The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(43)
The council leaned toward him as he read the short list of ingredients Blue had identified. When he’d finished, he looked up. “I’ve already done a bit of research. Charing root is fairly common, though we might have some luck if a merchant sold it to someone they hadn’t seen before. But threffalk is rare. Rare enough that anyone placing a recent order for it should be memorable. Especially when there are maybe four suppliers in all of Balavata.”
“Someone could’ve just brought it in with them at port,” Preston Gaillard said from beside Kellan, his wide hands pressed flat against the table, his body leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “The port traffic comes through my quarter, and I assure you that try as we might to stop illegal imports, we can’t find everything.”
“I know, but this is our best chance of finding a true lead.” Kellan met his mother’s gaze once more before moving rapidly through a list of tasks he needed each head family to do for both their public and private response to the threat. The meeting took another three hours as he worked through the other issues that faced the council.
Three hours he could’ve spent sending protection to Blue. Making sure Nessa didn’t leave the castle early to see her friend until he was sure the shop wouldn’t be attacked. Figuring out why there was so little difference between the fear of losing his sister and the fear of losing Blue.
By the time the meeting ended, the restlessness within him was at a breaking point. When Georgiana Faure demanded an audience to discuss the strength of her family’s potential alliance with the throne, couched in terms that left little doubt that she was prepared to find another path to the throne should he prove unreceptive, Kellan turned on the charm, settled her in a side parlor with refreshments on the way, gave orders to send royal guards to watch over Blue, and then rushed to the royal suite for just five minutes of privacy so he could pace and think and breathe.
He needed to breathe.
How had his father done this? Managed every crisis with the steady calm needed to keep others tethered to their best selves, put the interests of the kingdom as a whole first, and played the political game without a single sign of weakness? Had he ever sat through a meeting because it was what the kingdom needed while inside panic bit deep over the few people in the kingdom he truly cared about?
Kellan pulled up short, his hand still reaching for the door that led to his bedchambers.
He cared about his mother. Nessa. Many of the castle staff and his friends.
But Blue?
They were becoming friends, yes. And it was true that she was the one person besides Nessa who made it easy to be himself. No bracing for lies, threats, or flattery. No worry that she would tell him what she thought he wanted to hear.
He laughed at the thought of Blue trying to flatter him, and then swallowed hard as the bright torch that had blazed to life within him while he’d danced with her came roaring back.
He couldn’t afford to be anything but a prince dedicated to choosing a bride from the head families while proving he had what it took to step into his mother’s shoes. Blue was becoming his friend, and he was grateful for it. And of course, he wanted to protect her. He’d do the same for anyone.
Except he hadn’t. He’d assigned the job of sending protection to the various alchemy shops throughout the city to the representatives from each quarter, but he’d personally sent guards to watch over Blue. He could tell himself it was because her family had been a longtime friend of his, but the truth was that from the moment he’d heard Senet’s report about her alchemist, the one person in all of Balavata he’d worried about was Blue de la Cour.
He turned and lightly smacked his head against the wall three times before someone delicately cleared his throat from behind him.
Slowly, Kellan turned to find his secretary standing in the hall, a bemused expression on his face.
“Problems, Your Majesty?”
“No.” Kellan rubbed his forehead, caught Jacques’s expression, and hastily dropped his hand. “Just a council meeting.”
And a witch. And a betrothal. And shoes to fill.
And Blue.
Stars hang him, Blue.
EIGHTEEN
THE FARMHOUSE NO longer looked like a cozy, welcoming friend when Blue walked up the lane the day after she’d danced with Kellan in a pub and then watched a man die as magic shadow fire ate into his body. Dinah was on her heels, though she’d barely spoken to Blue since the night before when Blue had returned home, escorted by a pair of Evrard guards.
Dinah had spent half the day at the castle for an emergency council meeting and half the day in the Chauveau quarter dealing with the aftermath of the witch’s attack, but on the walk to and from the city, she’d maintained a stony silence unless she was barking an order at Blue.
Pepperell still waited on the porch, though he wouldn’t come to Blue when Dinah was near. The garden still framed the house with wild abandon, just waiting for Blue to walk its paths and let the magic in her blood tell her which things wanted to be harvested. Lanterns were lit in the windows—Halette’s doing, Blue was sure. The younger Chauveau girl rarely spoke to Blue, but she’d started quietly handling a few of the household tasks when her mother wasn’t around.
Dinah wanted a quick meal of the fresh bread, cheese, and plums she’d had Blue get from the market on their way home. Blue didn’t mind making such an easy dinner, but first she had to harvest her garden. It had been too long.