Damosel
In Which the Lady of the Lake Renders a Frank and Often Startling Account of her Wondrous Life and Times
CHAPTER 1
I am so well versed in The Rules Governing the Ladies of the Lake that I could recite them backward on a dare, but the wisdom I treasure most was gleaned not from that vast, ancient compendium but from my own earnest blundering. To wit: learn the Rules so you know when to break them.
It took me half a lifetime to understand this.
Long ago I had no inkling. I was a feckless young lake spirit, living in damp contentment in a place called Looe Pool. My home was deep and wide, the limpid blue of an aquamarine. Because it was only a stone's throw from the ocean, I could hear waves breaking day and night--a steady, soothing sound, like a giant breathing through a stuffy nose.
Grand as the ocean was, nothing compared to my Lake, for its water was refreshing in summer, bracing in winter, and, unlike the surf, very drinkable. I loved its taste of ducks' feet and shale.
I treasured solitude in those days, so I kept the Lake hidden. It was a feat well within my powers, for as a Lady, I co ...
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