Book Eight: Chapter 188

“Perhaps.” His throat was unusually dry and he didn’t wish to speak until the thrall was dismissed. “What sort of tea are we having this morning?”

“A special blend made from apple blossoms and some sort of grass that grows here in Avalon,” she replied. When she lifted the cup to her lips, he noticed her hand trembling. “It...helps to take the edge off.”

“You really haven’t fed after all this time,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “I have not,” she admitted. “Not on a living creature, anyway. I should have perished long ago.”

“Why haven’t you?” he asked. “You seem like the kind of person who might have simply refused to eat and eventually perished.”

“I tried to,” she admitted. “Twice. Both times, I became a ravenous fiend, barely able to control myself. The first time, I was spared a terrible fate by my creator, who fed me blood from a wineskin. He wanted me to learn how desperate I would eventually become. The second time, my brother was the one who fo