Brittany Alvillar

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He stalked back to the enormous moth, but it wouldn’t return him to Elfhame until he went to a nearby general store, glamoured leaves into money to buy it an entire six-pack of lager, and then poured the booze into a frothing puddle on the ground for the creature to lap at.
How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories (The Folk of the Air, #3.5)
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