The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(22)
Bland. Ordinary. Nothing that would explain the gold Blue had tried to use with Maurice.
Dinah reached the stove and brushed her fingers over the strange little pot that sat on an unlit burner. The lid was held in place by five small latches, and a gauge rested on a slender pipe that disappeared through the center of the lid and into the pot itself. When Dinah picked up the pot, something rattled within. Quickly unsealing the lid, Dinah peered inside and smiled as grim triumph spread through her.
Three chunks of pale golden metal sat inside. They weren’t quite the right shade of gold and there were faint lines of dull gray metal still threading through them in places, but they were close.
Dinah scooped up one of the rocks and pocketed it before returning the pot to the stove. Then she gazed around the storeroom, her mind racing.
She had to make it look like an ordinary break-in to disguise what she’d really been after. A stack of burlap sacks sat in the corner by the door. Dinah took one and faced the wall of shelves.
She could just take random things and discard them before she returned to her mansion.
Or she could take a few things she knew how to use in case her plan to have Blue create gold for her failed. It had been years since she’d had anything to do with witchcraft, but a competent woman never forgot her basic spells, and Dinah was far more than competent.
Snatching what she needed off the shelves, she filled the bag and then hurried out the door, her heart pounding. The streets were still deserted. Still silent.
The pale gold rock in her pocket bumped gently against her leg as she walked briskly toward her own quarter again, the burlap sack hidden in her arms beneath her cloak.
Should she try to force Blue to comply by threatening to reveal her experiment to the queen and the royal magistrate? The de la Cours were close to the queen, so that could go badly for Dinah.
Should she try appealing to Blue’s father? Perhaps convince him that Dinah would offer protection for the de la Cours if he would get his daughter to produce gold for her?
There again she ran into the possibility of him reporting her to the queen. It was possible the queen would be upset with Blue’s actions. But it was even more likely that she would be furious to discover the precarious position Dinah was in. Without control of her empire, she had no way to protect the people in her quarter or bolster Balavata’s economy and outside business interests. Without control of her empire, she had nothing to offer in the way of an alliance for the betrothal season.
Without her empire, Dinah was perilously close to becoming friendless, penniless, and powerless once more, and this time, she’d be taking her daughters down with her.
No, whatever step she took next, it had to be bold. Decisive. It had to put her firmly in control of Blue and her experiments without anyone questioning a thing.
NINE
THREE DAYS AFTER the street fight that he would’ve won had Blue not stuck her nose once more where it didn’t belong, Kellan stepped out of his carriage in front of the Mortar & Pestle and was instantly flanked by two guards. Lady Gaillard, who had both her daughter Genevieve and two of her nieces in tow, was waiting beside the shop’s entrance. Someone in the palace must have been bribed into giving her the prince’s schedule. How many other head families knew his every move and were waiting to ambush him? No wonder he couldn’t get a single moment to himself without resorting to sneaking around like he was ten again.
The weight that had settled over his chest the moment he’d returned home to Balavata felt like it was crushing him as he straightened his shoulders and moved toward the shop.
“Prince Kellan!” Lady Gaillard swooped toward him, her delicate voice rising over the clip-clop of horse feet and the rumble of carriage wheels on the cobblestone street behind the prince.
“Lady Gaillard, you look positively delicious today,” Kellan said with a wink, smiling as the color rose in the woman’s golden cheeks. He’d quickly learned that flattering the mothers was an essential weapon in his arsenal.
“Oh, you rogue.” Lady Gaillard swept into a curtsy that left her neckline gaping open before him. Kellan averted his eyes and found Blue standing at her shop’s front door, one slim brow raised in scorn as she observed the situation. Her riotous curls framed her head, and her brown skin glowed in the sun. Her full lips twisted into a smirk as he stared. It should have made her look like the smug know-it-all he knew she was. Instead, he found himself wondering what she would look like if she smiled. A real smile, not the painfully polite version she usually trotted out when he was present.
It was an annoying thought, and a distraction he couldn’t afford. Especially when a smile from Blue probably meant she’d found another way to drain the fun out of his life.
“Of course, you remember my daughter, Genevieve. My nieces also came along to the market today, but Gen especially has been anxious to see you again.” Lady Gaillard shoved Gen toward the prince while managing to block her nieces’ bodies with her own.
Kellan caught Gen’s arms as she stumbled over her long skirt, and Lady Gaillard trilled with satisfaction. “How gallant of you, Your Majesty. I do think you favor our sweet Gen. Might we expect you to call upon us as her parents soon?”
There was no right answer to the question. If he said no, he would send the message that he wasn’t interested in Gen, and the Gaillards might change tactics from flattery to threats in their efforts to secure the betrothal. If he said yes, it would take Lady Gaillard less than a day to have the entire city discussing the prince’s upcoming commitment to her daughter, which would infuriate the other families, who would feel they hadn’t had enough of the prince’s time to get a fair shot at the throne.