Page 4 of Lady of the Lake

“Of course he will. No one else has your skills, Jasper. And everyone knows how absolutely wicked I am. A master of manipulation and cruelty.” Talan reaches out, adjusting the collar on Jasper’s jacket. “How could anyone blame simple old helpless Jasper when he came up against the will of the Dream Stalker?”

Jasper clears his throat and forces a smile on his face. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind for the farm g—for the future princess?”

Talan shrugs. “I want Nia to have a dress finer than whatever you made for Arwenna.”

Jasper clutches his stomach and looks ill.

“Is there a problem?” Talan asks.

“No problem at all,” Jasper says. “Nia’s gown will make Arwenna’s look like peasant clothes.Peasant clothes.” His face has gone red, and he says the last two words so vigorously that they come out sounding choked.

Tilly glares at him, her expression agonized. “You said Arwenna’s dress is your best work ever, that it would be unmatched through the ages.”

Jasper waves his hand. “Nonsense. I was mistaken. Marrying a countess is boring, predictable. But this…” He clears his throat again. “This woman is covered in dirt, but what’s so bad about dirt, really? The sacred, life-giving soil of our land, blessed by the goddess, a union of the royal court and the countryside, of gold and loam. Our prince always makes the mostinterestingdecisions. You never know what he’s going to do, do you? Always one step ahead. Our prince, choose a mere countess like any other prince? That would be fucking boring. But he’s not boring, is he? Prince Talan is a god among Fey, and he has chosen someone mysterious, someone unexpected. He’s done something no other prince would do. It’s visionary, that’s what. You are a legend, Your Highness, and if I may be so bold, there aretwolegends involved in this wedding.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “I’m a legend now, am I?”

Jasper rubs his hands together, still staring at Talan. “I was talking about me, but sure, let’s say three legends. The stories will last centuries—the brilliant tailor who created a visionary work of art after enduring hours of agonizing bone-breaking torture in the dungeons. This is a challenge unlike any I’ve faced before.” His eyes dart to me. “Now, take your clothes off, and let’s get you in the bath.”

I try to mask my discomfort at this request. Despite my training, I still haven’t mastered the Fey level of comfort with nudity around others.

Time to act imperious and take control of the situation.

I flick my hair behind my shoulders. “I assure you, I am fully capable of bathing by myself. Tilly, Ranae, fetch me some of my finest white underwear, will you?”

“You can’t wear something that’s already made,” Tilly says, her words laced with coldness. “Not for a royal wedding. Did you not realize?”

My jaw tightens. “Fine. So, I don’t come from Corbinelle or the high society of the court of Auberon, but where I come from, we have our own tradition. In the farms of Lauron, a groom is never allowed to see a bride’s naked body on her wedding day. In fact, no man is. Once I’m done with my bath, Tilly can stitch my new underwear for me before I step back out into the room. Anything else would be bad luck. Terribly bad luck. These are my traditions, and this is, after all, a sacred union of gold and loam.”

Tilly rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.

I cross into the bathroom. I need a few minutes alone to think. Moonlight spills into the chamber, casting rosy beams across the stone floor. I turn the hot water tap, and steam rises from the tub, tinged with moonlight.

I pull off my mud-spattered cloak and boots and peel away my dirt-encrusted clothes, revealing the bruised body beneath the grime. I leave my discarded garments on the floor and step into the bath. The hot water reddens my skin, soothing my exhausted muscles.

After the battle and the long journey, every part of my body aches. A hot bath isexactlywhat I need.

I sink into the water for a few moments, then run the soap over my skin. My exhaustion melts away, but not the hollow loss deep inside my chest. After everything I’ve been through, death still clings to me. Visions flit through my skull—Viviane’s beautiful blue eyes, staring and vacant. The soldiers weeping over the dead. The traumatized corporal who couldn’t stop shaking by the side of the road.

My eyes sting. So many dead left behind, and here I am, talking about wedding dresses with the man who composed that blood-soaked masterpiece.

But there’s no saying “no” to him. It’s obvious how determined he is. There’s no getting out of this unless I abandon my mission and run back to Avalon Tower.

No…but what am I supposed to do next?

CHAPTER 3

Ineed to think clearly and rationally. It’s what Viviane would want me to do.

If I go through with this madness and marry Talan, it will become increasingly difficult to keep my cover. With so many eyes on the new princess at court, people will piece together that I’m not who I say I am. Someone will point out that there was never a farm, never a dirt-poor backstory, no onions or alcoholic dad. The nobles hadn’t bothered to dig up gossip about a simple mistress, but a princess? They’ll uncover every secret they can. The villagers of Lauron will hear the story that one of their own is now close to the crown. They’ll ask who the fuck I am.

My chest tightens. I wish there were a way to conjure Viviane in my thoughts.

I can guess what she’d say because she’d said it before. Her words echo in my skull:No one has ever gotten this close to the royal family. To be in a romantic relationship with the prince himself is an opportunity we can’t pass up…

She gave her life for this, to bring him down. My throat tightens. She wanted to come back to Brocéliande someday—toher homeland. She missed the dark, wild beauty of this place, the two ethereal moons. This was her home.

I breathe the steamy air. I have to take the risk to stay close to him.

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