Page 8 of Lore of the Tides

Syrelle raised an eyebrow. “Why should I? You’ve been told enough times not to threaten Lore with violence.”

Coretha sputtered momentarily. “What? I didn’t! It was her friend that I—”

“How Lore reacts to that is her own prerogative. You should have grasped that hurting Finndryl was not a part of my plan.” Syrelle examined his cuticles before leveling a cold stare at his cousin. “My plan.Not yours. You were sent here to watch, not to interfere.”

Hurting Finn was not in Syrelle’s plans. Neither was hurting her. Lore had to wonder, why then, had he brought Finndryl along?

“I can’t believe this. I’ll be writing a letter to the king, alerting him that you let her threaten me!”

“Please do, so Lore and I can get back to work. Dawn is approaching.”

Coretha screeched momentarily before she left through the door, slamming it behind her.

Petty imp.

* * *

Thadrik, Syrelle’s appointed second-in-command, replaced Coretha the moment she departed. He took up his usual position behind Lore–his unwavering gaze upon her back sent chills of unease.

“Lore, please place the grimoire on the table so we can continue.”

Her fingers, which trembled from Coretha’s threats, clenched tighter around the binding. This was the first time she’d heldDeeping Lunesince she’d awoken on the ship. The warmth it exuded, the power in her chest, her belly, filling her entire body—it thrilled. Every muscle screamed at her that she should not be the one required to relinquish it. A wild thought flashed through her mind.What if she didn’t need to keep up this ruse anymore?What if this was her chance to fight back? To rescue Finndryl? She could locate the other grimoire on her own. Eventually.

“Lore,” Syrelle growled, “do not force me to useSourceon you. Whatever you are thinking, it won’t work.”

Lore detested that he was right.

Loathed that Syrelle seemed to have an endless well ofSource—that she was not yet strong enough to defeat him. Another reason why she neededAuroradel. Another reason why she had to find it first.

Using his resources was the best way to make that happen.

Her defiance deflated. She placed the grimoire on the table and sat back down in the chair.

“Thank you. Now, back to work, dawn is approaching,” Syrelle said as he took his seat across from her.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt Finndryl,” Lore whispered. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt because she’d been stupid enough to get herself into this predicament. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt, period.

“You have my word.”

His word amounted to shit. But she would have to believe him for now, or she would go mad.

Lore bit her lip, something gnawing at her from the conversation before she’d blown up. “What in gods’ name is a ‘Takuma’?”

Syrelle rubbed his eyes in a frustrated motion. “If I appease your curiosity, will you scry without any more delay?”

She nodded.

“Takuma is a mythical sea beast. It’s said to be larger than the span of three ships but more cunning than a sea snake.”

“And this ‘Dread Abyss’ business?” Lore pointed below them, toward the water, the ocean. “This is where it dwells?”

Syrelle’s lips thinned even as he avoided looking at her. He didn’t like to look at her, she’d noticed. Whereas Asher had always sought out her face... for understanding, to make sure she was all right, or just to share a secret, intimate glance.

The male before her hadn’t properly looked at her since that first interaction on the ship. Was he ashamed of his betrayal? Or was the change because he’d ceased pretending to care for her? She wished he would look at her properly, if only to feel the fury in her gaze.

“Don’t fret about the moniker. Our ships have crossed the Dread Abyss many times before, and only the most sea-addled sailors admit to seeing anything even resembling the beast. It is widely known that Takuma is simply a legend.” He waved his hand through the air in a dismissive manner. “Scholars chalk it up to too much booze, lack of citrus, mold growing in their food storage, or the like.” He pushed the bowl toward her, his movements agitated, and some of the water spilled over the shallow lip of the bowl to puddle on his desk. “Now, quit worrying about mythical sea monsters and focus.”

Lore placed her hands beside the spill, ignoring the bowl of water, continuing to study Syrelle. She could tell that her gaze made him feel uncomfortable. She liked that. He deserved to feel uncomfortable for the rest of his days.

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