The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(95)
The queen’s dress rustled as she sank into the chair beside him. Softly, she said, “You did well. I’m proud of you.”
He dropped his hands and met her eyes. “He didn’t even have it in him to apologize to them. To own the fact that he was willing to sacrifice their children for his own lust for power.”
“It’s an awful thing to see someone so corrupted by their own desires that they stop caring about how their actions affect others.”
Kellan stiffened. “If you’re comparing what happened with Blue in the garden to Martin—”
“I’m not.” She wrapped one hand around his and squeezed firmly. “There’s a vast difference between killing someone for power and kissing someone you can’t have because you’ve fallen in love.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”
The queen laughed sadly. “I know you didn’t. And if I’d ever dreamed there was a possibility of the two of you dropping your constant bickering in favor of kissing, I’d have put a stop to you visiting both the farmhouse and the shop long ago.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to offer to marry someone else.”
She gathered him to her and held him. For a long moment, he let himself be comforted, but then he pulled away. She didn’t have to tell him that he was going to have to master his heart and do his duty. He already knew it. His destiny was a long corridor carved from stone, and there was no changing it.
As if she could see the direction of his thoughts, she said quietly, “The ball is coming, and we’ll need to make the betrothal announcement.”
“I know.”
She waited as he scrubbed his hands over his face again before finally saying, “I’m going to choose Emmaline Perrin. I like her, she’s kind to Nessa, and I think we’re going to need a strong alliance with the military between our current problems with the Roches and the Faures.”
“That’s a good choice,” she said quietly, stone threading her words with the strength that had kept her on the throne long after her husband’s death, fighting to keep her kingdom together while she prepared her son to take his father’s place. “Now, let’s get some rest so we can be at our best during the ball.”
He rose, offered her his hand to help her to her feet, and then left the council room with purpose in his thoughts and a lonely ache in his heart at the thought of dancing at the ball with anyone but Blue.
THIRTY-NINE
BLUE DIDN’T RETURN home after kissing Kellan in the garden. She couldn’t face the thought of talking to Dinah, or worse, being asked to go down in the root cellar again. Instead, she went to Grand-mère’s, where Pepperell waited on the porch and dinner was quickly magicked onto the table.
If Grand-mère wondered why Blue was so subdued, she didn’t ask. Instead, she filled the evening with hugs and pastries and lovely stories about Blue’s mother as a child. When bedtime came, she tucked Blue in the way she’d done when Blue was small, sang her the lullaby her mother had written, and left a very sleepy Pepperell curled up on one side of Blue’s pillow to guard his mistress’s dreams.
The day before the ball dawned bright and clear. Or at least, Blue assumed it did. She’d stayed in bed until long past breakfast. Part of her kept waiting to hear Dinah knock on the door, demanding that Blue return to the farmhouse to work or head to the shop even though it was usually closed on weekends. But as the morning went on and Dinah never showed, Blue dared to hope that maybe since Dinah had what she thought was one of Mama’s old spells, the Chauveaus had returned to their quarter. Surely they needed to be in their own mansion, surrounded by a team of seamstresses, hairdressers, and maids as they prepared for the betrothal ball.
Before the thought of the ball could cut into the wound left by her love for Kellan, Blue rolled Pepperell’s thick body off her chest and sat up.
It was good that she didn’t need to prepare for the ball. Her garden was overdue for harvesting. She had dried herbs to grind. And she hadn’t had a good swim in the Chrysós since she’d gone in after Kellan.
Shying away from the memory of the fear that had gripped her when she’d seen him dive into the stormy waves and the affection that had swelled within her when he’d shared his truth with her, she dressed in another of her mother’s old gardening dresses. Sparing a quick moment to open the wooden box that held the gorgeous golden dancing slippers, she ran her finger over their jewels, careful not to catch her skin on the sharp prongs that held the stones in place.
The last thing she needed to do was cut her finger and have her blood bond the shoes to the box.
Her brows furrowed as she put the shoes away. That was another thing she could do instead of prepare for the ball. She could experiment with bonding different compatible substances using her blood as the alchemy.
Really, she had a very full day ahead of her. Even if she’d wanted to get ready for the ball, she’d have been far too busy.
After eating a quick breakfast with Grand-mère, Blue and Pepperell headed back to the farmhouse as the sun was rising to its peak in a clear blue sky.
Blue ran through her list of tasks, prioritizing them by necessity and interest. The garden needed the most attention, but she was most interested in experimenting with using her blood as the alchemy between compatible ingredients. Maybe she could do both at the same time. And then she’d swim as far out as she dared, letting the soft shush of the waves and the vast expanse of the horizon be a balm on a wound she didn’t know how to heal.