The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(108)
Did he want vengeance? Did he, like Kellan, hold his son responsible for cutting his life short eleven years ago? Kellan’s hand, already curled around the hilt of his dress sword to pull it free, hesitated as more guards sprinted across the dance floor toward the king.
“Kellan, get out of the way!” Blue rushed in front of him, shielding him with her body as the king reached them.
The king’s sword swung toward her, and the paralysis that had rooted Kellan to the floor broke. Lunging forward, he pushed Blue to the side as he raised his own sword. His blade slammed into his father’s, a shriek of metal against metal, and held.
Kellan planted his feet and put all his strength into pushing against his father’s sword. They stood face-to-face, swords crossed above their heads, and the numb corner of Kellan’s heart blazed to life with unbearable agony.
“Father,” he said softly. “Please, put down your sword.”
The king’s expression was slack, his brown eyes flat and empty. He pushed harder on his weapon. Behind him, the guards closed in.
“Talbot, stop!” The queen’s voice split the air, filled with desperation and grief.
The king’s body jerked, and his head slowly pivoted until he was staring at the royal dais. The queen stood, body trembling, her hands clutched together in front of her chest, as if praying. Nessa was beside her, her eyes huge as she stared at the man who’d been her father but who’d died before she could make any memories with him.
The guards reached the king, and the queen flinched as two of them drove their blades into the back of his knees to incapacitate him. A third went for the king’s sword hand. The weapons struck their target, biting deep. Thick black sludge that smelled of sea brine and decay oozed out of the wounds, but the king didn’t fall. Didn’t lose his grip on his sword. Didn’t waver.
In horror, Kellan watched the wounds knit back together as if an invisible thread had been pulled. If they couldn’t disarm him or incapacitate him, how were they going to stop him?
The king was still staring at the queen. At Nessa, who’d wrapped her arms around herself and edged to the back of the dais.
“Look at me, father,” Kellan said firmly as grief opened wide and hollow within him.
If the king couldn’t be disarmed or stopped, there was only one solution. He was going to have to figure out how to kill his father. The thought was a cold, creeping frost settling over his bones.
“Look at me,” he said again, his voice shaking.
“Dinah used the wraith to do this,” Blue said beside him. “This isn’t really your father. It’s what little was left of him—the memories in his bones that the wraith used to re-create him.” Her small hand brushed against his back, a comforting touch that said she knew he was in agony. “If any part of him remains here, he’s trapped behind the control the wraith has on him.”
Kellan swallowed hard as his father’s face swung toward him again. He kept his sword up, kept pressing back against the blow the king wanted to deliver, as the guards tried again to bring his father down. One sword to the stomach. One to his chest. One through his neck.
Black goo oozing. The sickening smell of brine and decay. His wounds knitting back together effortlessly.
And still his father stood, empty eyes staring at his son, his sword pushing, pushing, pushing, trying hard to land a killing blow on the prince.
“Call off the guards,” Blue said softly. “If he turns away from you, he might kill them. They can’t stop magic with a sword.”
“Stand down,” Kellan said, his gaze locked on his father. Was there a flicker of awareness in the king’s eyes? A shred of the man who’d loved his family and his kingdom so well? “Father? Can you hear me?”
As the guards backed away, their swords still raised, Blue crept away from Kellan’s side, and slowly circled the king, studying him intently.
“Be careful,” Kellan breathed as she frowned and moved closer to the king.
“Oh yes, do be careful.” Dinah Chauveau walked through the open door the guards had used to enter. A tall, knife-thin figure in a tattered black shroud hovered just behind her, the gaping black pits where its eyes should be focused on Blue. “We wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt. Well, anyone besides the royal family. The king has strict orders not to let his wife and children survive the night.”
“No.” Kellan pushed his sword harder against his father as panic crashed through him.
He wasn’t ready for this. Would never be ready for this. Blue was going to sacrifice herself to kill the wraith, and then he would have to kill the remnant of his father. What would be left of him when it was over?
“I see it,” Blue whispered, her face close to the king’s. “A thread where his cheek meets his right ear. It’s nearly translucent. That’s the magic that’s holding him together.”
“Isn’t this lovely?” Dinah’s voice vibrated with rage. “All the people who ruined my life gathered together under the same roof. Well, everyone except for my dear little sister, but I’ll deal with her shortly.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the queen demanded, her regal expression back in place, though her body still trembled, and her eyes kept darting to the king. “How dare you free that creature and bring it here?”
“How dare you?” Dinah stalked toward the dais, the wraith trailing behind her, a soft, keening sound escaping its mouth. “You and Talbot, the royal council, the de la Cours, and my sister all plotting together behind my back.”