Page 9 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)
Chapter Five
Shan
T he front parlor of the LeClaire townhouse was filled with bodies, the heirs to grand house of Aeravin made cozy in Shan’s home.
The room was strategically filled with chaises and chairs, structured so that little groups could form naturally, but not separated enough that anyone felt excluded.
The low tables were set with cakes and biscuits and ever-refilled teapots, handled by the serving girls who had mastered the art of going unseen among their betters.
The stage had been set perfectly, and everything ran so smoothly that Shan did not even need to pay it any attention.
It was a riot of colors and silks, each young lord and lady showing off their latest purchases of lace and velvet, the witch light glittering off the claws on their fingers as they held dainty teacups in their hands.
The parlor was filled with the soft chittering of laughter and robust conversation, but Shan just wished it was all over.
It had been hours, and there was only so much even she could stand.
Her salons had become a booming success after her appointment to Royal Blood Worker, but what had once been a useful twice-monthly opportunity to gather the latest gossip had become nothing more than a waste of time.
She hadn’t been out as the Sparrow since that dreadful night when she rescued Samuel, and though Bart was doing an admirable job picking up where she had left off, managing the network and their many birds, there was just so much work that needed to be done.
So many arcane secrets to learn, and not for the first time that night, she wished that she was back at the Academy, poring over some ancient text in a barely legible scribble. But here she was, letting the other young nobles of Aeravin pick at her for a change.
“Do you know if the House of Lords will resume this spring?” Miss Grover asked as she reached for a biscuit. “I know the whole thing was terribly done, but I must say my mother has come to enjoy the freedom.”
Shan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying the uncomfortable truth.
Lady Grover enjoyed being free of the House of Lords because she never had a single original thought to contribute to something so unimportant as politics.
But such things could not be said, not openly, so Shan merely smiled.
“The House of Lords will return this season, the Royal Council has already sent out the information. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t mentioned it. ”
It was a slight dig, an unkind allusion to Lady Grover’s laziness, and while Miss Grover sputtered out a response, Lady Amelia Dunn shot her a smile over the rim of her teacup. Shan had no option but to respond in kind. Her hit was seen and acknowledged; the point gone to her.
Forever trading glancing blows, if only to prove who among them was the strongest and cruelest.
Once, Shan thought that was what power was. What a naive fool she had been. She would never make such foolish assumptions again, now that the Eternal King had taken her under his wing and shown her what true power was.
Power was something even more ineffable—it was knowledge and courage and the ability to shift the long game of nations even the slightest bit to the side. Building up in increments so small that most would never even notice it, but when the time came, all one needed was the slightest nudge.
And this was just a complete waste of time.
Amelia shot her a wink, then steered the conversation off into another direction completely, away from the House of Lords and whatever she was plotting for the upcoming session.
She had taken up the mantle of Lady Dunn after the untimely death of her father, and despite the proper level of mourning she carefully demonstrated, Shan could tell that she was eager to step into the role.
They were so alike, more so than Shan was comfortable admitting, mirroring each other despite their differences.
Both daughters of despicable fathers, both striving to find a place for themselves in this cut-throat world.
Shan was a more powerful Blood Worker by far, but Amelia didn’t have the stain of a foreigner’s blood so visible in her very skin.
They could have been the best of friends, but both of them were too savvy for that. Blood Workers did not have friends, and that was a lesson that Shan learned far too late.
But she forced herself to focus on the salon, smiling at all the right moments and dropping only the most cutting of comments. Thankfully, it was already winding down, and by the top of the hour she had already managed to gracefully steer most of her guests towards the door.
Except the one.
Finally alone, Amelia smiled at her with too many teeth, like they were the oldest of confidantes and not two souls pushed together by the machinations of a man months in the grave.
“It was a lovely get-together,” Amelia cooed, and Shan wished that she could just get to the point. “You always throw the best of soirées, despite how much time your new role must take.”
Shan offered the expected smile in return, polite and just a little demure. “It is a lot to manage, but I do strive to do my best.”
“And we love you for it,” Amelia assured her, though they both knew it was a lie.
Once, Shan had been a novelty, a girl of some potential and no great ambition, but since her ascension, everyone was watching and waiting, convinced she would fail like the one that came before her.
And it ruined every plan she had ever made, being thrust from the shadows into the spotlight, but Shan was nothing if not adaptable.
So, when Amelia settled back down in a chair, Shan did not up and demand that she leave, instead taking the seat opposite her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“About the House of Lords,” Amelia began, drumming her fingers on the armrest. “I know that your new position requires much of your attention, so I merely wanted to offer my aid in the upcoming session.”
Ah, that was the game then, the issue that many Royal Blood Workers had to balance.
Entire alliances had been built around it, allies who stepped in and advocated for the causes the Royal Blood Worker—and the Eternal King—wanted to see championed, all in exchange for the intangible currency of favors.
Ideally, this is what Samuel was for, but there was only so much one man could do.
Especially as he continued to back such unpopular policies.
This was something Isaac never had to worry about. No matter how high the King elevated him, he couldn’t overcome the commonness of his birth and grace the House of Lords with his presence. Sometimes, she envied him that freedom.
She was so tired.
But she beamed at Amelia like it was the most brilliant suggestion, clasping her hand across the tea table, the movement delicate as claws clinked against claws. “Amelia, that is exactly what I need. I was hoping that we could connect like this, so I am quite thankful that you brought it up.”
“It is a natural progression,” Amelia replied, squeezing Shan’s fingers. “After all, given how well your policies aligned with my father’s, rest his soul, I knew that I would be foolish not to pick up where he left off.”
“He was taken from us too soon,” Shan lied, and Amelia dabbed at suddenly wet eyes, both of them performing for each other. If Amelia missed her father, it was only because of his place on the Royal Council and the wealth of information that must have brought to the Dunn family.
Which explained why she was here, cozying up to the Royal Blood Worker. Oh, how the tables had turned in only a few months, but for some reason, it did not give Shan the thrill she expected.
Amelia rose with a smile, dropping into a quick curtsy, an attempt to ply her with kindness that only soured Shan’s stomach for how transparent it was. “I will be sure to convene with you at the start of the session, Lady LeClaire.”
“And I am looking forward to it,” Shan replied. “We can do much together, Lady Dunn.”
“So much. Aeravin won’t know what hit them. It has been an interesting year,” Amelia said, with a cruel little smile that let Shan know exactly how much she supported the King’s new laws, “but I am sure we can bring forth new policies that will lead to a better future.”
“A better future,” Shan echoed, realizing with jolt that it was actually true.
Oh, her past self would have railed against this revelation, but she had been fooled by the idealism of youth.
The Dunns of the world were right. An entirely new game was opening up to her, and through it she could achieve more than she ever dreamed of.
With her success gained, Amelia dismissed herself with a round of polite words that did not even stick in Shan’s mind, leaving her alone in the empty parlor, surrounded by the ghosts of the successes she continued to collect.
This is exactly what she needed, and yet, it still felt empty.
The servants swept in, collecting the leftover treats and the empty cups. Shan nodded at the youngest of them, a quick permission for her to take it back to the kitchens to share among the staff. It was the least she could offer after all the work they put into this event—and all the others.
Rising, she eased out of their way, slipping up the stairs and leaving the commotion behind.
Perhaps she just needed a bit of quiet, a reprieve from the scheming as she allowed herself a moment’s relaxation.
But as she turned into her study, she found Bart sitting at her grand desk, sorting through alarmingly large piles of paper. Doing the work she had left behind.
She closed the door behind her, offering him a smile that was more true than any she had shared that night. “Hello, Hawk.”
Bart barely spared her a glance as he continued working through the pile in front of him. “Shan.”
Shan , he had said. Not Sparrow. A small distinction, likely one not even meant as a slight, but there was still that cold fissure of pain in her chest. It should not have hurt this bad, this was the decision that she had made, after all.
She could have kept going as the Sparrow, if she wanted to.
But she had chosen to hand off the bulk of the work to her beloved Hawk while she circled around the edges of it, her attention pulled elsewhere.
And yet…
She stepped up to the desk, idly flicking through the discarded notes. It was mostly what she had expected, little bits of gossip about the masters of Aeravin, little sins that wouldn’t be of any actual value in the information market. Still—
“Here,” she said, pulling a small piece of paper from the pile, a note from one of the many fences in the capital. “The Kellys have replaced some of their jewels with well-made counterfeits. That suggests they are having money problems.”
Bart brushed the note aside, instantly dismissive. “That is old news. I’ve been tracking their expenditures for months, thanks to the bird I got into their home.”
“Oh.” Shan’s hand fell to the side, hanging limp next to her skirt. “I did not realize.”
“Well,” Bart replied as he finished his sorting. “You have been busy, have you not? Can you burn these for me?”
Shan took the offered stack, cradling them close to her chest as she crossed to room to the hearth. The fire crackled merrily, its warmth welcome on these chill winter nights. Shan knelt down and fed the notes to it, the paper vanishing into smoke and ash between her fingers.
She shouldn’t be disappointed, she knew that. She should be proud. Bart was incredibly skilled in this, just as skilled as she was, if she was being honest. Though the network of birds had been her creation, it now flourished without her.
If it wasn’t for the blood in her veins and the last name she had never asked for, Bart would have no need of her at all. For that is what she was now— his bird, the one who flitted through the courts of Aeravin, collecting shiny little baubles to bring back and lay at his feet.
“About tonight,” she began, only to feel Bart’s hand land on her shoulder, startling her out of what she had been about to say. When had he snuck up on her? Months ago, that wouldn’t have been possible, but here he was, still moving on silent feet while she had let her skills atrophy.
Just another difference that was coming to light, the gulf between them growing wider with each passing day.
Bart noticed her discomfort, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all right, Shan. I know you haven’t been sleeping well lately. Go get some rest, the girls will fill me in later.”
Shan bit the inside of her cheek, tempering her anger with the sharp bite of pain.
He had gotten it wrong, but why should she have expected different?
When she had spent her life learning to hide all the worst bits of her, especially from those she loved the most. She had spent a lifetime walking careful circles around her brother, and now even Bart followed in his footsteps, leaving her behind.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then accepted his hand as he helped her up. “Thank you, Bart, I think I shall retire.”
“Of course,” he replied, inclining his head towards her. “Goodnight, Shan.”
As she approached the door, Shan gave him one last, long look as he got back to work.
He was in his element, and she should stop resenting him for that.
So, she took that anger, that bitter disappointment, and swallowed it down.
She would lock it away with all the other ugly bits of her, never to be seen again.
And she would do the work she was called to do, no longer the Sparrow in the dark, but as Lady LeClaire, Royal Blood Worker, standing in the spotlight for all to see.