The Lake Lady and the Dream Stalker

CHAPTER 9

T he return to the castle feels strangely somber, like a death march. It’s hard to be cheerful when you defy a ruthlessly cruel king, then trot back to his castle to tell him what you’ve done. If we’re going into battle, I do hope it will be more metaphorical than literal, though given the number of soldiers Auberon keeps around at all times, who knows.

Shivering, I ride with Talan on his horse. The cold wind nips at the bare skin of my thighs through the slits in the fabric. At least part of me is warm—Talan’s cloak is draped around me, the wool carrying his smoky, slightly spiced scent. He holds me firmly against him with one arm, his grip secure around my waist. His steely chest presses against my spine, warming me as we ride.

I glance behind us at Griflet on Clover. The cleric looks downright miserable. Now that the exhilarating effects of the bisen-root have worn off, it’s clear he regrets this plan. Nivene rides beside him, her brow furrowed. Her gaze flits to me, but whether she’s truly worried or simply playing a part, I can’t tell.