The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(71)

A hazy memory surfaced. She was with Mama in the castle garden while Papa and the king played thistles and thieves at a table set up on the lawn, and Kellan tried to catch snakes on the creek bed that wound along the edge of the grounds. The queen was resting in the shade with baby Nessa in her arms, and the royal guards were posted nearby.

Mama had lowered her voice, as if telling Blue a secret, and had asked if she wanted to see the most special plant in the entire garden. Of course Blue had said yes, and the two of them wandered deep into the heart of the castle’s garden, where flowering bushes and budding trees lined paths of crushed seashells. When they came to a single rynoir tree, its flowing branches resembling a long, wispy gown dressed in extravagant pink blooms, Mama ducked under the branches, and Blue followed.

Beneath the skirt of branches, close to the trunk, a small, thorny bush with heart-shaped blue leaves and dark red berries grew. Mama explained that it was a volshkyn bush from the far north, gifted to the previous queen from the then-queen of Morcant. It was said to be good for healing ointments, protection potions, and potions to help the lost find their way home, but was only used in rare instances because the plant took years to replace the leaves that were harvested from it.

Blue added it to the ingredient list, and then jumped as she heard the shop bells chime. Quickly putting the quill away, she left the recipe out to dry and hurried into the front of the shop. Dinah shut the door behind her and turned to Blue.

“I have it.” She held out two small squares of muslin, one with a strand of hair from Halette and one with a strand from Jacinthe.

“And I have something for you,” Blue said, her heart hammering as she led Dinah back into the storeroom.

This had to work. Blue needed her life back. Needed time to herself to grieve, to heal, and to figure out how to move forward.

“What is this?” Dinah’s eyes focused immediately on the sheet of old parchment sitting on the worktable, creased and yellowed. The ink had dried, Blue noted with relief.

“It’s a potion recipe.”

Dinah shoved the muslin squares into Blue’s hands and hurried to the table. Picking up the spell, she examined it for a long moment, and a smile sharp enough to cut glass spread across her face.

“Where did you find this?” she asked, raising her eyes to pin Blue where she stood.

Quickly Blue cast around for inspiration and then turned to stir the potion that was brewing on the stove. “I pulled Mama’s old cauldron down to use for the protection charms. Nostalgia, I guess.”

“And it was inside,” Dinah breathed. “I didn’t think of looking there.”

“Are vintage alchemy potions really worth enough money to help you?” Blue asked carefully, afraid to hope that she’d finally found the key to getting the Chauveaus out of her life.

“You let me worry about that.” Dinah looked carefully at the list of ingredients, pausing when she came to the last one. “Do you have any volshkyn leaves?”

“No, but the queen has a volshkyn plant in her garden. If you need a leaf or two, I’m sure she could help you.”

Dinah brushed past Blue without another word, and in moments, the shop chimes rang again as she walked out, leaving Blue blissfully alone.





THIRTY

BLUE’S MORNING FLEW by, and soon Lucian was there to gather the deliveries.

“Did the prince have a message for me?” Blue asked Lucian as the boy hurried to stack packages into a large bag he could strap onto his back.

Lucian shrugged. “Didn’t see him in person. The man who answered the door said he’d deliver the message for me.”

Blue nodded. Of course Kellan hadn’t seen Lucian himself. He was probably in meetings or wooing one of the head families.

Before that thought could linger, she said, “I’ve been meaning to discuss Ana and the other children with you.”

Lucian’s big brown eyes found hers, and she winced at the hope she saw in them. “You found them?”

Setting her tongs aside, she moved toward him. “I’m sorry, Lucian, but no. I’ve asked around in a few quarters as I’ve had time, but—”

“No need to explain yourself, Miss Blue. I know you’re busy, and they’re just street kids. No one really notices when one is gone.” His voice was parchment-thin as he resumed loading his bag, his eyes firmly on his task instead of on her.

She closed the distance between them and softly put her hands on his shoulders. They were thin, the bones jutting up to push against her palms. Quietly, she said, “I notice, Lucian. And I care. About Ana, about you, and about all the children who’ve been left to fend for themselves. It isn’t right, and I’m trying hard to do something about it.”

He shrugged and began tying the mouth of the bag closed over the last package.

“What I wanted to tell you was that I talked with the prince about the problem, and he’s going to have the royal magistrate look into it.”

Lucian’s hands stilled, and he slowly raised his eyes. “The prince himself said that?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, he abandoned his bag and threw his skinny arms around her waist. She blinked, and then gently hugged him back, resting her cheek against his mop of curls.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her heart squeezed. No child should carry the burdens Lucian bore. Maybe she should stop trying to force lead to change into gold. Maybe she should go straight to the queen with her idea for a large home that could accommodate the city’s orphans safely and ask for the royal coffers to finance it.