Page 82 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

“It was quite a morning, and we saw the full extent of de la Cruz’s madness.

” Something shifted in the way he held himself—the smile remained, but a subtle tension appeared in the stiff way he held his shoulders, the feathering of a muscle in his jaw.

“And we lost a brave new soldier in the process.”

Shan tracked the flicker of unease that went around the Council.

So, they had heard of the vampire, then.

Even if none of them had been quite bold enough to bring it up.

Amelia cast a glance her way, and Shan could only lift a shoulder in a brief shrug.

She had no more control here than the rest of them.

“I cannot lie,” the King continued, with a little more decorum, a hint of solemnity creeping in. “This is going to be a tough blow to recover from, as I am sure is their aim. But Aeravin is a strong nation, and we won’t let a few fools with their ideas of rebellion undo a millennium of work.”

Lord Rayne cleared his throat with a rough, phlegmy grunt. “Forgive an old man his fears, Your Majesty, but what is the course of action?”

“There is nothing to forgive, Matthias,” the King said with a sigh. “You’ve served me well for so long, and I regret that the twilight of your reign couldn’t come in a more peaceful time. But I will need you, all of you, if we are going to handle the threat at our doorstep.”

That got Lady Belrose’s attention. She set the cup to the side, squared her shoulders and tipped her chin up. Ever ready to seize on an opportunity.

How Shan once admired her, the power she wielded as one of the Royal Council, the spot she held leading the House of Lords, the counsel she gave to the Eternal King himself.

The effortless way she glided through Aeravinian society, perfect in every moment, the world bending around her, following her in her wake like the tide followed the moon.

“We are ready, Your Majesty,” Belrose swore, re-dedicating her fealty to her liege. “Just give us your command.”

Shan sucked in a harsh breath as the King smirked—the trap had been set, and eager to please, eager to steal yet another scrap of power, Belrose had rushed in head first, pulling the others after her.

Eager to avoid another embarrassment like last time, when he had stormed into the House of Lords and upended the entire balance of power that this nation ran on.

And to avoid that, Belrose handed herself over wholly to the King’s ambitions, and Shan knew with a sickening lurch of her stomach that whatever schemes the King had would be vicious.

But Belrose had already committed, and one could never simply break a promise to royalty.

“I knew I could count on your loyalty, Jenna,” the King said, her name a caress on his tongue. The familiarity a gift, offered so freely, that lured them in. “And I will need your help, all of the Royal Council’s help, for this is a time of great risk.

“First, I have decided to make the suspension of the House of Lords permanent.”

The silence was so complete that Shan could have heard a pin drop, the Royal Council absorbing the information.

Dunn turned her head towards Shan, a foxhound on the hunt, sensing the new opportunities even as one door closed.

Belrose made no reaction at all, only sat there with her hands trembling in her lap.

Rayne, for his part, looked only more exhausted, the weight of his years an ineffable yoke around his neck.

Lady Morse, however, was eager, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she remained lost in thought.

“It was a grand idea,” the King explained with just the right amount of ruefulness, “and it worked well for a long time, but in the coming months we will need the ability to move swiftly, making sweeping changes without waiting for the approval of popular votes.”

“What sort of changes?” Dunn asked, betraying not a sliver of emotion. She was waiting for the right cue before committing herself one way or the other, and Shan felt a sudden surge of disgust.

She never should have recommended Amelia, she had only created a new, cunning enemy to outsmart.

“I have been too lax.” Ducking his head, the King looked shamed, as if waiting for the harsh judgement that none of them would ever be foolish enough to admit. “Too caught up in my own studies and pursuits that I forgot my first and most solemn duty to the nation I founded and the citizens I rule.”

He pushed away from the desk, crossing over to the mantle and the roaring fire within.

He kept his back to the Council, his face shrouded in shadow, though every word he said was clear.

“I was the one who chose to elevate de la Cruz, I was the one who decided that the Unblooded, numerous as they are, were below our attention.”

Shan could feel the sway, the way the King pulled the others along, a more masterful performance than she had seen on any stage. Because, if she knew him even a little less, if she had just a little less cunning, she would have believed him too.

Especially when he turned back to look at Samuel at last, a glare of such hate and disappointment that it hit Shan like a punch to the gut. “I was the one who elevated a gutter rat to a near prince, but an esteemed lineage and careful guidance couldn’t lift him beyond the muck he was born to.”

Oh, there was some truth to this after all.

Yes, Shan could see the thin seams at the edges, but there was real emotion behind it all.

The King may have been nigh immortal, may have been the most powerful and shrewd being Shan had ever met, but somewhere beneath all the years and mysteries he shrouded himself in, there was still a heart that beat human and real.

And somehow, that made it all the worse.

“If I may, what did Lord Aberforth do?” Belrose asked, with an eagerness that surprised Shan.

It wasn’t concern, not really, but curiosity.

Shan had known that he wasn’t popular with the rest of the Councillors, had dismissed it as of little importance in comparison to the goals they pursued.

But to see it so starkly, the open contempt for Samuel as they all ignored his plight in favor of their own lesser sufferings.

It broke what little resolve she had as a sickening wave of shame cut through her, every mistake she had made on this long, twisted path crystallizing in perfect clarity.

She had been the one to allow this—every bit of it was her fault.

It had been her who dragged Samuel into the wolves’ den, who led him to the King’s embrace.

Her foolishness that missed her brother’s budding revolution, Isaac’s endless pain and the blood he had shed in retribution.

It had been her who attached herself to the King in the aftermath, who had stepped into the role of Royal Blood Worker with a fervor that wasn’t strictly necessary.

At any point along the way she could have changed course, could have made the right decision, for once in her goddamn life. But she had chosen power, again and again, even when she should have known better.

The entirety of not only her life, but her world, was falling apart, and it was her own damned fault.

“It is because of Samuel that de la Cruz escaped,” the King snarled.

Shan saw the way that Samuel flinched, each word cutting like a blade.

The King wasn’t done, grabbing him by his hair and yanking his head up so that he was forced to look upon everyone there.

Tears budded, drawing more attention to the sunken bruises under his bloodshot eyes, and still, Samuel did not say anything— could not say anything.

Couldn’t fight for himself because the King had commanded him to silence, turning the very magic that Samuel had spent his whole life fearing into the means of his own destruction. Perhaps the others saw it as strength, or as misplaced pride, but Shan knew the truth behind all the lies.

Practical but cruel, the Eternal King that Shan had come to know so well, ensuring that Samuel would feel every second of his punishment.

“But, as annoying as that was, it proved to be a boon in the end. It took little work to make this canary sing.” He shoved Samuel forward so that he toppled out of his chair, landing on his hands and knees with a thud.

“Because he was able to reveal to me the truth I had suspected all along—de la Cruz has joined with these fool rebels, and by taking out one we will destroy the other.”

The King lifted his face, his green eyes glinting with something like sympathy, and Shan schooled her expression to one of mild confusion even as horror ran down her spine like ice.

There was only one reason he would look at her like that—Samuel must have been forced to reveal Anton’s part in all this.

And because she had been playing her part all too well, he must believe her to be innocent of her brother’s crimes.

Terror and elation ran through her at the same time, two interwoven currents running in opposite directions, nearly enough to overwhelm her, but there was still a chance for her to salvage this.

For now, she put that aside, burying that seed of hope so deep that it wouldn’t dare show in her expressions or mannerisms.

“For his part in this,” the King continued, shifting his back to Shan as he stared down his Council, “Samuel Aberforth has been stripped of his title, his lands, and his fortune. He is henceforth cast out of Aeravinian society, and as his final punishment, his Blood Working has been taken from him.”

Belrose inclined her head. “The wicked should be punished, and Your Majesty is fair as ever.”

She couldn’t see the King’s expression, if he was pleased by this blatant groveling or if he found it just as sniveling and disgusting as she did. Regardless, the work was done, Samuel’s fate sealed.

“Lady LeClaire,” the King said, summoning her forward.

Shan stepped up, placing her hand in his offered grip. He leaned down, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Handle Aberforth for me, will you? I have much to discuss with the Council, and it’s not for the ears of dogs like him.”

He didn’t give her a chance to flinch, but also didn’t make a command of it. No, this was a request. A test. And she had to manage the next few steps very carefully.

“How would you like me to dispose of him, my lord?”

“I don’t care.” The King traced her cheek with his claw, too gentle to be a threat, too pointed to be innocent. “He has hurt you too, my dear, and so I leave it in your hands. Do with him whatever you desire.”

“Aren’t you concerned?” she breathed, and the King shook his head.

“No. He’s no threat to us now, I’ve seen to that personally.

Kill him, drop him in the ocean, keep him as a pet.

” His mouth pulled into that too-cruel smirk, the kind he so rarely showed in front of others.

“Hell, let him wander the streets of the capital, a warning to those who will dare stand against us.”

He really believed that. She could see the disdain and dismissal in his eyes. Now that he had stripped Samuel of his magic and his title, he truly believed that the man proved to be no threat.

She had been so wrong. She would never be the one to dethrone this King of Vampires. It would be his own disdain for the Unblooded that would destroy him, in the end.

She just had to make sure that they had a chance—and by whatever fractured remains of her soul remained, she would see it through. She had already set it in motion.

“As you say,” Shan said, dropping into a curtsy. “Well, I have never been one to waste an opportunity.”

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, a whisper shared just between them, and Shan knew she had passed this test.

Now all she had to do was ensure that Samuel made it out of this alive. Even if he never forgave her for her part in it.

Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, Shan dragged him to his feet and towards the door. “Let’s go, Aberforth. We have much to prepare you for.”