The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(36)
The sky was a dusky purple pricked with stars by the time Blue finished her last delivery to a house on the far side of the Evrard quarter. She’d taken her sweet time, but even though darkness was swiftly falling, she didn’t want to go home. Not yet.
Not when it meant dealing with the Chauveaus.
Instead, she wandered through the well-lit main streets of the Evrard quarter, stepping aside as workers washed the day’s grit from the cobblestones while others climbed iron poles to shine the glass lanterns that hung at regular intervals along the way. When she came to the corner that would lead her back to the Gaillard quarter, she hesitated.
Music poured from the building to her right, a bright, cheerful melody that danced along the air like laughter. She drew in the scent of roasted pork, spiced apples, and shirella wine and found her feet moving in that direction before she’d fully decided she was going inside.
A wall of noise hit her as she opened the pub’s door—the din of voices, the sparkling notes of a violin, and the dull clink of glass mugs against the bar counter to her left. She took a few steps forward, letting the heavy wooden door close behind her with a thunk, and scanned the room for an empty seat.
Square tables with four chairs each surrounded a scarred dance floor on three sides. The fourth edge of the dance floor held a small stage with a pair of violinists in black dresses, their bows flashing as they coaxed a song from the strings. Most of the tables held at least two people, and there were five couples on the dance floor.
For a moment, Blue longed to join them. Dive into the dancing while music and laughter surrounded her. No Dinah. No grief. No accusation waiting to turn her dreams into nightmares. But there were no empty tables. No handy partners standing around hoping a young alchemist would walk into the pub alone and ready to dance.
She’d made a mistake coming here. Instead of offering comfort and distraction, the crowded pub was making her feel more alone than ever. Turning to leave, she bumped against the solid wall of someone’s chest and stumbled back.
A hand shot out to steady her, and she looked up to find Kellan standing in front of her, surrounded by a group of his friends and several members of the royal guard, conspicuous in their blue-and-silver uniforms.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking over her shoulder as if he expected to find someone with her.
“Nothing. I was just leaving.” Her voice broke, and she hastily cleared her throat and tried to step around him.
He waved his friends toward the bar, and then stepped in front of her again.
“Please don’t be annoying tonight, Kellan. I’m really not in the mood.” Tears burned, and she blinked rapidly, but still one chased a trail of heat down the cheek that Dinah had struck.
“Wait a minute.”
“No.” She didn’t have a minute. She was going to break down in that stupid pub surrounded by music and laughter, and the hot, sharp thing that had lived inside her since she’d found Papa’s body was going to shred her to pieces.
Spinning to the side, she skirted his body, wrenched the door open, and rushed into the night air, more tears stinging her cheeks. The door slammed shut behind her, and then he was at her side.
“Blue, please wait.” His voice sounded warm and friendly, the way it had at Papa’s funeral, and it made the hot, sharp thing inside her settle a little.
Quickly, she swiped at the tears on her face and then said, “What do you want?”
“To know what you want.” He ducked his head so he could look into her downcast eyes. “I’ve never seen you at this pub before, and you’ve obviously come alone, so—”
“Yes, I’m alone, and you’re with a crowd of your friends, all of whom are probably wondering why the prince followed the merchant girl outside.” Her voice was brittle.
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “They’re used to me chasing after a beautiful girl.”
“Bet they aren’t used to you catching one who is immune to your charms.”
He gave her an exaggerated parody of the smile he’d trotted out for Jacinthe at the farmhouse. “Are you sure you’re immune?”
She rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his shoulder. “Rarely have I ever been so sure of anything.”
“You wound me.” He winked.
“Wink at me one more time, and I’ll wound you for real.”
He laughed. “There’s the Blue I know and almost like.”
She surprised herself by laughing with him.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders, and she wasted a foolish second wishing he’d touch her again, if only to keep her from sinking back into her loneliness.
Quietly, he asked, “Will you tell me why you came here?”
She looked away as the violins took up another merry tune, the notes tumbling over each other in a mad dash up and down the scale.
She should leave now. Tell him she was fine and send him back to his friends while she walked the long trek back to the farmhouse, where no doubt Dinah waited to discuss Blue’s disobedience.
But just like at Papa’s funeral, there was something warm and comforting about Kellan’s presence. When he wasn’t trying to flirt or charm or get himself killed, he was actually a very intuitive person with a generous heart. How she could’ve spent so much time in his presence over the years without seeing that was a mystery. Maybe she’d been blind. Or maybe he’d always been in such a rush to implement another madcap scheme that he’d never bothered showing her another side.