The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(19)

An illegal street match. One of the dumbest gambling games that existed. Two fighters accepted a small fee to stand in a square and punch each other until one of them went down. The winner won some coin and the cheers of the crowd. The crowd won bets on the winner, on how many rounds it took to bring the loser down, and on stars knew what else. How anyone could find entertainment in watching two people pummel each other for coin was beyond Blue. Shaking her head in disgust, she kept walking, but stopped when an acquaintance caught her eye.

The boy was a few years older than Ana. Probably thirteen, though he was so skinny that it was hard to tell. He swept up for the bakery on the corner opposite of the Mortar & Pestle, and he’d visited the shop a few times with Ana over the months since Blue had hired her. Maybe he could take on an extra job. And maybe he knew what had become of Ana.

Moving to the outside edge of the crowd, she said quietly, “Lucian?”

Lucian turned, his brown curls bobbing, his pale skin white against the darkness. “Miss Blue? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find someone to do the shop’s deliveries.” Blue craned her neck to look past Lucian’s shoulder as the broker began shouting the virtues of each fighter.

Really, someone should alert the magistrate’s guards before this got out of hand and a fighter was seriously hurt.

“I thought Ana was doing that,” Lucian said.

“She was, but she stopped showing up.” The taller fighter, the one in the mask, moved in a way that felt familiar. Blue tried to match him with one of the older boys she’d seen working around the quarter, but nothing quite fit.

“Do you know where she is?” Lucian asked.

Blue tore her gaze away from the fighters as the broker took in the final bets, his accountant scrambling to jot them down in her book as a bell rang and the fighters launched themselves at each other, fists flying.

“I was hoping you knew,” Blue said.

Lucian shook his head, a frown digging into his brow. “Haven’t seen her in days.”

“Maybe she got a better offer in a different quarter,” Blue said. “But that means I need a new delivery person. Do you want the job? Or maybe know someone who would?”

Lucian was still frowning. “I can do the job, Miss Blue, if you have the packages ready in the mornings. My afternoons are already taken. But I’m worried about Ana. She should’ve said something to one of us if she was leaving the quarter.”

A shout echoed from the fight square, and the boy in the mask laughed and said, “If that’s the best you’ve got, my friend, we should call this fight right now.”

Blue stepped past Lucian and stared at the fight, dread heavy in her stomach. She knew that voice. That insufferable arrogance coated with a thin veneer of charm. No wonder he was wearing a mask. Punching the crown prince was a jail-worthy offense.

The other fighter charged, slamming into Kellan and nearly bringing them both to the ground. Blue winced as the boy’s fists pounded into Kellan’s stomach.

It was no better than Kellan deserved.

She hoped he hurt every time he drew breath for the next week.

But.

Closing her eyes, she said, “It’s none of my business. It really isn’t.”

“Miss Blue?”

“Tell me it’s none of my business, Lucian.”

“Um . . . it’s none of your business?”

“Of course it isn’t.” But what about the other boy? What if the guards came and everyone learned it was the prince in the fighter’s square? And what if Kellan got seriously hurt right when he was supposed to be inspiring confidence in the head families that he was ready to take over leadership of the kingdom? Blue could think of a few families who wouldn’t hesitate to remove Kellan and his entire family from the picture if they thought he was unfit.

Kellan answered the other fighter’s attack with a graceful pivot followed by a devastating hail of blows but got caught by surprise when the boy delivered a powerful uppercut that grazed the prince’s jaw.

“Mind my pretty face,” Kellan said, laughing.

Laughing.

As if risking his life, the betrothal, the fate of the kingdom, and the freedom of the other fighter was all a game.

“That does it,” she muttered, pushing past Lucian and storming toward the fight square.

“I thought it was none of your business!” Lucian called after her, but Blue wasn’t listening.

Careless, charming, reckless idiot. How he could possibly be related to Nessa was beyond Blue’s understanding, but the fact remained that he was the kingdom’s heir. He was the brother of one of her best friends. His father and Papa had been close friends from the moment Papa was engaged to be the former king’s tutor.

And Blue had spent her life trying to stop Kellan’s foolishness before it exploded in his face. She’d thought he’d grow out of it.

She’d been wrong.

“Stop!” she yelled as she neared the rope. “Stop the fight!”

The crowd of people parted around her, their mouths agape as she swept past them to reach the square. The broker turned, the white stripes on his hat gleaming in the lantern light. His eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed beneath a razor-thin mustache.

“Don’t tell me the magistrate sent a little slip of a girl to bring me back in line. Isn’t she worried you’ll be hurt?” he asked from his corner of the square, oily amusement covering the threat in his words.