Page 16 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Chapter Ten

Shan

T he Parliament House was quiet this early in the morning, but when Shan had scheduled this meeting, she had thought it best to get it out of the way as early as possible, immediately following her meeting with the King.

She had presented her plan to him with little fanfare, and he had agreed to it just as easily as she had hoped he would.

With a gleam in his eye that spoke of something deeper than pride, he dismissed her to the Parliament House, tasked with carrying out his will.

She followed the footman through the marble halls, her blood-red robes flowing behind her and the clacking of her heels reverberating in the empty air.

Even so early, she knew that she had to make a statement, just in case.

Shan could never be caught at anything less than her best, even if she was exhausted from spending the entire night tweaking the details of her plan, going over every word with care and intention.

News of Isaac’s escape was still being kept quiet, for the moment, and she understood the King’s desire to move quickly.

Her proposal was bold, and it would solve so many problems, which is precisely why now was the moment to unveil it.

She had been trying for weeks to come up with something else, anything else, to fill the gap.

Aeravin was built on a sea of blood, and there was only so long they could continue to tread water.

This proposal would solve all of their issues, but it wouldn’t be without its share of detractors.

Samuel, especially, would hate it, but she had run out of time.

He had forced her hand, whether he realized it or not, and he would have to live with the consequences of that.

For Isaac’s life, she could bear the weight.

She just prayed that Samuel could as well.

The footman let her into the private chambers of the Royal Council, a room she hadn’t been in since that night she had brought her father’s blood to be tested.

So much had changed since then, the slow game she had thought she had been playing turned into something much more.

No longer just a LeClaire, searching for every scrap of information and power that she could get her inferior hands on, but the Royal Blood Worker.

Right hand to the King in every way that mattered.

Someone with just as much power and authority as any of the other faces before her, and she greeted them with a fierce smile. All five of them, waiting patiently for her arrival, the same serious and grim faces that she had faced at the start of it all, bar one.

Samuel sat on the left-hand side at the edge of the curved table, gloved hands folded in front of him. He was dressed in one of the many fine suits she had arranged for Laurens to make him, looking as delectable as a treat, even so covered up.

She deliberately averted her gaze from him—the news of their engagement had no doubt spread, but she had earned this position on her own merits, whether she wanted it or not.

“Lady LeClaire,” Belrose said, from her seat at the center of the table. She was just finishing out her term as the leader of the Council before it shifted to Lady Holland when the next Season began. It felt almost nostalgic, being back here again, as she began her speech.

“Lady Belrose,” Shan returned, inclining her head.

“And all the esteemed members of the Royal Council. I am sorry to call you all here so early, but there is a proposal that needs your attention.” She laid down her portfolio on table, opening it to pull out several hand-copied pages summarizing her plans.

“The full details of the plan will be delivered to your offices this afternoon, but the salient details can be found here.”

She started at the end of the table opposite Samuel, as if delaying the inevitable would solve any of her problems. But as she handed the last page to him, she hesitated just long enough for him to scan it, just long enough for his expression to twist into unfiltered disgust.

Unable to bear the weight of his judgement, she turned her attention back to the others, waiting with her hands folded demurely in front of her.

“Well,” Belrose said after several long moments of silence, her eyebrows raised so high that they nearly brushed against her hairline. “This is… bold. But I suppose we should expect that from you, Lady LeClaire.”

“I am well aware that it is unorthodox,” Shan replied, “but we live in unprecedented times, and sometimes that calls for equally unprecedented measures.”

“It would certainly solve our issues,” Morse added, drumming her fingers on the table. “And I believe a more accurate adjective for this plan would be ingenious .”

Shan bit back a smile as a rush of relief coursed through her. Getting the first vote of confidence was always the trickiest part. After that, the rest would fall like dominoes.

To that end, Lady Belrose had managed to school her expression, nodding along with Morse’s assessment, and Lord Rayne looked positively gleeful, a more active response than she had expected from the old man.

Lady Holland merely looked thoughtful, perhaps a bit unconvinced, but she had expected that from the Councillor of Industry.

It would be the details in the full plan that would eventually convince her, with her head for numbers and her books of data. There was no sentimentality in that woman, and in moments like this, Shan was thankful for it.

Which only left Samuel, who looked positively thunderous—which was an issue, as this plan would fall directly under his purview.

“You cannot be serious,” Samuel said, speaking up at last, and Shan had to control her grimace.

She had heard him take up that tone before, that righteous fury that threatened to see the entire world burn.

Once, she had hoped to harness it, bend it to her will and use his anger to her own ends.

Once, she had wanted nothing more than to light him up and watch him burn.

But never did she expect to see that fury turned on her.

“Oh, come now, Aberforth,” Rayne interjected, coming to her rescue, but Samuel silenced him with a glare so regal and imperious that it took Shan’s breath away.

What a terrible influence Shan had been on him, taking the sweetest boy she had ever met and turning him into a Blood Worker like the rest of them.

“Let him speak,” Shan said, surprising even herself. “As it affects his realm most of all.”

Silence fell over the hearing chamber, the kind of heavy quiet that was used when someone was being patronized. She wondered if Samuel was adept enough to recognize it.

Or if he even cared at all.

“Affects my realm,” Samuel repeated with a sneer that reminded Shan of the Eternal King.

“As if, under this plan, it wouldn’t be my hands getting dirty.

” He crushed the paper in his fist, all of Shan’s careful work transcribing it ruined in seconds.

“Taking increased Blood Taxes from criminals. It’s inhumane. ”

Shan did not allow herself to so much as blink. This was the response she had anticipated, the reason why she had struggled for so long to find any other viable solution, when this was sitting right there.

Ready to be taken advantage of.

The open disdain still hurt though, a reminder of all the ways he had faith in her, and all the ways she continued to come up short.

“Aberforth, please,” Morse groaned, rubbing at her temple.

She spoke with the same weariness of a governess dealing with a particularly unruly child—and from the way Samuel bristled, he certainly recognized this.

“It is a simple and elegant solution. Even as new as you are to this position, you must recognize how rare these sorts of opportunities are. Besides…” she paused, her smile turning cruel “… as Councillor of Law, this will give you more opportunity to work with your intended.”

Shan glanced away, not sure who she was more worried in disappointing. Samuel, for putting him in this terrible position. Or herself, for fearing that this would look like exactly like it was—the idea that she hadn’t risen on her own merit, but only for her ties to one person.

One lost prince, reluctantly returned.

Blood and steel, did she miss being the Sparrow.

As the Sparrow, this would have never fallen upon her.

She would be working to undermine this decision, not spearhead it.

But that was before she was tasked with balancing the many needs of an entire nation upon her shoulders, and she could only hope that after this meeting she would be able to convince Samuel that this was the only option.

He had forced her hand with his ill-timed rescue of Isaac, and he would have to learn to live with the consequences.

“My relationship with Lady LeClaire notwithstanding,” Samuel said, his voice as icy as the chill of winter’s night, “I still object to this plan, and I will campaign against it when it is brought to the House of Lords.”

“When… oh.” Shan took a deep breath. Blood and steel, but was this a mess already, and of course Samuel would make this mistake. “I am sorry that I did not make this clearer, but that will not be happening. The King has already approved this plan—it is not up for debate or vote.”

She could feel the support in the room vanish as the rest of the Council studied her with renewed interest. Their ire shifted like the wind, away from Samuel and his naiveté towards Shan and her presumption.

What fools they were. Just moments ago they had been eager for this plan, but with this little breach of protocol, their entire attitude changed.