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Samuel turned away, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth as he tried to keep from retching. Finally, he managed, “And you couldn’t resist. I really am a monster.”

“No, Samuel,” Isaac grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around until they were face to face. “It’s all right, really.” His smile turned sly. “Besides, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“You’re a damned menace,” Samuel said, pushing him away, but he couldn’t help it. He was laughing.

“Perhaps,” Isaac admitted. “But it works.” He was so close that Samuel could feel his breath against his skin.

“It’s just… a lot,” Samuel admitted.

Isaac’s laugh was so soft that he felt it more than heard it. “We’ll figure it out. Now, if you stop getting lost in that damn head of yours, let’s back to work?”

“Okay,” Samuel whispered, and Isaac stepped back.

“Have at me, then.”

It was easier after that. It seemed that no matter what they did, Isaac didn’t hold it against him. It was knowledge, it was science, and he was determined to help Samuel figure it out. It stirred a feeling of fondness in Samuel’s chest, something he thought he’d never feel again, not after the death of his mother.

It felt almost like trust.

Chapter Twenty-One

Shan

“You look ridiculous, Shan,” Anton said, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in her outfit, her cloak discarded on the carriage floor now that they travelled quickly through the streets. He fiddled with a flask in his hand; even on route to the gambling hell, he needed a drink, unable to wait. But then again, he was probably looking for anything to occupy himself as he was unable to look at her directly.

Her dress was short—scandalously so—and the bodice was little more than a tight corset with decorative lace frills. It was black as midnight, studded with fake diamonds that would catch in the light. And around her neck she wore a simple necklace in the shape of a bird in flight—a sparrow for a Sparrow.

Shan loved it.

“It’s the uniform,” Shan said, her voice deceptively sweet, but her red-stained lips were pulled back in a grin. Anton squinted at her, as if he was trying to find the real face behind all the makeup she had applied, exaggerating her features so that no one would recognize the prim, proper Lady Shan LeClaire underneath.

“Well, the Fox Den prefers to hire tarts,” Anton said, rolling his eyes. “Or at least dresses them as such.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing this way,” Shan chided, and Anton winced.

“It’s just not you.”

“Maybe not,” Shan agreed, twirling a strand of her curled and blown-out hair around her finger. “But it’s fun for a night.”

“I could handle this on my own, you know.”

“You can handle the nobles and their friends,” Shan said, “and that’s important. But it’s good for the Sparrow to mingle with her birds. Besides, they’re the ones I need right now.”

The murderer hadn’t killed a single Blood Worker yet—they targeted the Unblooded exclusively. It wasn’t the nobles who were worried and talking and planning—it was everyone else. And that wasn’t even getting into what Lord Dunn was planning.

Which was exactly why Shan had to don this particular outfit.

Besides, she had Anton with his friends among the noble children tonight, the gamblers and the players who saw him as a riotous good time, despite his Unblooded nature—or perhaps because of it. And with Samuel weaseling his way into Isaac’s good graces, intentional or not, his innocent eyes and pleasing features cutting through the Royal Blood Worker’s defenses, she was free. Free to be here in one of her many disguises, answering to a name that felt more her own than the one her parents had given her.

Sparrow.

“I still can’t believe that you’re doing this,” Anton said, and Shan knew who and what he was talking about without him needing to say. “That you’re working for him.”

“I can handle it,” Shan said. “And it’s not like I can allow a monster to run my streets killing Unblooded. Besides, this will help us in the long run. We’ve never been able to get a bird in the palace—”

“You’re gambling with your very life,” Anton interrupted. “Remember Father? And that was only because of his paranoia. If he finds out that you’re treasonous—”

“He won’t,” Shan swore. “Not until it’s too late. Listen, we can put all of our plans in place. We can seed dissent for years if we want to. But to make actual change we need this access—we need to know how he works.”