He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead.
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