The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(34)
Blue entered the room with a derisive little sniff, a tray balanced in her arms. Pepperell hurried in behind her, twined around her legs as she carefully set the tray on the little table that stood between the sofa and Kellan’s chair, and then hopped into Kellan’s lap, purring loudly.
As Halette began to pour tea for the four of them, Kellan met Blue’s eyes and grinned.
“Excellent judge of character,” he mouthed softly, his hands buried in the cat’s soft fur.
Blue rolled her eyes and left the room, but he caught the faint smile playing around the edge of her lips as she went.
FOURTEEN
IT HAD BEEN a week since the Chauveaus had come to live at the farmhouse. Blue was miserable. It wasn’t because she’d been kicked out of her room and relegated to an old mattress and quilt in the attic so that Halette, Dinah’s youngest daughter, could have her bedroom, though Blue did resent that. It wasn’t because Dinah stopped by the shop most days, though Blue was sick of her hovering about. It wasn’t even that she hadn’t seen Grand-mère, though the older woman came to the door every day only to be turned away by Dinah, who said Blue needed time to bond with her new family members.
No, Blue was miserable because she knew Papa had died because of her.
It was the thought that sank into her bones every day, brittle and sharp. The accusation that chased its way into her nightmares until she woke choking on sobs.
If she had told him the burglar took the almost-gold experiment, Papa wouldn’t have allowed her to stay late at the shop. He would never have been on the road to come and fetch her. He’d still be waking her each morning with hot spiced chicory and cream. Still be chastising her to clean her work area between each potion. Still be here, instead of gone.
Blue couldn’t bear the thought that he was gone.
She also couldn’t bear the thought of trying to make gold again. Her pressurized pot sat gathering dust on the shelf by the stove, chunks of lead resting cold in its belly. She couldn’t stand to look at it.
She nudged Pepperell off her stomach and slowly rose from her mattress in the attic to start yet another miserable day but paused as the glint of sunlight off the glassy surface of the sea caught her eye. Moving to the attic’s garret window, she pushed the dusty curtains aside and stared at the distant water.
Mama had taught her how to swim. They’d spent hours playing in the foamy waves while Papa swam out, strong and sure, to harvest the sea vines Mama wanted to use in her potions. They’d swim, build elaborate castles in the sand, and then snuggle close as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Blue would fight to keep her eyes open for as long as possible, but Mama would wrap her in a quilt and sing the lullaby she’d written when her daughter was born.
Pain shot through Blue’s chest, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she closed her eyes and imagined the sound of Mama’s voice singing. The sound of Papa’s gentle laughter. The feeling of belonging to people who loved her.
Tears burned her eyes, and she turned away from the window.
She still belonged to Mama and Papa, but she couldn’t spend all day reminiscing. She couldn’t spend all day blaming herself, either. Not if she wanted to survive Dinah’s scrutiny and the strangers who were under her roof. Jacinthe never spoke to Blue unless she wanted something. Her dress washed and pressed. Food prepared. Someone to open the curtains for her because apparently wealthy girls couldn’t lift a finger to do basic tasks.
Blue drew in a deep breath before anger could take root. Jacinthe might be difficult, but Halette wasn’t so bad. She never treated Blue like a servant, and where Jacinthe behaved as if taking over Blue’s guest room was an irritating inconvenience for her, Halette seemed genuinely sorry to be intruding on Blue’s grief. In different circumstances, Blue imagined they might be friends.
But these weren’t different circumstances, and Blue needed a distraction if she was going to survive the next few months until her birthday. She needed something else to focus on, and she knew just the thing.
Ana had never returned to the Gaillard quarter. Lucian hadn’t seen or heard from her, and neither had any of the other children he’d spoken to. And yesterday, he’d reported that another child had suddenly gone missing. This time a five-year-old boy. Ana may have sought work in a different quarter, but it was very unlikely a child of five would leave the people and places he was familiar with.
Blue wasn’t ready to try making gold again, but she didn’t need wealth to search for a few missing children. All she needed was time, a familiarity with the streets of Falaise de la Mer, and the courage to go into the neighborhoods controlled by the brokers.
Hurrying to get ready before Jacinthe started yelling for her breakfast or Dinah thumped on the wall to summon her to sweep the floor, Blue formed a plan for the day. She’d fulfill the orders, send Lucian out with the shop’s deliveries, and make enough potions to restock the shelves out front. And then she’d close up early and head out to start asking questions.
It was entirely possible that she’d find nothing. The children might have joined different shelters in other quarters. A kind person might have taken them in. They might have already signed up for jobs with a broker. But searching gave Blue purpose, and she needed that if she was going to get through her day.
The hours flew by as Blue worked hard to finish potions, restock shelves, and place orders to replenish her stock, all while running back and forth between the stockroom and the shop floor to deal with customers. Her nerves frayed until she thought she’d snap, and she desperately sang Mama’s lullaby under her breath hoping to find a sliver of calm.