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The Eternal King smiled, just slightly, and took Samuel’s hand in his. His cut was quick and small, and he simply took Samuel’s thumb between his lips and sucked the blood out.

Samuel snatched his hand back, not caring that the man in front of him was his King, or that it was terribly rude, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his thumb.

The King simply stood there, his eyes narrowed as his throat worked. “It is true,” he said softly. “You are Nate’s son.”

Samuel didn’t move, waiting for the Eternal King’s reaction. To see if he’d be welcomed or cast out. Then, suddenly, the King moved forward and grabbed Samuel by the shoulders, pulling him into a fierce hug. “I thought it was all lost,” he whispered, so quietly that Samuel wasn’t sure it was real, and then let go.

“I… uh…” Samuel stuttered. He had imagined something like this many times, especially after his mother’s passing, when he had been alone for the first time in his life. He had dreamt of acceptance, of welcome—but there was something off about this. There was a possessiveness in the King’s hug that didn’t feel like relief, but calculation. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The King waved his hand. “Please, we’re family. Just Tristan will do.”

“As you say, Tristan,” Samuel said, the familiarity feeling wrong in his mouth. But the King was already turning towards Shan and seemingly oblivious to his discomfort.

“I don’t know how you did this, my lady,” Tristan said. “But we need to talk. Can you and Isaac give us a few moments?”

Samuel had been so focused on the King that he hadn’t even noticed that there was someone else in the room, only then realizing that the Royal Blood Worker was with them. He stood off by an open window, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked remarkably different in this context—less like a spectacle, and more like a man—human, handsome, and so, so tired.

Shan curtsied. “Of course. I have been meaning to catch up with Sir de la Cruz anyway.” Shan held out her hand, and the stranger from the window moved towards her, like an object caught in her magnetic field. “We’ll be close by.”

Samuel watched as this handsome man linked arms with Shan, his stomach twisting. And just like that they were gone and he was alone with the King.

“I’m sorry, Samuel… it is Samuel, isn’t it?” The King shook his head, as if he was still trying to piece everything together. “I never expected such luck. How did Lady LeClaire find you?”

Samuel shrugged. “I don’t really know. You’d have to ask her—she just showed up at my flat several days past.”

Frowning, the King turned a harsh glare on Samuel. “And all this time? You’re a man grown. You never auditioned at the Academy?”

“I didn’t always know,” Samuel admitted, his words coming slowly. “I mean, I always suspected that I was some Lord’s son, given the way my mother… acted.”

The King looked away, and Samuel caught the briefest glimpse of real emotion on his face. Shame.

Good, let him be ashamed.

“I take it,” the King began slowly, “that the union was not—”

“My mother was raped,” Samuel said, refusing to allow any dissembling. Not in this.

“I feared that.” He sighed. “Nate inherited all my power but none of Abigail’s grace.”

It took Samuel a moment to figure out who the King was talking about, before remembering that the one queen Aeravin ever had was Abigail Aberforth.

“I know that apologies mean nothing, Samuel,” the King said. “That it’s not even my place to apologize for him at all. But I am sorry that you grew up fearing your family, and for any indignities you suffered because of it.”

Samuel bit his lip. He hadn’t faced any more indignity that thousands of others face in the King’s city, but, of course, he wouldn’t care about them.

“I cannot say what Nate would have done,” the King was saying, still talking, “if he had known about you. I hope he would have provided for you and your mother, that he would have welcomed you into the family. After all, your blood is still Aberforth. What I can say, though, is that if I had known, I would have.”

Samuel felt his power awaken, and he knew that if he wanted he could find out if that absurd statement had any kind of truth behind it. But he clamped it down, stopping it before it ruined everything. “There is something else you should know,” Samuel said quietly. “I never auditioned at the Academy because I can’t do Blood Working.”

“I’m not surprised,” the King said. “But you can do something more, can’t you?”

Samuel’s stomach dropped. “You know?”

“Of course.” The King stepped closer. “It’s the gift—and the curse—of the Aberforths. Let me guess, you don’t have good control of it?”

Samuel nodded, and the King dropped a firm hand on his shoulder. “I suspected as much. Don’t worry—we can work on that. You wouldn’t be the first Aberforth I’ve helped master this gift.”

“Thank you,” Samuel breathed. It was more than he had ever expected, more than he could have hoped for.