The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(114)

Settling her on the porch, his coat securely wrapped around her, he said, “Stay here, Nes. I can’t concentrate on helping Blue if I have to worry about you too.”

She nodded once, tears shining in her eyes, and then he raced back into the cottage and fell to his knees beside Blue.

The wraith was still drinking, its clawlike fingers tangled in Blue’s golden dress, its tattered black cloak spread out behind it.

Kellan drew his sword.

How much poison did it need to drink before the venom took hold? How much blood could Blue afford to lose? How long before trusting Blue turned into simply letting her die when he might have saved her?

Another swallow. Another tremor through Blue, this one much weaker than the last. A tiny gasp of air as Blue’s chest started to rise and fall faster and faster.

She was dying, and the wraith was still drinking. The numb corner of his heart shattered into brilliant splinters of pain.

Maybe she’d weakened it. Maybe as the poison bonded with the wraith’s blood, it would die slowly. Kellan no longer cared. The time for waiting was over.

He stood, aimed his sword at the back of the wraith’s neck, and drove the blade down as hard as he could. The sword struck a shimmering, translucent barrier and bounced back, throwing Kellan to the floor.

It wasn’t the wraith’s magic. He’d experienced that firsthand in the ballroom. No, this was Blue’s doing. She hadn’t just used her blood to poison the wraith, she’d used her magic to bind the wraith itself to her until the poison did its job.

Slowly, he crawled back to her side, grief swelling in his throat.

There was nothing he could do to save her. She’d sacrificed herself for the kingdom. For Nessa.

For him.

She’d known all along that this might be the outcome. She’d spent their entire dance trying to tell him good-bye. She wanted to be remembered as the girl in the yellow dress who’d loved him first.

Kellan didn’t want memories. He wanted Blue.

The wraith shuddered—a quick, jerky movement that pulled its mouth free of Blue. Kellan shoved it, and it fell to the floor. Swallowing hard at the gaping wound in Blue’s neck, he tore off his shirt and pressed it against the bleeding.

“Don’t touch . . . poison.” Blue’s voice was a faint whisper.

“Shh,” he said, his voice desperate as he swept a shaking hand over her face. “Stop worrying about me. Save your strength.”

The wraith was on all fours, fingers dug into the wooden floor like claws, mouth hanging open while blood dripped from her fangs. Her black eyes were wild as a guttural, choking sound escaped her throat.

“What have you done?” she rasped as her back arched, and lesions split her skin, leaking blood and puss.

Kellan whipped his head toward the wraith and snarled, “She killed you. She figured out how to do the one thing no one else could do, and she killed you.”

The wraith gnashed her teeth as foam rose from her throat to spill out of her mouth. A howl of rage and agony tore through her as she convulsed. Kellan curled over Blue, shielding her body with his as the last of the wraith’s magic slammed into them, a hundred shards of power trying to rip them to pieces. He hung on, his breath coming in quick, hard pants as he absorbed the brunt of the attack.

The cottage shook, its walls groaning as debris danced across the trembling floor. And then the wraith collapsed and went still.

“You did it,” he whispered against Blue’s ear. “You killed the wraith.”

Blue was silent.

He pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips pale, and her breath was shallow. “You can beat this,” he said. “Come on, Blue. You’re the strongest person I know. You can survive.”

He was lying. He could see it in the weakness of her body, the graying pallor of her skin. She couldn’t survive the poison in her blood and the drain of losing so much of that blood to the wraith. He didn’t know how to help her, but he knew someone who might.

“I’m taking you to Grand-mère. Stay with me, Blue. Just hold on long enough for me to get to her.”

He bent to gather Blue in his arms, and then Nessa was there. Pushing him aside, her hands full of herbs, roots, and dried leaves, she crouched beside Blue. Setting her things down, she signed rapidly. Move your shirt. We have to draw the poison out of her blood.

“I’m taking her to Grand-mère’s.”

There’s no time! I know how to make a tincture that will combat poison.

“Nes, she bound it to her blood with magic. It’s not coming out.” He bent to gather Blue in his arms, but Nessa threw out her hands to stop him.

Then we bond a healing potion to her blood instead.

Kellan paused, a faint hope stirring in his heart. “You know how to do that?”

I know how to make a healing potion. Blue taught me. Usually you have to let it steep and then cure it for forty-eight hours, but we’ll figure out another—

“Use her blood. It bonds things. Just . . . here.” He pulled his shirt from her neck, wincing at the amount of bright crimson blood that was soaked into the fabric. “Make your potion on my shirt. Her blood will touch all of it. That should bring the ingredients together faster, and then you can put it directly into her wound.”

Nessa didn’t hesitate. Quickly and competently, she sorted through the items she’d gathered, placing a pinch of this, a leaf of that, and a dusting of something that looked like gold on Kellan’s shirt. When she was done, she uncorked a jar of oil and poured that over the pile of herbs and leaves. Then she gathered the unstained edges of the shirt, covered her hands with the fabric, and pressed them into the ingredients so that the excess blood in the shirt rose up to meet the mixture.