Page 103 of Secrets of Avalon

The words hang in the air, heavy and oppressive. Melinda's shock and confusion ripples through our bond.

Her voice breaks the silence, uncertainty lacing her words. "Wait… Feed?" She blurts, her voice cracking slightly. A blush rises in her cheeks as all eyes turn to her, but she pushes on. "What do you eat?"

Wraith turns to her, worry creasing his brow. His voice is soft, almost apologetic as he answers, "Dreams, Lady Melinda. I eat dreams."

CHAPTER 38

Oh, Brother Where Art Thou

Melinda Mayweather

Dreams? I scrunch up my face, trying to wrap my mind around the concept. "How do you eat a dream?"

"The Upir are dream-walkers," he explains, his voice taking on a teacher's patient tone. "It's a gift, but it can also be a curse to those whose dreams we walk in." He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table edge. "When we dream-walk, we steal energy from the dreamer. We can take a little or a lot." His eyes cloud with shame. "A healthy Upir only needs the smallest amount to be satisfied, but–"

"You're eating more than you should?" I finish for him, the realization dawning.

"Yes," he says with a slow nod. “I cannot control myself. And I take much more than necessary.”

“What does it do to the person?” I ask tentatively, curious about the answer.

Wraith's eyes meet mine, heavy with guilt. "It exhausts them and depletes their magick stores, much like what happened to you this morning." He pauses, his jaw clenching. "And if we're not careful, we can kill them." His shoulders slump at the admission, and he looks down at the plate in front of him, as if he can't bear to see our reactions.

A chill slithers down my spine, but warmth blooms in my chest—a surge of empathy for Wraith's struggle. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to reveal.

"I know how that feels," I say, my voice growing stronger with each word. "And it is scary as fuck." The words tumble out, bitter and sharp on my tongue, yet somehow freeing. "My magick has killed people since I was a child."

I look around the table, meeting each person's gaze. "It's only since I arrived here, with help from Kellan, Siva, and all of you, that I've begun to gain any semblance of control."

King Theon stares at me, his eyes wide with shock. His mouth opens as if to speak, but no words come out.

Beside me, Hawke leans to the side, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. His love and reassurance flow through our bond, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

Wraith looks up from his plate, his expression grim but with a glimmer of amusement and understanding in his eyes. "Yes, Lady Melinda, it is scary as fuck. That is the most accurate description I've heard."

The door bursts open.

I jolt in my seat and Hawke puts a steadying hand on my arm.

Queen Isolde hurries in, her skirts swishing around her ankles, a small ornate bottle clutched in her hands. Her cheeks are flushed from exertion, and she's slightly out of breath.

"I have it," she announces, holding up the bottle. It's about the size of her hand, made of what looks like glass and polished silver carvings covering its surface. A soft, golden glow seems to emanate from within.

Boaz, who has been silent throughout the conversation, lets out a shaky breath.

"This is all I have," she says, her voice tinged with worry. "I hope it will help tide you over until Ares gets back with more."

“It will, thank you,” Boaz tells her.

I lean forward, holding my breath.

Isolde unfastens the top from the bottle and hands it to Boaz who takes a long drink from it. Within seconds his stone hand, lying motionless on the table, glows like an ember and returns to normal.

Amazing, I say to Hawke through our bond.

Ambrosia is the food of the gods–life energy in its purest form, Hawke answers back through our bond.

He flexes his fingers and breathes a sigh of relief. “Queen Stormblood, I can’t thank–”

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