Page 86 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Not that they could do much, armed with claws and blades and Blood Working that needed a bridge to work, if they could even manage to affect a manananggal, something that the Eternal King himself had struggled with.

Screams broke out as the crowd panicked, those closest to the stage pushing and elbowing their way towards the side streets around the square.

But their stampede was stopped as the Unblooded pushed back—going against common sense as they pressed tighter around the Blood Workers, a throng turning into a noose to keep them trapped.

Pushing himself back up to his feet, Samuel watched the sway of the crowd, the cacophony around him taking the low throb of pain in the back of his head and ratcheting up to a roar.

Staggering, Samuel wrapped his arms around himself, forcing past the sudden agony to focus on the events spilling out around him, on the way the movement was coordinated in such a way that felt intentional.

Anxiety curled in his stomach as he scanned the crowd, spotting a familiar tall figure off to the west—Alaric rallying those around him.

On the other side of the square, he spotted Maia’s braids as her hood was knocked down, a fierce smile on her face as she goaded those around her.

This was more than just Isaac, this was a planned coup, an organized attempt to seed chaos—this was the rebellion come to save him .

And though he did not understand how this had come to pass, the work that it must have taken to arrange this in such a short time, Samuel knew that this was his only chance.

But as the crowd surged forward, knocking the barricades down to the cobblestones, the Guards broke free from their stupor, rushing to hold the masses back.

It freed Samuel from their attention, yes, but as the panic skirted desperately close to something more dangerous, it left him with little options to escape.

Glancing again towards the sky, he looked up just in time to see Isaac shake Shan loose, her unclawed hands slipping along his bare flesh.

As she fluttered, free-falling, in the air, her cloak billowing around her, before she fell a good fifteen feet to land on the platform in front of him with a bone-shattering crack.

Samuel lurched forward towards her, even though he should have been rushing in the opposite direction.

Even though he shouldn’t be risking himself in this manner, knowing that this entire operation was a chance for him to escape.

But he’d never been able to resist her gravitational pull, chasing her across the heavens until he burned out completely.

He skidded to his knees, afraid to touch her, knowing that the injuries from the fall went deeper than what he could see on the surface.

Moving her was probably a bad idea, as he did not know what additional damage he could do the undoubtedly broken bones and worse within.

Blood Working would have helped, but the King had stolen that from him, leaving him completely and utterly useless.

Samuel fisted his hands at his sides, trying not to cry. Despite everything, the mistakes she had made over and over, the knife she had held in her hand not moments before, ready to drink his blood, he could not stand to watch her dying.

How could Isaac have done this?

She lay where she had landed, back against shattered wooden planks, her breath a rasping rattle in her chest. A dribble of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, but her eyes were open, flickering back and forth until they landed on him.

Shan spluttered, a low, gasping sound, as she turned her head, the sound of bone scraping on bone sending shivers down his spine. “Samuel,” she wheezed, anger glinting into those dark eyes, her mouth pulled into that familiar thin line, “why aren’t you running?”

“I—” he started, even though he didn’t have an answer. There was nothing he could do to help her, and yet, he lingered. “Shan… I—”

“Flee!” she spat, a globule of blood splashing onto the ground between them. “Before it’s too late.”

Samuel rocked back on his heels, confusion washing over him, but before he could even make a conscious decision, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, yanking him off his feet and into the sky.

The sudden rush of the movement was disorienting, the low pain that he had pushed away overtaking him. Bile forced its way up his throat, but he choked it down, twisting in the manananggal’s grip to wrap his arms around Isaac’s neck.

He buried his face in the tender space between Isaac’s throat and shoulder, clinging tightly as tears welled and fell. A clawed hand placed itself on his lower back, holding him with such gentleness, Isaac’s other arm pressing Samuel flush against him.

It would take nothing for Isaac to tear him open, but Samuel knew that he wouldn’t. It was insanity, a trust that went beyond all logic and sense, but Samuel recognized the care and tenderness that Isaac granted him, finding safety in the monster’s embrace.

“I have you,” Isaac purred in his ear. “But hold on tight.”

With a great flap of his wings, Isaac rose high into the morning light, cutting across the grand spread of the capital. Isaac swerved, catching the flow of a breeze off the sea, carrying Samuel off away to where the King couldn’t touch him.

But Samuel didn’t watch it, pressed against Isaac’s body, eyes closed as quiet sobs moved through him.