The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(84)

His eyes darkened. “I’m caught between wanting to do and say all the things I think about when I think of you and knowing that I should just enjoy this time with you because in three days, I won’t get to be with you like this again. If I do or say too much, it will hurt us both in the end, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Blue’s lips parted, and he rubbed his forehead before saying, “I’m not supposed to be thinking about you like this. About wanting to talk to you and listen to you and kiss you instead of wanting to spend time with . . . to do the other things on my schedule.”

She was going to tell him to stop thinking about her. To pay attention to the girls vying for the betrothal and to the decision he faced in three days. It was the only way to be fair to both of them and to the kingdom.

Instead, she opened her mouth and said, “I’m not supposed to be thinking things about you either.”

“You think about me?”

She blew out a breath and grabbed an apple. “Maybe.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What do you think about when you maybe think about me?”

She took a bite of apple before she was tempted to tell him that she thought about the way he filled a room just by entering. The kindness in his eyes when he talked about Papa. The way he’d protected her as if she was precious. The fizzy warmth that spiraled through her at the thought of kissing him.

“You’re avoiding the question.” His smile grew.

She swallowed and said, “Maybe you should tell me what you think about me instead?”

He looked at the peach in his hands, rolling it back and forth across his palm. “I think that you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. And that I like the way I feel when I’m around you. And then sometimes I think maybe . . .” He looked up, and Blue was struck by the sadness in his eyes. “I think I want to dance with you again. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you even though I know I can’t.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered, though she leaned closer to him as she said it.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, and Blue could see his torment.

She wasn’t the only one with that fizzy feeling when they were close.

But he was the prince. She was a commoner. There would never be anything more than friendship between them, and if she really cared about him, she’d help him enter his betrothal with a clear conscience.

Pulling back, she said as casually as she could muster, “We should probably eat lunch instead of kiss.”

“That doesn’t sound half as fun.”

She smiled. “No, it doesn’t. But I think spending the day together is as much of a moment as we should seize.”

He laughed a little. “You’re probably right.”

The tension between them eased as they shared a lunch beneath the hazy summer sun, surrounded by meadow grass and butterflies. And then lunch was over, and it was time to face what waited for them in the Wilds.

Kellan held out his hand. “We go in together, and we stay together. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” she said, and let his hand swallow hers, his fingers tangling between hers like they belonged.

The meadow ended at the edge of a spongy marshland with scattered stones and tall grass growing in clumps. To the left, the marsh met a cliff that overlooked the glittering expanse of the Chrysós. To the right, the mountains loomed. Kellan and Blue began trekking up the incline that led through the marsh and into the Wilds.

The Wilds spilled across the marsh’s edge in a tangle of thick trees, rubbery vines, and dark patches of moss that covered the ground and the bottom of the tree trunks with black. The tree limbs locked together at the top, forming a dense canopy that allowed the faintest slivers of sunlight to drift past. As Blue and Kellan stepped into the Wilds, brushing vines and thorny bushes out of the way, the guards behind them drew their swords.

The gate was at the top of the incline that led deep into the Wilds. Blue and Kellan walked forward, the sounds of the sea, the buzzing of bees in the meadow, and the breeze that had tugged at their clothing all disappearing, absorbed into the thick shroud of silence that held the Wilds in its grasp.

“Oh.” The word escaped Blue as if she’d been struck as they climbed past a rotted log, the sunlight barely illuminating their passage, and looked up at the gate.

The path was strewn with bones. Some were still vaguely shaped like small humans. Some were just scattered pieces lying about. Closer to the gate, there were three shapes that still had clothing on. All the shapes were smaller than Blue.

Kellan cursed, and one of the guards behind them turned and vomited into the bushes.

“Children,” Blue said, her voice catching on a terrible grief that was rising to choke her. “Someone is bringing the children here and killing them.”

Kellan pulled her closer to his side, though it was hard to tell if it was for her comfort or for his. His eyes were dark pools of horror, and his mouth was grim. “We’ll find whoever is doing this. We’ll put a stop to it.”

Blue pulled free of Kellan and walked closer to the gate. Closer to the bodies that still wore clothes.

“Blue, stop.”

“I have to see.” Her voice was ragged. Tears gathered in her eyes as she passed a bundle of bones from a child who couldn’t possibly have been more than three years of age.