The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(68)
“All right, then I’ll speak to Dinah about moving some of the royal guards out here. And I really would feel more comfortable knowing you were inside the house with the doors locked.”
“I’m not going back inside.” Her tone was defiant, but the ache still lingered.
“Blue—”
“I’m not.”
“Then let me take you to Grand-mère’s. No one targeting the head families’ girls would think to look there. You can stay there tonight, and tomorrow I’ll have security arranged with Dinah so you can return home.”
“Dinah will be furious.”
“She can take that up with me. Come on. I’ll walk you there.”
He let go of her long enough to stand up while she scooped up the cat, who laid his head on her shoulder, and then together they left the porch and began the long walk through the orchard to Grand-mère’s house.
TWENTY-NINE
BLUE WOKE TO the smell of hot chicory with cream, and for one glorious moment imagined she was home. Papa was in the kitchen making breakfast and planning ways to gently wake his sleepyhead of a daughter, and all was right with her world.
“I see you’re awake,” Grand-mère said from the doorway of her spare room. She held a steaming mug in her hands. “Come to the kitchen, and I’ll fix us some breakfast. You still like fried apple cakes with a dusting of sugar, don’t you?”
Blue pulled the quilt closer to her chest and snuggled down into the bed. “Can I stay here now? Kellan was able to make Dinah let me go last night. Maybe he can make it so I can live with you now.”
Grand-mère approached the bed. “There’s nothing I’d love more, though you’d better stick with your usual routine until we know for sure. Don’t want that Chauveau snake sending you away. Prince Kellan seemed quite concerned for you last night. I didn’t realize the two of you were that close.”
Blue’s face warmed. Yes, they were close. Somehow they’d moved from animosity to grudging respect to true friendship over the past month. Not that she’d ever almost kissed any of her other true friends.
Her skin tingled as she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d held his arms out to her. Reckless Kellan taking a chance to have what he wanted instead of what the law dictated, at least for a week. Her refusal still stung, the bone-deep ache of regret burrowing into her.
She’d obeyed the rules. It was better that way, and they both knew it. If it left her feeling just a little hollow over the loss of what might have been, all she needed was to remember that what might have been would have had to disappear the night of the betrothal ball.
Belatedly, she realized that Grand-mère was waiting for a response. Quickly, she sat up and reached for the mug. “We’ve become friends. Or maybe we were always friends, but now we’ve come to understand and appreciate one another.”
“Well, it’s about time. I’m going to get started on those fried apple cakes. You can wear one of your mother’s old dresses until you get to the farmhouse. The dress you wore last night needs washing. Sleeping on the porch.” She tsked. “What were you doing out there?”
It was on the tip of Blue’s tongue to tell her grandmother about being forced to go down into the root cellar. How the panic had become an all-consuming beast beneath her skin, and how she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of having walls around her again.
But if Grand-mère had been angry enough to nearly pull her wand in front of the magistrate at the thought of Dinah having guardianship over Blue, how would she respond to knowing that Dinah had forced Blue into the root cellar? Or the knowledge that Dinah wanted to steal some of Mama’s old, rare spells and sell them or use them for herself? Or worse, the fact that Dinah sometimes slapped or pushed Blue in a fit of temper?
Swallowing the words she’d been about to say, Blue took a sip of the chicory root and then said, “I just wanted some fresh air, and then I guess I fell asleep.”
It was the truth, just not all of it. She hadn’t seen Grand-mère for more than a few minutes at a time for weeks. She wasn’t going to ruin this perfect morning with talk about Dinah.
Grand-mère nodded briskly, sending her halo of tight graying-black curls dancing. “The faster we get that snake out of your house, the better. Come down for breakfast soon. Apple cakes are best when they’re fresh.”
Blue set the mug on the bedside table, nudged Pepperell off her knees, and slipped out of bed. Grand-mère’s words rang in her head as she opened the closet her mother had used when she was a girl.
The faster we get that snake out of your house, the better.
Dinah wanted old potions with rare ingredients. Blue’s mind raced as she reached for a dress in faded yellow cotton with tiny sprigs of purple pansies dotting its surface.
Dinah didn’t have a specific potion in mind since she hadn’t given Blue a list of ingredients she expected to see on the recipe parchment. She’d simply turned down any potion that didn’t have a rare, hard-to-procure ingredient on its list.
Blue donned the yellow dress, tied its sash behind her, and considered her alternatives. She could keep cowering under Dinah, required to account for her every moment to a woman who treated her harshly. She could be forced to return to the root cellar to go through the chests that lay where Mama had died. She could endure the Chauveaus’ interference with her life for the foreseeable future.