The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(25)

And through it all she worried about the recent breakin.

She’d told Kellan the truth. These things did happen sometimes. But she worried that this wasn’t a regular robbery. While a number of items had been taken, plenty of Blue’s most valuable supplies had been left untouched. Supplies that were in easy reach on the shelves close to the damaged back door. Finished goods hadn’t been taken from the shop floor, though they were in easy reach too. But the evidence of Blue’s latest nearly successful attempt to turn lead into gold, evidence sealed inside a pot on the stove, had been taken.

Why would someone ransack the shop enough to find her almost-gold but leave so many truly valuable items behind?

Worry slithered through her, churning up her thoughts and sending her heart racing at odd moments. She hadn’t told Papa that someone had taken the results of her experiments. Especially when he’d been so upset about Dinah Chauveau coming into their shop to question him about the magistrate’s investigation into the fake gold Blue had tried to give Maurice at the market. If he knew someone had taken one of her failed attempts, he’d tell her to stop, and everything she’d worked so hard for would be lost.

Papa had been uneasy about letting her work late again, but she hadn’t had much of a choice. Lucian wasn’t able to start doing deliveries until the next morning, and she had more orders to fill than she’d had hours in her workday. Papa had only agreed to allow her to stay when she told him Kellan had requested extra guards in the area. He’d wanted to wait with her, but the shirella orchard needed harvesting while it was still light, and he’d already arranged to hire a crew of workers to help in the afternoon and early evening.

Blue had assured him that she’d stay alert and take no chances. Still, he’d made her promise to stay inside with the door locked and wait until he returned to escort her home.

Guilt sat heavy on her chest as she stirred the cream she was making and reached for its next ingredient. She’d never lied to Papa before. And she wasn’t lying, exactly. She just wasn’t telling him the whole truth. The guilt swirled into her stomach, slick and miserable, and she closed her eyes.

Not telling him the whole truth was the same as lying. Papa would see no difference between the two, and she couldn’t bear to betray his trust in her. She’d tell him about the stolen experiment. Maybe she could keep working on it at the farmhouse instead of the shop. If the person who’d stolen the almost-gold broke in again looking for more and found none, maybe they would believe it had been a yellow rock Blue had purchased, rather than the result of alchemy.

Something scraped against the newly installed door that led to the alley, and Blue jumped, dropping the tincture she was holding. It smashed to the storeroom floor, releasing a thick wave of wintermint.

Cursing, Blue grabbed a rag and crouched below her worktable. She dabbed at the puddle of oil with its slivers of glass, blinking against the sharp sting of so much spice in the air.

The knob on the alley door rattled, and Blue froze. Lifting her eyes, she saw the knob turn back and forth as someone tested it to see if it was locked.

It was. Locked and triple bolted. The doorway itself was reinforced with a double layer of wood as well. Papa had taken no chances.

Had the same person who’d broken in before returned to see if there were more chunks of almost-gold to steal? Would they go away if they realized someone was still in the shop?

Panic blazed through her, making it impossible to think. Should she be silent? Be loud? Race out the front calling for the guards Kellan had said he’d ask the magistrate to post in the area?

Blue scrambled to her feet, the oil-soaked rag clutched in her hand. “Who’s there?” she called loudly.

The knob stopped moving. Blue waited one breath, two, and then crept toward the door. Her heart thundered against her ears, and her entire body shook.

Pressing her ear to the wooden door, she strained to hear anything on the other side. It was quiet. Either the person was gone, or they were waiting and listening just like she was.

They were going to keep waiting. Blue had no intention of opening the door to check the alley.

Quietly backing away from the door, she tossed the rag she was holding into the trash and then returned to her worktable. Papa would be here soon, and Blue’s concentration was destroyed. She’d pack up her ingredients and somehow pry herself out of bed earlier than usual so she could finish the orders Lucian was scheduled to deliver in the morning. She’d just begun sealing up her puffer bloom oil, when the knob on the shop’s front door rattled.

Blue dropped the oil and reached for the halberd Papa kept on a hook beside the doorway that led back into the shop. The ax head was precisely balanced on a long, spiked shaft that was nearly as tall as Blue. Hefting it, she spread her hands wide along the shaft like Papa had taught her—one hand close to the ax head, and one just below the midpoint on the pole. If someone broke into the shop, Blue was going to make them immediately regret that decision.

The only light that came into the shop itself was from the braziers that were lit along the street poles outside the windows. The firelight glowed against the iron filigree that covered the windows from the outside. Blue crept across the dimly lit floor, holding the halberd steady, and then caught her breath when a shadow moved across one of the windows.

It was a figure in a hooded cloak. A woman, Blue was pretty sure. She moved with delicate confidence, seeming to be more shadow than human as she slipped past the shop and disappeared up the street.