The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(51)

Was it too much to ask that he have one single minute to himself?

Pretending he hadn’t heard her, he increased the distance between them, nearly jogging by the time he reached the corridor that led to the kitchen. She called his name again, and this time he heard Martin too.

Rounding the corner out of their view, he sprinted down the corridor, burst into the anteroom that led to the kitchen, and nearly collided with Blue.

“Kellan!” Her mouth dropped open in shock. “What are you doing? Why are you—hey!”

“Shh,” he said as he flung open the door that led to the kitchen maid’s closet and pulled both of them inside. Shutting the door quietly behind them, he said softly, “I just need a minute.”

“A minute to do what?” she spoke as quietly as he had. “Hide in a closet?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He strained to hear footsteps, but if Dinah and Martin were intent on following him to the kitchen to have a conversation, they hadn’t reached the anteroom yet. “I just finished with an emergency council meeting, and I needed a minute to myself just to breathe, but my secretary kept following me, and then Dinah Chauveau and Martin Roche came after me, and I’m sure they want to discuss what happened with Georgiana Faure, but I need to think before I have another fraught political discussion.”

His words tumbled out too fast, and his heart was racing like it did when he dove off the cliff to swim in the sea. He could lead. He could navigate difficult political relationships. And he could hold his own in a crisis. But stars curse him, couldn’t he have the space to catch his breath in between them?

In the dim light that seeped in under the closet’s door, he could just make out Blue crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fine, you needed a minute to yourself. Why drag me in here with you?”

“I—it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Are you insane? If we get caught in here together, they’ll call you a rogue and wink about your ability to charm girls, but they’ll call me something much worse, and my reputation will be permanently damaged.”

He leaned toward her, keeping his voice low. “Dinah is on a rampage about the attack that happened last night. She’s calling for a purge of anyone with magic, whether they use it or not. And Martin doesn’t believe there’s a difference between witches and alchemists. He wants them both put to death. So yes, I pulled you in here with me because I didn’t want either of them to see you in their current moods. There’s a lot more at stake here than your reputation.”

Footsteps echoed from the corridor, and Dinah’s voice drifted toward them. Blue stiffened. Her hand shot out, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him with her to the back of the long closet, behind the row of aprons and dress uniforms that hung on a rod. Her back hit the wall, and she tugged until he closed the distance between them and let the flimsy fabric barrier close behind him.

He braced his forearms against the wall above her head and tried not to notice the way his body pressed against hers. The way her chest rose and fell with every breath, or the delicate scent of vanilla, wintermint, and dried herbs that filled his senses as he leaned his head down to whisper beside her ear, “This seems far more compromising to both of our reputations if we’re found.”

“Then we’d better not be found. I’m not going to be known as the girl who seduced the prince in a maid’s closet.” Her voice trembled, and her breath caught—a tiny little hitch that sent heat swirling through him. He laid his forehead against the coolness of the stone wall and ordered his heart to stop pounding like thunder in his ears.

Her hands were still fisted in the front of his shirt, though there was no need to pull him any closer. The door to the closet opened, and Martin said crossly, “The prince wouldn’t have gone into a closet, Dinah. He must’ve grabbed a snack from the kitchen and then left through the staff entrance.”

“He would’ve had to move incredibly fast to do all that before we arrived.” She sounded impatient.

Blue shivered, and Kellan pressed his body closer, as if to promise that he’d stand between her and the council members at his back.

Heat from her skin spilled over onto his, and the warmth swirling through him exploded into flames. She tightened her grip on his shirt, and he turned his head until his lips were a whisper away from the side of her neck.

Her hands moved slowly, sliding over his chest until she was gripping his shoulders, and all he could think, all he could feel was Blue. Her scent, the warmth of her skin, the way she held on to him like he was the anchor keeping her safe, and the tiny catch of her breathing that fanned the flames within him until he thought he’d explode with the ache of wanting her.

Dinah moved a few steps into the closet, her heels tapping a sharp, staccato rhythm on the stone floor. Blue dug her fingers into Kellan’s shoulders as they waited in silence to be discovered.

“This is a waste of time, Dinah. If the prince isn’t available, we’ll have to make appointments with his secretary,” Martin said.

Another agonizing minute passed, and then Dinah’s footsteps receded, and the closet door shut.

Kellan stayed right where he was. He told himself it was because Dinah or Martin could decide to check the closet once more before leaving the anteroom, but he knew the truth.

He wanted Blue.