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“What fools we are,” Isaac said. “And I am the biggest fool of all.”

“I’m not going to argue that.” She smirked at him, and he laughed, a soft helpless thing. “Give it time, Isaac. Give me more time.”

“As you wish,” he promised.

They stood there in awkward silence, the tension between them palpable. It had broken something inside of her when he had renounced her, and she still hadn’t figured out how to put herself back together. The one time she had opened herself to someone, and he had left her behind as if she meant nothing. Afterwards it had been easy to lock him out—to lock them all out. But understanding? Forgiveness? That was harder.

And Shan didn’t even know where to begin.

Thankfully she could put that off till another time. The door to the King’s study opened and Samuel emerged—whole and only a little bit shaken. He quickly found them standing together in the alcove, a frown on his face.

Shan arched an eyebrow at him, amused by the way he squirmed.

“Lady LeClaire,” he said, executing a small, perfunctory bow. “His Majesty would like to speak with you. Privately.”

“Of course.” She turned and gave Isaac a curtsy. “Sir de la Cruz.”

“Shan…” His expression twisted into a grimace. “Don’t go getting all formal on me.”

“And don’t go getting too personal on me,” she cautioned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Lord Aberforth. In the meantime, Sir de la Cruz would be delighted to entertain you.”

Isaac groaned. “Just volunteer me then. You haven’t changed a bit, Lady LeClaire.”

“He’s fond of books,” Shan said, helpfully, and Isaac’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you can tell him about the Royal Library?”

“That’s really not—” Samuel began.

“Oh, are you?” Isaac turned to him. “Maybe I can do you one better…”

Smirking, Shan whirled away from them and went to face the Eternal King.

“Close the door,” the King said the very second she re-entered the study. He wasn’t even looking at her—he was standing at the fireplace, staring into the glow of the witch light. It cast his features in harsh shadows, making him look even sterner. Even more dangerous.

Reminding her that the man she faced was an enemy, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

The door was already closing—the Guards following their Liege’s orders—trapping her in with him.

“You asked to see me, Your Majesty?”

“You’re making quite a wave, Lady LeClaire.” He moved to a cabinet, opening it to reveal an extensive collection of liquors. Shan’s eyebrows shot up as she took in its breadth.

Blood and steel, even her reprobate brother would be impressed.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked. “I have… everything.” He gestured at the cabinet befitting a king—of course he would have everything. A king could never be seen as lacking, not in any single thing.

“Whisky, if you please.”

The King grabbed a decanter from the middle shelf and snagged a couple of glasses with his fingers. He placed them all on his desk, then poured a healthy amount into each glass. “Here you are.”

She took the offered drink with unsteady fingers. He tossed his back, but she took a much smaller, more careful sip.

“It seems that I have some thanks to give,” the King said, sinking into his chair and gesturing for her to do the same. “Tell me how you found him.”

Shan settled in. “It started years ago. There were rumors about a child, a young boy. He had a terrible gift. He could make people do whatever he wanted. It reminded me of an old rumor about a recently dead line. But I was young myself, and rumors are fleeting things. I never learned anything more.

“I thought that was the end of it,” she continued after taking another sip of her drink. It was good—strong and peaty. The burn moved through her, sharpening her. “But the rumors kept circulating. Little things, never enough. Not until recently. Samuel was caught up in that terrible murder. He slipped, used his power on a Blood Worker investigating the case.”

The King arched an eyebrow. “Do I want to know how you got access to that information, young lady?”