Page 25 of Lore of the Tides

A new thought occurred to Lore. “Ma Serach Empire. Will they just let you, an outsider, scour their lands for the grimoire?”

“My uncle has made it clearno oneoutside of his closest advisors are to know what we search for. If we are questioned, we will tell them that we are on a leisure trip. Coretha has visited Ma Serach many times before... many Alytherians travel there. Coretha actually spent some of her childhood as a ward of the empress—that’s another reason why she’s come along. Though herunfortunate presence is little more than a thinly veiled cover, and she’s truly just here to be the eyes and ears of the king.”

Lore’s frown deepened. She’d seen Ma Serach on the maps. It was a vast empire, five times the size of Alytheria. “What happens if the empire discovers it isn’t a leisure trip and that you are plotting to remove an impossibly powerful magical object fromtheirlands? One that they would surely want for themselves?”

Syrelle shrugged, as if this had occurred to him but did not worry him. “The empress would go to war with Alytheria before she let an artifact as powerful asAuroradelleave her shores. Nobody knows it’s even on that continent outside of my family. And if it had come into her possession, she would have boasted to the world about her new weapon. It would secure her empire’s protection from any and everyone who would ever consider invading her.”

“Well, Creepy Thadrik knows about it.”

Syrelle laughed. “Technically, he is family—he’s a second cousin of mine.”

“I see. So, being a scummy person runs in your family, then?”

“I like to think that I am set apart from them. Though, from your perspective, I can see how my lies would make it seem like I fit right in.”

“From my perspective, you’re worse than all of them.” All of them save Coretha and Syrelle’s uncle, the king. And perhaps his grandfather who had chosen to ban everyone from a library for a thousand years because he didn’t want anyone to find his book. Which he could have hidden anywhere! But she wouldn’t give him the grace of saying that to his face.

All humor dropped from his expression as his eyes flicked to Thadrik, who snored softly in the corner. His voice dipped low. “It pains me that you feel that way. You wouldn’t if you knew the truth.”

The words pierced Lore’s heart, but she refused to show weakness. “How else am I supposed to feel?” she retorted, her voice barelya whisper. “Your single apology when I woke up was supposed to be enough? I was supposed to... what? Just absolve you of your deceptions? Of all the lies, the memories that are now tainted forever?” She swallowed, the bitterness rising in her throat. “You broke my fucking heart, and now I question everything...everything.”

She shrugged off her emotions and pushed them down until all she felt was numbness toward him. “Besides,” she said, her voice hollow, “you seem to be allergic to the truth.”

Syrelle’s gaze locked onto hers, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a wave of shivers up her spine. “One day, Lore,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, “I will lay myself bare before you. I will reveal every harsh truth, every revolting action I’ve been forced to take to mend the destruction my great-uncle’s unnaturally long reign has wrought upon Alytheria. You will understand that my hands have been tied, bound by duty.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if steeling himself against the weight of his words. When he opened them again, his midnight-black irises seemed to pierce her soul. “And you will see,” he uttered, “that when it comes to you, I am engulfed in a constant battle to stay the course, to continue what I have worked toward for adecade.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “When it comes to you, Lore, I am utterly lost.”

Lore opened her mouth to respond, though she had no idea what she would,couldsay to that admission, but Syrelle straightened his posture and broke away, molding his face into that apathetic mask as though he were putty. Cutting the tension between them as if with a sword, he stood up from his desk and walked toward the hearth, the broad expanse of his back to her. He placed a hand on the mantel and spoke, his voice smooth, unbothered, as though they hadn’t just had maybe the first substantial conversation sincebefore.

“It grows late. That is enough for now; I’ll ring for Cecil.”

Lore said nothing as they waited for Cecil to arrive. She chewed on her lip, her thoughts churning through her mind too fast to keep hold of one for long.

Finally, the guard arrived, and Lore scrambled out of her chair. Her footsteps were hurried as she raced toward the door. She didn’t think it possible, but she actually longed for the seclusion of her room.

Just before she cleared Syrelle’s quarters to the safety of the hallway, he spoke up. “I’m glad that you are no longer fighting me. It’s nice to be on the same team once more. It will only lead us to our prize that much sooner.”

Lore hesitated, looking over her shoulder at this stranger, where he stood by the fireplace, oranges and reds flickering across his face.

This was good. She gave a soft smile.

How wrong he was to think that she was on his team, that he had fooled her into siding with him. If anything, she was more determined than ever to take command ofAuroradelbefore him.

She would take everything from him.She would be his utter ruination. And then, she would set his entire beloved kingdom on fire.

Chapter 8

Lore had been asleep only a few hours when a knock came at the door.

She was surprised that the knock had come so early; midday meal usually arrived at dusk, so she had time to eat before the nightly meeting with Syrelle.

She opened the door, her jaw dropping momentarily. It was not Cecil on the other side holding a tray of food, but Syrelle himself.

The male wore a sienna-colored, tight-fitting linen shirt, the collar buttoned up to his throat. His sleeves were cuffed on his shapely forearms, the tight fabric showing off his biceps. Black, formfitting breeches hugged his muscled legs and were decorated with a stenciled brown belt, two short swords slung low on either hip. His brown boots had gleaming golden buckles. Syrelle’s wings were on display today, and the feathers cresting the tips of each brushed against the ceiling of the corridor.

Held beneath one muscular arm was a large box the color of lilacs.

“Oh. It’s you.” Lore craned her neck, looking around the hallway, even though she could clearly see that he was alone. Odd. She thought they were forbidden to be alone. “Are you to escort me to your office? We have hours yet until darkness.”

“We are trying something different today. I’ve brought you new garments; please dress quickly.”

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