The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(84)

Was the wraith still there? Would it approach? Blue didn’t want to find out. She wanted to turn around and go back. Ride on Kellan’s horse with his warm, solid body behind her to anchor her to something better than the sick fear that was crawling up the back of her throat. Close her eyes to the possibility that the wraith was still locked away but that another witch was trying to turn into one.

She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Someone had to check the Wilds, someone had to look at the gate and make sure all was secure, and Blue wouldn’t be able to look herself in the eye again if she didn’t find the courage to face what was in front of her. For Ana’s sake. And for the sake of all the innocents in Balavata who deserved to be safe from the terror of a blood wraith.

“You look like the weight of the kingdom just landed on your shoulders,” Kellan said as one of his guards handed him a blanket and the bag of food. He spread the blanket out on the grass, took generous helpings of fruit, cheese, and bread from the bag and gave it to his guards, and then sat and patted the space beside him.

Blue eased down next to him, her eyes still on the Wilds. “I’m afraid of what this means for Balavata.” She swallowed hard and made herself say the rest. “And I’m just afraid.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “But whatever is waiting for us in the Wilds will keep for another few minutes while we eat and steady our nerves. And whatever is there, we’ll face it together.”

She leaned against his hand before she thought better of it, and his eyes softened. For a long moment, they stared at each other. He leaned closer. She caught her breath, a tiny sound that shattered the silence between them, and he jerked his hand back and looked away.

“Do you want fruit? Bread? I think there are pastries in here too, but I’m not sure. Maybe not. I forgot to check, though I know you love pastries. There might be . . . here. Take what you want. Just . . . look. Pastries.” He dumped the bag’s contents onto the blanket and then stared at the food, while her brows rose.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, her nerves still tingling, her skin alive in a way it hadn’t been a moment ago.

He’d almost kissed her again. Worse, she’d almost kissed him back. And that would mean nothing but heartbreak. Kellan wasn’t hers. Would never be hers. The fizzy feeling in her veins, the heat sparking along her skin . . . all that was trouble, and she didn’t need this kind of trouble.

Kellan grabbed a peach that was rolling toward the edge of the blanket, and then slowly looked at her again. “I don’t want to admit that you make me nervous.”

“Too nervous to seize the moment?” she asked, her stomach flipping the way it had when she’d seen him dive off her cliff.

His eyes darkened. “I’m caught between wanting to do and say all the things I think about when I think of you and knowing that I should just enjoy this time with you because in three days, I won’t get to be with you like this again. If I do or say too much, it will hurt us both in the end, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Blue’s lips parted, and he rubbed his forehead before saying, “I’m not supposed to be thinking about you like this. About wanting to talk to you and listen to you and kiss you instead of wanting to spend time with . . . to do the other things on my schedule.”

She was going to tell him to stop thinking about her. To pay attention to the girls vying for the betrothal and to the decision he faced in three days. It was the only way to be fair to both of them and to the kingdom.

Instead, she opened her mouth and said, “I’m not supposed to be thinking things about you either.”

“You think about me?”

She blew out a breath and grabbed an apple. “Maybe.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What do you think about when you maybe think about me?”

She took a bite of apple before she was tempted to tell him that she thought about the way he filled a room just by entering. The kindness in his eyes when he talked about Papa. The way he’d protected her as if she was precious. The fizzy warmth that spiraled through her at the thought of kissing him.

“You’re avoiding the question.” His smile grew.

She swallowed and said, “Maybe you should tell me what you think about me instead?”

He looked at the peach in his hands, rolling it back and forth across his palm. “I think that you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. And that I like the way I feel when I’m around you. And then sometimes I think maybe . . .” He looked up, and Blue was struck by the sadness in his eyes. “I think I want to dance with you again. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you even though I know I can’t.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered, though she leaned closer to him as she said it.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, and Blue could see his torment.

She wasn’t the only one with that fizzy feeling when they were close.

But he was the prince. She was a commoner. There would never be anything more than friendship between them, and if she really cared about him, she’d help him enter his betrothal with a clear conscience.

Pulling back, she said as casually as she could muster, “We should probably eat lunch instead of kiss.”

“That doesn’t sound half as fun.”