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“Isaac,” Samuel said, his voice weak and shaky. “Isaac, we… I…”

Isaac pressed a gentle kiss to his bloody lip, more soothing than inflaming, and stepped back. “You’re right. We should talk.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Samuel cleared away the blood and the spit. He hated himself for stopping… whatever this was, but he knew if he hadn’t done it then, he never would have. “Why are you here?”

“Why?” Isaac blinked. “Why else? For you.”

“For me?”

The air in the room suddenly cooled as Isaac took a step back, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand. “Yes. I thought—given your reaction—that you would want to join me?”

Samuel closed his eyes, unable to look at him. “Isaac—”

“I thought you’d understand!” Isaac said, the words pouring from him madly, raw and unchecked. “You’ve seen it. The King—everything he is, he’s shown you!”

“I do understand,” Samuel said. “But.”

“But what?” Isaac shouted. “But fucking what?”

“The riots. The consequences.” Isaac stilled, turning so cold that he might as well have been made of ice. “The martial law the King has enacted. Yes, you’ve exposed the horrors of Aeravin—but now what?”

“Now,” Isaac said, “we take him down.”

“How?” Samuel begged, and Isaac just eyed him with disgust, his lips curving into a sneer.

“Join me and I will show you.” He held out a hand, but Samuel didn’t take it. “Revolution does not come easy. I thought that you of all people would have the courage to see that.”

Samuel stared at the hand still offered to him. “But what about the price? Shan has her—”

Isaac laughed, unhinged and breathless. “Fuck Shan. Fuck Shan and her schemes and her plans. Aeravin doesn’t need a Sparrow—it needs to be burned to the ground. Cleansed. And I will prove that to you.”

Before Samuel could even do anything, before he could breathe or think or speak, Isaac was surging forward, dragging his mouth against Samuel’s wounded lips, halting his words with teeth and tongue.

Blood filled his mouth, and despite himself, Samuel groaned with pleasure.

And then he couldn’t move. He tried to push himself off the wall, to scream, to beg, to do anything at all, but it was like his body refused to respond, the very blood in his veins holding him still.

Hells, was this what his powers were like? Was this what he was planning to do to Isaac, only turned on him first by the power of blood and stupidity?

He had been a fool to ever hope at all.

Isaac stepped back, blood trickling down his chin. “I’m so sorry, but you will understand.”

His vision started to fade around the edges, the room spinning as the very beat of his heart dimmed and slowed. Samuel fought it for as long as he could, but Isaac was relentless.

At last, Isaac turned away and Samuel knew no more.

Chapter Forty-Two

Shan

Anton was waiting for her in the parlor, lounging on a couch with Bart curled up against him. Shan took in their expectant looks—Anton’s curiosity, Bart’s worry—and she pushed right past them, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. “Well, we might as well get it over with, then.”

“Oh, so you’re finally going to explain what’s going on?” Anton drawled. “How kind of you.” His smile was sharp enough to cut. “It seems that I was right about de la Cruz.”

Shan didn’t respond. She just slammed her hands down on the table, the echoing crash cutting through the room as an awkward silence descended.

Bart got to his feet. “I can’t deal with this. You two—you talk, and when you figure things out, let me know.”