Page 31 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)
The King didn’t respond—he only flashed that smile again, the one that was there and gone again as he refused to answer. It wasn’t malicious, she realized. The King was teasing her, a bright bit of playfulness that she never expected from him.
The world fractured around her, everything reframing itself in a single, crystalline moment.
She wasn’t merely his subordinate, but his colleague.
This was respect—an easy and open acknowledgment not only of her title, but of herself .
So different from all the years of barely disguised pity, or outright derision, from the skepticism that came after she had been appointed Royal Blood Worker.
This was new, this was intoxicating, this was everything she had worked so hard for.
And she could get used to it.
Amelia settled in the chair across from Shan, her cheeks still flushed a charming shade of pink from the winter’s chill.
Her traveling cloak—a luscious piece of velvet, a blue as deep as the night sky and speckled with flurries that gave it an enchanting, starry feeling—was whisked from her shoulders by an Unblooded serving boy.
There and gone again, quiet as a mouse and just as unobtrusive.
Well, perhaps not entirely unobtrusive, as Amelia smirked at his fading profile. “You know, I bit my lip, nary a complaint with the new restrictions, but I did resent the curfew. I never realized how crucial they were to our day-to-day life.”
Shan simply hummed her agreement, already reaching for her glass of wine.
The curfew had done a disservice to the social scene, where restaurants and clubs such as the fine establishment they were in had to shutter their evening services due to lack of staff.
“I agree, it was quite a disappointment. But His Majesty was only trying to safeguard his people.”
She hadn’t recognized it for what it was at the time, too concerned for the safety of her brother.
But Isaac had forced the King’s hand, taken an already tremulous peace and shattered it with no regards to the consequences.
She was just thankful that, despite his recent escape, he had yet to do anything foolish enough to tip them back over the edge into unrest.
Perhaps there was hope of getting him out of Aeravin yet, despite how roughly they had left things. How he had twisted her attempts to help him through the unkindest of lenses, still expecting the very worst of her. But that was neither here nor there, not with Amelia Dunn waiting on her.
“I have ordered us the special,” Shan said, placing her glass down and forcing a smile onto her face. “I hope that suits.”
“Of course,” Amelia returned, “they have the best shellfish in all of Dameral.”
It was true, and access to establishments like this was one of the many little perks of being named Royal Blood Worker.
All she had to do was say her title and a table would be immediately found for her, no matter how busy they were.
And after so long spent cooped up in the Academy, it was refreshing to take meetings like this, over a spread of shared food and wine, almost like they were friends.
Shan banished that ill thought the second it appeared.
She had a hard enough time managing Samuel and Isaac, and the last thing she needed was to find more authentic connections to nurture, especially given the woman who sat across from her.
Just as poisonous as she was, a deadly nightshade wrapped in a Lady’s carefully cultivated elegance.
The serving boy returned, carrying a large tray of oysters, clams, and mussels—the freshest catch of Dameral, cleaned and served raw with a variety of sauces. Lemon and garlic, horseradish and vinegar. A feast for a single person, but with another to share it, an almost reasonable indulgence.
Guilt clawed at her, a brief and sudden flash as the serving boy bowed and vanished.
She knew that he would never be able to dine on such fine cuisine, that Unblooded like him served Blood Workers like her without ever knowing what it would be like on the other side.
But as Amelia leaned back, sucking a succulent oyster straight from the shell, Shan realized that for all she had suffered—for all the work she would do that would be forever unrecognized and unsung—she deserved these little moments of luxury.
She deserved this and so much more.
Amelia settled back in her seat, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, the daintiness of the movement a stark contrast to the sharpness of her claws. “People have been talking about you, Shan.”
Shan leaned forward, selecting her first morsel with care, as if what Amelia was here to report was of little importance. In truth, it set her stomach twisting, though she dared not show it. “Have they?”
“They have,” Amelia confirmed, looking as smug as a cat with cream. “You know that I never doubted you, of course, but some of our peers had… concerns, given your parentage. Ridiculous, I say! To judge a child on what they had no choice in.”
“It is kind of you to think so,” Shan returned, even as she thought of Amelia’s own father, the late Councillor of Law who held the seat before Samuel.
He had said something similar to her once, with a harsh kind of gentle cruelty, reminding her that she would ever be an outsider till she overcame the stains that marked her as other.
The failure of her father, the foreignness of her mother. Being Royal Blood Worker changed none of it; if anything, it made the scrutiny all the worse.
“It’s not kind,” Amelia said, with more fervor than Shan expected. “It is truth.”
Shan looked up, barely able to keep the surprise from spreading across her face. That did not sound like a well-practiced lie, that had the unmistakable ring of honesty. “I… thank you.”
“There is no need to thank me for that.” Amelia glanced away, as if the moment had turned a touch too sincere for her as well. “Thank me for smoothing away the ripples your recent policy has made.”
“Ah, that.” Shan inclined her head. “For that, you do have my genuine thanks. I knew that the implementation would be contentious but…”
“But we didn’t have time to wait,” Amelia finished for her, with the smooth confidence of one who had made this argument many times before. “It was a necessity born from unprecedented times.”
Shan smirked at her. “Have you considered becoming a speechwriter, Amelia? You’re quite good at it.”
Amelia laughed, slurping another mussel then discarding the shell into the ever-growing pile.
“Alas, if I didn’t have my own seat in the House to think about, perhaps it would make a passingly interesting diversion.
But…” There came the cunning smile, the Amelia Dunn that Shan knew all too well sliding to the surface. “I am only following your lead.”
Only making herself indispensable, like she had promised at that salon all those weeks ago.
But Amelia hadn’t waited for the new season of the House of Lords to come around, electing herself to seed Shan’s interests to those around her.
It was still a new dynamic for her, but Shan couldn’t lie to herself.
She could get used to this, holding power easily with one hand while pulling the strings with the other.
Sure, this opening gambit had been a daring one, had tested the bounds of what she was allowed in her role and the sensibilities of those too delicate to face the harshness of reality.
It was something Isaac would have never dared, something few in the long history of Aeravin would have dared.
And Shan was lucky to have someone like Amelia Dunn to help smooth the way.
“You know,” Shan said, carefully, weighing each word.
It was always a delicate balance, how much to tempt without making any promises she might not be able to keep.
But something deep within her stirred her to try, even if she could not make herself look the impulse head-on.
“I appreciate all that you have been doing, Amelia, and I want you to know that I always pay my debts.”
Amelia demurred with a blush that made her look softer than her plain features should have allowed. It made her look more fetching, Shan had to admit, a little more approachable. “Please, Shan, I am not so underhanded as to use our friendship in such a matter.”
“I did not say you were,” Shan said, playing into the dance that they both knew they had to perform. Nothing was ever simple, as women of their station, but Shan found that she was unexpectedly honest in this. “I mean it, Amelia.”
Amelia stared at her for a long moment, her eyes calculating—sharp like the jagged icicles—before her entire expression shifted. She looked so much younger in that moment, more innocent, and Shan wondered, perhaps, if there was something true here.
The moment was fleeting, as Amelia tossed her hair back with a laugh, the levity washing away the awkwardness. “We do make quite the team, don’t we?” Her hand slid across the table, fingers twining with Shan’s in a playful squeeze as the sharp steel of their claws rang a delicate tingle.
“We do,” Shan agreed. “And Aeravin won’t know what hit them.”