The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(63)

“Now that we have the pros in place, let’s look at the cons,” the queen said while the faint tolling of cathedral bells from every quarter drifted through the wind, their sonorous chimes proclaiming the tenth hour.

Kellan looked longingly out the window. It was a clear summer night. Perfect for slipping out of his bedroom window, scaling the wall, and heading to the sea for some dangerous nighttime cliff diving.

His pulse kicked up at the thought, and the numb corner of his heart warmed. He could chase death one more time. Look it in the face and dare it to take him like it should’ve done years ago. And then he could beat it and return to the shore remembering what it was like to feel fully alive. If he was lucky, the risk would chase his longing for Blue into the background of his mind as well.

“Don’t even think about sneaking out tonight,” his mother said calmly.

He wrenched his gaze from the window and stared at her. “I wasn’t . . . That’s not . . . How did you—”

“How long have I been your mother, Kellan?”

He squinted. “Is that a trick question?”

“Don’t be cheeky. I’ve known you for nearly nineteen years. Do you really think I’m not aware of how often my son ditches his guards and disappears to do stars knows what for hours at a time?” She sat up straighter, an edge to her voice. “Don’t tell me you’re sneaking out to see a girl.”

“What? No! I just—”

“Is it Blue?”

“Mother.”

“If you’re sneaking out to spend time with Blue and the head families find out—”

“I’m not sneaking out to see a girl. Blue or otherwise.” He enunciated each word with exquisite precision. “I just go swimming.”

She sat back. “Swimming?”

He nodded.

Something flickered in her eyes, and Kellan looked away as she said softly, “Are you swimming because you love it? Or because it’s where you feel closest to your father?”

He shrugged.

She reached across the distance between them and wrapped one cool hand around his. “Be careful, Kellan. That’s all I ask. I know you need moments of freedom from the pressures of being the crown prince, but I don’t want to get a message that my son has disappeared beneath the water and isn’t coming back.”

He nodded but couldn’t trust himself to speak around the sudden tightness in his throat.

“Why don’t we resume this discussion another night?” she asked, and her voice sounded suspiciously shaky at the edges.

He risked a quick glance at her and grimaced at the tears shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Her smile wobbled but remained intact. “Crying over their children’s hearts is what mothers do.”

He stood, pulled her from the settee, and wrapped her in his arms. She hugged him fiercely and laughed. “You grew taller than me this past year. We’re going to have to have the tailor look at your dancing clothes to make sure your suit fits for the ball.”

He stepped back and smiled, but whatever he was going to say in response was cut off by a knock at the door.

“Enter,” the queen said.

A page hurried in, handed the queen a folded parchment with the yellow wax seal of the magistrate in the Evrard quarter, bowed, and then exited. The queen moved to her desk, slit the wax seal open with a small knife, and then read the message.

A thick sense of foreboding settled over Kellan as his mother’s shoulders slumped briefly before straightening into her regal, queen-in-charge stance.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s Marisol Evrard,” she said.

The girl who was sewing her own ball gown, who’d unabashedly enjoyed both eating snacks at the tea table and dancing with Kellan, Jacinthe, and Genevieve. He liked her. “What’s happened?”

“She’s dead.”





TWENTY-SEVEN

DINAH HAD BEEN waiting for Blue when she got home. The moment Kellan and his guards walked out of the farmhouse gate and back toward the city, Dinah grabbed Blue’s upper arm and dragged her to the kitchen.

“We’re going to find that spell of your mother’s,” she said.

“I can’t,” Blue said, pulling with all her strength, until Dinah faced her, tears shining in her eyes.

Her grip on Blue’s arm gentled. “Please, I’m going to lose everything if I can’t find a way out of this. Getting an old, rare potion of your mother’s could be the key.”

Blue didn’t think an old potion would be worth as much as Dinah seemed to think, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe this would get the Chauveaus out of her life. And she’d promised Papa that one day she’d face the root cellar.

Reluctantly, Blue allowed herself to be pulled toward the root cellar’s door.

The cellar smelled of drying herbs, pickled roots, and dust. Blue clung to the ladder, her breath coming in shallow pants as she slowly eased her way down. A lantern hung from the crook of one elbow, and her gathering basket hung from the other.

“Please hurry,” Dinah said from above her. “You spent far too much time in town. I want enough time to search the whole cellar tonight.”

The whole cellar? Blue’s heart slammed against her chest as she took another shaky step toward the floor. The cellar ran along the entire length of the farmhouse. There were walls full of shelves, crates stacked higher than Blue in two corners, and several chests lining the center like a row of soldiers.