The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(103)

There was no need to tell Grand-mère exactly how the weapon worked.

Before Grand-mère could argue further, Blue cast a quick glance at the sky. A crescent moon lit the night, and the stars swept the velvety surface like bits of white sapphire. Soon, the ball would begin. Blue didn’t have much time.

“I need your help,” she said. “Please trust that I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m capable of. There are people far more vulnerable than me who need your protection tonight.”

Grand-mère studied her for a long moment, and then she pulled her once more into her arms, hugging her fiercely. When she let go, she said, “What do you need?”

“A ball gown, a carriage, and Mama’s dancing slippers,” Blue said.

Grand-mère’s brows rose. “Is that all?”

Blue smiled. “A little transfiguration fun. You haven’t done that for a while.” Her smile slipped. “Unless you think giving me a grand ball gown, a carriage, a groomsman, and a pair of horses is too much for you.”

Grand-mère scowled. “Don’t be impertinent. Like you, I know exactly what I’m capable of.”

“Then let’s get started. I need to alter Mama’s shoes a little. Will you bring them to me in the kitchen?”

While Grand-mère barked a list of things for Lucian to collect—a fat pumpkin she grew in the garden that bloomed year-round for her, regardless of when things were in season elsewhere, some mice from the attic, branches from a rynoir tree, and a bouquet of brilliant yellow roses—Blue hurried to the kitchen. She had to work fast before Grand-mère saw what she was doing and asked too many questions.

A quick slash of one of Grand-mère’s cooking knives opened the cut on Blue’s hand again. She uncorked the jar of poison, held it over her wound, and hesitated.

What if it didn’t bond with her blood? What if her blood only worked if she was using it to bring together two different substances? There was no time to experiment. No time for caution and triple-checking. For alternate hypotheses and measured steps.

The kingdom needed a girl full of poison and reckless courage.

Holding her breath, Blue carefully poured the poison into her wound.

Instantly, she doubled over, the jar falling to the floor where it smashed into pieces. The poison was fire scouring her veins, blistering her from the inside out. It was heat and knives and agony. She fell to her knees, her dress tearing on shards of glass. The agony blazed through her, seizing her lungs, her throat, her mind.

She threw back her head, the muscles of her neck straining as she tried to unlock her jaw to release a scream.

She was dying. The poison was eating its way through her, and she’d never get a chance to tell Kellan she loved him or hug Grand-mère one more time or kill the wraith.

She had to kill the wraith.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice a faint breath forced through lips stiff with pain.

A different fire ignited within her—a storm of magic that rolled through her like a thunderclap, gathering the agony that blazed in her veins and pulling it into the center of her chest, a ball of furious torment that tumbled and churned.

“Blue!” Grand-mère shouted, her voice a distant shadow behind the tremendous thunder of Blue’s heart as her magic fought the poison for control.

Hands reached for her. Curses surrounded her as Grand-mère’s shoes crunched through glass still stained brown with the poison’s residue.

“What have you done?” Grand-mère cried, her wand raised and pointed at Blue, as if somehow she could transfigure the poison out of her body.

The storm in the center of Blue’s chest grew, pressing hard against her bones until she thought they’d snap. And then the storm exploded outward, sending jagged bolts of magic and pain through Blue’s veins. Her fingers ached. Her toes curled. And her hair stood on end.

When the blood in her veins settled, sluggish and swollen with poison, Blue drew in a shaky breath.

It was done. She’d set her feet on a course that couldn’t be reversed. Her skin was cold as she grasped Grand-mère’s outstretched hand and rose to her feet.

“My child.” Grand-mère moved to hug her, and Blue stepped back.

“My hand is still bleeding,” she said. “Don’t touch me until I’ve bandaged it. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“You put that poison in your blood, didn’t you?” Grand-mère’s tone was a slap, but tears shone in her eyes. “Made yourself a weapon because you’re going to offer yourself to the wraith.”

Blue carefully bandaged her hand and cleaned up all traces of the blood and poison that remained on the kitchen floor. “It’s the only sure way to kill the monster.”

Grand-mère abruptly left the room. Blue turned and found that she’d placed Mama’s golden dancing slippers on the table. Taking the volshkyn leaf out of her pocket, she quickly wiped a bit of her blood from the towel she’d used to clean the floor onto the leaf, split it in two, and then bonded it to the inside arch of each shoe.

She was banking on the volshkyn’s remarkable ability to be drawn to what had been bonded to it. It would help lead her to Dinah if for some reason Blue was wrong about Dinah showing up at the ball.

Grand-mère returned to the kitchen, her eyes swollen and red. Quietly, she said, “I’m proud of you, Bernadina de la Cour, and your parents would be too. You’re brave and smart, and I’m counting on you to be both tonight.” She moved closer, her fierce gaze pinning Blue in place. “You use that courage to lure the wraith and let it drink. And then you use that beautiful brain of yours to figure out a way to survive it. Promise me you’ll try.”