By Stephanie Spinner
WATER SPIRIT DAMOSEL, the woman of the Lake, glides via Arthurian legend like a glamorous wraith, shimmering and moving among the worlds of fairies and people. Her wisdom is colossal (magic, steel, men’s hearts) and ends up in her maximum honor—and worst mistake. Damosel makes a promise to the wizard Merlin to guard younger King Arthur, after which dares to damage it—with devastating effects. all of the whereas, 17-year-old Twixt—a dwarf in an international the place distinction might be deadly—finds himself free of his merciless masters and relocating towards the only position he by no means anticipated to determine: King Arthur’s court docket at Camelot.Stephanie Spinner intertwines the 2 narratives of Damosel and Twixt to attract us directly into the wealthy Arthurian land of enchantment.From the Hardcover version.
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Additional info for Damosel: In Which the Lady of the Lake Renders a Frank and Often Startling Account of her Wondrous Life and Times
He had been struggling to hold his own, but now he was nimble enough to elude one blow, and then another and another, until he was clear of the wall. At the same time the lord’s breath grew ragged and his face ashy. Perhaps he was ill,” commented Nimue, shrugging, “or older than he appeared, but when Gawaine saw him weaken, he seized the offensive. He must have thought that if he persisted, he could harry the lord to exhaustion, so that is what he did. As he was young and vigorous, it took very little time, and soon the lord was on his knees, gasping for mercy.
As he was young and vigorous, it took very little time, and soon the lord was on his knees, gasping for mercy. “ ‘I have none for you,’ said Gawaine with cold ﬁnality. ’ As Gaheris looked on, he forced the man to lie ﬂat on the ﬂoor and raised his sword high. At that moment the lady of the castle ran into the hall, crying out for Gawaine to stop. ” I was aghast. “There is more,” said Nimue, her green eyes bright. “Gaheris stared in disbelief at the lady’s body, and when he could speak—for at ﬁrst he could not—he said hoarsely, ‘For shame, Gawaine!
When I ﬁnally found the courage and the frog victim went peacefully, falling to the blade without a croak, I was happier than I like to admit. Then I turned to enchanting the scabbard. I cast a spell that would keep Arthur from bleeding even a single drop, no matter how severe his wound. It was a powerful spell, ending in a deeply satisfying shout. When my voice died away, I slipped Excalibur into its scabbard. The guard jewels ﬂashed, and the runes, which had been quivering with a life of their own, ﬁnally settled into place.