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Who is that?

Handsome boy.

Bette, look. The hair.

Shan hid her smile behind her glass, letting her eyes wander over Samuel. Everyone else was, so it did her no harm to join in. What an image he made. Mysterious and different, yes. But he looked every bit like he belonged, right down to the clothes he wore.

Laurens had outdone herself indeed.

It was the suit they had designed, stunning in its simplicity. The colors flattered him, the depth of the blacks against the simple starkness of the whites. Instead of washing him out, they made him sharper and more focused in their contrasts. His cravat was a slash of white at his throat, expertly tied, and he wore his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck in a style that would have been fashionable twenty years ago.

Shan was glad he hadn’t let her cut it. Seeing it now, like this, she realized not only did he wear it well, but it made him look like his father. The late, lost, last Aberforth, back from the grave.

The older people were already whispering it, before Isaac even had the chance to formally introduce him. But he didn’t seem to mind. He looked like the cat who caught the canary, and suddenly Shan didn’t begrudge him taking her spot. Because every eye in the room was on them, and Isaac was cutting his way through the crowd towards her.

Samuel followed in his wake, looking just a little lost and far too innocent.

Shan handed off her mostly full glass of wine to a passing servant, leaving her hands free as they came to a stop in front of her. Every move of this game was carefully calculated. Not only did Isaac bring this young, Lost Aberforth to the world of Dameral, this Lost Aberforth when the world thought they were all gone, he was introducing him to Shan first.

This was the King’s promise fulfilled, Isaac trying to mend the mistakes he had made. She was valued, she was worthy, and the stain on the LeClaire name would start to lift.

This was how the game was played, and everyone watching saw it, too. But Shan saw the confusion in Samuel’s eyes, saw him putting it together just a half-step behind everyone else.

Shan flicked her gaze up at Isaac, and he nodded. He saw it, and more surprisingly he didn’t seem to judge Samuel for it. In that second, they made a silent pact to protect him, to protect the asset. Even beyond what she had promised the King, she would act as interference, as help, guiding Samuel while he found his footing like a baby deer learning to walk.

And Isaac would provide aid.

“My dear Lady LeClaire,” Isaac said, formally, as he bowed. Samuel bowed after him, a beat too late, keeping his head low. “May I have the pleasure of introducing my friend, Lord Samuel Aberforth?”

Shan smiled, holding out her hand. “Aberforth, you say? I’m honored.”

Samuel did well to hide his recognition of her, but she could see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. He took her hand in his, and she fell into a deep curtsy. “Lady LeClaire.”

“Please,” she said magnanimously. “Any friend of Isaac’s is a friend of mine. You must call me Shan.”

“Then you must call me Samuel,” he replied, as he continued to hold her hand, far past what was proper. And despite everything between them, a thrill ran through her, one that she didn’t have words to explain.

Before she could politely step away, Isaac asked, “Would you be kind enough to give Lord Aberforth the next dance?”

“I’d be delighted,” she said, turning and entwining their arms. Samuel looked a little green, but she just offered him one of her kinder smiles. It wouldn’t be so bad.

Side by side, they walked towards the dance floor to wait in line for the next song, leaving Isaac alone to be swarmed by the guests. They couldn’t have Samuel yet—no one was crass enough to interrupt a dance—so they would get what they could from the second-best source.

The host.

As the current dance entered its final movement, Samuel dipped his head, his lips mere inches from her ear. She could feel his breath warm against her skin, and she had the sudden, ridiculous wish that she had worn her hair down.

“Uh. Shan?” Samuel whispered. “I can’t dance. I never learned.”

Shan clenched her hand against his arm, surprised by how lean and hard his muscles felt under his sleeve. “Of course you can’t. And Isaac still sent you out here?”

“He didn’t exactly tell me his plan.”

Blood and steel. Isaac didn’t intend to humiliate Samuel, she was sure; this was just an oversight. Dancing was simply a part of growing up for them; there was never a need to imagine it otherwise. Her mind raced as she considered the options—there was only one thing she could do.

Fate must have been on their side, for the song the quartet was starting was a simple one. She could still salvage this.

“Follow my lead,” she ordered.