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“Samuel,” she said, “I am entirely at your mercy. I am planning treason. Will you help me?” She waited, breathless, as he stared down at her, as he contemplated.

As he held her entire life’s work in his hands.

“All right, Shan.” He straightened his shoulders, steadied himself. At that moment he almost looked regal. “I’m not saying I agree to all of this. But you’re right. We cannot simply do nothing. Just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“That whatever you’re planning in that brilliant, clever mind of yours, you include me.”

Shan sighed in relief. “All right. But I ask something in return.” He arched a brow, and she barreled straight on, not giving herself a chance to stop and reconsider. Reckless, for one brief, shining moment. “If you decide to take the throne, you’ll do it because you want it. Not because of me. Not because of us.”

Because if he took the throne, she would lose him forever.

Something changed in his eyes then. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and his eyes grew clear. “I can promise you that, and that I am yours. That much I swear.”

She pulled him in for another kiss, feeling the world shift beneath her feet, changing into something wholly new. No longer was she the chess master moving her pawns, making the decisions and gambling their fates, playing all sides and binding allies to her. This was the beginning of something new, something she had never tried before.

And for the first time, she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Samuel

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Samuel asked, looking up at the building in front of them. It had taken him a moment to realize what was throwing him off—it wasn’t a townhouse, like the Aberforth or LeClaire home. Instead, it was a building full of flats to rent. It was, admittedly, far more secured and updated than where he had grown up, and the neighborhood was solidly in the respectable category, but it wasn’t what he had been expecting.

Not for the home of Aeravin’s Royal Blood Worker.

“I’m sure,” Shan said, lifting her skirts as she climbed the short set of stairs to the door. “We can’t… I can’t just let him wonder.”

Samuel understood that much, at least. Isaac had been on his mind all day, that horrified look on his face when he realized that they were there, in the dungeons where he harvested blood for the King. So when Shan told him that she was going to visit Isaac, Samuel knew that he had to accompany her.

He followed her into the tenant house—it was simple, clean, and well-maintained—and up to the second floor, where she knocked soundly on the door. It was clear that she had been here before, that she was comfortable being here, and Samuel swallowed the questions on his tongue.

Now was not the time for that.

The door opened slowly, just a crack at first, before widening to reveal Isaac. He looked even worse than usual—the bags under his eyes as dark as bruises, and his beard was a mess, as if he hadn’t been bothering to shave.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” he said, after a long silence.

“Did you really think we’d abandon you?” Shan asked, and the way Isaac glanced away broke Samuel’s heart.

Yes, he had thought that.

“Can we come in?” Samuel asked, softly, and Isaac considered it for a moment.

Instead of responding, he produced a small dagger from his waistband and slashed his thumb open. He pressed the bleeding wound against the air in the space where the door would normally be, and Samuel watched as something shimmered and shattered before him.

Another blood ward—so subtle that he hadn’t been able to pick up on it, not without Blood Working himself.

But he entered anyway, a burst of static running over his skin as he passed through the doorway, Shan on his heels. The rooms were small but cozy—the furniture the kind of old that felt more lived in than decrepit, with scuff marks on the corners and faded upholstery. It was a living room and kitchen and dining room all in one—open and bright and clean. Overflowing bookshelves lined the south wall, and there were a couple of doors along the north wall, no doubt leading to the bedroom and washroom. But most striking were the wide windows along the east wall, thrown open and letting in the soft light of the moon and a cool breeze off the sea.

Everything about the rooms suggested that it was not merely a place to live, but a home, and Samuel found himself instinctively relaxing.

“It’s not what I expected,” Samuel said.

Isaac tensed, stopping where he was putting a kettle on the stove. “I know it’s not much. Especially compared to your townhouses. But it’s plenty comfortable for one person, and this way I don’t have to hire live-in servants.”

“I wasn’t judging you, Isaac,” Samuel said, gently. “Honestly, this seems ideal.”