The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(24)
“Oh you can believe it, Blue. I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
She cocked her head and studied him, and he had the uncomfortable impression that she was sifting through his character, looking for the pieces she was sure were missing.
“You toss careless words at people all the time, Kellan. Pretty compliments. Easy smiles. Winks that I suppose you think make people feel special.” Her voice was calm and steady again. “I don’t want your carelessness. I don’t want easy. If you have something to say to me, then you’d better speak the truth and mean it. The rest of it is useless.”
He took a moment to breathe. To rein in the flash of anger that left a hard knot in his chest. When he spoke, his voice was as calm and steady as hers.
“Do you have any idea what my life is like, Blue?”
She frowned.
“Those pretty compliments, easy smiles, and winks that you hate me for are the only way I can play a dangerous political game that ends with me being forced to choose a bride by weighing which head family is both the most advantageous ally and the best able to put down any violence from the families whose daughters aren’t chosen.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against them again. The burgeoning pain he’d had before had turned into a raging headache.
“Everyone is lying to me. Flattering me. Testing me. If I slip up even once, it could cost me the rest of my family.” His throat closed at the thought, and he told himself to be quiet. Stop telling the girl who despised him the things that weighed on him. He was just giving her more weapons to use against him, and he had no doubt she would if she thought he was in the wrong.
Her hand slid over his arm and squeezed gently. Startled, he dropped his hands and opened his eyes. She stood before him holding a little tin in her free hand. When she saw she had his attention, she opened the tin, and the sweet spice of wintermint spilled out. Her mouth tightened, and the pulse at the side of her neck beat rapidly as she dipped her finger in the cream and then raised it to his head.
“This will help that headache,” she said quietly.
He let her rub the cream into his temples, and felt the tension start to leave his body as the pain lessened.
“I may have misjudged you in this instance,” she said stiffly.
He blinked at her, and her eyes narrowed. “I can admit when I’m wrong, Kellan.”
“Not in my experience,” he said, but he smiled as he said it. A real, warm, reserved-for-family smile.
And miracle of miracles, she smiled back. Not the stiff, polite caricature of a smile he was used to seeing, but a wide, generous smile that welcomed him in and warmed him more than he wanted to admit.
“Thank you.” He held her gaze as the shop’s chimes rang to announce the farmer’s exit, and the sound of Pierre’s steps came toward the storeroom. “I’m grateful to finally have someone be completely honest with me.”
“I’m here most days if you ever need to talk to someone who is immune to your charms. Always happy to point out your many shortcomings.” She sounded grumpy and sincere at the same time.
He laughed. “Be careful. I just might take you up on that.”
Turning toward the rest of the storeroom, he frowned. The wooden frame around the back door was splintered, and the doorknob hung uselessly. “What happened?”
“Someone broke into the shop last night.” For the first time in the many years he’d known her, Blue’s voice trembled.
Anger rushed through Kellan as he stalked toward the door. “Did they take anything? Does the magistrate have any suspects? Was anyone here when . . . hang it all, Blue. You stay and work late on your own, don’t you?” He rounded on her. “Were you here?”
She shook her head, but there was worry on her face. “It was the first night in nearly three weeks that I went home with Papa. And yes, they took some of my rarer ingredients, a few staples I can easily replace, and one of my new experiments.” Her gaze slid toward the stove and then snapped back to him.
“We need to replace the door. Get a stronger lock. And you shouldn’t stay here alone at night.” He was pacing, anger a flush of heat beneath his skin.
No matter how annoying Blue could be, she and Pierre were practically family. No one threatened his family and got away with it.
“We’ve already ordered a new door. New lock. It’ll be fine, Kellan. These things happen sometimes.” She sounded unconvinced. He watched her for a moment as she bit her lip, but she said nothing more.
“I’ll personally ask the Gaillard magistrate to post more guards in the merchant district at night.”
“Thank you.” She offered him a small smile.
And then Pierre was in the storeroom, launching himself at the prince and laughing as he scooped the tall boy into a fierce embrace. Kellan leaned into it and let himself imagine, just for a moment, that the arms wrapped around him belonged to his father, and that the weight of his kingdom’s future no longer rested on his shoulders alone.
TEN
BLUE STAYED IN the shop’s storeroom long past sunset to get all the stock replenished and the morning’s orders filled, humming Mama’s lullaby as she worked. She refined silver and blended it with copper for strength and durability to fill an order from the Gaillards. Hung her recently harvested bolla root to dry and ground date pits into dust with her mortar and pestle before storing the dust in an amber jar. Crushed wintermint into tinctures of yaeringlei oil and sealed them shut with wax, her stomach churning as the spicy sweet scent filled the air.