Page 66 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Samuel was still so cold, the chill having seeped into his bones despite the roaring fire that Shan had placed him by, the couch turned to face it and the heat rolling off it.

The entire sitting room was designed to be effortlessly cozy, draped in deep earthen colors, the warmth of the world at rest. The rug under their feet thick and soft, the kind that Samuel wanted to sink his bare toes into, and the curtains across the windows held back the relentless creep of winter, a shield of deep green velvet, colored like the vibrant forests that Samuel never had the chance to see.

She had stripped him of his coat and gloves and scarf, bundling him tight in a soft woolen blanket, but Samuel still felt the grip of ice around his heart, and he feared that it would never melt.

Shan pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hands, holding it there for a moment longer than necessary, the weight of her claws against his bare fingers a surprisingly comforting squeeze.

They remained like that, the tea warming his fingers and the soft scent of rose hips floral and fragrant between them.

She hadn’t said a word since she had ushered him inside, treating him like he was made of the thinnest, most fragile of glass—ready to shatter under the slightest pressure.

But now, next to each other, close enough to touch, Shan finally turned her dark eyes to him, pain and regret written across her very expression.

For once, wearing her emotions openly, not hiding them away behind layers she was too afraid to shed.

“Samuel, I—” she began, only for the door to the sitting room to burst open, the King standing there, looking regal as always. He, too, had shed his coat and gloves, but his cheeks were still ruddy from the bite of the cold, looking so much more human and alive than Samuel had ever seen.

Shan’s expression shuttered immediately, and Samuel knew that whatever moment of honesty they could have had was lost forever.

“Ah, tea,” the King said, stepping forward to pour himself some. “What a lovely idea, thank you, Shan.”

Samuel only then noticed that there were three cups with the pot. This had been Shan’s intention all along, waiting for the King to join them. How much of her life had been spent revolving around him, the star around which her entire life and plans had orbited?

He had been so, so foolish to expect her to break free of the King’s gravitational pull.

The King settled into the armchair across from them, leg crossed over his knee, cup balanced perfectly in his hands. “That was an illuminating demonstration, don’t you think?”

The question was aimed at him, Samuel was sure of that, but Shan inclined her head, putting herself in the line of fire to protect him. “Mel’s control has grown significantly.”

“I am aware,” the King replied, smug as a cat who had gotten into the bowl of cream. “But I was speaking to my Councillor.”

Samuel swallowed against the renewed burn of bile in the back of his throat, clutching his cup even more tightly. “It was. I cannot deny the Guards of… that caliber would be quite impressive.”

“Impressive indeed.” The King smirked, a flash of sharp teeth that seemed almost primal. “Given your reaction, I was worried that you would find it too… grotesque.”

Samuel steeled himself. It was clear that he had failed the first test, but he couldn’t falter here. He had to make it through this, just a little longer. “I will not lie and say that I was not… disturbed by seeing the…”

“That is understandable,” Shan said, placing her hand on his thigh, a small show of solidarity that, despite the tension between them, was still much appreciated. “I found our early experiments with Mel just as disturbing, and I have far more experience in Blood Working than you do.”

The King didn’t respond, tapping the tip of his claw against his cup as he thought. “Shan raises a good point. You’ve grown so much in the past few months, Samuel, that sometimes it’s easy to forget that you were not born among us.”

“I still have a lot to learn,” Samuel said, the closest thing to agreement that he could manage.

“You do,” the King said, “and the honesty of your reaction to Mel’s gifts is a helpful bit of data.

” The feral smile was back, his eyes hard and glinting like jewels.

“If even my most esteemed Councillor of Law was this overcome, the fools who are disrupting the peace of my nation will not be able to handle it.”

Placing his empty cup to the side, the King leaned back in the armchair, as grand as if he was on a throne and they were just penitents at his feet. Judgement was awaiting them, and Samuel clenched his hands at his side, breath caught in his throat as he waited.

“But,” the King said at last, having drawn out the moment like he had delighted in the fear and uncertainty, “here you are, ready to accept the unfortunate necessity of what comes next.”

Samuel released his breath—it felt like a stay of execution. But it wasn’t grace that the King was offering. No, this would be the rest of his life, should he choose not to fight it.

This could not be what Shan wanted with her plans and schemes. Once, she had sworn that she would take the Eternal King down by any means necessary, but here she was, not only listening but making these atrocities possible.

The King continued, “I did not want to have to do this. Once the power of Blood Working is shown to the world, there will be no stepping back. It’s a new age for Aeravin, one that Isaac de la Cruz has ushered in with his foolhardy schemes.”

Oh, yes, Isaac had started this all, but Samuel wouldn’t let his work be tossed aside. Isaac had started it, Shan had enabled it, but Samuel would be the one to end it.

Even if it was the last thing he did.