The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(107)

His gaze flew to the royal dais where his mother and sister sat. His mother gave him a look that would’ve dropped a lesser boy to his knees.

“Don’t worry,” Blue said, a tinge of sadness coating her words. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“We have to warn the guards. The castle needs to be locked down!” Kellan scanned the room for the closest guard, but all he could see were couples dancing.

“I already did that when I arrived.” Blue turned his face to hers again. “Grand-mère and Lucian are gathering up the remaining street kids and keeping them safe in the shop. The guards have made sure no one is outside the castle. There’s nothing to distract Dinah and the wraith from coming straight for you and your family. But she won’t get to them, Kellan. I swear on my life. And if for some reason she doesn’t come straight to the castle, I bonded her blood to some volshkyn leaf and attached it to my shoes. It will lead me to her.”

Panic hit, hot and vicious. “I’ll help you. What’s the plan?”

Her expression was full of terrible gentleness and regret, and he pulled her closer.

“Whatever you have planned, I can help. You are not facing the wraith alone.”

“Yes, I am,” she said simply, and then wrapped her arms around him. “I’m the thing it really wants, and I’m the weapon that can destroy it.”

He held on to her and struggled to breathe past the fear that was taking over. “You aren’t making sense. If you have a spell ready, let me help you. I can distract it while you throw the potion or . . . how are you doing it? We can talk this through.”

She pulled away and tipped her head back to look at him. “I’m killing it, Kellan. I’m ready.”

“Not yet!” He grabbed for her as she stepped back, and she winced as he latched onto the hand that had been on his shoulder. He turned her palm over and found a bandage stuck to it. The faint outline of dried blood rested beneath the outermost layer of the bandage. “What did you do?”

“Don’t touch that!” She jerked her hand away, her eyes bright with fear. “You can’t touch my blood at all. No matter what happens. Don’t touch my blood. Don’t let anyone else touch it either.”

He stared at her for a long moment while her words fell into place. Panic seared his thoughts.

“You were saying good-bye.” He forced the words out. “You’ve done something to yourself so that the wraith comes for you.”

“It was always going to come for me,” she said, moving closer so that she was once more standing a mere breath away from him. The musicians started a new dance, but still Kellan and Blue stood in the center of the ballroom while the dancers swirled around them.

“I don’t understand.”

She pressed her uninjured hand to his cheek once more. “I’m bonded to it in some way. Mama must have used my blood in the spell that sent it to the Wilds as well as in the lock. It came for me at the gate, and it will come for me now.”

“And you’re ready to die.” The words weighed as much as his entire kingdom.

The reckless light was back in her eyes, but her expression was serene. “I’m poison, Kellan.”

“You are not poison. You’re the kindest, smartest, most incredible girl I’ve ever known.”

She smiled a little. “Thank you. But I mean I’m literally made of poison. I made the most lethal potion I could and then poured it into my bloodstream so it could bond with my blood. When the wraith drinks from me, my blood will make sure the poison bonds with the wraith. I’ll kill the monster, Kellan, and you and your family will be safe.”

The room tilted, and he hung on to her to keep his feet. “I can’t . . . There has to be another way.”

She let her hand slide slowly from his cheek to his shoulder, and then she stepped back. “Remember me like this. The girl in the yellow dress who loved you first.”

And then a ripple of unease ran through the crowd, starting at the door that led to the entrance hall and expanding until the dancers went still and the musicians fell silent. Someone screamed, and then the queen was on her feet, her dark eyes blazing with fear, her hands clutching the front of her dress as she stared at the doorway.

Kellan turned and the foundation beneath his feet cracked and slid away.

His father stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on his son, a sword in his hand.





FORTY-FOUR

KELLAN LUNGED IN front of Blue as the thing that used to be his father moved across the crowded ballroom toward them, his gait oddly disjointed but impossibly fast. The sword he held gleamed beneath the chandeliers. People screamed and ran off the dance floor, leaving Kellan, Blue, and the team of guards who were rushing to defend their prince.

This was madness. His father couldn’t be alive. Couldn’t be striding toward him with a weapon in his hand. It was impossible.

It was also true.

The air felt too thick to breathe as Kellan watched the king swing his sword like a vicious pendulum, slicing into those who would try to stop him. Two of the guards went down, blood pouring from their wounds.

This was his father. His father. Kellan had wished for so long to have more time with the king that for a terrible moment, he thought he’d caused this. He’d dared the sea one too many times to exchange his father’s life for his, and now here was his wish, driving his sword into the side of the third guard, and then dragging it free, his eyes never leaving Kellan’s.