The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(17)
He curved upward, angling his body so that his dive was as shallow as he could make it. Still, his stomach scraped the sand, a rough bite of pain that shrank the numbness inside until he could almost believe it didn’t exist.
There was nothing but the dangerous waters of the Chrysós. Nothing but the sun on his back as he surfaced and the tug of the current against his legs.
For one brief moment, he stopped fighting. Let the current drag him toward the streak of bronze that marked the channel.
Maybe this time, he’d let it have him. Let it take what it should have taken nearly eleven years ago. A penance for the heavy price his actions had cost his family and his kingdom.
He closed his eyes and waited, his body buffeted by the waves even as the current dragged him closer and closer to the channel. Waited for peace. For a sense that he was finally doing the right thing after years of running from it.
Instead, he saw Nessa’s face. Heard his mother tell him the head families didn’t believe his sister could rule and would be only too happy to remove her from the line of succession permanently. And he felt a quiet, insistent desire to be alive, even though it hurt.
His eyes snapped open, and he was stunned to see the shadow was already gaping beneath him. Kicking, he began fighting the current with strong, measured strokes. For an instant, it held him, pinning him above the crevasse that had taken his father. But Kellan wasn’t his father. He wasn’t concerned with snatching a foolish child from the jaws of death, even at the expense of his own ability to survive.
He was young. He was strong. And he had more to live for than he’d thought when he’d come to the edge of the sea. He fought harder, coordinating his movements to harness the power of his height and physical strength, and in another moment, he was free.
As he swam toward the shore and the mountain of responsibilities that waited for him, the void within him throbbed, a single shaft of pain that tethered him to the shadow he was leaving behind.
SEVEN
BLUE STARTLED AWAKE as the weight of a grizzled, snaggletoothed tub of a cat landed on her stomach.
“Oof.” Groaning, she tugged her quilt over her shoulders and buried her face in its softness. “Go away,” she mumbled. “It’s barely light out, Pepperell.”
Pepperell crept forward and pawed at her nose.
“Mmff.” She tried to pull the quilt farther over her face, but the enormous cat made it impossible. When his paw swiped her nose again—this time with just a hint of claws to get her attention—she forced her eyes open and glared.
“Mornings are a plague.”
Pepperell watched her out of his one good eye, whiskers twitching. She sighed as he lowered his face to hers and bit gently at the tip of her nose.
“Ugh. Stop breathing on me. You smell like you just cleaned the docks with your tongue.” Blue pushed Pepperell to the side and rolled her eyes as he began to purr.
A quiet knock sounded on the doorframe, and then Papa entered the room carrying a large yellow mug. A smile tipped the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of his disgruntled daughter and the huge cat purring beside her. Papa’s skin was still damp from his morning shave, and flour dusted the front of the red apron he wore. Breakfast was no doubt already in the oven.
How Blue could be related to someone who willingly got up before dawn to bake and clean was beyond her.
“I see Pepperell already woke you.” Papa sounded cheerful.
“No one should be up at this hour. It’s uncivilized.”
“You say that every morning.” Papa’s smile widened, and he raised the mug in his hands. Blue perked up as the warm, comforting scent of hot spiced chicory filled the room. “Maybe this will make waking so early worth it.”
“I’m ashamed at how easily I can be bribed.”
Papa laughed, set the mug on her dresser, and moved to her side to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “We have several large orders that need to be fulfilled, and if Ana doesn’t show up again, we need to find a new delivery girl. Time to get moving.”
Blue tossed off the quilt Grand-mère had stitched for her when she was a child and climbed out of bed as Papa left to go down to the kitchen. Her toes curled as they hit the cold wooden floor. Even though summer had arrived in Balavata, the sea breeze still carried a chill at night, and Blue loved to leave her windows open while she slept.
It had been a week since Ana had failed to show up. Blue had asked after her with a few of the homeless children she recognized in her quarter, but no one seemed to know where she’d gone or why she’d left. The entire thing had left Blue with hours of extra work and an uncomfortable worry in the pit of her stomach that Ana had left for another quarter because she was worried about Blue’s plans to help her gain an apprenticeship. She’d thought that’s what Ana wanted too, but now that she looked back on the conversation, she couldn’t remember if the excitement she’d felt had been hers alone.
Pepperell seemed remarkably unconcerned with Blue’s plight. Plopping down on the warm dip in the mattress where his mistress had recently been sleeping, the cat hoisted a leg and began to clean himself.
“You and I need to have a conversation about basic manners,” Blue said as she slipped out of her muslin nightgown, splashed water from her basin over her skin, and dried herself briskly with the towel she kept folded on her dresser. “For example, jumping on someone to wake them up is generally frowned upon.”