The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(89)

And somehow her magic—her small, plant-loving magic—had turned into a firestorm that had her reaching for the wraith, who would devour her without hesitation.

If Kellan hadn’t been there . . . She shuddered and steered her thoughts away from the horrible images that played out in her head.

If Kellan hadn’t been there, she’d be dead. One more body collapsed at the gate, a sacrifice to a monster who preyed on the innocent. And somehow, Blue was sure, Grand-mère had suspected that might happen.

The sky was the pale blue of shirella fruit, and the rhythmic shush of the waves rolling in soothed Blue as she reached the little grove that hid Grand-mère’s cottage. This time the older woman wasn’t waiting on the porch, but by the time Blue and Pepperell reached the steps, she’d opened the front door.

“Are you alone?” She squinted past Blue.

“Pepperell counts.” Blue climbed the steps, plopped Pepperell onto the porch, and set her gathering basket down. She’d forgotten to empty it out the last time she’d harvested because the second she’d gone indoors, Dinah had forced her down into the root cellar.

“Of course Pepperell counts, the handsome boy. I was wondering if the other handsome boy was with you again.”

“Kellan?” Blue ordered herself not to blush. “Why would he be with me?”

“Because my granddaughter is up at the crack of dawn, and that takes either a very handsome prince—”

“Grand-mère!”

“Or an emergency.” Grand-mère’s mouth tightened. “Is this an emergency? Has that snake of a woman done something? I’ll get my wand.”

“No emergency!” Blue pulled her grandmother into a tight hug. “I thought I’d get up early enough to get out of the house to see you before Dinah woke up and told me I couldn’t go.”

“That was smart of you.” Grand-mère reached a hand up to stroke Blue’s hair. “We’ll need to redo these curls soon. You’ve been swimming, haven’t you?”

Swimming. Rolling in the dirt outside the wraith’s gate. Riding home on horseback, pressed close to Kellan’s warmth. Blue had been up to any number of things, only one of which she wanted to share with Grand-mère.

“We can do that soon, but I don’t have time this morning. I’m making protective charms for the girls who are trying for the betrothal, and for Kellan and Nessa, and the potion will be ready this afternoon.”

“So you thought you’d come out here and enjoy the fresh, early-morning air with an old woman?”

“There’s nothing enjoyable about early morning. Unless you have peach tea and a fritter or two?” She gave Grand-mère her best hopeful look, and the older woman laughed.

“Come inside. I’ll fix you a meal. And then we can talk about whatever brought you here.”

“How do you know I want to talk about something?” Blue asked as they went inside, Pepperell at their heels.

“Because I have my granddaughter memorized.” She waved her wand and set the teapot on to boil while the ingredients for maple fritters began assembling in a batter bowl. “Which is why I also know that you’re starting to look at Kellan like he’s something special.”

“He is something special, but not for me,” Blue said firmly, and willed herself to believe it. To let it be the truth that ruled her instead of the pointless longing to wrap herself around him and listen to him share the things that were hidden in his heart.

“You’d best keep that in mind.” Fritter batter hit the skillet that had warmed itself on the stove while a teacup left its hook and floated over to the teapot. “He’s a good boy. That reckless impulsiveness and thirst for proving himself that got him in trouble when he was younger has grown into steady courage and a strong will bent toward protecting his kingdom. But that same strong will is what will keep him from acting on the feelings he seems to be developing for you.”

Blue risked a quick look at Grand-mère. “Kellan can’t have feelings for me.”

Grand-mère snorted. “That boy was in and out of this cottage as much as you were over the years. I have him memorized too.”

The fritter flipped itself, and the tea poured into the cup, releasing the juicy sweet scent of peaches. Grand-mère whisked open the kitchen window, letting the breeze dance through her wind chimes.

Blue held the idea of Kellan truly having feelings for her close for a moment, letting its bittersweet ache pierce her, before gently setting it aside. She couldn’t change what was written in stone, and neither could he. And there were far more important things at stake than the way she felt for the prince.

“I didn’t come here to talk about Kellan,” she said as the fritter flipped itself onto a plate and headed toward the table. “I came to talk about the wraith.”

Grand-mère’s lip curled.

“And about my magic.”

The older woman slowly pivoted away from the window, pinning Blue with a look. “What do the two have to do with each other?”

“Don’t you have a guess?”

Grand-mère held Blue’s gaze for a long moment while the plate clinked against the tabletop and Pepperell heaved himself onto the windowsill, his tail sending the closest wind chime swinging. Finally, the older woman moved to the table and sat heavily in the chair across from Blue. “Tell me what happened.”