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Samuel bit his lip. He was nearly sure he knew what that “almost” meant. Or, rather, who. Apparently, it was complicated. But he didn’t pry, not on that. Not when his own feelings were suspect. “Is it worth it?”

Isaac shrugged. “It’s hard to say. But it’s better than anything I could have had.”

“I don’t understand. You were already a Blood Worker. A noble.”

“Not a noble,” Isaac said, laughing bitterly. “A de la Cruz—an immigrant family. My parents immigrated when they were young, hoping to find a sanctuary that would embrace them for the magic that everyone else fears. And they were clever and talented and good, but still.” He raised his hand, pulling Samuel’s with him. Their fingers were still entwined, Isaac’s burnt gold skin in stark contrast to Samuel’s pale white. “They were still different, and the child they bore carried the same stain.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“You wouldn’t,” Isaac said. “Aeravin pretends it’s some great haven for Blood Workers, that anyone with the gift can come here to find training and a home. And, yes, it’s true, but there is a catch.”

“But now you’re Royal Blood Worker.”

“Yes, I am. I am the King’s right hand, the one he turns to, who executes his will, who stands with him and for him.” Isaac’s eyes blazed with fire, and Samuel recognized a bit of himself in that drive, the part of him that he had spent so long burying. “Because if they couldn’t accept me, I would force them to. I would be the best so they couldn’t deny me.”

“And have they accepted you?”

“Yes,” Isaac whispered. “As long as I don’t disappoint them in any way.”

If it was this close to destroying him already, Samuel wondered what he would be in ten, twenty, thirty years. Would the person he grew to be have even the barest reflection of the young man he was? Or would he become something worse?

But more importantly, why did he care so much? Isaac wasn’t a friend, or an ally. He was supposed to be a suspect in his investigation, and yet, looking at him now—a hair’s breadth away from being broken, Samuel couldn’t imagine him as anything other than lonely.

And hells, he wanted to do something to ease that pain.

“Isaac,” he whispered, “why are you telling me this?”

Isaac flinched, as if he had been slapped, and Samuel knew he had made the wrong move. “Because I didn’t want to see you hurt, like my parents were. Like I was.”

He pulled back, and Samuel let him draw his hand away, watching it fall to the side. Samuel wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ignore the feelings of warmth that still lingered, and the strange way that Isaac was watching him through his eyelashes, like he was waiting for a rebuke.

“Thank you,” Samuel said. “I appreciate it, I really do.”

“Then don’t let it go to waste, Samuel.” Isaac turned away. “We’ve been hiding long enough. Come on, there are still plenty of people left to meet.”

Samuel nodded. “Then introduce me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Shan

It should have been illegal to schedule the opening of the House of Lords for the day after the opening ball of the Season. Granted, it wasn’t something that Shan ever had to deal with before and so she never gave it much thought, but for some things it only took once.

The House of Lords met in the largest chamber of the Parliament House, in a room of circles that rippled ever deeper. The topmost row was a long bench that ran along the curve of the room, and each consecutive row down ran smaller and smaller, till at last it bottomed out at the platform where the current speaker could hold the attention of the entire assembly.

The first row—the ground row—was reserved for the Royal Council, but outside of that the House of Lords was arranged in play at equality. The seating was determined alphabetically, and Shan had found her seat nearly halfway down, a shiny silver plaque displaying her name.

Lady Shan LeClaire.

She ran her fingers across it immediately, savoring the moment. It had taken her so many years, but now she was here, amongst the most powerful people in Aeravin. Those who presented and debated laws and regulations and changed the very structure of their society. One amongst equals.

There was a part of her that never thought, truly, that she would be here. That for all her father’s schemes and betrayals, they would find a way to take this away from the LeClaires as well. But she had done it. She was here.

And everything she had worked for could, at last, begin.

But by the end of the first session she found that she was terribly underwhelmed. Though the chamber had been designed with things like acoustics in mind, it had not been designed for comfort. The only windows were near the ceiling, narrow things that hardly let in any breeze. Her dress stuck to her skin, sweat trailing down her neck, and her back ached from sitting on this bench for over two hours. Logically, she knew it was designed to keep them from getting too comfortable, to remind them that they were here to work in service for Aeravin, but blood and steel.

Discomfort could be just as distracting as too much comfort, and, besides, it seemed that most of the nobles had stopped paying attention long ago. Aside from Samuel, of course, who watched the entire thing with a rapt concentration that she envied. Shan had only managed to keep her attention by digging her claws into the soft flesh of her hands, just shy of drawing blood, but the pain kept her alert.