Page 20 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

“Good.” Anton pulled something out of his breast pocket, tossed it on the table between them. “Are you familiar with these, then?”

Isaac brushed his fingers against the mess of pamphlets that fell to the table, the headlines and articles different, but the typeset the same. It seemed that the radicals who had upset the King so much continued on, peddling their philosophies and revolutionary schemes.

Isaac wasn’t surprised to see that they had carried on, despite the laws the King had enacted. Blood and steel, doing that had probably only helped the revolutionary cause. But for Anton to bring it up with him—

He burst into a laugh as the realization hit him. “You?” he wheezed. “Of course it’s bloody you. Hells, this is ridiculous.”

Anton leaned back in his seat, looking as satisfied as the cat that caught the canary. “It does feel a bit like a comedy of errors, doesn’t it? Shan’s schemes, yours.” He gestured to the pamphlets again. “Mine.”

“All working our own little plans,” Isaac added, pouring himself another drink. “Never thinking that there might be others willing to help.”

“It is a little mad, no?” Anton crossed his leg over the other, shifted nervously. “But that’s why I wanted to speak with you. Shan has made her position clear—” Anton grit his teeth, and Isaac didn’t need to pry to know how that had gone.

His foolish Shan, always insisting on doing things her way, no matter how alone it left her.

“—but,” Anton continued, and Isaac forced himself to focus, “I think that there could be something here, no?”

“Wait,” Isaac interrupted. “You don’t mean that you want me to join you?

” Anton inclined his head, and Isaac was forced to re-evaluate everything he thought he knew about the man.

Every preconceived notion, every bit of disgust he had felt.

How much of that boy he knew was real, and how much of it had just been another mask?

He and Anton were more alike than Isaac had ever wished to realize.

“What’s your endgame, then?”

Anton spread his hands, spoke as simply as if they were discussing the weather.

“This country is built on a flawed foundation, and if we are ever to build something better, we need to start from the ground up.” Anton’s smile was sharp, looking so much like his sister that it made Isaac’s heart ache.

“And if that means that the King, the House of Lords, the very laws and rules that bind us have to go too—then that is the price we’re willing to pay.

You know quite a bit about paying high prices, don’t you? ”

“I do,” Isaac said, pushing to his feet so he could pace. Anton didn’t interrupt him, just leaned back and waited, as Isaac worked through this.

As Isaac considered a future where he did not have to fight this fight alone.

“What of Shan?” Isaac asked, at last. Because despite everything, the doubts and the fears and the way their agendas never fully lined up, he wanted nothing more than to remain at her side. And this—this felt like a deeper betrayal than any of the previous wounds they had inflicted upon each other.

They really were a match made in hell, weren’t they? Feeding each other’s worst parts, love and longing and betrayal all wrapped up together, and Isaac did not know where to even begin untangling it. If they even could untangle it.

Perhaps that was Samuel’s part in all this, to be the grounding force that kept them together, the light that guided them home in the darkness. The hope that they could have a future together, someday.

“I can’t answer for her, but we do have an agreement,” Anton said, kindly.

Delicately, like he was on the brink of breaking. Perhaps he was—Isaac ached for things he could not even name, and perhaps he was on the edge of shattering, fracturing into a billion little pieces that could never be put back together.

“What agreement is that?”

“She handles her own plans, and I handle mine,” Anton elaborated, pulling his hands apart and holding them off to the side, dangling off the edges of the armrest. “I do not interfere with her and she does not interfere with me. It’s… a kind of mutual respect.”

“And poaching me?” Isaac returned. “Where does that fall?”

“Well—” that smile was back, crueler than ever “—you are your own man, are you not?” Anton settled his hands back in his lap with a shrug. “You and I both want something better for this nation—we both want to see those who have fed on the lowest among us punished for their crimes.”

Isaac couldn’t argue with that, but there was one thing he needed this man, who had been born to privilege but denied the gift of magic, to understand.

“This isn’t just for the Unblooded, I hope.

Oh, yes, they do suffer, greatly, but there are Blood Workers who are being exploited as well.

If we are going to risk a revolution, it should be a revolution for all. ”

Anton didn’t respond for a long moment, so long that Isaac feared he had overstepped his bounds. “You’re right, of course. For so long we had focused on the Unblooded, but there are others who needed to be freed from the system. People like your late parents, rest their souls.”

Cutting him a harsh look, Isaac dared him to continue. But Anton didn’t press. Just stood and held out his hand. “Partners, then?”

Isaac looked at the outstretched hand, took it and shook it hard. It was a simple pact, but it felt like the start of something new. Something better. The alliance he had arranged with Alessi had been built out of mutual need and desperation, but this… this was different.

And to cement that, he squared his shoulders. “I’m with you, Anton, but I still need to talk to Shan—”

“I understand,” Anton cut him off. “You don’t need to explain that to me.” He ran his hand through his hair, let out a harsh breath. “Good luck with that, de la Cruz. You’re going to need it. Would you like for me to arrange for something?”

“You’d do that?” Isaac asked. It seemed so easy, too good to be trusted, but Anton just clapped him on the shoulder.

“Trust me, between me and Bart, we can figure it out.” He dropped a wink at Isaac’s confusion. “What, you think you’re the only man to be taken in by a pretty face?”

Oh. Anton and Shan’s secretary, then? For some reason that didn’t surprise Isaac. He hardly knew Bart, but he couldn’t imagine how complicated this was for them.

How complicated it was about to become for him .

“Very well, then,” Isaac agreed. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good.” Anton knocked back the rest of his glass. “I’ll leave the bourbon with you, and that parcel over there contains the rest of our literature. You should read through it, then I’ll arrange for you to meet the rest of us.”

“And the Blood Workers?” Isaac pressed. “You’ll help them too?”

Anton did not even hesitate. “I will—but you must know, not all of them will side with us. Even those who would be better off, in the long run.”

“I know,” Isaac agreed, even though it hurt. “Just like all the Unblooded won’t side with you.”

Anton only nodded in response, because what else was there to say?

There would always be those who chose a system that allowed them a little power over others.

It was why he had killed those who turned over their brethren to be drained and killed for a small amount of money.

It was why the revolution that they dreamed of would be washed in blood.

And still, he would choose it anyway, because giving up was worse.