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Talan quirks a smile. “Nice to see you, Griflet. Sorry about the hour.”

“No, you’re not, but you do lie well, Your Highness. Have you brought me crushed bisen-root? I’ve run out again, and it’s given me the most dreadful aches.”

Talan reaches inside his cloak and pulls out a small leather bag tied up with a strap.

Griflet’s eyes widen, and he snatches it from Talan. He tears off the strap and pours a small handful of glittering metallic powder into his palm. Without another word, he leans over his hand and snorts up the silvery powder. When he raises his head again, his nostrils shimmer. His eyes dart to me with a manic gleam. “Wonderful. Wonderful. And who’s this lovely lass? A lover?”

“This is Nia. She’s my fiancée.”

“Really? Despite living in this gods-forsaken shithole, I’ve heard you’re engaged to Countess Arwenna de Bosclair of Val Sans Retour.”

Talan sighs. “Must I limit myself to one? How boring.”

“If you want to live a peaceful life, Your Highness, but you’ve never seemed much interested in that.” Griflet dips his finger into the bag of silver powder and rubs a little on his gums. His green eyes gleam maniacally. “Well, at least she’s pretty.”

Talan leans against his doorframe. “I have excellent taste. Will you marry us?”

Griflet blinks. “How very flattering. Marrying royalty is usually the domain of the Grand Cleric of the Wald.”

“Yes,” Talan says. “Unfortunately, the Grand Cleric of the Wald is a member of the King’s Watch and reports directly to my father. And my father has other plans for me.”

“One of the seven Great Clerics of the Paimpont River, then.”

“Three of them are members of the King’s Watch, two would immediately ask the Grand Cleric for permission, and two report to Arwenna’s father, the Marquis de Bosclair.”

Griflet considers this. “There’s the cleric of the main glade of the Melian Forest.”

“Heavily bribed by my father to inform him of anything that might displease him.”

Griflet sighs. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Your Highness, but you came here because all of the other clerics are corrupt, terrified for their lives, or politically motivated.”

Talan’s dark eyebrows raise. “Excellent summary, Griflet.”

“Am I also to surmise that you think I’m the only cleric mad enough to defy the king’s wishes?”

“Again, you grasp the essentials. Now let us inside.”

“How will you ensure my safety? The king will never approve it, and I will likely end up on the execution block. I may be eccentric, but I don’t have a death wish.”

Talan shrugs. “You will need to return to Corbinelle with me as a witness. Of course, I will explain that I ripped some of your skin off and invaded your dreams, and that you had no choice. And the moment you confirm to the court that I have married, my soldiers will escort you to a secret location, somewhere far away in the Melian Forest. I will have a secret cottage built for you among the bisen-root.”

Griflet’s eyes widen. “You’ll tell me where that is, where it grows?”

“If you grant me this favor.”

“All right.” Griflet steps back into his cottage. “Come in, come in. We have a wedding to plan.”

CHAPTER 5

Inside, 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 likeSongs of the Hawthorn KingsandSpirits 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.

Talan leans back, utterly relaxed, and drapes one arm over the back of the sofa. Even seated, his powerful presence dominates the room. Sometimes, I get the sense that the whole world exists for his entertainment.

“We don’t have time for the boars and birds.” Talan’s deep voice thrums over my skin. “My father means to arrange for my marriage tomorrow, whether I’m there or not.”