She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. There was barely room for one, let alone two, in the passage, and Melusine ended up backwards, supporting Jack as best she could as he stumbled along, grasping the rough walls on either side with both hands. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake.
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