of the Tides

Cook was wasted in the galley of her enemies’ ship; the flaky, buttery pastry of the tart had the perfect amount of dragonberry jam baked into it. The tiny, jewellike berries tended to be too sweet, but Lore could taste lemon juice, which added the perfect balance. The tart was dusted with lemon zest and sugar so soft it puffed like powdered snow.

Lore only wished she had an appetite.

She downed the coffee as she entered Syrelle’s quarters and dropped the tart, unfinished, into the rubbish bin.

Syrelle’s office was bright today. The moon had been slowly waxing, and now, it swelled in the sky, full and brilliant, casting itslight into the room with pride. Lore’s magic was strongest when the moon was full. Syrelle knew that. His face wore that apathetic mask she’d come to hate, but the impatient tap of his polished boot showed that he was eager to put that strength to the test.

The grimoire sat open before her.

Syrelle had removed the bandages from his fingers, the burns having healed since last night. Too bad. Maybe Lore could trick him into burning himself again. Just so he could feel a little of the pain he’d inflicted on her.

The scrying bowl sat before her with fresh water, and beside it was a portable apothecary chest filled with herbs. Anything that Lore needed to help her findAuroradel.

“Take me to Finn,” Lore said as she dropped into the chair.

“Don’t start. Not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight. Where are you keeping him?”

“As I’ve said before, he’s comfortable. In a room just as nice as yours.”

“He’s well-fed and healthy enough to have put one of my guards in the infirmary just this morning trying to leave his room to find you,” Thadrik the Despicable volunteered from his usual position behind Lore.

“Hush,” Syrelle snapped at Thadrik. His mask faltered, and he grimaced, clearly not liking that his second had given something away.

Had he? Given something away?

Doubt clouded Lore’s mind. She questioned everything now. She couldn’t help but worry that she’d imagined it all with Finndryl too.

These dark thoughts that had swirled within her since Asher’s betrayal were inescapable.

But Thadrik had said that Finndryl was fighting to see her. Relief glazed her trepidations. This was proof that she hadn’t imagined it. He cared for her. Just because she had been hurt didn’t mean that Finndryl would hurt her too.

She wouldn’t let Syrelle’s darkness taint her friendship with Finn...

“This won’t do. We are running out of time, Lore.” Syrelle was annoyed.

“You say that like there is awe. There is no longer aweor anus.” She relented for now. “Pass me the bowl.”

Syrelle’s eyes flicked away from the point on the wall he preferred to stare at when he spoke to her, and begrudgingly met her own. Lore had to withhold a gasp. He hadn’t properly looked at her since that first day on the ship, and now, in the light of the full moon, she realized why.

His eyes were the same as Asher’s.

Looking at them, within them, she could almost believe that it was Asher peering back at her right now.

Doubt once again filled her mind, her heart.

Was Syrelle’s apathetic mask the lie?

Was he pretending to be aloof and uncaring for the sake of Coretha, the spy? His deal with the king? She imagined that Syrelle would have been endangered by the king because of his feelings for her. For what had bloomed between them over the months they’d spent with each other.

But even if that was the case, even if knowledge of their bond, the depth to it, had been discovered and the king threatened Syrelle with death for caring for a human, that was no excuse.

He shouldneverhave kissed her.

Never pretended to be there for her if he was going to turn on her all along. Lock her in a prison—more lovely than the one she’d grown up in—but a prison all the same.

Even if... she reminded herself... even if his feelings for her had grown despite his true nature...

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