The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(15)
No, she’d have to find a different way to get enough gold to pay off her husband’s debts, ransom her daughters out of Mr. Dubois’s heinous contract, and restore her position before anyone was the wiser. Maybe there were businesses James hadn’t known about that she could quickly sell. Maybe one of her contacts in Akram, Ravenspire, or Súndraille would be willing to float her a loan, though the thought of being so far in debt to any of them was sickening.
Or maybe there was a faster source of coin right here in Falaise de la Mer if she was willing to do whatever it took to get her hands on it. She’d killed before to get what she needed. She could do it again.
SIX
RESTLESSNESS CHURNED INSIDE Kellan as he dictated his response to yet another invitation for dinner or tea or . . . he’d forgotten precisely what he’d been invited to this time. It hardly mattered. It would be another test. Another game where the lies were pretty, the questions were pointed, and the calculation was shrewd. He’d smile, flirt, parry, and test the waters of loyalty and power with pointed questions of his own, just as he’d been doing every day since he’d returned home.
And then he’d return to the castle; navigate meetings with his advisers; hear concerns or offers from representatives of the head families, significant merchants, or magistrates from far-flung cities; and wear his careless charm like armor as he walked the castle halls. He never knew who’d be waiting and watching around every corner.
He caught himself sighing and tried to pay attention to his secretary, who was still discussing the invitation before him.
“The delightful Miss Cherise Sandovar, whom you played cards with yesterday, should be in attendance, though I doubt that you’ll get more than two words with her if Lady Chauveau has anything to say about it, even if Cherise is one of the Chauveau nieces. She is most keen on making sure you only spend time with her own daughters,” the prince’s secretary said as he wrote Kellan’s response to the invitation in bold, slashing strokes, oblivious to the prince’s wandering focus. “There are three other invitations to be dealt with, though each is from lesser families, so not as urgent. And the queen has requested your attention on the matter of the ball’s menu. I’ve compiled a list of suggested dishes for your approval. If you have any friends from school you’d like to invite, give me a list so those invitations can go out on the morrow. I’d also like to . . .”
Kellan wandered to the window that overlooked the royal family’s private garden, letting his secretary’s words fade into the background. He’d been home for a week now, playing the part of the flawless prince, and it was wearing on him. There wasn’t a minute of his day that hadn’t already been scheduled before he awoke. Never an instant that he wasn’t on display.
And there’d been no time to face the numbing void within him at the thought of taking his father’s place when it was his fault his father wasn’t still on the throne.
He needed to get out of the castle. Without his guards or his advisers or the seemingly endless parade of people who wanted his attention. He needed the space to breathe through the pain of being back where the loss of his father was a ghost that haunted every corridor.
He needed to feel alive, and there was only way to do that.
Turning back to his secretary, he found the man waiting for a reply to . . . whatever it was he’d just said. Kellan gave him an easy grin and said, “I’m afraid you lost me for a bit. So many girls to think about.”
The prince winked, and Jacques chuckled. “Would that we all had your problems, sir.”
Kellan’s grin slipped.
Oh yes, he definitely needed to get out of the castle. By himself. And the only way to do that was to trick Jacques into leaving him alone while also tricking his guards into thinking the prince was still safely inside his office, working on the tasks his mother and advisers had set for him.
“Let’s get started with the list of those to invite to the ball,” Kellan said, walking to the desk and clapping Jacques on the shoulder. “Invite all my local friends, and also send an invitation to Prince Javan in Akram.”
It would be good to see Javan again. The journey from Milisatria Academy in the northern kingdom of Loch Talam to his home in Balavata had only taken Kellan five weeks, but it felt like he hadn’t seen his former roommate in months. Of everyone in Kellan’s life, Javan—whose mother had died when he was young, leaving him with the heavy burden of living up to her final wishes and his father’s high expectations—was perhaps the one person uniquely suited to understand the pressure Kellan was under now. It was almost a shame that Kellan had been too busy pursuing girls and mad escapades while at the academy to seriously discuss his future with his friend.
Almost.
He couldn’t truly regret his many adventures at the academy. Especially the ones that had involved the kind of risk he craved now. At least at the academy, he’d only had to worry about evading the headmaster and the pairs of guards who’d patrolled the academy’s grounds.
Here, everyone was focused on Kellan. Especially his mother.
Jacques finished his list and reached for a stack of requests from various advisers. The chain around Kellan’s chest tightened, and he nudged Jacques’s shoulder.
“You hungry?”
The secretary blinked up at him. “Hungry, sir?”