Page 88 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

But that wasn’t her fate now—now the King had summoned her specifically, had arranged whatever this was for her benefit. Had once again seen her clothed and prepared, ready to be presented as the Royal Blood Worker ascendant.

The King caught sight of her, his gaze tipping up to her as a lazy smile crossed his face.

Unlike her, he wasn’t dressed to perfection, hadn’t styled himself to perfection.

He stood before his subjects in a distressingly vulnerable state, his fine suit rumpled and stained, dark patches of blood showing at the cuffs of his sleeves, splattered across the open neck of his shirt, his cravat long gone.

With a jolt, Shan realized that was her blood on him, left over from when he had healed her. A mark that she had left on him, unwittingly or not, that he had not bothered to remove.

But for all his casualness, for the unhidden circles under his eyes, the stress that lined his face, the King still radiated power and authority.

The rush of magic was even more intolerable now that she was in the room with it.

She couldn’t see it, precisely, none of them could, but the air around the King seemed to crackle with energy, filling the room from floor to ceiling, catching in the back of her throat like syrup, sickly sweet and cloying.

This version of the King might be a little less polished than the terrifying and distant liege they had grown used to over the past few centuries, but he was just as powerful as he had ever been, only now—

It was as if he no longer cared about appearances or rules or dignity, as if he was tired of holding himself back.

Shan glanced around the room, taking in the expressions of the rest of the Lords and Ladies, from carefully blank to trepidatious to outright fearful.

Most refused to meet her eyes, but Amelia did, offering a soft and reassuring smile.

It took her by surprise—the look wasn’t calculation, but relief that she had survived this terrible morning, that she was still here, standing strong.

If Shan didn’t know any better, she would have thought that Amelia was looking at her like a friend would.

None of the others, though, seemed to care a whit that she’d survived.

There was only the all-consuming presence of the King standing below.

And none of them knew the truth that she did, the monster that the King had finally allowed himself to reach for, the vampire that was being born right in front of their eyes.

The King was more dangerous than ever, but Shan tucked that knowledge and fear deep away where it couldn’t touch her.

She’d mourn the world she helped destroy later, she’d scheme her way out before the trap grew too tight around her throat, but for now, she stood tall and proud, untouchable and powerful.

And when the Eternal King held out his hand, summoning her to his side with a curl of his fingertips, Shan descended the staircase with poise and grace, every eye on her.

“These past few months,” the King continued, carrying on with the speech he had been giving before Shan’s arrival, “has been one challenge after another.” His voice was low but clear, washing over her like the cold fall of rain, raising gooseflesh along her skin.

“We have found traitors in our midst, have discovered rot in even the oldest of bloodlines.

The very mechanisms of our society have been torn from their foundations as the Unblooded we have so graciously accepted into our lands bite the hand that feeds them.

“But it has not been without gain,” the King said, turning his gaze upon her as she came before him, sinking into a deep curtsy. He caught her chin, the tips of his claws a keen prick as he guided her up.

It felt like the sting of a hook, lodging itself somewhere in her chest, piercing her through the heart before ripping her from the depths.

She could no more fight him than she could stop the journey of the sun across the sky, and so she let him steer her.

Put her hand in his as she came to his side, tipping her chin up to look at those gathered around her.

At the faces of all who had viewed her as lesser for so many years, dismissed her for the failures of her father and the stain of her mother’s foreignness.

As terrible as it was, she couldn’t help the thrill that came from being chosen, the glee that bubbled in her chest, a laugh that she swallowed down, because after all the judgement and shame, she was the one to land on his arm.

She would get them all back for their cruelties—she swore it to herself, but first she had to play the part the King expected of her. The role of a lifetime, the final mask she had to don, and oh, she would lie her twisted little heart out.

The King was still looking at her, like she was something precious, a jewel in his crown, a blade to be wielded.

“We have lost much this year,” he said, his voice carrying to the entire chamber, but his words were just for her, “and yet, we found the most brilliant mind that Aeravin has seen in an age. Lady LeClaire has proven herself as a most capable Royal Blood Worker, an unmatched scholar, and will help lead us into a new age. If, that is, she will have me.”

Silence fell, so thick that Shan felt like she would choke on it, the rapid beat of her heart roaring in her ears as the King sank to one knee.

So, this is how it was to be done. The elaborate show he had made of this was for a purpose, designed to elevate her even further.

And there was one place for her left to ascend to, a position that had not been filled since the founding of their nation.

The fulfillment of a promise made over Samuel’s broken, bleeding body—but she wasn’t doing this for him or for herself. Wherever he was in the moment, wherever Isaac had squirreled Samuel away, she hoped he would appreciate this, the moment she stepped into the belly of the beast.

The King produced a ring, a heavy and gaudy thing, the thick band of gold inlaid with more diamonds than she could count, glittering before her eyes. It must have been worth a fortune, but Shan ached for the one she had returned to Samuel.

The simple band of silver and single ruby, a lone drop of blood.

But she couldn’t think of him now, not him or the other man she loved. The King was still waiting, and Shan knew there was only one answer that he would accept.

“I do,” she breathed, and he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, though the weight of it felt like shackle, binding her to the man she feared the most.

And as the crowd burst into applause, he pulled her close, wrapping one arm around his shoulders as he dipped her low, the claws on his other hand gently tracing where her jaw met her throat.

He was smoldering with power, with vitality, with life—and as much as she feared what was coming, a rotten, insidious part of her did not want to resist it.

He looked at her like she was the most cherished prize, like they were made for each other, like they were the only ones who could match each other’s ambitions.

He dipped his head to hers, capturing her mouth with a kiss that felt bruising, pressing his way past her lips like he was trying to wipe away the traces of those who had come before, rewriting her entire history so that it could only have ever led to this.

To him.

“My daring, darling girl,” he whispered into her ear as she trembled, “we are going to change everything.”