The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(45)

Blue pressed her hands deeper in the ground, willing herself to be calm. Be steady.

All she had to do was go into the root cellar and store a few things.

Her throat closed on a bubble of fear, and she swallowed hard. Drew in a shaky breath. Thought of the ways Papa had used to calm Blue when her nightmares hit.

Hands in the soil, grounding herself to the plants.

Slow, deep breaths, paying attention to the rise and fall of her chest instead of the frantic beat of her heart.

Mama’s lullaby, sung soft and gentle, connecting Blue to the best memories she had of her mother. Memories of warmth and safety. Blue’s clearest memory of Mama was of walking the garden path with her, listening to Mama sing the lullaby she’d written for her daughter.

Blue drew in another slow breath, kept her hands deep in the soil, and began to softly sing.

Hush now, baby, don’t you cry.

Your little tears I’ll always dry.

A branch of myrrh and bolla root

To strengthen you in all you do

With silver and gold, and a strand of rose

And plenty of magic to keep them close.

Tears stung Blue’s eyes as the memory of Papa sitting by her bedside singing to her overlapped her memories of Mama in the garden. She let the tears fall, let the grief in her chest unfurl as she sang the second half.

Hush now, baby, I’m right here

To chase away your every fear

With a drop of mint and a sprig of yew

And three little precious drops of blue.

You’ll grow straight and swift and true

And I will always be with you.

Dancing fern roots brushed against her fingertips, and she drew in another shaky breath.

“That’s a strange lullaby,” a voice said from behind her.

Blue jumped and felt a quick bite of pain on her index finger as she pulled her hands free of the soil and turned around.

Halette stood there, a small plate of food in her hands. Her dark hair was swept into a long tail down her back, and her silk day dress was covered with Papa’s red apron.

“My mother wrote it for me. She was an alchemist too.” Blue eyed Papa’s apron and struggled to keep her voice even. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I’ve never heard an alchemist’s lullaby before.” Halette walked closer. “Why were you singing it?”

Blue brushed dirt from her hands and grimaced as blood smeared across her palm. She’d cut her finger on something in the soil. “Because I wanted to.”

Halette shrugged like she hadn’t really wanted a true answer in the first place. “I saved some dinner for you. Mother expects you to come inside soon.” She glanced at Blue’s empty gathering basket. “She also expects you to come in with things you harvested.”

“That’s my papa’s apron.” Anger sparked within Blue, and she grabbed a few fronds of the dancing fern plant, tore them loose, and threw them into her basket.

Halette looked down at the apron she wore, the freckles on her cheeks catching the fading rays of the sun. “Oh. I didn’t realize—”

“You’ve already taken my house.” Blue snatched walla berries from the bush beside her and tossed them into the basket. “My shop. My bedroom. My ability to see my grandmother.” More berries landed on the ferns inside the basket. “You’ve taken everything from me. You’re not going to take my papa’s things too. That’s his apron. Take it off.”

Halette stared at her for a long moment, her expression carved from glass. And then she slowly set the plate down and reached for the apron’s ties. A small serving of buttered bread, several slices of cheese, and a glossy purple plum sat on the plate. Pepperell immediately rushed forward and began licking the cheese.

“You know, you aren’t the only one who’s lost everything.” Halette’s voice cracked, and she pulled viciously at the apron’s ties. “I lost my father too. And my home. My life in my quarter with my friends. My household staff—don’t look at me like that. I know you’re used to doing everything for yourself, but I’m not.”

Blue started to say that the two situations weren’t the same, but then stopped at the look of furious grief in Halette’s eyes. She knew that grief. It lived inside her, sending an ache through her veins with every heartbeat.

Carefully, she plucked a few more walla berries, giving herself time to calm down and think about her words. Finally, she said, “I’m not used to doing everything for myself. Papa did all the cooking and most of the cleaning. One of the worst parts of missing him is waking up in the morning without the smell of hot spiced chicory in the air. It’s a daily reminder that he’s gone.” She met Halette’s eyes. “I’m very sorry you lost your father and the life you knew.”

Halette folded the apron with care and gently pushed Pepperell away from the cheese. “I’m sorry you did too.”

Blue hooked the basket over her arm and got to her feet. “Do you know why your mother moved you out here?”

Halette picked up the plate, tossed the cheese to Pepperell, and then balanced the plate on top of the folded apron. “My mother only does things that benefit her, so either she thinks this will somehow help get Jacinthe the betrothal, or you have something that will add to her business empire.”

“I can’t imagine living in my farmhouse will help your sister win the betrothal, so it must be the latter.” Blue looked into her basket and frowned. One of the berries had burst, and its bright purple juice had run in rivulets down a fern leaf before sinking into the veins and turning them the dusky purple of a twilight sky. “How did that happen?” she murmured, reaching in to pull out the leaf.