Page 58 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)
He wasn’t angry, not truly, but there was a question there.
“I apologize. I had an unexpected visitor.” Taking a seat, he launched into a quick explanation of the King’s visit, including the information that he would be traveling to the Aberforths’ country estate for an indeterminate amount of time.
Isaac didn’t interrupt him, but his brow furrowed with concern. Samuel reached for Isaac’s hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But this wasn’t about him, not now.
Turning his attention to Bart, Samuel asked, “Do you have any idea what she’s been working on with the King?”
His smile was rueful as he leaned back with a sigh. “If she hasn’t told any of you, what makes you think I would know?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking suddenly exhausted. “Since her appointment as Royal Blood Worker, she’s been pulling back from her work as the Sparrow, and from… me.”
Anton shifted on his stool, sliding closer so that he could pull Bart against him, a kind of casual comfort. “It’s nothing personal,” Anton said. “You just know how she is, especially since…” He trailed off, but he cut a sharp glance to Isaac.
“I know,” Isaac muttered, with the bitterness of someone who had had this conversation many times. Who still blamed himself for the actions he had taken so long ago.
Samuel may not have been around when Isaac had broken Shan’s heart for the first time, a relative newcomer to this tangled web of love and heartbreak that Shan had woven around herself, but he still knew that nothing was as simple as it seemed.
That the true reason for all their suffering, on every scale from small to large, was the ruler they were working so hard to unseat.
“It’s not your fault,” Samuel said, cutting through the tension with the harshness of a blade. “We are all what this damned nation has made of us. Same with Shan. And if retreating into herself is the only way she can survive this, then who are we to judge?”
“It isn’t about judging,” Anton chimed in, looking strangely pained, “and that was ill-done of me, Isaac.”
“Perhaps,” Isaac admitted, rubbing his hand across his chin, catching at the stubble. “But it wasn’t unearned.” Sighing, he turned to Samuel. “None of us are judging her, but what Shan’s doing… it won’t work. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
“Then what do we do?” Samuel asked, almost fearing the answer. It felt like time was running out, this plotting coming to a head, and if they couldn’t bring Shan into it…
He didn’t want to think about that, even if it made him a coward.
“Perhaps this trip to the countryside will do us some good,” Bart said.
“Even with the King there?”
Bart’s expression sharpened, not quite a smile, but cunningly victorious nonetheless. “She needs to face the truth of the King head-on, and whatever he is plotting, if it requires the Aberforth estate, it must be something truly terrible.”
“Or dangerous,” Isaac offered, “if he doesn’t want to risk whatever it is in the capital.” He drummed his fingers on the table, clearly weighing his options.
“Out with it, then,” Anton muttered, as they slipped back into their usual bickering. “If you have something to share with the group.”
It was kinder now, Samuel noticed, not quite as cruel and biting as it used to be.
When he first pulled Anton into this rescue, he had feared that the two of them would tear each other to pieces.
But instead, they had become something almost like friends.
Some new understanding had been reached between them, and Samuel was so glad to see it.
“Ah, fuck off, LeClaire,” Isaac returned, with a flash of a grin. “But fine, if you insist. Before you broke me out, the King had offered me up to her as a test subject. Exploring the limits of Blood Working, in much the same way that I have been.”
Samuel cursed as the implications hit him. “You don’t think he’s—”
“Not to himself,” Isaac quickly clarified, sensing the shape of Samuel’s sudden fear. “But another Blood Worker, one that Shan has been working with. Making his own vampire.”
“Fuck,” Anton muttered, his face gone pale. “It was one thing when we thought you gave us the upper hand, but—”
“But nothing,” Samuel said, with a conviction that surprised even himself. “We will know nothing until the trip is finished, but Bart was right. It is an opportunity, if only for this.”
“He’s right,” Isaac added. “This changes nothing. If anything, it means that we need to accelerate our plans. Six weeks was too long.”
Bart leaned back, pensive. “And is that something you’re ready for?”
Samuel glanced between them, unsure what he was getting at. Feeling like he was missing some vital piece of information. But Isaac only inclined his head. “In time. I’ll need a bit more blood, another—”
“Blood Worker?” Samuel offered, his mind already swimming with possibilities, names of those who were cruel, who were a threat to this war they were preparing to wage. Human beings with entire lives in front of them, but that Samuel would gladly see taken out.
Hells, when had he become so callous? Measuring out the worth of a life, painting targets on the backs of people who thought him, if not a friend, then at least a kindly acquaintance. It was bad enough when he did it to Holland, but that was to correct a mistake, to save his own skin.
Once was a mistake. Twice was a pattern. This was premeditated, and he knew there was no coming back from this.
They were all monsters here, and Samuel knew that he had to stop fighting it. There was no other way to achieve their goals, and it was childish to keep pretending. This is what Dameral had made him, and if they were to succeed, he needed to be honest with himself.
No matter how much it hurt to admit.
“At least,” Isaac admitted. “Maybe more.”
“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Samuel’s throat was dry, but he forced himself to speak away. “Let’s teach them a lesson. Send a message. Destabilize the Guard completely.”
“And you know where to start?” Anton asked.
“I do. I can give you everything you need.” Isaac furrowed his brow, and Samuel could tell what was coming. An out of some kind. But he wouldn’t let himself be swayed. “Vaughn Dabney, Captain of the Guard.”
Understanding shot through the room, as sudden and shocking as lightning. Isaac’s lips curved into a smirk. “As my love commands.”