Page 34 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Shan

S han never expected to return to the site of the original Blood Factory, but given the Eternal King’s latest plans, she had to admit that it made a certain amount of sense.

Though the work they had once done was outsourced to new locations, this space still existed, a laboratory just waiting to be used.

And if, in the course of a couple of short weeks, the King had managed to have it partially re-outfitted to suit their needs, then he was only doing what any enterprising individual would do.

She should really get the name of his contractor for the next time the LeClaire townhouse needed renovations—clearly, they were a miracle worker.

The far side of the factory had been redone to include cells, the same sort that had once held Isaac, a person’s entire life reduced to a small square of space, to conditions that she couldn’t rightly call humane.

But before him, Shan would have never once stopped to think about it, would never have been bothered to think of the countless others who had been subjected to those kinds of conditions.

Perhaps Samuel and Isaac were right about her, after all.

Perhaps her scope was too limited, perhaps her perspectives too skewed.

She could still feel the echo of Isaac’s lips on her skin, drawing out the blood she had been so eager to give, without realizing what she was forcing Isaac into.

But then she remembered the sketches she had seen of Miss Arena, throat mutilated, face crushed, and anger sparked.

No, her way was the only way forward, if they wanted to make it through this alive.

The King crooked his finger forward, drawing her to the only occupied cell and the terrified young girl within it.

It seemed that they would be keeping their test subjects close—and Shan didn’t know if that was for their own safety, the simple convenience of it, or the stark reality that, King or not, such experiments would be best kept secret.

But in order to best understand how to stop Isaac, they first needed to understand what he was becoming.

The mere myths of times long past and theories of what could be would not suffice, not if they wanted to be able to catalogue his weaknesses, to understand the full scope of the threat he was becoming.

And so, if they had to create their own vampire, then they would do it. Shan would do it—and perhaps, through a careful examination and a fair amount of luck that she did not deserve, she would find a way to save Isaac.

The girl sat on the small cot with her knees drawn up to her chest, her manacled hands wrapped around her knees. There was another of those terrifying muzzles around her face, and Shan realized that this was no nameless Unblooded picked from the streets, but a Blood Worker.

Blood and steel. She had expected this, she had planned for this, but there was something terrifying about actually facing it.

Her attempts to help Isaac kept backfiring in her face, and that was with someone she knew.

Someone she thought she understood. But she had no idea what had brought this stranger to this place, trapped in the King’s games.

She had no idea whether she had volunteered or whether it was some kind of punishment, but in the end, did it really matter?

“How are we doing this?” she asked, drawing the Eternal King’s attention to her. He stood leaning against the metal bars, drumming his claws against it as he was lost in thought.

“Easily,” he said, moving forward. The keys already dangled from his fingers, and he eased the lock open with a quick twist of his wrist. “She’s already agreed to help us.”

Agreed , he said, like it had been a given.

But as Shan looked the girl over again, rocking on her cot in terror, she knew that it was not so simple.

Their prisoner was out of her mind with fear, and that would never do.

Reaching out, she placed her hand on the King’s wrist without even thinking.

He glanced down at her in surprise, but to her great shock, he merely handed her the keys and stepped aside, letting her take the lead.

Perhaps he had more faith in her than she realized. Or perhaps it was just another test. With him, one could never tell.

Shan glided into the cell on silent feet, perching on the edge of the cot. The girl flinched back, as if struck, but Shan just held her hands out, palms up in supplication, until the trembling stopped.

“I’m going to remove the muzzle now, if that’s all right,” Shan said, slowly, and the girl nodded. With steady hands, she undid the straps binding it around the girl’s head, easing the muzzle free, revealing her face.

Hells, she was so young—barely an adult.

Her features were fair and delicate, despite the rough treatment she had received.

Her hair, soft gold, weaker than sunlight, hung in limp waves down her back, her thin lips were chapped and cracked.

In a different setting, a different world, she would have been lovely, but she just looked so tired and haunted.

Shan didn’t press her to speak, just continued on, freeing her from the manacles before fetching her a glass of room temperature water. She passed it to the girl’s trembling hands, stroking the hair back from her face as she drank.

“Thank you,” the girl said, finally, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she looked up at Shan.

Her eyes widened as she took in Shan’s deep red robes, her mouth popping open in a little “oh” of surprise.

Scuttling back, she rose to unsteady feet, dropping into a curtsy with terrible form, tremors running through her. “My lady.”

“Please,” Shan replied, taking her by the hand and pulling her back into a comfortable stance. “That is not necessary. What is your name, child?”

It felt odd, calling her that, even though Shan knew she couldn’t have been more than a handful of years younger than her.

But there was something… innocent about her, something that seemed so terribly inexperienced.

Like she hadn’t seen the true cruelties of the world she lived in, and it made Shan feel so old.

“Mel,” the girl said, only to immediately catch herself. “Melinda.”

Shan smiled, warm and sweet. “Mel,” she repeated, and some tension eased from the girl’s shoulders. “I’m Shan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

The Eternal King continued to watch them as Mel prattled on about her history, how she was a simple Blood Worker of no grand lineage or power, how she was arrested after she was found abusing her position at one of the clinics, draining Unblooded far past what she was supposed to.

How she had then taken that blood and drank it down, seeking ways to supplement her own meager abilities.

Shan paid only the most surface of attention, filing away the details she would need for later, as the King’s focus weighed as heavily on her. She snuck a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, but he was watching her with approval.

She had slipped into the role so easily, without even needing to discuss it beforehand, acting the kind hand to counterbalance the King’s cruel one.

And so, Mel opened up to her, the little terror that she was—hungry for information and knowledge and everything Blood Working could give her.

Not satisfied with being a mere Blood Worker, but craving the power and privilege that was granted to the Lords and Ladies who ruled above all.

Shan should have known better than to take her at face value.

Her youthfulness and air of innocence was nothing more than a deception.

No one in Aeravin was innocent, especially if they were a Blood Worker, and Mel’s true sin was not that she had erred, but that she had been caught, delivered right into their hands, the perfect tool to be used.

The last bit of Shan’s reluctance faded away. Mel was not a woman to be pitied. She had made her mistakes, and now was the time for her to reap the consequences. And if Shan, through her, could learn anything to help Isaac—

Then this was all worth it.

“You were foolish,” the King said at last, stepping into the cell. Shan could feel the strength of his aura, slipping past his leash, a carefully applied threat that had Mel inching away. “And for that foolishness, you need to be punished.”

Mel ducked her head, sniffling as tears came to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. You’re right, it was a mistake.”

It was not a masterful gambit. Shan had seen its like many times, the kind of woman who would weaponize her tears against any who dared to criticize her.

And because she was a Blood Worker, because of the power that gave her over others in their society, she had been able to get away with it for so long.

But the Eternal King was not so easily moved.

“The laws are the laws, my dear,” he said, his voice as hard as steel and just as cutting as the claws they wore. “And as the King, I am honor-bound to enact justice equally and fairly.”

Mel sniffled again, but the King only pressed on. “But I can be merciful,” he murmured, gentle as a prayer, “if you can find it in your heart to atone.”

Mel threw herself at his feet, pressed her forehead to the cool marble floor. “What can I do?”

“You wanted to know what Blood Working could achieve, did you not?” He nudged her with the tip of his boot, pressing into her jaw and tilting it up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

“Dedicate yourself to helping us, and not only will you live, you will know truths about Blood Working that most people have only dreamed of.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Mel replied, her eyes shining with a fervor that frightened Shan.