Page 17 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

“As much as we would like to follow typical process, we do not have the luxury of time,” Shan continued, infusing her voice with steel.

The Eternal King would not allow such questioning, and neither should she.

“It will be months before the House even reconvenes, let alone how long it would take to move this through committee. The Blood Coffers are draining fast, and we need to start replenishing them now. Aeravin hangs on a knife’s edge, and we must take action before we fall. ”

The Council had no response to that—they knew the truth of the matter, knew how desperate things could become. With each passing day, the restrictions from the rationing chafed harder, and if there was one thing the Blood Workers of Aeravin did not abide, it was restraint.

“Well,” Belrose said, with a small sneer, “it appears that we do not have any choice. Your proposal is accepted, LeClaire, though I will be looking forward to seeing the full detailed plans this afternoon.”

“Of course,” Shan said, graciously. “They will arrive by midday. If you have any questions, please direct them to my office.” Turning, she finally met Samuel’s gaze, his eyes hard and glinting.

There was no sign of the man she loved in that expression, and she was so terribly proud of him.

“And Lord Aberforth? Lady Morse was correct; we should meet ourselves to discuss the particulars. Will three in the afternoon suit?”

Samuel only nodded—a confirmation and a dismissal at once.

He was making himself a better Blood Worker and a Lord of Aeravin with each passing day.

Shan ignored the tug of desire that pooled deep in her core.

There would be opportunities for that later.

And if that was how he wanted to play it, she could meet him on his terms.

“This afternoon then,” she said, with a smile laced with poison, before executing the most perfect curtsy before the rest of the Royal Council. “I thank you for your time and consideration.”

She left with a flourish—if she could not have their respect, she would settle for having the last word. They could squabble among themselves, if they so chose, but there was only one person she answered to.

Being the right hand to the Eternal King did come with some benefits.

Samuel was waiting for her in his office, precisely at the appointed time. There was a steaming pot of tea waiting for her, complete with an assortment of small pastries, but Samuel wasn’t waiting at the other side of his desk, like all the other times they’d met in recent memory.

No, he stood by the window, gloves and cravat discarded, sleeves rolled up to display his strong forearms, riddled through with the dark imprint of his veins.

Well, there was that, at least. After the King had displayed the scars Isaac had left burned into his skin, Samuel had taken to covering them up as much as possible, except around her. Whatever anger simmered between them was not enough to fully break their bond.

Not yet.

She skirted around the table, ignoring the siren call of tea despite how badly she needed it. Instead, she slid her arms around Samuel’s body, rested her head against his shoulder, holding him tight as she felt the tension he carried dissipate bit by incremental bit.

His hand came to cover hers, their fingers twining together before he raised them to his lips, pressed his lips against the metal claws on each of her fingers.

Soft and gentle—he was always so gentle with her, like she was something precious.

She had done nothing to earn such loving care, and after this morning, she wasn’t sure she deserved it at all.

But she swallowed all those fears, tucking them away where they couldn’t hurt her, because she had a mess to fix. “Did you have a chance to read the proposal?”

Samuel scoffed, pulling away at last. He put a deliberate amount of space between them, far enough that she couldn’t touch him, and she let him, folding her hands behind her back. “It is a… thorough accounting.”

“Thorough,” Shan echoed. “Yes, I wanted to close as many loopholes as I could, before we even started this.”

Samuel hummed in response. “I see. Well, you succeeded, though it must have taken you quite some time to draft.”

She heard the unspoken questions hanging between them, the things he did not even have to say. The how long have you been planning this and the why did you never tell me and the most damning of them all, the simple how could you?

It was the same things she had asked herself night after night, but standing here before Samuel and his foolish, admirable sense of justice, all her excuses felt paltry.

“There are no other solutions,” she said, at last, hating the slight quiver in her voice. “I searched and searched for options, but there is nothing that would replace the amount of blood they were bringing in, nothing that wouldn’t be—”

“That wouldn’t be worse?” Samuel finished for her.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. For that was the crux of it.

What had existed was a horror that should have never been allowed, but one did not simply harvest that much blood while still standing on the side of righteousness.

And she thought that Samuel understood it, too.

That there was no way to continue to serve the Eternal King without getting their hands dirty.

She so hated to be wrong.

Samuel groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “What are we doing, Shan? This isn’t helping anyone. We’re not helping anyone.”

“But we are.” Shan stepped forward, unable to stop herself from reaching for him. “What I said this morning was true, Samuel. If we do not find a way to solve the issue of rationing, then this fragile peace will shatter. And if that happens…”

If it wasn’t the Unblooded, it was the Blood Workers. If it wasn’t the merchants, it was the Lords. If it wasn’t their Eternal King, then it was everyone else. Aeravin was a fragile web of spider silk, and even the smallest disturbance would send it fluttering away in the wind.

“Please,” she said. No. Begged . “I cannot do this alone.”

Samuel stepped forward immediately, his frustration replaced by pity, and as sour a taste as that left in her mouth, it was better than anger.

“Oh, Shan,” he muttered against her hair, his large hand warm and tender against the small of her back.

“You didn’t have to bear this alone. We could have come up with something. ”

“Could we?” she whispered into the safety of his body.

Like this, he couldn’t look at her. Like this, she could imagine that he was looking at her with understanding.

It also made it easier for her to slip the noose around his neck.

“You have done things without my knowledge to protect me , haven’t you? ”

He stilled. “Yes,” he said, walking straight into her trap.

“As I did here, for you.” She tilted her head, staring at the deep imprint of a bite mark on the pale skin of his throat, one that she had not left there.

She pressed a kiss to it, laying claim to the mark Isaac had left on him, and she could feel him shudder at the contact.

“Look at us, still fighting to protect each other. Still fighting to protect those we love.”

She dared not say his name, even in the privacy of Samuel’s office. Some secrets were too risky for the Parliament House, but with the way Samuel’s arms clenched against the small of her back, she knew he understood it.

What flawed creatures they were, but she still showed her love in the only way she knew how. Her affection was a deadly poison, wrapped in layers of deceit and artifice, but she would protect those who held her heart.

Even if they didn’t recognize her protection for what it was.

“I am sorry it had to be this way,” she breathed. “But it needed to be done. And do not fear, I’ll help you with the rest of this.”

She released him, finally heading towards the teapot, but Samuel looked after her with a strange look on his face. It was only there for a second, before he hid it behind that mask of Lord Aberforth that he worked so hard on perfecting, and pride twisted with the acid in her stomach.

He took his seat at his desk, so stern, the perfect image of an aristocrat. “Let’s get to work, then.”