Page 8 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

So, he found Anton at the Fox Den, beside a roulette table with a glass of bourbon in his hand.

If Anton was surprised to see him, he did not show it, welcoming Samuel at his side as they gambled the night away, moving from roulette to craps to vingt-et-un.

But when the night ended and the carousing was over, Anton slung an arm over Samuel’s shoulder and led him back to his flat.

It wasn’t the first time that Samuel had been to Anton’s new home, but it still struck a pang of jealousy deep in his gut.

In design, it wasn’t that different from what Isaac had, once, a small set of rooms in a boarding house, perfect for the life of a bachelor who didn’t need the full townhome or the entire fleet of servants.

It was simple and private and cozy, and Samuel wished that he had the freedom to choose to live like this.

The last time he had been there, though, the flat had still been quite bare—empty of everything that would make it a home, but in the intervening time, Anton had made it his.

The furniture was mismatched in style and haphazard in color, but each piece looked like it was chosen for maximum comfort instead of style.

There were colorful throw blankets and plush pillows and even a few plants in pots along the windowsill.

Stepping closer, Samuel brushed his fingers against the greenery, recognizing them for what they were—herbs and spices, grown fresh for a single man’s needs.

“The food is the thing I miss the most,” Anton said, appearing by his side with a small watering can. “From home. This boarding house offers meals to its residences, but I had to learn to cook my own if I wanted anything good.”

Samuel couldn’t help the laugh. He understood what Anton meant—Shan had retained the Tagalan cook that Anton had hired, and the meals Samuel had at their table were unlike anything typical Aeravinian households had. “You are a chef now?”

“Aspiring, maybe,” Anton returned. “But for you own sake, I will stick to offering more basic refreshments. Do you still take tea, Samuel?” Samuel nodded, touched that Anton remembered his aversion to wine and spirits, and Anton clapped him on the shoulder.

“Make yourself comfortable, then. I’ll be right back. ”

Samuel sank into the couch, sighing as the strangeness from the night started to slip away. The gambling had been part of it, he knew. It would have been too obvious if he had just showed up and whisked Anton away. It needed to look casual, accidental, nothing so deliberate.

In this, Anton wasn’t too terribly different from his sister, always playing the game, and Samuel had learned to follow their lead.

Anton reappeared with a tray, placing it on the low table in front of him. The tea set was also mismatched, the pot covered in soft, hand-painted florals, roses and wisteria and ivy, but the cups came from a different set entirely, a plain white base with a gold rim around the edges.

Such incongruences would have driven Shan mad, Samuel knew, but for him it felt more like home.

Before ascending, before he had been taken to the King and elevated to the status normally denied a bastard like him, everything he had owned had been bought second-hand in thrift shops, where function mattered more than aesthetics.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup. “For this, and for meeting with me as well.”

“Well,” Anton said, doctoring his own cup with a truly shocking amount of milk and sugar, “it was clear to me that you were not simply looking for a good time. Still not a fan of gambling?”

“Am I that obvious?” Samuel said, with a wince.

“No, not really.” Anton winked at him over the edge of his cup. “It’s only that I know you so well. Your reputation as Lord Aberforth will remain intact.”

Samuel let out a sigh of relief—it was so hard to manage, the mask of Lord Aberforth that he had to wear.

To this day, he still didn’t know how he managed it, holding the true parts of himself separate from the man he needed to be to succeed in Aeravin’s society.

It was exhausting, and he felt like with each passing day that there were fewer and fewer people he could be honest with.

Which was why he was here in the first place.

“I need a favor,” he began, “and you cannot tell Shan.”

That piqued Anton’s interest, who set aside his cup and leaned forward. “Oh?”

It was so strange, seeing in him the same mannerisms and habits that Samuel had learned to catalogue in Shan.

Despite their feud, the twins were more alike than either cared to admit—both of them were cunning and clever, both of them masters at spinning their reputations to their advantages, and both of them played secret games that would see the future of this nation changed.

If they didn’t destroy each other in the process.

In another world, in another life, Samuel would have been happy to call Anton a brother, but in this one, simply being here was a betrayal to the one who held half his heart.

But to not even try would betray the other half.

“It is something that might be difficult for you,” Samuel said, after taking a bracing breath. “It’s about Isaac de la Cruz.”

Anton stilled, his easy grace turned cold, an instant chill of ice stilling his normally expressive features. “What about de la Cruz?”

Samuel wet dry lips. “I am planning to rescue him, and I need help.”

“You—” Anton cut himself off with a groan, rubbing at his eyes. “Blood and steel, Samuel, are you mad?”

He had expected this—he had expected worse, honestly.

Samuel didn’t know the full story behind their animosity, but he knew that there was no love lost between Anton and Isaac.

“Shan seems to think so, but…” Samuel closed his eyes, it was almost too difficult to say. “I can’t lose him, Anton. Please.”

Anton stood, pacing, hands clamped behind his back. Samuel didn’t press him. What he was asking for was beyond difficult. “I don’t see how you think I can help,” Anton said at last. “If even my sister seems to think it impossible.”

“Ah, that’s not it.” At last they had reached the worst part. Samuel could grovel, he could beg, he could commit himself to whatever was needed. But admitting the fears that he had locked away, so deep that he need not confront them?

That was like carving his own heart out of his chest, but he did it anyway.

“It’s not that Shan doesn’t believe that he can be saved,” Samuel said, each word another twist of the knife. The only explanation that made any sense, as difficult as it was to face. “It is that she doesn’t believe that he should be saved. That he is a…”

He trailed off, but Anton rested a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment before his fears could carry him away. “And you believe differently?”

This was cruel of Anton, to make him say the things that he had been so carefully avoiding for so long. Thinking them was one thing, but putting them out into the world? That was a commitment.

“I don’t know if I would have made the same choices Isaac did,” Samuel admitted.

“But I cannot fault him for taking the only path out that he could find.” He clenched his fist in his lap, took a deep breath.

“We all speak of making things better in Aeravin, and he was the only one brave enough to take his fight to the Eternal King himself. Shan is wrong, playing the King’s game won’t change anything. ”

It would only destroy them, slowly. Like it destroyed Isaac. Like it was destroying Shan.

And Samuel could not let that happen. Shan would understand and forgive him eventually.

“I do not know the particulars of your work,” Samuel said, looking up at Anton.

“Only the broadest strokes, but you are also working towards the betterment of Aeravin, are you not? Wouldn’t saving the man who exposed the secrets behind the Blood Workers’ excess be a boon?

Wouldn’t it be enough to save the one the King plans to sacrifice? ”

Anton hesitated. “I… see your point, Samuel, it is just—”

“I know you don’t like him,” Samuel interjected, and Anton let out a soft laugh, almost hollow.

“You’re right, I don’t like him,” Anton admitted, quietly. “But it is clear that I underestimated him. I never thought he would have the courage to stand up to the King, let alone—”

Groaning, Anton slumped back in his chair. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but fine. We’ll find a way to rescue your man, but if you really want to help Aeravin, then help me. Not just Shan.”

Samuel couldn’t say he hadn’t expected something like this. It was exactly what Shan would have done. And, if he was being honest, part of him wanted to. He was living it now, all the faults of the system that Shan wanted so desperately to reform.

And it wouldn’t be enough.

Holding out his hand, Samuel invited Anton to shake on it. “I’m in.”

Anton accepted with a firm grip, his teeth glinting in a fierce smile. “Welcome to the rebellion, Samuel. We have a lot to do.”