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What a fool she had been, thinking he was involved in the murders. What a fool she had been for not seeing what her brother had been capable of.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so blind, they could have worked together.

But now it was too late.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Samuel

The morning of the summer solstice dawned warm and hazy, and Samuel wished he didn’t have to attend this event, wished he didn’t know what he could do, simply with the power of his voice.

Hells, he didn’t understand why it was still happening at all. Isaac’s safety aside, it was still a terrible idea. Sure, the Eternal King had spent a lot of time and money renovating the central square of Dameral, but with everything that had happened in the past few months—the murders and demonstrations and the growing unrest in the country—continuing with it just felt ill-advised at best and a snub at the worst.

Though most of the park was already there to see—with its fountains and benches and endless weaves of rose bushes—the central dais was still hidden behind high cloth barriers that covered it from top to bottom, waiting for the Royal Blood Worker to unveil it. And he was in danger.

Because they hadn’t found the murderer. Because—both thankfully and regrettably—it wasn’t Anton.

That meant that they had no leads, save the chance that Isaac would be a victim. And so he was here. Praying that he wouldn’t need to step in and command something heinous. Again.

The man’s death lingered with him. Samuel kept seeing it—when he tried to sleep, when he allowed himself to stop for even a moment. The way he had gone rigid, how he had stopped breathing, choking on nothing as his heart gave out. He had at least died quickly, but Samuel would never forget it. Would never let himself forget it.

He was at last the monster he had feared becoming.

A monster hoping that today would somehow end in peace.

But the same couldn’t be said of the others, the Unblooded who had turned out to watch in disgust and frustration. He could sense it in the crowd around him, simmering with an undercurrent of rage that frankly revitalized him. The crowd was divided into sections—most of the nobles watched from above, sitting on the balconies of restaurants and cafés and clubs, but Samuel had turned down the invitation that Shan had offered him. She would be watching from above, but he would be here, feet on the cobblestones and shoulder to shoulder with those he wanted to save. There was something about being with the people he had grown up with that was just so grounding, despite the changes the last few months had wrought.

No amount of finery or money or magic would ever take that away.

Besides, if he was to save Isaac, he couldn’t do it from so far away.

But he was still here not simply as Samuel, a man, but as Lord Aberforth. Dressed to the nines in his fine suit, in his cravat and tails, with his hair neatly pulled back into a queue and the soft hint of cologne wafting off him. He tried to ignore the stab of pain that came whenever he caught a sneer from the corner of his eyes, or when someone leaned pointedly away from him.

He wanted to scream, to yell that he was one of them, that this farce wasn’t who he really was. But he knew that wasn’t true, not anymore, so he just kept moving forward through the crowds, not having to fight his way to the front where the Guards kept watch. The Unblooded parted for him, giving him ample space—not out of respect or deference, but because they did not want to be near him.

He wished he could have accepted Shan’s invitation after all.

It was too late for that, though, so he just wrapped his bare fingers around the cool metal fence in front of him. At least he didn’t have claws. He might dress like one of them, might have their blood and their money, but he still had this. They hadn’t made a Blood Worker out of him.

The crowd quieted, but it wasn’t the respectful, reverential silence that he expected. No, there was a fragility to this, a tension that was ready to break. Samuel looked up to find that Isaac had appeared, and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. It could almost be the spring equinox again, when he had been caught in the crowd before the Eternal King’s annual sacrifice, and if he closed his eyes none of this would have happened.

But he couldn’t close his eyes. There was no sacrifice to be killed, no Eternal King to scorn. There was just a man—Isaac—who looked just this side of broken, trapped in a position that Samuel couldn’t even imagine.

Four months ago, Samuel wouldn’t have cared about the lines around his eyes, about the tension he carried in his shoulders. But four months ago, he didn’t care about him, and watching him now, his heart broke.

Knowing what he knew now, about what the King expected of him, what the King made him do, Samuel wondered how he functioned at all.

Isaac crossed in front of the hidden gardens, taking his place front and center as members of the Guard took theirs, standing by large, decorated ropes as they awaited their cues. When Isaac gave the signal, they’d yank on the ropes and the curtains would fall, revealing the new park that the Eternal King had commissioned.

Any other year, it would have been a lovely ceremony. But not a single person wanted to be here, not the Royal Blood Worker who hosted it in place of a King who never could be bothered, or a people who were tired of dying.

“My friends,” Isaac said, not with a smile or cheer, but with a solemnity that rooted Samuel where he stood. “My fellow citizens. Thank you for coming out this morning, especially in such dark times. I know that we have been living under a veil of fear, some of us more than others, but I believe that is why we need this more than ever.” He took a deep breath, letting the moment sink in. “For even in this, there are still moments of hope to be found, and we cannot lose them all to darkness.”

“Easy for you to say!” a voice cried out, somewhere to the back and right of Samuel.

“You’re not the one dying!” another called out, this time just to the left.

It was enough—the final drops that overpowered the dam and released the flood. All around Samuel more and more voices cried out, their words growing confused and muddled as they blended together.