Page 84 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

It was what they were taught, the fickle and ever-changing lives of Blood Workers, alliances broken and reforged with each passing dawn.

Trust no one, not even your family, not even those you loved the most, especially not those you loved the most. They had the most opportunity and reason to hurt you.

“How is it supposed to work, then?” Shan asked.

“We need to trust each other,” he said, even knowing that he was the one who had cut that first wound. “We need to be… honest.”

“That easy?” she huffed, and he could hear the waver in her voice. She was close to breaking—and he could push her completely over the edge or snatch her back from the brink.

He couldn’t let her fall. “So let me start. I am sorry for cutting you out, all those years ago. For leaving you to the wolves, for not trusting you when I first started this mad plan. For not thinking about what the King would do to you should I fail, for not understanding even when I—of all people—know just how impossible being Royal Blood Worker is.”

It was strange, now that it was out in the open. He had expected this to hurt more, to be like ripping out thorns that had embedded themselves in his heart, scabbed over by scar tissue as they continued to prick. But this was as easy as breathing, and all he felt was relief.

“I was wrong,” he admitted, “and I hurt you. For that I am sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you will have me.”

Swallowing hard, Shan replied, “Thank you. I… needed to hear that. But you are not the only one who needs to apologize.” She tilted her chin up, the words falling from her lips like a waterfall that had finally burst through its dam.

“I hurt you as well. You’re right, I never considered what you wanted, I only wanted what I thought was best. I was—I am —so afraid of not being in control that I draped myself in every cruelty I could as protection. And in that, I have hurt you.”

Her voice fell to a whisper. “I have hurt so many people… I don’t deserve this.”

“No,” Isaac agreed, “but you can still earn it, if you want to.”

“I can?” she asked, so small, and he never wanted to hear her so unsure of herself again.

“You can,” he repeated, knowing that he would repeat it as many times as it took, until she understood that she could always come back. All she needed to do was believe in herself. He held out his hand.

And she took it.

Pulling her in, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she collapsed into sobs against his chest, all the fear and pain rolling out of her in a wave that was tinged with the bittersweet burn of long-awaited forgiveness.

“I thought I lost you,” Shan choked out, her words muffled, but he heard them clear as day. “I thought I lost Samuel as well but he… he—”

“He what, darling?”

“He saved my life today,” she whispered, “right before he saved yours. He’s always doing that, even though we don’t deserve it.”

He tipped her chin up, pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Ah, but we do.”

“But what if,” she asked, and here it was, the biggest fear of all. “What if I don’t? What if I fall again?”

“Then,” Isaac said, “we will be there to catch you, Shan. You don’t need to be alone in this. You have your brother, Bart. Myself. And—” he dropped his hands to hers, squeezed them tight “—Samuel, once we save him.”

The balance that they needed, the goodness they could still reach for. The missing part of this relationship that they hadn’t even realized they were lacking for so long. That, now that they had it, they would never let go of.

“You’re right,” she agreed, and she pressed herself up on her tiptoes, catching him in a kiss.

It wasn’t hungry, like so many of the ones they had shared in the past year—it was gentle, it was an apology and promise all wrapped up in one, their rough edges finally fitting together like two halves of the same broken whole, and Isaac wished they could linger in this moment for the rest of their lives.

“Ahem,” Anton coughed, and they pulled apart from each other. “We told you that you only had five minutes, but if you’d like some more—”

“Oh, shut it,” Shan said, crossing the room to give her brother a playful shove before turning to Bart. “I’m sorry, truly.”

“I know, Shan,” Bart said, crossing his arms over his chest. Still closed off, but not quite shutting her down. “And we’ve got a lot to talk about, but we don’t have time right now. Not if we’re going to save Samuel.”

Shan nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. “Of course. Samuel is to be executed tomorrow morning, and you—” she crooked her finger at Isaac “—need to rescue him.”

“Easy,” he began, but she wasn’t done.

“That’s not all, if I am going to stay at the King’s side,” Shan said, giving her brother a stern look before he could object, “and I am. So you need to make this look real.”

“Real?”

Her smile was so sad. “Real. I’ll have to fight you, and you’re going to have to defeat me. Don’t pull your punches, love.”

Isaac wavered, thrown by the calm certainty with which she asked him to hurt her, just because it was necessary.

“Afterwards, we will need to be careful,” she continued, her confidence returning, and he realized just how thoroughly she had thought this through.

“No in-person meetings, dead drops only. Whatever your plans are, wherever you muster, I cannot have that information. I will not be the one who leads the King to you.”

“You’ll have no backup,” Anton said, his tone uncommonly serious. “No way out should things go sideways.”

Shan just shrugged. “I know, but this is the point of it. This isn’t about me, anymore.” She smiled at her brother, so openly proud. “I will never be able to fix Aeravin, but you can. It doesn’t need a Sparrow, or a Royal Blood Worker, it needs you and your rebellion.”

She turned to Bart, offering her words like a gift, the first brick with which they could rebuild what she had torn asunder. “It needs a Hawk, someone with the talons to see this through.”

Finally, she turned to Isaac, and there was such love and trust in her eyes that she might as well have stolen the breath straight from his lungs. “It needs you, Isaac. A manananggal who will bring the King to his knees.

“So let me be the bird, because this is what I’ve been training for my whole damned life.” She tilted her head up, so brilliantly radiant, so sure of herself even as she put herself into the lion’s den. “Let me fly.”

“All right, darling,” Isaac agreed, letting her go, even though it felt like he had just gotten her back, this love of theirs having crawled its way back from the dead yet again. But he had to let her go free, trusting that she would come back to him.

And trust he would. “Now, let’s save Samuel.”