Page 80 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Chapter Forty-Four

Shan

S han winced as the Eternal King forced Samuel past another ward, the energy sizzling in the air as he tripped and fell.

He landed hard on his knees, the bone cracking on the marble floor as he wavered.

His hands were bound behind his back, caught in manacles she had taken from one of the many Guards around the Blood Treasury, his own cravat ripped from around his neck and turned into a makeshift gag.

Not that it was needed, really. The King kept the bridge burning between them, Shan could feel in the air, the same method of control they had used on Mel.

Oh, Mel. She may have been a monster, but Shan had felt a twisted kind of responsibility for her, feeling the moment Isaac ripped the girl’s heart out of her chest like it was her own body being violated.

Shan had been with Mel every step of this corrupted path, had released her into a battle she could not win, against a creature she did not even understand.

A manananggal. How long had he known? How long had Samuel known? A secret they had kept from her, and worse, she couldn’t even blame them.

Shan stepped forward, helping Samuel to his feet, her touch gentle but her face carefully expressionless. She could do nothing for him now—if even Isaac, a manananggal empowered by the blood of so many victims, couldn’t hope to break the King’s control, what hope did either of them have?

None at all.

Even she, the Royal Blood Worker, the second most powerful person in this entire nation, couldn’t do anything but play it smart.

She hoped that Samuel understood. If he was to make it out of this alive, it would be through luck and cunning.

A plan started to form, thoughts coming together in a nebulous cloud.

She still needed more information, and she prayed that Samuel would give her the time to gain it.

They emerged back into the once-Blood Factory, the laboratory where they had worked together, slow crafting the most exquisite of beasts. She caught the moment the realization hit Samuel, his fear taking on a panicked edge, and— oh .

The King wouldn’t do that to him, would he? Even with the hunger that consumed Mel, that drove her, the risk with Samuel was too high. He would be just as likely to bite the hand that fed him. No, this was something else, and that uncertainty scared her more than anything.

“Set him up on the table,” the King ordered, before stepping away.

Samuel craned his neck, trying to follow the King’s footsteps, but Shan didn’t give him the chance.

She just pushed him forward with a firm hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the center of the room where the sole remaining table stood.

He let her guide him onto the table, let her wrap the leather restraints tight on his wrists and ankles, meek and submissive.

She met his gaze at last, her mouth working but no words coming out, whatever comfort she had nearly given caught on the tip of her tongue.

Still, he reached out as best he could, fingers straining, till her hand found his, fingers intertwined as he held on for dear life. He couldn’t speak, not with his mouth still gagged, but he held her gaze, trying so hard to impart the message that she could not miss.

That he would forgive her, no matter what happened.

She blinked away the tears before they could fall and give her away. After all she had done to him… she did not deserve Samuel, the goodness and love in him too much to bear.

Apprehension strung taut, weaving around both of them as the King returned to their side.

The King studied him, eyes narrowed, before reaching out and working the makeshift gag loose with a surprisingly gentle touch.

The cloth came loose with a squelch, a dribble of spit connecting the wadded-up cravat to his lip.

Samuel gasped through the sudden freedom and rasped out, “I’m surprised that you would trust me enough for this. ”

“Oh Samuel,” the King said, every bit of the kindness he had shown them melting away.

No, that cold, immaculate mask he wore was back, every emotion tucked away—or perhaps the humanity was the mask, and this was the truth of the Eternal King.

Perhaps she had been as much of a fool as anyone, believing in those flickers of kindness and empathy.

Did it really matter, in the end?

“Do you really think I fear anything you could do?” the King continued, drawing the tip of his claw down the column of Samuel’s throat.

“You caught me off guard, I’ll admit that, but…

” A glint of power thrummed between them, hanging in the air as hot as a burning coal. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Samuel wasn’t cowed, and oh, Shan was so proud of him. He wasn’t giving up, matching the King blow for blow despite the futility of it all. “Then what is the point of this?”

The King didn’t answer, not directly, wrapping his entire hand around Samuel’s throat, pressing down to cut off his voice.

It was a possessive touch, and the glint in the King’s eye—chilling and cold—was hungry.

He met Shan’s eyes over their prisoner, and Shan realized with a sickening lurch what was about to happen.

It wasn’t Samuel who was about to be transformed.

No, this was something altogether worse.

“You disappoint me, Samuel,” the King continued, with a sigh, unable to resist the opportunity to dig into the wound.

The cruelty was directed at Samuel, but Shan felt it as keenly as if it were her throat that was crushed, her failures being dragged to the surface. “You threw it all away, and for what?”

He jabbed the claw into the soft, tender hollow of Samuel’s throat, drawing a gasp from the man as the sharp metal split the flesh, grating against the bone. “You could have had the whole world at your fingertips, but you were too much of a coward to seize it.”

Samuel ground his teeth through the shock of pain. “I’m braver than you could ever realize.”

“Idealistic to the end,” the King sneered, lifting his hand so the blood dripped from the claw, a fleck of red under the burn of witch light. “It’s not bravery to throw your life away. Our dear Shan learned this lesson, tempered herself into something stronger.”

The King smiled at her, like they were sharing in some great conspiracy, and Shan forced herself to match his glee, even if she felt nothing but terror and heartbreak.

“And to think, she could have been your bride.” The King pressed metal against his own lip, licking the stain away until it shone clean. “And you, fool that you are, lost her.”

“Indeed,” Shan agreed, lying like she had never lied in her life, infusing the smirk she wore with all the disdain and disappointment she felt—not at Samuel, but at herself.

With Samuel lying on the table before their King, a specimen to be taken apart, she finally saw the depths that she had fallen too.

In trying to protect Samuel, in trying to protect herself , she had become the very thing she had sworn to fight against, and the King looked at her with something akin to affection.

“No matter.” The King picked up a gleaming dagger, the light glinting off its polished shine. “You were not enough for her, but I will be.”

Samuel sucked in a harsh, sudden breath, but Shan barely heard it, too focused on the King’s words. On the way everything that had happened between them over the past few months suddenly reframed themselves.

The King pressed the sharp edge of the blade against Samuel’s pulse, almost daring his heir to speak.

He didn’t.

“It’s better this way,” the King said, the dagger carving a thin line into Samuel’s flesh, but his attention was on Shan, his mouth curved like he was presenting her with the most thoughtful gift.

“With you, she would have been a magnificent rose, blooming only for a season, but I will make her more than you ever could.” He bore down, the blood welling and weeping across Samuel’s throat, and still, his gaze was on her. “A Queen worthy of Aeravin.”

“Your Majesty—” Shan breathed, just as Samuel started to struggle against his bonds, thrashing on the table like a man possessed.

“You will destroy her!” Samuel bellowed, but it didn’t move the King, only her.

But she couldn’t show it, not with the King watching her, testing her mettle, ensuring that she could live up to every misplaced hope he set on her shoulders.

“You don’t get to tell me that,” she said, looking down at Samuel like he was the mud beneath her boot. It hurt her to watch his expression fall, but she hoped she could explain it to him, one day. “I will not be destroyed.”

The King just smiled, speaking lowly, deadly as a promise. “I will remake her.”

She wanted to scream, to cry, to tell them that this was never what she wanted, even as the lure of the truly endless power and potential the King offered sang like a siren in her head.

But as the King slammed Samuel’s head back against the hard metal, she knew that no matter what the King offered her, she would never take his hand again.

Oh, what a fool she was, to have finally found the line she wouldn’t cross when there was nothing she could do to stop the tragedy she’d set in motion.

“I will remake myself as well,” the King continued, “becoming something so powerful that none will dare stand against us. Not an innocent fool like you, not a desperate aberration like de la Cruz.”

He moved the dagger, a sudden slice freeing Samuel’s hand, the restraint cut through entirely. “These rebels will stand no chance, not against me, not against the future Queen, not against the vampires I will make. All your foolish plans will fold like the house of cards they are.”

The blade dug into his wrist, and Shan couldn’t stop the sympathetic wince as Samuel howled in agony. His scream echoed in the tight space, a sound of raw torment that would never be heard, trapped as he was beneath so many layers of stone and rock.

“And I will do it by taking what should have been mine in the first place.” The King sank to his knees, but it wasn’t reverence that he offered.

His fingers held Samuel in place as he clamped his mouth over the wound, sucking straight from the artery, the erratic beat of Samuel’s heart driving the blood straight into the King’s willing throat.

Shan gasped, reaching out to steady herself on the table as the power erupted around them, the bridge the King snapped to life burning with such power that she swore it would incinerate her along with everything else.

Lifting his head, the King didn’t bother to hide the manic gleam in his eyes, and Shan realized that this, at last, was the true face of the King.

Not a carefully polished politician or a trusting mentor or a heartbroken man who had seen so many of the people he had cared for diminish and die around him.

No, he was a pit of endless hunger that would never be filled, no matter how much he consumed.

The Eternal King would crack the very foundation of the world under his heel, if he could.

And he would take her with him, immolating any part of her that was still good and kind in the process.

“It is done,” the King said, lapping once more at the torn flesh before pulling back.

Shan stepped forward, her body moving on its own as her mind struggled to catch up, holding out a clean cloth.

“Thank you, Shan.” The King took it, wiping his face clean as she struggled to calm her expression, to tuck away the shock and the fear. The King didn’t comment on it, if he had noticed it all, too focused on his new toy. “That is all for now.”

“Your Majesty,” Shan began, still reeling from all these revelations. He was to make himself a vampire, had taken on the Aberforth Gift, and had declared her a Queen in the making. “Are you sure—”

He cut her off with an indulgent smile, not a hint of anger and resentment to be found. “I appreciate that, but I have things handled here. There is no need for you to witness the interrogation. That said, I do have need of my Royal Blood Worker.”

Shan swallowed hard. Of course that was what came next, using his newly acquired power to drag as much information out of Samuel as possible.

A flicker of fear burned in her core—fear for Isaac, for her brother—but she squashed it down. They were both smart. The moment the King had captured Samuel, she knew they would be moving all their operations, just like they had when it had been her.

“Go summon the Royal Council,” the King instructed, pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Have them assemble in four hours in my study. That should be enough time to get things in order.”

“And the reason?” she pressed, as if she could change his mind. As if she could find an excuse to stay by Samuel’s side, through it all. “For the gathering?”

His smile slipped into that all-too familiar smirk. “We don’t want to ruin all the fun, now do we? Don’t worry about that. As the Royal Blood Worker, you act with my full authority. They will come.”

It had been a futile attempt, but she had to try, even if she knew that it only could have ended this way.

“As you say, Your Majesty.” Shan dipped into a low curtsy, before sparing Samuel one last, lingering glance. Praying that he would understand that she hadn’t given up on him. “Until later.”

The words were directed at the King, but they were for Samuel. All she had was her own cunning to find her way out of this mess. But for the love he had shown her, for the way that he had saved her again and again, the way that he had forgiven her when she had never deserved it, she would save him.

Even if it damned her in the process.

The King caught her hand before she could leave, pressing his newly cleaned mouth to the back of her hand. “I know you have many questions, my darling. But once this matter is settled, I swear to you, I will answer them.”

She merely nodded. “I understand, but for now, I have work to do.”

“Ever diligent,” the King said, brushing her hair back from her face. “I do adore that about you.”

Shan forced herself to blush, just a smidge. “I have to summon the Council.”

He let her go, and Shan held back the sigh of relief. She did have to summon the Council, but first, she needed to find a bird.