The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(67)

Misery banked the fire in the older man’s eyes, and he reached for Kellan’s shoulder. “She was a good girl. Kind and smart and strong.”

“Yes, she was,” Kellan whispered, his own grief aching in his chest. “There are no words for the depths of my anger and horror over this. You have my promise that the crown will pursue her killer until he or she is caught.”

He sent guards to check on the Gaillards’ nieces, and waited with Lord Gaillard until he had confirmation that the girls were safe and protected. Then he took his leave, mounted his horse, and turned toward the west, where the Chauveaus and Blue waited.

Blue. Would she be protected by the Chauveaus’ guards too? Living under the same roof as Jacinthe and Halette might put her in danger. He couldn’t trust that whoever was trying to take out eligible girls hadn’t issued orders to wipe out every girl of marriageable age within each household.

Worry buzzed through him, and he nudged his horse into a canter. The hoofbeats of his guards’ horses clattered against the cobblestones behind him as he sped through the Gaillard quarter, out the western gate, and down the winding dirt road that lead to the de la Cours’ house. As if to reinforce his fears, the bells along the road began clamoring, and Kellan could swear he heard a faint wail rising above them, like a trapped beast keening for its freedom.

Setting his jaw, he ignored the bells and nudged his horse to move faster. He didn’t have time to worry about a caged monster. He had a human monster on the loose killing his friends.

When he reached the farmhouse gate, he pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted in one fluid motion. Tossing the reins to one of his guards, he wrenched opened the gate and ran toward the front door.

He couldn’t see any obvious guards in the vicinity, and the worry in his gut blossomed into full-blown fear. There was no way a guard could’ve identified Kellan as the prince with nothing but faint starlight to illuminate the darkness. Anyone protecting the Chauveaus should’ve stopped him by now, weapon out, demanding an explanation for his presence.

Was he already too late? Had a killer been here sometime between the royal messenger and his own arrival?

He vaulted up the steps and then froze, his heart slamming against his throat.

A body was lying on the far end of the porch, its back to the wall, a huge lump of a cat sitting on it and glaring at Kellan out of its one good eye.

“Oh no,” Kellan breathed as he forced himself to move forward on legs that felt suddenly unsteady.

He was too late. He should’ve come here first, even though it was the farthest distance from the castle. He’d made a grave mistake, and the inhabitants of the farmhouse had paid the price.

The cat meowed as he approached, and Kellan sank to his knees, the grief that had taken root in his heart for Gen spilling over until his entire body ached with the pain of losing Blue.

It had to be Blue. Her cat wouldn’t guard anyone else.

Reaching out, he brushed her cloak back and pressed his hand to her cheek.

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, sending the cat thudding to the porch beside Kellan. He swore and nearly fell over in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What are you doing?” His heart refused to settle, and his hands shook as he fisted them against his knees.

“Sleeping!”

“You could’ve been dead!” His voice broke over the last word, and he cleared his throat.

She blinked. “That makes no sense, Kellan.”

“It makes more sense than deciding to spend the night asleep on your porch.” His eyes narrowed. “Did she kick you out of the house?”

“No.” There was something aching and lost and very un-Blue in her voice.

He made a conscious effort to gentle his tone. “What happened?”

“I didn’t want to be inside anymore.” She drew her cloak around her and reached for the cat, who curled up in her arms but kept his eye on Kellan.

“You can’t stay out here alone. It isn’t safe.”

He couldn’t see her well enough to know if she rolled her eyes, but her tone sounded like it was a good guess. “It’s safer out here than inside. I promise.”

“Someone killed Marisol Evrard and Genevieve Gaillard.”

“Oh no.” She reached for him, wrapping one hand around his. “I’m so sorry. They were your friends, weren’t they? I really liked Gen.”

“Yes.” He turned his palm up and laced her fingers through his, taking comfort in the steady warmth of her skin. “They were some of the girls vying for the betrothal. It means one of the families is making a bid to remove their competition. They could target the girls in this house next. You have to be careful.”

“They’d target Jacinthe or Halette, not me, but I appreciate the warning.” She squeezed his hand once and then let go.

“They might target every girl of betrothal age, just to be sure. Where are Dinah’s guards? I want to speak to them about increasing security.”

“I haven’t seen any guards since she came to live here.”

“That can’t be right. Why would she take that chance?” He glanced around as if somehow the Chauveau guards would materialize.

“Maybe she can’t afford to pay them.”

“That’s right. She’s in financial trouble.” Kellan drew in a deep breath but kept his hand in hers. Strange how her hand was small enough to be nearly engulfed in his, but still somehow made him feel twice as strong as he’d been moments before. He’d forgotten to mention Dinah’s financial difficulties to his mother. Mostly because his mother had started asking pointed questions about his time spent with Blue, and it had thrown his thoughts into a complicated spiral.