The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(116)

“We’re here.” Kellan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, holding on as pain racked her body. “We’re right here. You’re going to be all right.”

For a long moment, she seemed determined to prove him a liar. She shook, her skin cold and clammy, her eyes wild and unseeing. But then she whispered, “The wand.”

Nessa snatched the hazel-wood wand off the floor and shoved it into Blue’s hand. Blue closed her eyes, and then the tip of the wand began to glow. She tried to point it at her neck, but her arms trembled too badly. He wrapped his hand around hers and helped guide the tip of the wand until it hovered just above the wound.

“Something. Contain,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Nessa, a jar,” Kellan said.

Nessa grabbed the jar that held the oil, dumped its contents onto the floor, and then put its mouth just below the tip of the wand. Blue clenched her jaw and threw her head back as a stream of green-black liquid gathered at her wound and then rose, arcing from Blue’s blood to the mouth of the jar in a graceful stream. When the last of it was inside the jar, Nessa capped it with steady fingers, and Blue slumped against Kellan’s chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.”

Kellan closed his eyes and pulled her as close as he could while his grief and fear settled into the realization that she had survived. He didn’t have to say good-bye. Didn’t have to live the rest of his days with nothing but memories and missing her.

Instead, he could spend the rest of his days loving her.

She sighed and snuggled closer, her breath growing soft and even as sleep took her.

Laws be hanged. Nessa was right. There had to be a way to honor the girl who’d sacrificed herself for the kingdom. A way to make her eligible for the betrothal without causing a war between the throne and the head families. There had to be a loophole, and he was going to find it.

Voices filled the garden, and then guards were charging inside the cottage, their queen right behind them. She carried one of Blue’s dancing slippers in her hand. Her eyes scraped over the cottage and landed on her children. With a cry of relief, she rushed to them and fell to the floor beside Kellan. Gathering Nessa onto her lap, she kept one arm around her daughter and wrapped the other around her son.

“How is Blue?” Her voice was husky with tears, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

“She’ll be all right, thanks to Nessa,” Kellan said softly. “Blue killed the wraith.”

“I see that. I hope that creature suffered.” The queen sounded vicious.

“She did.” Kellan stroked a hand down Blue’s back, grateful to feel warmth seeping into her skin as the healing potion did its work.

“How did Blue manage it? Valeraine couldn’t figure out a potion strong enough to take the wraith down,” the queen said.

His voice shook as he said, “She used the magic in her blood to bond two incompatible poisons so she could create the most venomous potion she could think of, and then she put it in her own bloodstream so that when she convinced Marielle to drink from her, her blood would bond the poison to the wraith.”

“Brave girl.” The queen let go of Kellan to rest her hand on Blue’s head. “Sweet, smart, impossibly brave girl.”

“I’m going to marry her,” Kellan blurted.

Nessa grinned and bounced in her mother’s lap.

He’d expected resistance. An argument. A reminder of everything that was at stake with the head families. Instead, the queen smiled.

“With the wraith dead, killed by magic used for good instead of evil, you could lift the ban and invoke a betrothal by trial,” she said.

He blinked. A betrothal by trial was only used during betrothal periods when an heir felt unable to choose between qualified members of head families or in the very rare instances when there were no members who were of age. The heir set up a test, and the person who passed it gained the honor.

“I think Blue has been tested enough,” he said slowly, while his mind raced. What could he set up that only Blue could pass?

Too bad the test wasn’t who could kill the wraith. Nessa raised a brow at their mother, a clear challenge.

Kellan frowned, his gaze drifting around the cottage while he considered his options. When his eyes landed on the golden dancing slipper his mother had used to follow them to the cottage, he smiled.

“Nes, you’re brilliant. It’s only right that the throne honor the person who destroyed the biggest threat to our kingdom. And that person is the one whose foot fits into that golden slipper.”

I hate to point out the obvious, but plenty of girls could fit into that shoe.

His smile widened. “Not when Blue’s grandmother gets done with it.”





FORTY-SEVEN


IT HAD BEEN three days since Blue had killed the wraith and then survived with the help of Nessa and Kellan. She’d spent those days in Grand-mère’s house drinking healing teas, eating too much, and sleeping with Pepperell’s suffocating weight planted firmly on her chest. Most of the time when she awoke, she found Kellan, Nessa, or both sitting just outside her room.

Nessa wanted to tell her all about her role in helping save Blue and wanted to know when Blue could teach her how to use a wand. She was devastated to learn that wands only worked for those with magic in their blood.