The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(31)
Stone crept into Dinah’s voice. “Let’s not start out our time together with conflict, Blue. I’m accustomed to my children obeying me. If you can’t agree to stay peacefully with us in the farmhouse for the next little while, then I’ll be forced to take you with us to our home in the city. Is that what you want?”
Before Blue could reply, Grand-mère gathered her close in a fierce hug and whispered against her ear, “Don’t do anything that will make her take you away from here. It will be all right. We’ll figure out how to contest that document. You know where to find me if you need help.”
And then she was gone, and Blue was left standing in her sitting room facing the head of the Chauveau family, who inexplicably wanted to live in her house, run her shop, and control every aspect of Blue’s life.
THIRTEEN
“I BEG YOUR pardon?” Kellan blinked at the page who’d met him at the bottom of the castle’s steps just before he reached his carriage.
She bit her lip and dropped into yet another curtsy—her fourth in less than two minutes—and repeated, “My Lady Chauveau is temporarily staying at the de la Cour farmhouse just to the west of the city and asks that you meet her and her daughters there for your brunch date.”
When Kellan didn’t immediately respond, she dipped lower, wobbling precariously, and said in a shaky voice, “She said you’d know where it is, but I’m sure I can find someone to escort you if—”
“I know where it is.” Kellan motioned for the girl to rise before she fell. “What I don’t understand is why Lady Chauveau is there.”
“I—she—My Lady Chauveau doesn’t share her reasons with me.”
Kellan offered the girl a smile, and she blushed prettily. “I suppose I’ll have to ask her myself, then. Thank you for delivering the message.”
She bobbed another curtsy, and Kellan turned toward his carriage. “The de la Cour farmhouse, please,” he said as his coachmen held the door open for him.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Kellan settled back against the plush cushions and sighed. Why was Lady Chauveau staying at Blue’s house? And how was he supposed to conduct a betrothal meeting—complete with delicate political negotiations and a healthy side of charm and flirting—under Blue’s scornful eye?
Not that she’d been scornful the last time he’d seen her. The numb corner of his heart that sheltered his own grief sent a shaft of pain through him at the memory of Blue’s wild sobs as he’d held her after Pierre’s funeral. Stars knew he didn’t usually get along with Blue, but no one deserved the kind of pain he knew she was in.
Maybe she wouldn’t even be present. Maybe she’d be hiding in her garden or seeking solace at Grand-mère’s. He could visit the Chauveaus, do his duty, and leave without disturbing her.
And if the thought of not checking in on her left him with a faint twinge of disappointment, it was only because he’d loved Pierre too, and grief was easier to bear when it was shared with those left behind.
The scenery flew by, and before Kellan knew it, they’d pulled to a stop before the little gate that led to the farmhouse. As he stepped out of the carriage, the faint clamor of iron bells ringing far to the west drifted through the air. Kellan froze and looked down the long road that cut through farmland and hills before reaching the large expanse of the wilds at the base of the mountains. His coachmen lunged for the horses as if they might bolt, and his guards drew their swords as they flanked the prince, all of them staring at the distant shadow of the mountains.
The road was empty. The wraith was imprisoned in its fae forest, and nothing was going to change that. Kellan knew the bells were only ringing because the wraith was throwing its magic at the barrier that kept it inside its cage, but still a chill danced across his skin as he slowly moved toward Blue’s gate, glancing twice more at the road, just in case.
He knocked on the door and nearly grimaced when Blue opened it. So much for being able to do his job without her watching his every move. She met his eyes, and a faint flicker of curiosity surfaced, but mostly she looked exhausted.
Kellan’s irritation disappeared. Ignoring his guards as they moved into the house to check that it was safe, he stepped toward Blue. A tiny frown etched itself between her eyes, and he quickly cast about for something courteous and sympathetic to say. Something that would convey friendly concern for her well-being without intruding on her grief. Something charming and kind, but not overly intimate.
She cocked a brow at him as if to challenge his right to be standing on her porch, and he blurted out, “You look really worn out.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he gave himself a mental head slap. What was it about her that made it impossible to be his usual charming, witty self?
“I didn’t mean that. I was going to say something courteous and sympathetic. I don’t know why I . . . Never mind. I’m sorry.”
“Did you come here just to tell me I look like I haven’t slept well in days?” There was a faint challenge in her voice, but the effect was lost when she scrubbed her hands over her face and pressed her fingers against her temples as if to stave off a headache.
“Have you slept at all?” He kept his voice quiet, angling his body to block anyone in the house from coming onto the porch and overhearing their conversation.