The Lake Lady and the Dream Stalker

CHAPTER 5

I nside, the cottage is enchanting and cozy. A fire burns in the hearth, casting golden light over rustic wooden chairs. Books line every wall, their gold-lettered spines labeled with titles like Songs of the Hawthorn Kings and Spirits of the Yews . I suspect they’re mostly religious texts.

As Griflet makes us nettle tea, his movements seem stumbling, nervous, and the clatter of porcelain fills the quiet. We sit on an upholstered bench by the fireplace, and I breathe in the sweet, nutty scent of the burning chestnut wood. Embers drift from the crackling flames.

“Right, then.” Griflet hands us each a hot, steaming mug of tea. “A royal wedding. Customarily, the gods demand a sacrifice of a dozen wild boars and the release of five hundred white pigeons. I don’t have any of those on hand.” He drops down into a wooden chair across from us. Next to him stands a rough-hewn table strewn with papers.